Ghost of a Dream g-3

by Simon R. Green

  “Sorry,” said JC, and actually sounded like he meant it, “but who are you, exactly? Are you another name we’re supposed to recognise?”

  Lissa’s smile slipped for a moment. “You really don’t know me? Damn. I am clearly not getting my money’s worth out of that new publicist. Look, I was in that controversial indie film, Jesus and Satan Go Jogging in the Desert. And that big disaster movie, Werewolf on the Titanic.”

  “Oh, I remember that one!” said Happy. “Not even a little bit accurate.”

  “We weren’t expecting you until next week, darling,” said Elizabeth, with a hint of chill in her voice. “The theatre isn’t nearly ready yet.”

  “You know her?” said JC.

  “Of course we know her; we hired her!” said Benjamin. “She’s going to star in our play! As our female lead. But, as Elizabeth was saying…”

  Lissa shrugged prettily. “Don’t blame me, sweeties; I got a phone call from my agent, saying drop everything and get straight round to the Haybarn, they need you. So here I am! You are glad to see me, aren’t you?”

  “Of course we are, Lissa,” said Benjamin, shooting Elizabeth a quick warning glance. “It’s simply that the renovators have encountered some…unexpected difficulties.”

  “Oh, I know all about that, sweetie,” said Lissa. “My agent couldn’t wait to tell me!”

  “How very helpful of him,” said Elizabeth. “It would seem word has got out…”

  “Ghosts and ghoulies and things that go Booyah! in the night! How terribly thrilling!” Lissa looked at JC and his team with new interest. “Are you the experts?”

  “I do wish people would stop using that word, in that particular tone of voice,” said Happy. “Yes, we are quite definitely experts; we are the Ghost Finders! Hauntings a speciality, no spook left unturned. We are very expert! Very!”

  “Gosh,” said Lissa, completely unmoved by Happy’s histrionics. “What larks, eh?” She looked around the lobby, and some of her natural exuberance fell away. “Bit of a dump, isn’t it, sweeties?”

  “It wasn’t always like this,” said Elizabeth, frostily. “Back in its heyday, the Haybarn was one of the finest theatres in the Midlands. Very smart, very elegant, very fashionable; the most prestigious vehicle for any up-and-coming young actors looking to make their mark. We had critics from all the broadsheets turning up on opening nights.”

  “But that was…sometime ago,” said Benjamin. “The Haybarn has been shut down and abandoned for twenty years. It’s going to take a lot of hard work to smarten the old girl up again. And we can’t do that until we can persuade the renovators to return.”

  “Why has it been left empty for so long?” said Lissa.

  Benjamin and Elizabeth looked at each other, then at the Ghost Finders. “It was to have been our greatest triumph,” said Benjamin. “The play that would change all our lives.”

  “Change everything,” said Elizabeth. “But it all went wrong, so horribly quickly…”

  “We were the established leads, back then,” said Benjamin. “Starred in everything the Haybarn put on, took everything in our stride, from classics to modern. The public loved us, the critics thought we could do no wrong. We had the world at our feet, and we thought it would last forever. We wrote a play together, Elizabeth and I: A Working-class Messiah Is Something to Be. Something…very different, very special. We would direct and cover the two supporting leads, and we had one of the major stars of the day committed to the lead. Frankie Hazzard.”

  Everyone nodded quickly. They all knew that name.

  “Tall, dark, and handsome,” said Melody. “Didn’t half fancy himself. He played that spy, what’s-his-name, in that film; Index Finger, Left Hand.”

  “I saw him on a chat show once,” said Happy. “So far up himself he was hanging out his own nostrils.”

  “Pushing that unfortunate mental image firmly to one side,” said JC, “perhaps we could concentrate on the matter at hand. What happened? What went wrong?”

  “The play crashed and burned,” Elizabeth said flatly. “Didn’t even make two weeks before the theatre shut it down. The critics hated it, and nobody came. The theatre’s owners had sunk considerable funding into it, and they lost all of it. They had no choice but to close the theatre.”

  “We were wiped out,” said Benjamin. “Lost everything we had.”

  “And, of course, no other theatre would touch us, after that,” said Elizabeth. “The stink of failure clings like leprosy in our profession.”

  “Our play was supposed to make everyone’s careers, and make everyone a lot of money,” said Benjamin. “But it didn’t. Not the play’s fault, though…We always said that, didn’t we, darling? Well, after all these years, we have funding again. A chance to reopen the play, right here. The play as it should have been, before Frankie Hazzard got his grubby hands on it and insisted on all those unnecessary rewrites. Our production will reopen the Haybarn, with the very talented Lissa Parr as our female lead.”

  “I’m still waiting to hear who’s going to be playing opposite me,” said Lissa, in a pretty, smiling, and very pointed way.

  “We’re still in negotiations,” Elizabeth said quickly. “We’re almost there, only a few last details to hammer out with his agent.”

  “We can’t name him yet, for obvious reasons,” said Benjamin. “But he is very enthusiastic. Loves the play…”

  Happy leaned in close beside Melody. “You think the theatre’s owners could be Catherine Latimer’s old friends?” he said quietly. “And that’s why we’re here?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Melody.

  “So!” Lissa said brightly, turning the full force of her charm on JC. “You’re the experts. But what are you, exactly? Spookbusters? Exorcists R Us?”

  “No-one’s reported seeing any actual ghosts,” Benjamin said quickly. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh?”

  “It could still all turn out to be nothing,” said Elizabeth.

  “Or nothing important, anyway,” said Benjamin.

  “What exactly happened?” said JC, and something in his voice stopped Benjamin in mid flow. He looked at his wife.

  “The workers we hired to renovate this building, at very expensive rates, were all very vague about what they’d encountered here,” Elizabeth said steadily. “In fact, we couldn’t get a straight answer out of any of them. But every single one of them was out of here inside of twelve hours; and not one of them would agree to set foot inside the building again, no matter how much was offered them, until we’d agreed to Do Something…”

  “Oh, that’s us!” JC said cheerfully. “We’re great ones for Doing Something!”

  “Suddenly and violently and all over the place,” said Happy.

  “But what actually happened here?” Melody insisted. “What did the workers see, or hear…?”

  “They’d barely been in here a few hours before the problems started,” said Benjamin, reluctantly. “The men saw and heard…things, though they wouldn’t say what. There was a constant feeling of being watched, apparently, of being observed by unfriendly eyes. Things, tools, would disappear from right under their hands, then reappear somewhere else. Voices, in the dark, saying things…bad things. Someone crying who wouldn’t stop. Someone they could never find calling for help. And a constant sense of someone standing right behind you, close enough to reach out and lay a hand on your shoulder…”

  “And then they found the dead tramp,” said Elizabeth. “Right there on the main stage.”

  “And that was the end of that,” said Benjamin. “The final straw. No-one would go back in after that.”

  “How did he die exactly?” said Melody.

  “Heart attack,” Benjamin said carefully. “That’s what the doctor put on the death certificate.”

  “It was a reporter from the local paper who claimed that the man died of fright,” said Elizabeth. “Apparently he saw a photo of the tramp’s face…Anyway, that put it on the front page of the local rag. After
all, died of fright is a headline. Died of a heart attack is nothing more than filler. Page twelve, if you’re lucky.”

  “Still!” Lissa said brightly. “Paranormal encounters, eh? Isn’t it exciting?”

  JC, Melody, and Happy all looked at her in a pitying sort of way, which she entirely failed to pick up on.

  “We insisted on being here, to oversee your work,” Elizabeth said to JC. “To ensure the theatre’s interests are represented while you work out what’s going on here.”

  “What’s really going on?” Benjamin said heavily. “I’m still not convinced by any of this.”

  “You sounded pretty convinced a moment ago,” said Happy.

  “We need to get this all done and sorted!” Benjamin said stubbornly. “Nothing can be allowed to get in the way of our play’s revival!”

  “Nothing,” Elizabeth said flatly. “We’ve waited too long for this.” She looked straight at JC. “You have to get to the bottom of this, Mr. Chance. Before the theatre’s owners lose faith and whip the funding out from under us. Again.”

  Lissa looked sharply at Elizabeth and Benjamin. “Is there a problem with the funding? Is there, in fact, some doubt as to whether this play will actually go on? I turned down a really good part in a good film because my agent said this would be a good career move! I can’t afford a mis-step in my career at this point!”

  Elizabeth and Benjamin looked fondly at each other. “Doesn’t she remind you of us, at that age?” said Elizabeth.

  “Answer the question!” said Lissa, actually stamping one small but perfect foot.

  “The funding is in place and perfectly secure,” Benjamin said soothingly. “The play will go on. As soon as the experts here have put everything to rights. Which shouldn’t take too long; right, Mr. Chance?”

  “We’re not going to have to get a medium in, are we?” said Elizabeth. “They’re always so expensive…”

  “I worked with a medium, once,” said Benjamin. “Doing the knockings for him, banging a pair of tap shoes against the underside of the stage. It was all killing effective…”

  “Was that the one who used to do the cold readings?” said Elizabeth. “And then used what he knew to get the more susceptible ones into bed with him, so he could scam their pin numbers…?”

  “Does this theatre have a history of ghosts?” asked JC, cutting in firmly.

  “Well, of course; every theatre does,” said Benjamin. “But they’re just stories. Something to pass the time backstage, when you’re not on for ages, and give the chorus line something to squeal and giggle about. No-one ever takes them seriously.”

  “What stories do you have here?” said Melody, not very patiently.

  “There’s the Lady in White,” said Elizabeth. “If you see her drifting around the dressing-rooms on opening night, that’s supposed to guarantee a good run for your show.”

  “And then there’s the Headless Panto Dame,” said Benjamin. “Nasty accident with a trap-door, back in the sixties. Traumatised a whole pack of Cub Scouts in the front row.”

  “Is she bad luck to see?” said Happy.

  “For anyone who sees him, yes,” said Elizabeth.

  “But,” said Benjamin, very firmly, “there have never been any…unexplained incidents in the theatre before this. Not one. No nasty business, nothing properly frightening, and certainly never anything bad enough to send dozens of hardened workmen running away from very well-paid work.”

  And then they all looked round sharply again as the main doors slammed shut. And there, standing before them, smiling gently, was an old man with stooped shoulders, a long brown overall, and a flat cap perched slightly off skew on his bald head. He looked to be well into his seventies, with a heavily lined face, a weak smile, and a really unfortunate attempt at a moustache. He nodded vaguely to everyone present, regarding them all with pale, watery eyes.

  “Sorry about that, ladies and gents; didn’t mean to startle anyone. I’m Old Tom; used to be caretaker here, back in the day. Called out of a well-earned retirement to give a hand with the…current situation.”

  Benjamin looked at him suspiciously. “We didn’t hire you.”

  “Bless you, no, sir,” said Old Tom, blinking quickly. “The theatre’s owners contacted me personally, asked me to come back and help out. I couldn’t say no, not after they were so good to me, all those years. Spent the best years of my life here, looking after the old place. No-one knows the old Haybarn better than me. Seen them all come and go, I have. The stories I could tell…Anyway. Couldn’t leave the old girl in the hands of strangers. No-one knows the ins and outs of the Haybarn better than me, ladies and gents. Shall I show you around?”

  “Hold it,” said JC. “Who are the theatre’s owners?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Lovett, sir,” said Old Tom. “The Lovetts have owned the Haybarn for generations.”

  “Why didn’t anyone buy the theatre while it was closed?” said Melody.

  “Because it was never put up for sale, miss,” said Old Tom. “They’d never sell this old place. Far too much sentimental value. Of course, it helps that the Lovetts aren’t short of a bob or two, if you catch my drift.” Here, Old Tom did his best to wink roguishly. “No; they’ve been waiting for exactly the right time to reopen their theatre again.”

  “And the right play,” said Benjamin.

  “As you say, sir,” said Old Tom.

  “Then lead on,” said JC. “Show us everything there is to see.”

  Old Tom gave them all another of his vague smiles and shuffled over to one of the larger doors. It was only then that the others realised that he’d come out still wearing his carpet slippers. They all looked at each other, but no-one felt like saying anything. Old Tom pushed the door open and disappeared through, letting the door slam shut behind him. JC leaned in close to murmur to Happy and Melody.

  “No-one said anything to me about a caretaker. Just the actors.”

  “Want me to prod him?” said Happy.

  “Don’t you dare!” said Elizabeth, who turned out to be a lot closer than any of them had realised. “The last thing we need is the theatre’s owners getting involved, saying we’re not respecting their wishes.”

  JC looked at Elizabeth. “My, what big ears you have.”

  “All the better for not being left out of things, darling,” said Elizabeth. “I don’t want Old Tom upset. A good caretaker is worth his weight in gold.”

  “In oh so many ways,” said Benjamin.

  “Would he be likely to know the theatre’s private and personal history?” said JC. “All the tales told out of school, the secrets and scandals?”

  There was a brief pause while Elizabeth and Benjamin looked at each other, and something went unspoken between them.

  “Caretakers were often spies for the owners, back in the day,” Elizabeth said carefully. “Reporting back on all the gossip, on every little bust-up and whispered confidence. Never let us get away with anything.”

  “You think that’s why he’s here now?” said Happy.

  “Why else?” said Benjamin. “We didn’t hire him; did we, darling?”

  “Never met him before in my life,” said Elizabeth.

  JC looked at them sharply. “You don’t know Old Tom personally?”

  “Benjamin and I weren’t actually here all that long,” said Elizabeth. “A bit over four years, in all. He could have been before our time.”

  “Or, he might be someone from the local press, passing himself off as a caretaker!” said Benjamin. “Looking to see if their story has legs!”

  “He did come across a bit Central Casting,” said Elizabeth. “But you know, that might not necessarily be a bad thing, darling. We could use a little useful publicity, to get the theatre’s reopening noticed…If we play this right…”

  Old Tom poked his head back through the door. “Is there a problem, ladies and gents?”

  “What have you heard about the…current conditions?” said JC.

  “The dead tramp and the hau
ntings?” Old Tom tried out his roguish wink again and laid one finger along the side of his nose. “I’ve worked here man and boy, sir, and never seen a thing. Take more than a few rumours to keep me out. I ain’t afraid of no ghost!” He chuckled silently for a moment, enjoying his little joke. “You come along with me, ladies and gents. Old Tom’ll see nothing happens to you! There’s nothing to be scared of here…”

  He disappeared back through his door again, and the others hurried after him, JC making a point of leading the way. Melody briefly glanced back at her instruments, then shrugged angrily and went along with the others. The door swung quietly shut behind them. Silence and shadows held sway in the empty lobby. And then the intercom speakers turned themselves on. For a while, there was nothing but the quiet hissing of static; and then, a voice.

  “Welcome back, my friends, to the opening night of a brand-new production. Seats available at all prices. The curtain is going up. Prepare yourselves…for a show you’ll never forget.”

  FOUR

  STAGE BUSINESS

  When an audience comes to the theatre, all they usually see is the lobby and the stage. They may notice, in passing, the Ticket Office…posters on the walls, maybe some concession stands, but that’s it. But what an audience sees is only ever the tip of the iceberg; most of the work and most of the world of the theatre is the nine-tenths of the iceberg that remains hidden from view. For the same reason that most patrons never get to see the kitchens of the restaurants they visit. Because if you could see what went on behind the scenes, what really goes into everything, all the illusion and glamour would be stripped away in a moment. Acting is like athletics—a lot of effort goes into making it all seem effortless.