Colette stared. “But it’s their job. A job’s not a game.”
“I agree, I agree completely, there’s just no need these days to dress up as if you were in a circus. But then again, I don’t think mediums should wear sneakers either.”
“Who’s wearing sneakers?”
“Cara. Under her robes.” Al looked perplexed and stood up to take off a layer or two. “I never know what to wear myself, these days.” Suit your outfit to the audience, to the town, had always been her watchword. A touch of Jaeger—their clothes don’t fit her, but she can have an accessory—feels eternally right in Guildford, whereas down the road in Woking they’d mistrust you if you weren’t in some way mismatched and uncoordinated. Each town on her loop had its requirements, and when you head up the country, you mustn’t expect sophistication; the farther north you go, the more the psychics’ outfits tend to suggest hot Mediterranean blood, or the mysterious East, and today maybe it’s she who’s got it wrong, because at the fayre she had the feeling of being devalued, marked down in some way … that woman who wanted Vedic palmistry … .
Colette had told her she wouldn’t go wrong with a little cashmere cardigan, preferably black. But of course there was no little cardigan that would meet Al’s need, only something like a Bedouin tent, something capacious and hot, and as she peeled this garment off, her scent came with it and wafted through the room; the whiff of royal mortification was suppressed now, but she had told Colette, do alert me, I shan’t take offence, if you catch a hint of anything from the sepulchre.
“What can I go down in?” she asked. Colette passed her a silk top, which had been carefully pressed and wrapped in tissue for its journey. Her eye fell on the holdall, with her own stuff still rolled up inside it. Maybe Al’s right, she thought. Maybe I’m too old for a casual safari look. She caught her own glance in the mirror, as she stood behind Alison to unfasten the clasp of her pearls. As Al’s assistant, could she possibly benefit from tax allowances on her appearance? It was an issue she’d not yet thrashed out with the Revenue; I’m working on it, she said to herself.
“You know this book we’re doing?” Al was hauling her bosoms into conformity; they were trying to escape from her bra, and she eased them back with little shoves and pinches. “Is it okay to mention it on the platform? Advertise it?”
“It’s early days,” Colette said.
“How long do you think it will take?”
“How long’s a piece of string?” It depended, Colette said, on how much nonsense continued to appear on their tapes. Alison insisted on listening to them all through, at maximum volume; behind the hissing, behind whatever foreign-language garbage she could hear up front, there were sometimes startled wails and whistles, which she said were old souls; I owe it to them to listen, she said, if they’re trying so hard to come through. Sometimes they found the tape running when neither of them had switched it on. Colette was inclined to blame Morris; speaking of which, where—
“At the pub.”
“Are they open tonight?”
“Morris will find one that is.”
“I suppose. Anyway, the men wouldn’t stand for it, would they? Shutting the pubs because of Di.”
“All he has to do is follow Merlin and Merlyn. They could find a drink in …” Al flapped her sleeves. She tried to think of the name of a Muslim country, but a name didn’t readily spring to her lips. “Do you know Merlin’s done a book called Master of Thoth? And Merlyn with a y, he’s done Casebook of a Psychic Detective?”
“That’s a point. Have you thought about working for the police?”
Alison didn’t answer; she stared through the mirror, her finger tracing the ridge her bra made under the thin silk. In time, she shook her head.
“Only it would give you some sort of—what do you call it?—accreditation.”
“Why would I need that?”
“As publicity.”
“Yes. I suppose so. But no.”
“You mean, no you won’t do it?” Silence. “You don’t ever want to make yourself useful to society?”
“Come on, let’s go down before there’s no food left.”
At nine-thirty Silvana, complaining and darting venomous looks at Al, was parted from her glass of red and persuaded to take Mrs. Etchells back to her lodgings. Once she had been coaxed to it, she stood jangling her car keys. “Come on,” she said. “I want to get back by ten for the funeral highlights.”
“They’ll repeat them,” Gemma said, and Colette muttered, shouldn’t wonder if we have reruns all next Christmas. Silvana said “No, it won’t be the same, I want to watch them live.”
Raven sniggered. Mrs. Etchells levered herself to the vertical and brushed coleslaw from her skirt. “Thank you for your caring spirit,” she said, “or I wouldn’t have slept in a bed tonight, they’d have locked the front door. Condemned to walk the streets of Beeston. Friendless.”
“I don’t know why you don’t just stop here like everybody else,” Cara said. “It can’t cost much more than you’re paying.”
Colette smiled; she had negotiated a group rate for Al, just as if she were a company.
“Thank you, but I couldn’t,” Mrs. Etchells said. “I value the personal touch.”
“What, like locking you out?” Colette said. “And whatever you think,” she said to Silvana, “Aldershot is not close to Slough. Whereas you, you’re just down the road.”
“When I joined this profession,” Silvana said, “it would have been unthinkable to refuse aid to someone who’d helped you develop. Let alone your own grandmother.”
She swept out; as Mrs. Etchells shambled after her, a chicken bone fell from some fold in her garments and lay on the carpet. Colette turned to Alison, whispering, “What does she mean, help you develop?”
Cara heard. “I see Colette’s not one of us,” she said.
Mandy Coughlan said, “Training, it’s just what we call training. You sit, you see. In a circle.”
“Anyone could do that. You don’t need to be trained for that.”
“No, a—Alison, tell her. A development circle. Then you find out if you’ve got the knack. You see if anybody comes through. The others help you. It’s a tricky time.”
“Of course, it’s only for the mediums,” Gemma said. “For example, if you’re just psychometry, palms, crystal healing, general clairvoyance, aura cleansing, feng shui, tarot, I Ching, then you don’t need to sit. Not in a circle.”
“So how do you know if you can do it?”
Gemma said, “Well, darling, you have a feeling for it,” but Mandy flashed her pale blue eyes and said, “General client satisfaction.”
“You mean they don’t come wanting their money back?”
“I’ve never had an instance,” Mandy said. “Not even you, Colette. Though you don’t seem backward at coming forward. If you don’t mind my saying so.”
Al said, “Look, Colette’s new to this, she’s only asking, she doesn’t mean to upset anybody. I think the thing is, Colette, possibly what you don’t quite see is that we’re all—we’re all worn to a frazzle, we’ve all lost sleep over this Di business, it’s not just me—we’re on the end of our nerves.”
“Make-or-break time,” Raven said. “I mean if any of us could give her the opening, just, you know, be there for her, just let her express anything that’s uppermost in her mind, about those final moments … .” His voice died away, and he stared at the wall.
“I think they murdered her,” Colette said. “The royals. If she’d lived, she’d have only brought them into further disrepute.”
“But it was her time,” Gemma said, “it was her time, and she was called away.”