Underbelly (47 page)

Grey made time to quickly chat with Germaine and Dora before he began the second part of his show, the private consultations. He now considered this second act the perfect way of winding down as it was far less stressful and a real connection with his audience was established here. Dora praised his performance, though the truth was that she was more convinced of his authenticity by the reactions of others rather than by anything he did. Grey apologised to both ladies in advance for the amount of time they would be waiting; by the size of the crowd he estimated he’d be conveying private messages for over an hour. He found the time flew for him, as this was important work that granted closure to both parties, and Germaine had been in the same position as those that utilised his gift and would never complain; Dora was new to the waiting game, and would at least keep Germaine company this once, even if she never returned again.

Grey looked down at his watch after Mrs Elkins left the room. He’d already kept the ladies waiting for 50 minutes and there was still two other ladies he had to see. Grey was relieved when he went to fetch his next visitor and learnt that they were together as the more attractive of the two, a ringleted golden-haired slim woman in her early 20s, very elegantly dressed, said, “We’re family.”

Her accent was distinctly English and aristocratic and her countenance was jolly (uncommon but not unheard of at his shows) in sharp contrast to her dark-haired relative. They remained seated and Grey offered his hand and the blonde accepted his aid while the brunette stood up before he had chance to help her up. Grey formally introduced himself and the blonde gave him their unusual names, Jay and Aelita, and he led them to a small room and invited them to sit down. At previous buildings the back rooms had been dank, depressing affairs, which brought to mind rooms used by the Gestapo for extracting confessions. Saying a final farewell to a loved one was harrowing enough without such backdrops and Grey and Germaine had tried to make this room presentable with flowers and a colourful tablecloth and a childhood painting by Carol Cremont adorned the wall.

Before Grey had taken his seat opposite them (he’d tried sitting side by side with relatives at previous after show talks and it always felt wrong) the blonde, Jay, gushed, “That was a marvellous show. I really would like to discuss it further but I understand that you’ll be tired now and must be wanting to get home.”

Grey shook his head. “I always look tired, pay no attention to that. You’re done me the honour of coming to my show and private consultations are part of that.”

“
If you contacted every person I asked for we would still be here tomorrow morning and that’s unreasonable.”

“
Let’s see,” Grey suggested. “If you give me one name we can see where we go from there.”

Jay shook her head as the brunette, Aelita, stared at him impassively. She was a very thin girl whose beauty was lessened a little by prominent dark circles under her eyes, very pronounced for her seemingly tender age, and her long light brown hair was unquestionably her best feature. “I was hoping we could schedule a private performance. You would be reimbursed.”

“
Most conversations with spirits last less than a quarter of an hour. You’re here now and, assuming I can contact every name, we can still reunite you with them all and leave here before 11. On second thoughts it’s probably late enough now for you to be travelling in the city. We can meet up whenever suits you. Are you two all right getting home?”

“
Yes, don’t worry about us,” she said with a toothy smile, finding something humorous about his concern. She reached into her purse and placed a sheet of writing paper on the table which had a Greenwich Village address written down under the name Mrs Horgensboard. “Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?”

Grey exhaled as he considered her request, which he couldn’t refuse. Perhaps this was a better idea, as he had kept Germaine and Dora waiting long enough.

“
If you could be over for five you can enjoy a transatlantic high tea. Your wife is invited too.”

“
I don’t know where this is. I will come, only...”

“
Take a cab. I will pay, and for the return cab also.”

“
Thank you for offering, Mrs Horgensboard, but I’ll pay my own way. You’ve already paid tonight so there is no further charge.”

“
Thank you. Thank him, Aelita.”

“
Once he’s done something that deserves my gratitude I will,” Aelita said, her accent indeterminable.

Grey took no offence and said, “She’s right, Mrs Horgensboard, you shouldn’t get your hopes up. I have a decent batting average – poor turn of phrase, I mean I can contact a large percentage of spirits, but not all. Many people have left this room dejected.”

“
Not us. You’ve impressed me tonight, James Grey, and that is a rare feat,” Jay said cheerily as she stood up, happy to leave now that she had his word he’d perform for them. “One thing. I’m not Mrs Horgensboard. She’s my dear friend who has been putting us up. My full name is Jemima Harding. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

“
Five pm sharp for high tea. I’ll be there,” Grey said, escorting them back into the hall. Germaine and Dora sat at the front, sharing a fashion magazine, and both looked up as Jemima said goodbye and then loudly declared that she knew they’d have a smashing night tomorrow. Grey wished she hadn’t said that. He had been momentarily taken aback at her name and had masked that and had no qualms about accepting her invitation. His only reservation was telling Germaine in case she needlessly fretted, and now he had no choice.

With Dora stopping with them for the night Grey had to take Germaine into the bathroom to tell her that the name Jemima Harding was familiar to him as one of Laura’s contemporaries, the person she believed to be the most powerful in the world. Grey’s words worried her and he found himself forced to reassure her as he talked of how Jemima was wholly different to Inge, far more of a benign figure. To sate Germaine’s fears he had to paint her in a good light even though he knew very little about her. The appointment greatly troubled Germaine but she understood that he had to keep it – such a person would be impossible to evade and was not worth antagonising.

“
I wish I could be there,” Germaine sighed as she pressed her face to his chest as he embraced her, trying to quell her fears.

“
She invited you, but I’d sooner you stayed home. Don’t fret about it. She’s harmless, an eccentric old duck in a young woman’s body.”

“
Then I’ll come,” Germaine said, looking up to him, imploring him to let her accompany him.

“
You can, if you want to. Trouble is, Gem, all it’s going to be is four or five hours of me passing on messages from spirits. You’ve heard enough of that to last a lifetime, surely? Plus the brunette’s a bit queer.”

“
In what way?”

“
Well...she only said one thing, so I dare say I’m judging prematurely. The thing is, Jemima’s no threat, but I don’t know what to expect of the night so I’m not going to put you through it too. She’s not like her...she’s nothing like her,” Grey said, refusing to say the name, kissing her hair.

“
I know that. I still want to come with you. It would be a long night otherwise, James.”

Grey acquiesced to her request, and questioned his decision as he slept on the sofa (Germaine and Dora shared the bed whenever Dora stopped over, at his insistence). Jemima Harding was a powerful enigma he had never given much thought to previously. He knew that Laura disliked her, though he chose to make up his own mind about her. While Laura always claimed to be apolitical her views suggested she empathised to a degree with the proletariat and disliked the nobility, which gave Jemima an immediate demerit. Laura had told him through gritted teeth that this woman was more powerful than she was and that would be grounds enough for Laura to detest her. Laura often took aversions to people; his fellow soldiers, the Pagan Resistance, most of Ravensbeck and even his favourite nurse, Rosemary Rhodes, had all been subjected to Laura’s infamous glares and barbed tongue, and viewing it this way he did not feel disloyal talking to Jemima. Snubbing everyone that she disliked was not the Christian code of conduct and would greatly limit his social circle.

Grey wore his best tailored suit and made sure he was exceptionally well groomed, while Germaine looked perfect as usual as they turned up early to the three storey home. A young, tall and gaunt housekeeper let them in and led them upstairs where Jemima and Aelita were sitting in the lounge as Mrs Horgensboard stood up to welcome her guests to her home. She was American and looked to be in her 70s (though with present company anything was possible) and quickly proved to be a most gracious hostess; Grey quickly surmised she could handle being on stage without sweating buckets like he did every night.

Tea was promptly served by the housekeeper and an Oriental maid and Grey was offered the seat at the head of the table as the hostess sat at the foot with Germaine sitting close to her husband facing Aelita directly, with Jemima at her side. Germaine took James’ point about Aelita; already she had looked up at the wrong time and found herself locked in an uncomfortable stare which she quickly turned from while Aelita maintained it. Germaine found she didn’t need to speak much and so far she hadn’t, as her husband and the two older women made sure there were no lulls in the conversation.

“
Could one of you ladies enlighten me as to which fork I should be using?” Grey asked jovially, making fun of his ignorance of social etiquette.

“
Can’t a spirit help you?” Aelita said, possibly a dig.

“
It’s my job to help them, not the other way round,” Grey replied courteously. Even if she was going to be a royal pain tonight, which seemed likely from the attitude dripping from her, he wasn’t going to rise to the bait, or at least not unless Germaine was insulted.

“
It’s the one at your left but it really does not matter, James. Thank you again for being able to see us at such short notice. I’m sure you must be a very busy man,” Jemima said.

“
It’s no problem. I hope you enjoyed the show last night.”

“
Indeed we did. What a tour de force!” she enthused, her tone sounding a little insincere to Germaine. She considered herself to be James’ biggest fan and this woman was laying it on too thick.

“
I’m not sure about that but thank you anyway,” he said modestly.

“
Now what are we going to call you, Mr Grey? Shall we address you as James, or do you prefer Jim? My great-grandson would only ever answer to that, which is a shame as James is such a lovely name. With my name my family have called me all sorts over the years – Jem, Jemma, Mimi – Nanny Puddleduck was my least favourite,” she said with sentimental affection. “What do you prefer?”

“
I answer to a lot of names as well. Whatever you pick is fine,” he said affably.

“
I prefer Jemima so I’ll call you James. James, let me reintroduce you, and Germaine, to my granddaughter Aelita.”

Grey reached across the table and shook her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Aelita. That’s a nice name.”

“
My father loved the Russian cinema,” Aelita said, her accent a hybrid of English and Russian, her childhood spent in both countries. She forced a smile at his compliment, though made it apparent that it was false.

“
Not just the cinema, books too. Henry was obsessed with HG Wells, he made me read his books to him every night when I tucked him into bed,” Jemima reminisced fondly, Grey catching a little sadness and pain too. “You didn’t seem surprised by the revelation that Aelita is my granddaughter and as I feel I don’t look too bad for my age that means that you must know a little bit about me. I could see in your expression last night that you’d heard of me.” Her manner was demulcent yet Germaine remained wary, even if her husband did not. This was not some anile old dotard; this woman had an agenda.

“
You know that I’m a medium and through spirits I hear of a lot of people through the ages, Octavius and you and lots of others,” Grey said, trying to make out it was no big thing that he’d heard of her.

“
Proceed with caution with Octavius,” Jemima warned gravely.