dad?”
“He’s been very helpful,” said JC.
“Then you’ve seen one ghost at least. My old dad’s been dead these past ten years.”
THREE
HANGING ABOUT IN THE LOBBY, WAITING FOR THE SHOW TO START
Why do so many theatres have resident ghosts? After all, ghosts are supposed to be the result of bad places, and the theatre is where we go to enjoy ourselves. But what are plays but voices from the past, memories preserved in amber, ghost images of the way we thought we were…And even if what we see on the stage isn’t real, there are still real triumphs and tragedies, joys and terrors, little deaths and bad-tempered madness going on backstage. All human life is there; and some of it is bound to leave its mark. Players come and go, but some of their lives remain, preserved in the brick and stone, the sawdust and the limelight of old theatres.
Ghosts are still mainly unfinished business; and no-one bears a grudge like an old trouper.
The three Ghost Finders were heading from Leeds to Leicester by train, from the north of England down to the Midlands; and they were travelling in a first-class compartment. It was all very comfortable. The Carnacki Institute had decided sometime back that its operatives in the field could only claim travel expenses for standard-class rail tickets, in the name of efficiency and belt-tightening, and keeping field operatives from getting above themselves. But Happy had finally figured out how to use his telepathy to make the ticket inspector believe he was looking at three first-class tickets. So he punched the air somewhere near the standard tickets, then wandered off to have a nice little sit-down and nurse the pounding headache he’d only recently acquired. Happy grinned broadly, entirely unmoved, put his feet up on the opposite seat, and made a pig of himself with free food and drink from the complimentary trolley. He took one of everything and two if he liked the look of it, and piled it all up on the table before him so he could gloat over it, like offerings to a somewhat shabby god.
“You couldn’t eat and drink all of that if we were travelling all the way to Land’s End,” Melody said sternly from the seat opposite him, studying him over the top of her new briefing file.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” said Happy, ripping open a packet of Jaffa Cakes and delicately dipping one into his cup of Pepsi. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before!”
“Because it’s illegal and immoral; and messing with people’s heads is just wrong?” said Melody.
“No…” said Happy. “I’m pretty sure that isn’t it…Ooh, chocolate HobNobs!”
Melody sighed loudly and went back to her briefing file.
Sitting on his own on the other side of the compartment, staring out the window without seeing anything of the scenery racing by, JC ignored them both. He was still thinking about Kim’s unexpected reappearance at Bradleigh Halt. The same questions kept coming back to him, rolling over and over in his head. Why had she chosen to appear to him there, after all this time? Why not before? Because he was in danger…No. He’d been in peril of his life on any number of previous occasions; and she hadn’t shown up for any of those. Had something changed…with her, or with him? Could it be she’d finally broken free from her unknown captors and was waiting for him to come and find her…? So many questions, and not one answer he could trust.
So stick with the cases that came his way, keep himself busy and occupied, and be ready to jump when the opportunity arose.
Happy stuffed his face with junk food, drank fizzy stuff straight from the can, and made a point of looking down his nose at the various smart-suit-and-tie business men sharing the first-class compartment with him. All of them tapping busily away at their laptops and doing their very best not to stare too openly at the strange creature that had invaded their territory.
Work for the Man,
“He’s been very helpful,” said JC.
“Then you’ve seen one ghost at least. My old dad’s been dead these past ten years.”
THREE
HANGING ABOUT IN THE LOBBY, WAITING FOR THE SHOW TO START
Why do so many theatres have resident ghosts? After all, ghosts are supposed to be the result of bad places, and the theatre is where we go to enjoy ourselves. But what are plays but voices from the past, memories preserved in amber, ghost images of the way we thought we were…And even if what we see on the stage isn’t real, there are still real triumphs and tragedies, joys and terrors, little deaths and bad-tempered madness going on backstage. All human life is there; and some of it is bound to leave its mark. Players come and go, but some of their lives remain, preserved in the brick and stone, the sawdust and the limelight of old theatres.
Ghosts are still mainly unfinished business; and no-one bears a grudge like an old trouper.
The three Ghost Finders were heading from Leeds to Leicester by train, from the north of England down to the Midlands; and they were travelling in a first-class compartment. It was all very comfortable. The Carnacki Institute had decided sometime back that its operatives in the field could only claim travel expenses for standard-class rail tickets, in the name of efficiency and belt-tightening, and keeping field operatives from getting above themselves. But Happy had finally figured out how to use his telepathy to make the ticket inspector believe he was looking at three first-class tickets. So he punched the air somewhere near the standard tickets, then wandered off to have a nice little sit-down and nurse the pounding headache he’d only recently acquired. Happy grinned broadly, entirely unmoved, put his feet up on the opposite seat, and made a pig of himself with free food and drink from the complimentary trolley. He took one of everything and two if he liked the look of it, and piled it all up on the table before him so he could gloat over it, like offerings to a somewhat shabby god.
“You couldn’t eat and drink all of that if we were travelling all the way to Land’s End,” Melody said sternly from the seat opposite him, studying him over the top of her new briefing file.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” said Happy, ripping open a packet of Jaffa Cakes and delicately dipping one into his cup of Pepsi. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before!”
“Because it’s illegal and immoral; and messing with people’s heads is just wrong?” said Melody.
“No…” said Happy. “I’m pretty sure that isn’t it…Ooh, chocolate HobNobs!”
Melody sighed loudly and went back to her briefing file.
Sitting on his own on the other side of the compartment, staring out the window without seeing anything of the scenery racing by, JC ignored them both. He was still thinking about Kim’s unexpected reappearance at Bradleigh Halt. The same questions kept coming back to him, rolling over and over in his head. Why had she chosen to appear to him there, after all this time? Why not before? Because he was in danger…No. He’d been in peril of his life on any number of previous occasions; and she hadn’t shown up for any of those. Had something changed…with her, or with him? Could it be she’d finally broken free from her unknown captors and was waiting for him to come and find her…? So many questions, and not one answer he could trust.
So stick with the cases that came his way, keep himself busy and occupied, and be ready to jump when the opportunity arose.
Happy stuffed his face with junk food, drank fizzy stuff straight from the can, and made a point of looking down his nose at the various smart-suit-and-tie business men sharing the first-class compartment with him. All of them tapping busily away at their laptops and doing their very best not to stare too openly at the strange creature that had invaded their territory.
Work for the Man,
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