"Anna?"
"I want to ask you something."
The top part of the hostess pyjamas, in case I hadn't mentioned it, was kind of loose and open. So when she leaned toward me, like it or not, I could see where those tremendous hooters lived. Mamma mia, those tits weighed more than Susan.
"John… this is a silly question, but…"
"Yes?" I tried to maintain eye contact.
Her hand went to the cross dangling free over her cleavage, and she fingered it.
"I asked Susan, and she said no… but are there any stories about ghosts?"
"Ghosts?"
"Ghosts. You know? In this house. Like you hear with the big old houses. Like on TV." She looked at me as she continued to play with the cross. "Oh…" I thought a moment, then remembered a ghost story. I said, "Well, there is a story that I've heard… but it's really not worth repeating." Her free hand reached out and touched mine. "Tell me." "Well… all right. Some years ago, it seems there was a governess here who looked after the two Barrett children, Katie and… Miles. The governess, an attractive young woman, came to suspect that Katie was… well, possessed by the ghost of the former governess, a woman named Miss Jessel -" "Oh!" She squeezed my hand. "No!"
"Yes. And to make matters worse, Miles was possessed by the ghost of the former estate manager, an evil man named Peter."
Anna's eyes grew wider. "Oh, John! Do you think… I mean, that the man I saw… could that have been…?"
I never thought of that. Why not? Better him than me. I said, "Well, Peter, I understand, was about my age, my build -"
"Oh, my God."
"Maybe I shouldn't go on."
"No. Go on. I have to know."
"All right. Well, from what I've been told, the governess made a startling deduction. She was convinced that the dead estate manager, Peter, and the dead governess, Miss Jessel, were continuing their mortal sexual affair through the possessed bodies of the young sister and brother."
"No!" She released my hand and made a quick sign of the cross, then fell back in her chair. "In this house? Where? Which room?"
"Well… the guest room." I didn't want a fainter on my hands, so I said, "I think that's enough. And I don't believe any of it -" "No, John. Tell me the rest. Tell me!"
So, ever the good guest, I continued, "There were some people who thought that the new governess was actually having an affair with the boy, Miles, who was of course only the innocent vehicle for the evil Peter. Others said the governess was also having a lesbian affair with Katie, who was of course Miss Jessel -" "You mean that the governess was… and the two children were…? Susan's friend, Katie Barrett, and her brother… and the governess…?" "Who knows?" Indeed, having read The Turn of the Screw twice, I still couldn't figure out who was doing it with whom. But somewhere in all that constipated Victorian gibberish was a fine sex-horror story. I said to Anna, "I don't know how much, if any, of what I heard is true, but I know that the Barretts left suddenly in 1966 and never returned. The house has not been lived in until" – organ crescendo, please – "until now. But don't tell Susan I told you this, as it still upsets her."
She nodded her head as she tried to catch her breath. My, she had actually grown pale. "Yes… I won't… John, are they still here?"
"The Barretts?"
"No, the ghosts."
"Oh… I don't know." I was feeling a wee bit like a bad boy, so I added, "I doubt it. They were only interested in sex."
"My God…" She made the sign of the cross again and informed me, "We had a priest here to bless the house before we moved in."
"There you go. Nothing to worry about. Can I get you some sherry? Grappa?" "No. I'm okay." She continued to hold on to her cross, blocking my view of Joy Valley.
I glanced at my watch. About twenty minutes had passed since Susan and Frank had taken a walk, and I was beginning to get a little annoyed. I sat back and crossed my legs. Anna and I exchanged a few words, but the woman was clearly upset about something. Finally, a bit impatient with her silliness, I said sternly, "A Christian does not believe in ghosts." "How about the Holy Ghost?"
"The Holy Spirit. That's different."
"We used to say the Holy Ghost."
This was a little frustrating. I said, "Well, get the priests back. Let them check it out."
"I will."
Finally, Susan and Frank returned. Susan said to me, "You should see the conservatory. It's bursting with flowers and tropical plants, palms, and ferns. It's gorgeous."
"No zucchini?"
Bellarosa explained, "I got all the vegetables outside now. My gardener grows all the houseplants and stuff in there. He switches everything around. Rotates stuff. You know?"
Susan and Frank sat. It was time for plant chat, and I tuned out. I replayed the balcony scene in my mind, then the library scene. The entire episode was so far removed from my experience, even as an attorney, that it had not fully sunk in yet. But I did have the feeling that Bellarosa and I had made some sort of arrangement.
A large, ornate tall-case clock in the far corner struck the hour, and twelve loud chimes echoed through the ballroom, stopping the conversation. I took the opportunity to say, "I'm afraid we've overstayed our visit." This is Wasp talk for "Can we get the hell out of here?"
Bellarosa said, "Nah, if I wanted you to leave, I woulda said so. So what's your rush?"
I informed everyone, "My haemorrhoids are bothering me." Mrs Bellarosa, who seemed to have gotten over her ghost jitters, said sympathetically, "Oh, that can drive you nuts. I had that with all my pregnancies."
"So did Susan." I stood, avoiding Susan's icy glare.
Everyone else stood, and we followed the Bellarosas out of the ballroom. I did a little soft-shoe routine to try to make Susan smile. She finally cracked a smile, then punched me in the arm.
We crossed the palm court, and I did a bird call, a yellow finch, which I'm good at, and all the caged birds began chirping and squawking. Bellarosa glanced back at me over his shoulder as he walked. "That's pretty good."
"Thank you." I felt another punch in the arm.
We stood at the front door, all ready to do the good-night routine, Susan said, "I would like to give you both a housewarming gift."
I hoped she had opted for the cake, but no, she said, "I paint Gold Coast houses, and – " "She gets nine hundred a room," I interjected, "but she'll do any room in the house for free."
Susan continued, "I do oil paintings of the ruins. I have photos of this palm court when it was in ruins." She explained and ended by saying, "I have the slides, but I need to do some work here for three-dimensional perspective, proportion, and different lighting."
Poor Mrs Bellarosa seemed confused. "You want to paint it like it was when I first saw it? It was a wreck."
"A ruin," Susan corrected. Susan is very professional when she's in her artiste mode.
Frank chimed in. "Sure, I get it. Like those pictures we saw in the museum in Rome, Anna. All these Roman ruins with plants growing out of them, and sheeps and people with mandolins. Sure. You do that?"
"Yes." Susan looked at Anna Bellarosa. "It will be beautiful. Really." Anna Bellarosa looked at her husband. Frank said, "Sounds great. But I got to pay you for it."
"No, it's my gift to you both."
"Okay. Start whenever you want. Door's open to you." It seemed to me that Frank had some prior knowledge of this, and I would not have put it past Susan to have done an end run around me and Anna Bellarosa. Susan gets what Susan wants.
I moved to the door. "Well, it's been a very enjoyable and interesting evening," I said, going into my standard good-bye.
"Yeah." Frank agreed.
Susan did her line. "Anna, you must give me your recipe for cannoli cream."
I felt my stomach heave again.
Mrs Bellarosa replied, "I got no recipe. I just make it." "How wonderful," Susan said, then finished her speaking part. "I don't know when I've had so much fun. We must do this again. Come to us next time." Actually, Susan sounded sincere.