The Bachelors (5 page)

‘Oh,’
Marlene said.

‘Control
lifting,’ Patrick said. ‘Guide Henry is wearing leather shorts and an open-neck
shirt.’

‘Oh,
how it takes me back!’ said Marlene when the lights had gone up. ‘Honestly,’
she said to the newer members of the Circle, ‘I have a photograph of Harry on
that holiday wearing his leather shorts and—’

Later
she said to Ewart and Patrick, ‘I wish they wouldn’t concentrate so much on me
from the other side. I think some of the less evolved members may feel I’m
getting more than my fair share.’

Ewart
said, ‘You are the most dominant personality in the room, Marlene. It stands to
reason.’

‘Stands
to reason,’ Patrick said, ‘Marlene.’

‘Well,
I’ll stay outside at our next séance. I definitely felt a hostile aura after
Patrick returned to us during our last session. These people feel: you pay your
money — pittance that it is — and you take your choice.’

‘Not
everyone feels that way,’ Ewart said.

‘Whom
can we trust and respect?’

Ewart
mentioned a few of the more docile and regular attenders, Marlene eliminated
half of them, and it was thus that the Interior Spiral, their secret group,
came to be formed within the Wider Infinity.

‘We
must keep the ramifications pure,’ Marlene stated, ‘we must exert a concealed
influence on the less evolved brethren and the crackpots and snobs who keep
creeping in.’

On the Saturday night
before Patrick’s appearance before the magistrates was anticipated, when Freda
Flower had put down her cup, the company trod reverently into the Sanctuary of
Light. Patrick ignored the widow, Freda Flower, exaltedly, as enemies do in
church; but she glanced at him nervously. Marlene did not herself join them;
this was now her habit on most evenings, since her presence so invariably
attracted all the spiritual attentions available to the company.

Tim led
the way and acted as usher, placing about twenty people with the conviction of
extreme tact, the results of which, however, did not satisfy all. Some, who
were placed so that they had an imperfect view of the medium’s chair were
restive, but nothing like a scene occurred in this velvet-hung dark sanctuary
of light.

This
room had previously been a dining room in one wall of which was a service
recess opening to the kitchen. The curtains that covered this recess were
arranged to part imperceptibly at a point which admitted of Marlene’s watching
the proceedings from the kitchen, which she felt was only her due. And there
she stood, in the dark, watching Tim’s arrangements in the dim green-lit séance
room.

She was
furious when she saw Tim, as it were with the height of aplomb, place Freda
Flower, the beastly widow who had gone to the police about Patrick, in the
place of honour directly facing the medium.

All
were seated except Tim who, before sitting down in the humblest position from
the visual point of view, took off his glasses, wiped them, replaced them
slowly and, with an elegant lightning sweep of the same handkerchief, dusted
the chair on which he was to sit, at the same time replacing his handkerchief
in his pocket. He then sat, joining tentative hands with his neighbour, as the
others had done. Marlene, from her place behind the recess, watched her nephew
closely and by an access of intuition despaired of Tim’s becoming even
teachable as to the seriousness of the Circle, far less a member of the
Interior Spiral.

It was
then she noticed once more the newcomer, seated in his massive bulk, beside
Freda Flower, and in fact he was whispering something to Freda Flower. Marlene
realised it was Freda who had brought him to the Circle and felt deeply
apprehensive.

All
hands were joined. The green light shone dimly. Ewart said, ‘We will now have
two minutes’ silent prayer.’

Heads were
bowed. Before Marlene had taken over the Circle this silence had been followed
by a hymn to the tune of ‘She’ll be coming down the mountain’ and which went as
follows,

We shall meet them all again by and by,

By and by.

Marlene
had found that this hymn was unaccountably not ease-making to the
schoolmasters and clergymen and more educated members, and on reflection even
herself decided that she did not in fact want to meet the whole of her
acquaintance again by and by. And so, after trying several other hymns which,
for reasons of association, seemed unsuitable to various members, she had
eliminated hymn-singing altogether. So they had a silence.

After
the silence Ewart said, ‘Mr. Patrick Seton will now unite the Two Worlds.’

Patrick
had been bound at the arms and calves of his legs by canvas strips to his
chair. He let his head fall forward. He breathed deeply in and out several
times. Soon, his body dropped in its bonds. His knees fell apart. His long
hands hung, perpendicular, over the arms of the chair. Not only did the
green-lit colour seem to leave his face but the flesh itself, so that it looked
like a skin-covered skull up to his thin pale hair.

He
breathed deeply in the still dim room, second after second. Then his eyes
opened and turned upward in their sockets. Foam began to bubble at his mouth
and faintly trickled down his chin. He opened his mouth and a noise like a
clang issued from it. The Circle was familiar with this clang: it betokened the
presence of the spirit-guide called Gabi. Soon the clang was forming words
which became clearer to the listeners in the circle round Patrick and to
Marlene behind the hatch.

‘A
message for one of our sisters present whose name resembles a plant. It comes
from a short man in a Harris tweed suit through Guide Gabi who is speaking. The
short man appears to be bearing on his back a long tube-like sack of faggots;
no, they are golf clubs—’

Freda
Flower cried, ‘That’s my husband!’ but was immediately hushed by the rest of
the Circle.

‘His
name is William,’ clanged the voice. ‘He appears to be in a most disturbed
state of mind. He looks very upset, and is trying to get a message through to
our sister whose name is like a plant. He is extremely concerned about her.’

‘Why is
he going for a game of golf if he is so upset?’ — This question crashed into
the atmosphere; it came from the large newcomer sitting next to Freda Flower.

‘Not
now, Mike,’ she said. ‘Ask the questions later.’ The clanging voice had stopped
talking through Patrick’s lips. Patrick had begun to writhe a little in his
bonds. His feet kicked with sharp clicks of the heels on the parquet wooden
floor.

Ewart
Thornton dropped his neighbours’ hands and came over to Mike. He bent over him.
He said, ‘By interrupting the medium you may do him great harm. You may even
kill him. If you interrupt again you will have to go outside.’

Freda
said, ‘I’m sorry, Ewart, but my friend, Dr. Mike Garland, is a clairvoyant.’

‘He
must not give clairvoyance at this stage.’

Dr.
Garland smiled and joined hands once more with those on either side of him.
Ewart returned to his place. Patrick had stopped writhing and was apparently
sunk in a deep sleep. He snored for a while through his open mouth from which
presently emerged once more the inarticulate clang of Guide Gabi’s voice. For a
while it repeated sounds which could not be identified. Eventually it said, ‘The
sister whose name is of a plant is troubled in spirit.’

Tears
which she could not wipe away, since both her hands were engaged, spurted down
Freda’s cheeks.

‘I see
a man,’ the voice said, ‘in a Harris tweed suit—’

‘What
colour?’ said Dr. Garland in a persuasive voice.

‘A
green or a blue,’ the voice replied, ‘I can’t say exactly.’

‘That’s
him!’ said Freda, brokenly.

The
voice from Patrick’s lips said, ‘His message to the sister with the name like a
plant is this: Do not act against another of the brethren. If you do so it will
be at your peril.’

Several
of the group gasped or muttered, for it was known that a court case was pending
between Patrick and Mrs. Flower. Many peered forward to scrutinise Patrick’s
appearance, but not even the most shaken or the most easily prone to doubt
could find evidence that he was faking his trance. His physical characteristics
had plainly undergone a change. The skin of his face appeared to cling even
closer to the bone than when he had first gone under and the cheek-bones stood
out alarmingly; his mouth had widened by about two inches, seeming now to reach
almost from ear to ear as the clanging voice continued to proceed from it.

‘Let
the sister beware of false friends and materialistic advice. The letter killeth
but the spirit giveth life. What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole
world and loseth his soul?’

‘He was
so well-read in the Bible,’ said Mrs. Flower, weeping.

The
large pink-faced newcomer announced aloud, ‘I am going to give clairvoyance.’

‘No,’
Freda whispered, though all could hear, ‘I feel, somehow, this is genuine after
all. I’d like to think it all over—’

The
newcomer shouted above Patrick’s din, ‘Nevertheless, I am going to give
clairvoyance.’

Ewart
came over to him again and said, ‘Are you a trained clairvoyant? I’ve warned
you about the danger to the medium of interruption.’

‘I am a
trained and authentic clairvoyant,’ said Freda’s friend.

‘Guide
Gabi,’ Patrick clanged on, ‘is about to give the initials of the spirit in the
Harris tweed suit. The initials are W.F.’

‘William!’
said Freda.

‘I am a
trained clairvoyant,’ shouted Freda’s friend. ‘And I hereby give notice that I
am about to give clairvoyance to the medium in the chair.’

‘Señor
Gabi speaking,’ Patrick clanged; ‘I hereby give notice that I reinforce the
warnings given by the aforesaid spirit whose initials are W. F. to the sister
among our members. These warnings can only be disregarded at the utmost peril
to the sister whose name resembles a plant.’

The man
beside Freda had thrown back his head and lifted his hands to his temples.

‘No,
Mike!’ Freda moaned.

‘I see,’
bellowed Mike Garland to the ceiling, ‘I see the medium in the public court,
under a charge of fraud. I see the so-called medium exposed. I see—’

A small
rustling hubbub had arisen amongst the audience.

‘Señor
Gabi speaking,’ came the voice from Patrick. ‘There is a hostile spirit among
us who may cause infinite harm to—’

‘Patrick
Seton, you are a fraud,’ boomed Mike to the ceiling. ‘And I challenge you, if Señor
Gabi is an authentic guide, to give the initials of my name.’

The
small rustle amongst the audience immediately became a hush.

‘Señor
Gabi speaking: the first initial of the hostile spirit is M.’

‘You
are a fraud. You heard Mrs. Flower calling me Mike,’ boomed Mike. ‘What is the
second initial?’

Foam
appeared at Patrick’s mouth and bubbled for a few seconds.

Ewart
murmured, ‘This is dangerous to him. We must stop it.’

‘The
second initial,’ Mike shouted.

‘The
second initial,’ came the clang, ‘is G.’

‘He’s
right! ‘said Mrs. Flower. ‘Oh, Mike, I’ve been mistaken.’

‘You
are a fraud,’ shouted Mike. ‘You have heard my name. You heard Mrs. Flower
introducing me to a member.’

Patrick
dribbled from the mouth and his head drooped with exhaustion, and the water
from his mouth dripped down his coat. His eyes closed.

Ewart
called out, ‘This disruption must cease. The clairvoyant will kindly leave the
séance room.’

But
Mike, with his hands to his temples and head thrown back, began to intone. ‘There
will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. I see the prisoner brought to judgment
and cast into outer darkness. There will be a trial. I see a young woman in
distress and an older woman justified. I see—’

Patrick
cast up his eyes. ‘Guide Gabi warns the Circle of an evil influence present,’
he said. He lifted his head high and tossed it like a war horse.

‘You’ll
put him in a frenzy,’ Ewart shouted, and the audience began also to cry out
phrases like ‘Too bad,’ ‘Wicked,’ ‘An evil influence,’ and ‘Uncivilized.’

The
room was in turmoil when Marlene flung wide the door. ‘What is this turmoil?’
she said, trembling with the impatience she had been repressing throughout her
service-hatch vigil. She then switched on the lights.

The
noise ceased except for a sobbing sound from Freda. Patrick drooped once more,
and breathed as one in a deep sleep. Mike shook his head, covered as it was
with sweat, brought it to a normal level and his eyes into normal focus.
Patrick slowly came round and looked at the roomful of people in a dazed way.

Freda
then collapsed with a thud on the floor, where she continued her sobbing, her
legs moving as in remorseful pain and revealing the curiously obscene sight of
her demure knee-length drawers.