The Secrets of Ghosts

by Sarah Painter

  ‘So that no one plays it back and realises he was cold reading the whole time,’ Max said quietly.

  ‘Can I please ask for silence while I summon my spirit guide?’ Barton pressed his hands together and closed his eyes. Max rolled his at Katie, but he still looked oddly tense.

  Part of Barton’s skit was that he was in touch with a spirit called Magda. She was apparently the ghost of an American heiress and she helped Barton connect with the other side. Out of the goodness of her dead heart, apparently.

  Barton opened his eyes. ‘Magda says there is somebody with her now. A man. Does the name John mean anything to anyone here?’

  ‘John is only one of the most common male names in the Western hemisphere,’ Katie leaned in close to whisper into Max’s ear and she caught the scent of his skin. She leaned away again quickly.

  A woman in the third row had her hand up. ‘My husband was Jonathan.’

  Barton walked to the edge of the stage. The runner had already passed along a hand-held microphone to the woman and she spoke into it. ‘My husband—’ she began.

  He held up a hand, silencing her. ‘Magda says this man is very sad. I’m getting the letter “P” — does that mean anything to you? And the letter “S”.’

  The woman gasped.

  ‘The letter “S” is very strong. I’m sensing that’s important.’

  Nice fishing. Katie wondered how many letters Barton usually had to throw out before he got a hit. Two? Three? In a crowd this size, he could always switch to someone else, claim the spirits were talking to them now. It made her sick. All of these poor people, looking for answers. They wanted the comfort that knowledge could bring and Barton was feeding off them.

  ‘Our son is Simon.’

  ‘He says he doesn’t like to see you upset. Does that sound like him?’

  Yeah, that sounded like everybody, ever.

  The woman had a tissue pressed up against her face. She nodded mutely.

  Katie shifted in her chair. It was painful to watch the act, when she knew that the man was alone up there. No spooks. Or ghosties or ghouls.

  She turned to Max and found him sitting forward, looking as if he wanted to hit something. She didn’t blame him.

  A young woman in the front row burst into tears and Barton looked down at her, his face a picture of sympathetic benevolence. ‘Your granddad says “hi”.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’ Violet’s unmistakable cut-glass tones sounded in Katie’s right ear. Katie whipped around but she couldn’t see her. The large man sitting next to Katie gave her a funny look, though.

  ‘Where are you?’ she said, very quietly. Almost under her breath. The man next to her glanced anyway, then looked away very quickly. He thinks I’m mad. She resisted the urge to say, ‘You’re the one paying to watch a man pretend to be psychic.’

  Barton threw his head back and the audience gasped. His eyes rolled back in his head. Katie had read up on him and apparently he was famous for being ‘taken over’ by a spirit. He spoke as them, in a strange high voice and it was, according to The Birmingham Gazette, ‘not to be missed’.

  ‘Mummy?’ Barton spoke in a high squeaky voice and Katie had to stuff her hand into her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. She didn’t dare look at Max’s face or she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.

  ‘It’s dark,’ Barton squeaked. ‘I want my mummy.’ He dropped his head, his arms going limp and then, after a few seconds of stillness, he raised his head and stared, seemingly sightlessly, out across the assembled people.

  ‘Peek a boo.’ He wasn’t doing the squeaky voice any more but something in his tone made all the hairs stand up on the back of Katie’s neck.

  ‘What a funny fat man. Shall I make him dance?’

  Barton’s eyes were wide, now. Terrified.

  ‘Stop it,’ Katie said, standing up. ‘Violet. Just stop.’

  ‘You’re no fun.’ Barton’s lips were moving and it was his vocal cords that were making the sounds, but the inflection and accent was pure Violet. It was her, speaking through Barton as if he were a puppet.

  Katie watched in horror as Violet detached herself from Barton. It was hard to focus on, gave Katie a headache to try, but she saw Violet appear from within Barton. As soon as she was separate, he sagged forwards and one of the assistants ran up on stage to catch him before he hit the floor. Violet, meanwhile, was sort of filling up again, becoming more solid as Katie watched. Once she was corporeal-looking again, she gave Katie a beatific smile and sauntered off stage left.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’ Barton had almost straightened up. Katie had to hand it to the man: he was a trooper. ‘What you just witnessed was interference from an evil spirit.’ He held up his hands. ‘Don’t be alarmed. Magda has seen off the evil but I must remind you all that this is why you must only ever attempt to communicate with the dead through an experienced professional such as myself.’

  Violet had disappeared. Katie scanned the room, looking for her, her mind racing. Violet could step inside a human being and make them move. It was kind of horrible. The audience was still fussing, but Greg Barton was getting them back. His voice carried through the room, blanketing with phrases like ‘part of the process’ and ‘it’s okay to feel emotions’ and ‘intense spiritual experience’.

  *

  Max was distracted after Barton’s show. He kissed Katie on the cheek and thanked her for accompanying him. She’d expected him to make some kind of move, and was almost disappointed when he didn’t. Maybe he’d decided that he didn’t fancy her after all. Or that she was too uptight to be worth bothering with. That wasn’t unlikely.

  ‘I’m just…’ Max trailed off. He was looking into the middle distance, his eyes unfocused.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Katie wanted to talk about the show. She found she even wanted to tell Max about what Violet had done. He wouldn’t believe her, of course, but the urge was there. Which was a bit weird.

  ‘Yeah. Just tired.’ He didn’t meet her eye. ‘I’m going out for some fresh air.’

  Katie watched as Max walked away from her and tried not to feel hurt that he hadn’t wanted her company. A walk outside sounded nice. Instead, she headed upstairs to talk to either Barton or Violet. Whichever one she found first. She knocked on the door to Barton’s suite and pushed it open. He was sitting on the burgundy sofa, a tumbler of amber liquid in one hand and a newspaper open on his lap.

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you, Mr Barton—’

  He didn’t look up. ‘Just put it on the table.’

  ‘Um... I’m not—’

  He glanced up then, with an expression that probably would’ve been a frown on a more mobile face. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

  ‘I just wanted to speak to you for a moment, if that’s okay.’

  ‘Signed photos are in the case. Help yourself.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Katie said. She walked into the room but left the door wide open. One of the first rules of working in a hotel was never to enter a room with a MOP by yourself and definitely never to close the door. Personal safety 101. ‘But I actually wanted to ask your advice.’

  Barton heaved a theatrical sigh and flipped his newspaper shut. He looked at her and then gave her a long look up and down that made Katie’s skin crawl. ‘I knew there’d be a catch.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The free room. I knew there’d be a catch. This is why I usually avoid staying in the venue. Did you see the show, sweetie? Want a private session? You should know that I’m very expensive.’

  Katie narrowed her eyes. ‘Fine. I just thought you’d want to know more about what happened to you up there. I thought we could help each other out. Friendly, like.’ She turned to leave. ‘Sorry to have bothered you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Katie turned back. ‘I’m guessing that doesn’t usually happen? Possession?’

  ‘I’m a direct voice medium — the spirits talk through me all the time. That’s what I do.’ Barton’s to
ne was pompous but his forehead was beaded with sweat. Off-stage, he didn’t look all that well.

  ‘Is it usually out of your control like that?’ Katie said.

  Barton’s face twisted slightly. ‘My spirit guide is on my side. She looks after me.’

  Katie had Barton down as a cold-hearted fraud, but she was starting to wonder if he believed in his own hype. Intense self-deception? Or maybe real ability? She felt a spark of excitement. Maybe he could help her. Maybe she wasn’t alone in this.

  ‘Did you see Violet come out of your body?’

  ‘Violet?’

  ‘The spirit that possessed you. She’s called Violet,’ Katie said. ‘Don’t be angry with her — she’s usually very nice.’

  ‘I felt a loss of control of my own body. It was a violation. Nothing nice would do that,’ Barton said, his expression one of disbelief and anger.

  ‘Maybe she did it by accident,’ Katie said. Then something occurred to her: if Violet could move into a person’s body and move it according to her own will, she’d be able to write on walls, throw vases. Anything an alive person could do. Crap.

  ‘There’s a spirit in this hotel that I’m worried about. An angry one and I was hoping you might have some advice.’

  ‘We could hold a séance,’ Barton said. ‘I usually charge two hundred but as a personal favour I’d do it for one fifty.’

  ‘I can see ghosts. I don’t need to pay you to pretend to talk to them,’ Katie said, anger running through her body. ‘I just hoped you’d have some advice. For me.’

  Barton leaned forward, an expression of interest on his face. ‘You can see ghosts? Communicate with them?’

  ‘Yes.’ ‘And you want my advice?’ He smiled like a lizard.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Start charging.’ Barton sat back. ‘Get some flyers printed up. Start small. You can’t expect to play places like this—’ he waved a hand ‘—until you’re more established.’

  ‘I don’t want to charge people,’ Katie said. ‘I want to know how to get rid of the angry ghost. And how to help the sad ones.’ ‘Then you’re a fool.’ Barton picked up his newspaper again.

  ‘Thanks for nothing,’ Katie said, backing out of the room. The disappointment was a bitter taste in the back of her throat.

  Barton looked up. ‘I did meet a ghost-hunter type, once. When I was on This Morning. They had the most darling little canapés in the green room and the best make-up girl I’ve worked with.’

  Katie paused, waiting for Greg to stop blowing hot air.

  ‘Anyway. He said that he exorcised ghosts by digging up their bones and burning them.’ Barton gave an elaborate shudder. ‘Ghoulish.’

  Katie turned to leave and walked straight into Max. He caught her arms and stopped her from stumbling over, then did a double take at the room number on the door. His face hardened. ‘You know Barton. Of course you do.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Katie said. ‘I was hoping he could help me with something, but—’

  ‘I’ll bet,’ Max said. He looked disgusted. He stepped to the side, leaving an exaggerated amount of space for her to walk past. ‘See you around.’

  Chapter 11

  Katie watched Max walk into Barton’s room and shut the door. She wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t do that, that you should always leave a door open when visiting a MOP or cleaning a room, but she was still in shock from the anger in his voice. The look of betrayal on his face. Maybe she’d let him calm down first.

  She was halfway downstairs when the smell of Chanel No. 5 and a blast of cold air alerted her to Violet’s presence. She ran the last few steps and went into the Ladies, hoping to outrun the ghost. She’d stepped inside Barton. She’d made him move like a puppet. For the first time, Katie felt frightened of Violet.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyeliner had smudged so she wet her finger and swept it underneath her eyes, leaning close to the mirror to scoop the gunk from the corners. A slight movement in the edge of the mirror made her whip round. Violet was leaning against one of the stall doors. ‘You should take better care of your skin, you know,’ she said.

  ‘Hello, Violet,’ Katie said, keeping her voice even. ‘How are you?’

  Violet shook her head, using that fluid motion that gave Katie a headache. ‘Why did you run away?’

  ‘How long have you been able to do that? Possession?’

  Violet looked confused for a moment, then she giggled. ‘That was my first. Wasn’t it fun?’

  ‘It wasn’t very nice,’ Katie said.

  Violet was peering at her own reflection, didn’t seem to be listening.

  ‘You shouldn’t do it — you shouldn’t take a person’s free will like that,’ Katie said, trying to catch Violet’s eye in the mirror.

  ‘I thought I was helping. Your young man doesn’t like him. I thought it would make him happy.’ She cast a disparaging look at Katie. ‘You don’t seem to be trying.’

  ‘I don’t have a young man,’ Katie said.

  ‘You’ll lose him if you’re not careful.’ Violet turned away from the mirror. ‘You talk to him too sharply. And he looked really angry just now.’

  ‘Were you watching us?’

  ‘You mustn’t make him angry,’ Violet said, her body vibrating. The air around her began to shimmer like a heat haze and her voice rose. ‘Men don’t like that.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ Katie said, putting her hands up. ‘Max is fine. We’re fine.’ In her desire to calm Violet down, Katie forgot for a moment that she wasn’t with Max, that this entire thing was a bored ghost’s fantasy. ‘And you’ve got the wrong idea — we’re not together.’

  Violet shook her head again. ‘Well, that’s even worse. You should be.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Katie said, glad that Violet had stopped vibrating. She leaned close to the mirror and re-applied her liner.

  ‘He’s handsome,’ Violet said.

  ‘He’s a con man.’

  Violet pressed her lips together. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are.’

  ‘That a man is interested in me? Oh, please—’

  ‘Not that.’ Violet waved a hand. ‘Someone interesting is interested in you. That’s far more rare.’

  Katie had to concede that Violet had a point.

  ‘And he has a motor car.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It isn’t very clean, but you can’t afford to be so choosy.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well…’ Violet tilted her head ‘…you’re getting on a bit.’

  ‘I’m twenty-one.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Violet said. She smoothed down her dress. ‘I’m so bored of this frock, you have no idea. I can’t even change my make-up or spritz on a little perfume. It’s hellish.’

  ‘You don’t need to spritz,’ Katie said. ‘You smell like Chanel No.5. It’s how I know you’re there even when you’re trying to be subtle.’

  ‘Oh.’ Violet’s mouth turned down. ‘That’s rather galling. One hates to be predictable.’

  ‘And I think you’re right and there’s another spirit around here, because I keep smelling pipe smoke and this whole place is non-smoking.’

  Violet looked disgusted. ‘Poor you. I hate pipes.’

  *

  Katie went to find Max. He was in the ornamental garden, pacing up and down the gravel path, and muttering to himself.

  ‘Someone once told me that was the first sign of madness,’ Katie said.

  He shot her a look. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To clear the air. I’m not working with Barton or visiting him for his autograph or whatever it is you’re upset about. I think he’s scum.’

  Max stopped pacing. ‘So, what were you going to see him about?’

  ‘You know I’ve been talking to a ghost called Violet? Well, she sort of stepped into Barton at the end of his act.’

  ‘The “fat man dance” bit?’ Max said. ‘I thought that was different. I didn’t think Barton was that good an actor and something funny happ
ened with my eyes, too. I thought it was the lights.’

  ‘It wasn’t the lights.’

  ‘You are absolutely serious, aren’t you?’ Max said. He was watching her in an alarmingly intense way. After a moment, he said, ‘I watched that film. Harvey.’

  ‘Don’t tell me if you didn’t like it. It’ll only make me think less of you.’

  ‘I liked it. It also gave me an insight.’

  ‘Careful. Those can be dangerous.’

  ‘It’s his thing. Dowd. It’s the thing that lets him face the world, his comfort blanket. But rather than growing out of it, he’s kept it as a kind of personality trait.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s—’

  ‘I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to see ghosts to be interesting. You’re already interesting. To me.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Katie said. ‘But you’d have difficulty being further from the mark.’

  ‘I mean it.’ Max took a step forward. ‘You’re funny and clever and beautiful and different.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Katie said, a little off balance. She reached for her necklace and traced the shape of the charms with her thumb.

  Max took her hand, folding his fingers around her own. ‘You always fiddle with this when you’re nervous.’

  Her face went warm. ‘I’m not nervous.’ She was embarrassed that she had such an obvious tell and excited that Max was watching her closely enough to notice it. Plus, his fingertips were brushing her collarbone and it was making it difficult to think straight.

  He smiled, ignoring the obvious lie. ‘I like it, by the way.’ He opened his hand and looked at her necklace. ‘I saw it the first day I met you. I thought perhaps you were a gambler.’

  Katie frowned. She’d made the necklace years ago, using Gwen’s supplies. She didn’t know why she’d chosen the bone die, the silver feather or the tiny revolver, only that she always felt good wearing it.