‘OK, this,’ Flo said, spreading out sheets of paper on the coffee table, ‘should be fun.’
‘Magic eight ball says don’t count on it,’ Nina muttered. Clare shot her a look, but either Flo hadn’t heard, or chose to ignore the dig. She carried on busily setting up the table, dotting candles among the half-empty wine bottles.
‘Anyone got a lighter?’
Nina dug in the pocket of her denim mini-skirt and produced a Zippo, and Flo lit the candles with an air of ceremonial reverence. As each candle on the table caught, a corresponding flame kindled in the reflected view in the window. Flo had turned off the outside security lights, and the forest was dark apart from a little light from the moon. The room was dimly lit so that we could see the massing shapes of the trees, the pale snow, and the silhouette of the forest canopy against the slightly luminous sky. Now, it looked as if little will-o’-the-wisps were dancing in the trees, fragile ghostly flames, twice reflected in the double glazing.
I walked to the window, huffing on the glass and cupping my hands to see out into the night. It was perfectly still. But I thought again of the footsteps leading out to the barn, and the broken phone line, and I couldn’t stop myself from surreptitiously checking the latch of the French windows. It was fastened.
‘Mel would have hated this,’ Clare said thoughtfully as I rejoined the table and Flo lit the last candle. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s even more Christian than she was at uni.’
‘I really can’t see that communing with one imaginary friend is any different to communing with a bunch of them,’ Nina said spikily.
‘Look, it’s her faith, all right? There’s no need to be offensive.’
‘I’m not being offensive. You cannot, by definition, offend someone who’s not here. Offence has to be taken, not just given.’
‘If a tree falls in an empty forest, does it make a noise?’ Tom said, with a dry smile. He lay back on the sofa, and took a long gulp of wine. ‘Blimey, it’s years since I’ve done this. My aunt was very into all this communing with the spirits. I used to go round to her house after school and she’d make me do the traditional ouija board, you know, the one with the letters on it.’
I knew what he meant – those were the kind of ouija boards I’d seen in films. The one Flo was setting up was a bit different, a heart-shaped piece of wood more like a biro on wheels.
‘It’s easier this way,’ Flo said, her tongue between her teeth as she tried to fix the pen in the holder. ‘I’ve tried it before and the problem with the pointer is that unless you’re very quick, you can miss loads of letters. This way there’s a permanent record.’
‘Did you get anything?’ Clare asked. ‘When you tried it before, I mean?’
Flo nodded seriously. ‘Oh yes. I usually get some kind of message. My mum says I’ve got a natural resonance with the beyond.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Nina said. Her face was deadpan, but I could tell some kind of sarcastic remark was building up.
‘What did it say?’ I put in hastily, trying to head her off at the pass. ‘Last time, I mean?’
‘It was about my grandfather,’ Flo said. ‘He wanted to tell Granny that he was happy and that she should remarry if she wanted. Anyway, there, all set up. Are we ready?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ Clare said. She downed the rest of her wine and set down her glass. ‘Right. What do we do?’
Flo motioned to us all to come closer.
‘Right – put your fingers on the planchette. Just gently – you’re not trying to guide it, just be the conduit for any impulses you receive from the beyond.’
Nina rolled her eyes, but put her fingertips on the planchette. Tom and I followed suit. Clare was the last.
‘Ready?’ Flo asked.
‘Ready,’ Clare said.
Flo took a deep breath and shut her eyes. Her face in the candlelight was glowing, as if lit from within. I saw her eyes move beneath her lids, darting from side to side, seeking something she could not see.
‘Is there a spirit there who wants to speak to us?’ she intoned.
The planchette swirled uneasily in loops and spirals, not forming any shapes that made sense. No one was pushing it, I was pretty sure.
‘Is there a spirit here tonight?’ Flo repeated seriously. I saw Nina hide a smile. The planchette began to move in a more purposeful way.
Y.
‘Oh wow!’ Flo breathed. She looked up, her face alight. ‘Did you see that? It was like it was being pulled by a magnet. Did everyone feel that?’
I had felt something. It felt more like it was being pushed by someone else in the circle, but I said nothing.
‘What is the name of the spirit?’ Flo said eagerly.
The planchette began to move again:
te … qui … long pause … te … qui …
‘“Qui” means “who” in French,’ Flo breathed. ‘Maybe we’ve got a French spirit guide?’
… l … Both Tom and Nina began to laugh as the last ‘a’ trailed out from beneath the planchette. Even Clare gave a smothered snort and the planchette veered off towards the edge of the paper and then clattered to the floor as we all began to giggle.
Flo looked at the page for a moment, frowning, not getting the joke. Then she saw it. She knelt back from the table, her arms crossed.
‘Right.’ She looked from Clare, to Tom, and then to me. I tried to straighten my face. ‘Who did that? This is not a joke! I mean, yes, it’s a bit of fun, but we’re never going to find anything out if you keep playing around! Tom?’
‘It wasn’t me!’ Tom threw up his hands. Nina was wearing her most innocent expression and I strongly suspected it had been her.
‘Well, whoever it was,’ Flo’s face was pink and annoyed, ‘I’m not impressed. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble and you’re ruining—’
‘Hey, hey, Flops.’ Clare put out a hand. ‘Chill, OK? It was just a joke. They won’t do it again. Will you?’ She looked sternly round the circle of faces. We all put on our most contrite expressions.
‘All right,’ Flo said sulkily. ‘But last chance! If you mess around again, I’m putting this away and we’ll all play … we’ll all play Trivial Pursuit!’
‘What a threat,’ Tom said seriously, though the corner of his mouth was twitching. ‘I promise I for one will behave like an angel. Don’t threaten me with the pink Camembert.’
‘OK,’ Flo said. She drew a deep breath and waited as we all rested our fingers on the planchette again. It twitched, and I saw Nina’s shoulders were still shaking with suppressed giggles, but she bit her lip and subsided with an effort as Clare stared at her.
‘We are sorry for the levity of some of our circle,’ Flo said meaningfully. ‘Is there a spirit here who would like to speak to us?’
This time the planchette moved more slowly, more as if it were drifting of its own accord. But, unmistakeably, it was forming another Y, and then it stopped.
‘Are you a friend of someone here?’ Flo breathed.
? said the planchette.
This time I didn’t think anyone else was pushing – and I could see the others felt the same way. They had stopped laughing. Clare even looked slightly uneasy.
‘Do you know, Flops, I’m not sure …’ she said.
Tom patted her hand. ‘It’s fine, darling. It’s not really spirits – just the subconscious of the group making words. Sometimes the results are quite illuminating.’
‘Who is here?’ Flo had shut her eyes. Her fingers rested very lightly on the planchette. If anyone were controlling it, I was sure it wasn’t her. The planchette moved again, forming letters in a looping, free-form hand. Tom read them aloud as they appeared.
‘M … A, maybe? Or was that N? … X … W … E … L … L … OK, well that’s a word. Maxwell. Anyone know a Maxwell?’
We all shook our heads.
‘Maybe it’s the spirit of one of the former crofters,’ Nina said seriously. ‘Come to warn us against trampling on their sacred sheep bones.’