Hilary Mantel - Beyond Black

“No.”

“Think again. I’m going to give you the name Margaret.”

“I did know a girl called—”

“Answer yes or no!”

“No.”

“I’m going to give you the name Geoff. Can you take that?”

“No.”

“Geoff is standing here by my side. Can you take that?”

“No,” the woman whimpered.

Gemma looked as if she were going to fly from the stage and slap her. “I am going to give you a place. I am going to give you Altrincham, Cheshire, that is to say Greater Manchester. Can you take Altrincham?”

“I can take Wilmslow.”

“I am not interested in Wilmslow. You, can you take Altrincham?” She jumped from the stage, gestured to Colette to hand her the microphone. She paced the aisle between them throwing out names; Jim, Geoff, Margaret. She spun a series of questions that dizzied the punters; she tied them in twisting knots with her yes or no, yes or no?; before they could think or draw breath, her fingers were clicking at them, “no need to think it over, darling, just tell me, yes or no.” Yes breeds further yes and no breeds yes too. They haven’t come out for the evening to say no. People aren’t going to go on and on refusing her offers, or with a contemptuous hitch of her shoulders she will move on to the next prospect. “Yes? No. No? Yes.”

A loud humming began inside Al’s head; it was the brush of skin as a thousand dead people twiddled their thumbs. God, it’s boring, this, they were saying. Her mind wandered. Where’s my silk? she wondered. Whatever has Morris done with it? Her photograph on its easel looked bare without it. In the picture her smile looked thinner, almost strained, and her glowing eyes seemed to stare.

Gemma swished past her, coming off to a spatter of applause. “On you go, take your time,” Silvana said to Mrs. Etchells.

Mrs. Etchells toddled forward. As she passed Alison, she muttered again, “Never called me granny.”

“Get out there, you batty old witch,” Gemma breathed. “You next, Cara.”

“What a joy to see your faces,” Mrs. Etchells began. “My name is Irene Etchells, I have been gifted with second sight from an early age, and let me tell you there has been a great deal of joy in my life. There is no place for gloom when we reach out to Spirit World. So before we can see who’s with us tonight, I would like you all to join hands, and join me in a little prayer … .”

“She’s up and running,” Silvana said, satisfied.

A moment or two, and she was eliciting symptoms from a woman in the second row left: palpitations, light-headedness, a feeling of fullness in her abdomen.

Gemma stood in the wings, prompting, “Yes or no, answer yes or no.”

Alison sighed. “Let her do it in her own sweet way.”

“Oh, I can’t do with that yes-no malarkey,” Mrs. Etchells said, apparently to no one. The woman with the fullness paused, and looked offended. “There’s a gentleman coming through from Spirit who’s trying to help me,” Mrs. Etchells said. “He begins with a K, can you take a K?”

They began negotiations. Kenneth? No, not Kenneth. Kevin? Not Kevin.

“Think, dear,” Mrs. Etchells urged. “Try and think back.”

In the house before Al left that evening, there had been further signs of a creeping male presence. There had been a whiff of tobacco and meat. As she was getting changed she had stepped on something with her bare foot, something rolling, round and hard. She had picked it up from the carpet; it was the gnawed stump of a pencil, the kind of pencil someone used to wear behind his ear. Aitkenside? Or Keef?

“It’s Keith,” Mrs. Etchells said. “K for Keith. Do you know a Keith, dear?”

I used to know one, Al thought, I used to know Keef Capstick, and now I’ve re-created him, brought him to mind, his pals can’t be far behind. She stood up, her breathing tight, wanting to get out. The room had a close smell, damp and medicinal, like mould under a box lid.

Onstage Mrs. Etchells was smiling. “Keith is suggesting an answer to your problem, dear. About your swollen tummy. He says, well madam, are you in the pudding club?”

There was a yelp of laughter from the audience: of indignation, from the woman in the second row left. “At my age? You must be joking.”

“Chance would be a fine thing, eh?” said Mrs. Etchells. “Sorry, dear, but I’m only passing on what the spirits tell me. That’s all I can do, and what I’m bound to do. Keith says, miracles can ’appen. Those are his exact words. Which I have to agree with, dear. Miracles can happen, unless of course you’ve had a little op?”

“Dear God,” Gemma whispered, “I’ve never known her like this.”

“Been at the cooking sherry,” Mandy said. “Before she came out.”

“I’d have smelled it on her breath,” Silvana snapped.

“Have you placed Keith, yet?” Mrs. Etchells asked. “He’s laughing, you know, he’s quite a joker. He says, you wouldn’t catch him wiv his trousers down in your vicinity, but some geezers don’t bother. They say, you don’t look at the mantelpiece when you’re poking the fire.”

There was a puzzled silence in the hall; laughter from some; from others a hostile mutter. “They’re turning,” Silvana said, a warning in her voice. “Can we get her off?”

“Leave her be,” Mandy said. “She’s been working with Spirit more years than you’ve had hot dinners.”

“Oops,” said Mrs. Etchells. “Somebody’s got their wires crossed. Now I look at you, dear, I see you’re not of an age for any how’s-your-father. Let’s clear the vibrations, shall we? Then we’ll have another go at it. You have to be able to laugh at yourself, don’t you? In Spirit World there’s lots of laughter. After the sunshine comes the rain. A chain of love links us to the world beyond. Let’s just tune in and have a little chat.”

Alison peeped out. She saw that Colette stood at the back of the room, ramrod-straight, the mike in her hand. “There’s a gentleman in the back row,” Mrs. Etchells said. “I’m coming to you, sir.”

Colette looked up, her eyes searching the platform for guidance. Her difficulty was clear. The back row was empty. From the wings Silvana cooed, “Mrs. E, dear, he must be in spirit, that gentleman, the audience can’t see him. Pass on, dear.”

Mrs. Etchells said, “That gentleman at the back, on the end there, have I seen you before? Yes, I thought I had. You’ve got a false eye now. I knew something was different. Used to wear a patch, didn’t you? I remember now.”

Alison shivered. “We must get her off,” she said. “Really, Mandy, it’s dangerous.”

A little louder, Silvana called, “Mrs. Etchells? How about some messages for the people in front?”

The audience were turning around, craning their necks and swivelling in their seats to see the empty back row: to giggle and jeer. “Aren’t they ungrateful!” Cara said, “You’d think they’d be glad of a manifestation! There’s obviously somebody there. Can you see him, Al?”

“No,” Al said shortly.

Mrs. Etchells beamed down at the hecklers. “Sometimes I wonder what I’ve done to be surrounded with so much love. God gave us a beautiful world to live in. When you’ve had as many ops as me you learn to live for the moment. As long as the youngsters are willing to listen and learn, there’s hope for this world. But now they’re only willing to put dog shit through your letter box, so I don’t see much hope. God has put a little light inside of us and one day we will rejoin the greater light.”

“She’s gone on automatic,” Cara said.

“Which one of us is going to get her?” Mandy said.

“Mrs. Etchells,” Silvana called, “come on now, time’s up. Come on for your cup of tea.”