Simon Green - Ghost of a Dream

“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!”