A shadowy figure swept onto the stage, and a single bright light came to life, revealing a man in his early twenties. Dressed in a dark suit, he wore a white shirt and polished black leather shoes. His hair was plastered back and dark. His cheekbones were high and pronounced, and he had a pointy chin with a tiny goatee.
'Death,' he said.
His voice was clear and sonorous, and the single word hung suspended in the theatre's atmosphere like a cloud. Jane glanced around at the other patrons. A woman had rosary beads clutched in her trembling hands. Another had a tiny silhouette of what appeared to be a woman in a locket.
'Death.'
The man repeated the word, and this time, his eyes angled down to the audience. His gaze lingered on each person in the theatre, and Jane felt his eyes meet hers, as if they were boring into the back of her head.
'Death is only a barrier,' the man said. 'A veil. It is a place where our loved ones go and await our arrival. It is not a place to be feared. Not a place of Hell and burning and eternal damnation. It is a place of love.' He brought a thumb and forefinger together. 'The veil is whisper-thin, separated by a single heartbeat. Those who live exist on this side of the heartbeat. Those who die await us on the other.'
The blood in Jane's head was throbbing. She listened harder. Was that in her head? What was that sound?
It sounds like…
A heartbeat.
The relentless, rhythmic drumming of a heart echoed around the theatre. Thud. Thud. Thud. Jane wasn't sure if she imagined the sound or if it was real. She glanced over at Eddy and saw he had something in his hand: a religious medallion. He was rubbing the tarnished silver medal between his thumb and forefinger.
The lights came up on the stage, and four people entered and sat at the round table. There were three women and a man. The females all looked like shopwomen, but the man seemed more upper-class. He was older, with a thick white beard and wore a monocle.
A member of the landed gentry, Jane thought.
'Tonight, we will pierce that veil,' the man said. 'I am The Great Filador, and I will be your host as we journey from one world to the next: the world of Phantasmagoria. But first, we must establish with whom we wish to contact.' He turned to the people around the table. 'Your names?'
The three women all had names of the lower orders and sounded it, but the man introduced himself as Sir Walter Ascot. Each of the women had lost sons and daughters through illness, but Ascot said his son had drowned during the incident with HMS Ardent.
'I can make no promises,' Filador said to the group. 'I can but only try.'
This is a séance, Jane realised.
She'd heard of events where people spoke to their loved ones. Her father had said it was impossible, and he was a man of faith, but Jane wondered if he was wrong. All these people seemed to have come here believing that the dead could be contacted.
Filador rounded the table and began a long, rhythmic tap on it. Jane realised the sound of the pulsing heartbeat had faded. As Filador tapped the table, another, more distant sound seemed to replace it.
Thunder, she thought. A storm is brewing.
The low rumble grew louder. Then a sudden flash lacerated the ceiling. Jane scanned the rafters.
That's impossible. You can't have a storm in a theatre.
Lightning flashed again. Now it was accompanied by the faraway sound of rain.
How is this happening?
Filador dropped his head to his chest and rested his hands on the table. Raising his head, his eyes were closed as he spoke. 'There is someone on the other side,' he said. 'They are trying to cross from their world to our own. It's a boy. His name is…Simon.'
Sir Ascot gasped. 'That's my son's name!'
The sound of the rain faded, replaced by the distorted sound of water sloshing in the sea. Jane's heart was thudding as she remembered the old man had spoken about his son drowning at sea.
The light on the stage flashed on and off.
As Jane's eyes refocused, she made out a gossamer white shape at the back of the stage. She peered more closely as someone in the audience cried out and pointed.
'There's one!' a man said. 'It's come through!'
A glowing white figure stood silently behind The Great Filador. It raised its hands high, but its head remained bowed. It was impossible to make out any specific details. Its form was roughly human: there was a torso, arms, and legs. But it had no face—only two hollow dark patches where eyes would have been.
The three women on the stage gasped.
'There it is!' one said.
'I don't recognise him,' another said.
'It's not my Matthew,' the third said.
'Simon!' Filador cried. 'Can you hear us?'
'I can hear you!'
The voice seemed to come from all around the theatre. A woman gasped. Another swooned. One of the men crossed himself. Light appeared from above. At first, Jane thought it was more lightning, but then she saw that slow, rolling clouds of mist had started to encroach across the ceiling. She stared at the mist. Floating among the undulating clouds were ghostly shapes: skulls, faces, figures.
This can't be real, Jane thought. But what are they?
The gut-wrenching sound of slopping water filled the entire theatre.
'Father!' the voice cut across the sound of water. 'I'm drowning! Drowning!'
'My son!' Sir Ascot cried. 'I'm here, Simon! I'm here!'
'Never fear, father,' the voice said. 'I've passed through the veil to the other side. All is well for me. I am beyond pain. Beyond fear. Beyond hatred. I am surrounded by love.'
'My son! My boy. My dear boy!'
'Give my love to all,' the ghostly voice continued. 'I am well. One day we will walk through Paradise together.'
'My boy….'
'I love you father…I love you…'
'Simon…my dear Simon…'
The ghostly figure at the back of the stage dissolved from view. The sound of water gradually diminished. The ethereal, glowing figures that haunted the ceiling disappeared into the gloom. The lights grew brighter on the front of the stage as Filador raised his head. The man appeared physically exhausted.
'I am done,' he said. 'The veil has closed once more. The worlds are as they should be. The world of man is separated from the joyous world of the departed. Go out from here with love in your hearts and know that those who are dead are not gone. They are waiting…beyond the veil.'
The house lights came up. Jane blinked in the sudden brightness, and she swallowed. Acrid smoke drifted about the ceiling. People stood and made their way to the exits. Doctor Porter gave Betty a knowing, broad wink as she stood up to leave. For a moment, the woman looked cross, but then she gave a tiny smirk and left.
Jane turned to the others.
'My goodness,' she said, shaken and open-mouthed. 'What about all that?'
'Impressive, what?' Doctor Porter said, grinning. 'Did you enjoy the show?'