AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Many challenges? What are those going to be?” But her question remained unanswered. The glass remained still. Clearly Aunt Mavis wasn’t prepared to divulge pertinent facts, and a pregnant pause fell over the group as they waited to see what would happen next.
“Well, I never,” Babette whispered. “It is right. You have mourned greatly for your uncle, Tuppence.” There was no censure in her voice, it was merely a statement.
“I know,” Tuppence replied. She straightened her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath as she dabbed gently at the corner of her eyes. She would shed her tears another time, of that she had no doubt. For now, there were far too many eyes on her for comfort and she offered a brave smile that quivered at the corners a little. “Let’s see if there is anything for anyone else, shall we?”
“Good idea,” Harriett replied, offering a supportive smile to her friend. She had spent many hours with Tuppence while she had wept, wailed and raged against the deaths of firstly her parents, then her Aunt Mavis before a wasting disease had befallen her Uncle Ben. Their deaths had rendered Tuppence the only member of her family left at Hilltop Farm alive, apart from her elder brother, Peter. Together, they had taken over the family homestead with a drive and determination that had been humbling to witness.
Harriett’s musing was interrupted by the movement of the glass as it began to move across the table again.
“Are there any messages for me?” Minerva Bobbington asked hesitantly. She too glanced at the ceiling as though expecting a dearly departed relative to poke their head through and shout ‘boo’.
T-H-E-C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N-A-R-E-F-I-N-E.
Harriett frowned up at the ceiling again and turned quizzical eyes on Mrs Bobbington. During the pre-meeting tea, Minerva had fussed and fluttered about how nervous she was, and how relieved she was to be able to get away from the house for a while. She had declared again and again, to anyone who would listen, that she would dearly love to receive a message from her aunt.
“Can you take the message, Minerva?” Harriett asked softly.
The message hadn’t said who it was from, but Mrs Bobbington began to cry. “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she whispered, and smiled her thanks at Mr Montague as he handed her a handkerchief.
“What children?” Tuppence burst out, staring curiously at Mrs Bobbington. Although she hadn’t had much time to engage in gossip lately, she was fairly certain that Mrs Bobbington had been at home prior to the séance, and would be perfectly capable of knowing if her children were alright or not.
“Several years ago, I lost two children to polio when they were just babies.”
The table lapsed into sympathetic silence. “Would you like to stop for a break for a while?” Harriett offered. She ignored the impatient sight from Madame Humphries, and watched Minerva continue to dab at her yes with a hand that visibly shook.
“No, thank you. I am fine, really. I would prefer it if we could carry on and get the messages while they are coming through.”
“Thank you, my friends. Can you tell us anything else?” Madame Humphries cried. Everyone watched the glass begin to slide again.
Yes.
Harriett wondered why the spirits were being so particular and answering every question Madame Humphries put forward, especially if they needed so much energy to move the glass.
T-H-E-W-A-T-C-H-I-S-I-N-T-H-E-E-M-B-A-L-M-I-N-G-F-L-U-I-D.
Mr Bentwhistle sat back in his chair and stared in disbelief down at the glass. “It’s for me. That message is for me,” he whispered.
“Do you understand it?” Harriett demanded. From the look on his face, it was indeed for him and it had shaken him greatly.
“Yes, I do, my dear. A few days ago, I lost a watch that belonged to one of my clients. I have searched the parlour from top to bottom but could not find the blasted – apologies ladies – thing, anywhere. It must be in the embalming fluid,” he whispered, clearly nonplussed.
“How would it get in there?” Babette shushed Madame Humphries, who had taken a breath to speak.
“This is preposterous. How would a spirit know that?” Miss Smethwick scoffed and earned herself a glare from Madame Humphries.
“I have no idea, but I am certainly going to take a look when I get back to the parlour.”
“Why don’t we go now?” Beatrice asked with an ebullient enthusiasm that made everyone stare at her in horror.
“No!” The reply was chorused by at least eight of those present, and the room lapsed into awkward silence while a range of excuses were considered and dismissed.
Harriett shivered as a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the window panes. There was no earthly possibility that she was going to go outside at all tonight, least of all to visit a funeral parlour.
She turned to Beatrice with a shiver, and shook her head. “I am not going, and that is a fact,” she replied firmly and mutinously sat back in her seat with her arms folded.
“You must tell us if it is there,” Constance declared firmly. She made no attempt to gather her cloak for a trip down the street to the parlour either. The thought of going anywhere near the ominous looking building in the daytime was bad enough; there was no possibility of her going there at night, even with half of the psychic circle in attendance. She wasn’t that enamoured of getting in contact with the spirits to want to sit amongst their bodies at their temporary place of rest.
“Oh, I will my dear. I most certainly will tell you if I find it,” Mr Bentwhistle replied fervently.
