“Dunno, Mary.” was all he managed and she looked at us both as if she knew that the pair of us were not able to decide what secret knowledge she held that we did not.
“Ley lines.” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “They cross below this table. It is a particularly good place for one who has the sight such as I to sit.”
“Ley lines.” I said. “Under the table.” She simply nodded back at me.
“Indeed.” she said. “Right here.” she pointed to the floor.
“I’m going to the bar.” I said, and like a bastard left poor Jack to it.
When I got back he seemed to be doing alright and eventually we got Mary interested enough to say that she would sleep overnight on our proposal, though she did concede that she was already very interested. I just think she had decided that she was going to make us bloody wait.
As we walked home my head was spinning. “She’s as mad a box full of frogs, she is!” I said, and Jack was forced to agree. “She does know that she’s only meant to be playing a part and not actually summoning any spirits, doesn’t she?” I finished and Jack raised an eyebrow.
“I bloody hope so, Pete. I bloody hope so.”
The next lunchtime Edward dropped in to the pub in one of his costumes, announcing to us that he now had the “feel of the part” as he put it. He definitely looked the part. God knows which charity shops he had been to, but they seemed to be ones specialising in Edwardian gentlemen’s outfits! He flounced to and fro a few times loudly saying his lines, much to the amusement of some of the other regulars. I couldn’t help but notice there was a bit of a slur to his voice and once or twice when he was swirling his cloak about he seemed a little bit unsteady on his feet. “Is he pissed?” I asked Jack, but he didn’t seem to know. Eventually Edward announced his departure grandly, informing us that he would await our call.
“I hope he isn’t getting the bus home dressed like that!” Jack said.
“I hope he’s not driving!” I added. A little later Mary arrived and told us she would do it. So we were ready. We set a date for a Friday a week ahead and I spent the days before having mild panic attacks whilst simultaneously resisting the urge to call it all off. On the Monday night we had a proper dress rehearsal and it seemed to go pretty well despite getting a few funny looks from people as we went down the street. Friday arrived. I woke up in the very early hours in a cold sweat and took stock. All we had was a bunch of half arsed self-penned stories, a clapped out white van, a mad woman who thought ley lines ran under her seat in the pub, a slightly eccentric bloke in Edwardian dress who may just possibly be a piss head, and a marshal who may or may not have a limp.
Great.
I very nearly picked the phone up there and then and despite the early hour rang Jack to call it all off. I didn’t, though to this day I’m not sure why.
A few hours later we were down the Albert Dock trying to sell tickets for the walk that night. I was wearing my costume, a particularly snappy gentleman’s outfit complete with top hat that Edward had found in one of his charity shops for me. As I said before, God knows where he goes for them but it really was very convincing. Poor Jack however was dressed as Spring Heel Jack, the notorious Liverpool ghoul or ghost, who was the big character for our finale, and he was doing his best to scare any passers-by. The only slight disadvantage to this was the bloody big mattress springs we had attached to Jack’s boots. Spring heel Jack, see. Get it? Anyway, the springs were giving him loads of jip but it was the bloody cobblestones that were causing the problem. The poor sod just couldn’t get across them! He would have trouble scaring anyone if I was having to lead him by the hand all the time. Eventually he had to take the boots off and he stowed them in his van which was sitting in the car park nearby, being mugged by the parking meter.
Shifting the tickets was harder than we thought. We hung around outside the tourist centre for a bit until they shooed us off. By dinner hour we had only sold six between us, and we were starting to get despondent. Nevertheless we had our sarnies on a bench over by the dock and then started again. We sold another four in the first hour and two in the hour after. Once we hit the area around the Beatles Story Museum however, we found the Japanese and American tourists and we sold the lot! In fact we sold more than we had intended. We were up to forty people when we had to actually turn people away. Needless to say we returned home with a bit of a spring in our steps. Doubly so for Jack, once he got his boots back on. I figured out we’d probably be alright just as long as I didn’t let him drive in them!
Quickly the evening approached. I felt like throwing up a few times but eventually we made our way to the town centre and our assembly point, and slowly our customers began to arrive, turning in the tickets we had sold them at lunchtime. Jack hovered about the place as we waited for everyone to turn up. He had already told me that Edward and Mary were in place at their first stops, and shortly after up strolled Arthur in his marshal's jacket. By the time everyone had arrived it was just getting dark, which is exactly how we had planned it. Jack was almost by now hopping from foot to foot as he saw all of our plans, and his initial idea, come to fruition. I just felt sick.
I examined the forty or so people who seemed to be waiting for me to start. Quite a few Japanese, some Americans (you could spot them by the bloody big cameras. Silently I had a little prayer that none of them got mugged while they were on the walk), and various other people. As I looked at them a tallish haughty looking woman accompanied by a short fat bloke caught my eye and approached. “Are you in charge here?” she asked in a typical school headmistress kind of voice. “Great!”, I thought. “Complaints already and we haven’t even started yet!”
“I am.” I smiled as she produced a small card out of her bag which she gave to me. Before I could read it she carried on.
“Susan Harper.” she rattled off in an official kind of way. “I am doing a piece for the Liverpool Echo on tourism in the town and wondered if my colleague and I might accompany you on your walk this evening? I’m sure any publicity would be quite useful to you?” She said this as a kind of question in which the answer was never in doubt. Jack was beside me and out the corner of my eye I could almost see the colour draining out of him. Arthur also had a particularly pained expression, and had the look about him of a boy who wants to put a hand up in class to ask a question but doesn’t dare. She was right though. Any publicity would be brilliant. As long as we didn’t bugger it up, that was!
“Of course, Ms Harper” I heard myself saying. “You will be more than welcome. Any questions feel free to ask.” she nodded and then moved off into the crowd with her colleague, who I now noticed was carrying a camera that big that even some of the Americans were looking at it in envy. No pressure then! “Let Edward and Mary know” I hissed to Jack, who nodded. “Tell them to go for it!”
As a call to battle it wasn’t up to much, I know. But it was all that I had. To be honest, I was bricking it. Still. We couldn’t turn back now. Banging my long, ornate umbrella (another one of Edward’s strange little “finds”) on the ground for attention I welcomed everyone to the walk, told them how long it would last and gave a few basic rules. (Basically don’t get pissed or lost. Though not necessarily in that order.) Then we were off!
Our first ghost was only ten minutes away and so off we proceeded, me waving my umbrella over my head for them to follow, and the rear brought up by a now furiously limping Arthur. As we approached the ornate steps of the particular building we had decided to use I could see Edward lurking in the shadows on the other side of the road. I began to relate the tale of what I had decided to call “The reluctant banker” which was some nonsense I had concocted about a banker who gets run over by a carriage on his way to the bank. I know. Dickens it ain’t, but there you have it. We had found that a few of the stories needed jiggling a little bit, as well as who was doing what. We had all agreed that this was our best one to start the night with.
As planned, Edward suddenly came marching acro
ss the road in character and took over the tale, acting out the part of the ghost. It was a bit hammy, but once the punters realised what was going on they seemed to get into the spirit of it. The Japanese giggled and nodded furiously, though I have no idea whether they actually understood a word of it or not. The cameras of the Americans started flashing furiously, making poor old Edward blink madly.
Eventually he finished his bit and we were off again to our next rendezvous. So far, so good! As we moved off I saw Edward heading back towards Jack’s little white van. The engine was already running. Good. Next stop was the witch of the park railings, and Mary. Christ, I hoped she was going to behave herself, or at least make an attempt to be lucid! On our way at the back of the long snaking line of people following me I could see Arthur limping away madly. If anything his limp seemed to be getting worse. It was that bad he looked as if he had got a puncture or something. Anyway, we arrived, and with my back to the dark railing I began my tale. The plan was for Mary to appear behind me of course, which she suddenly did, raving like a loon. Unsurprisingly, (well to me, at least) she seemed to be quite good at it. The punters all gasped and there was the flash photography again. I moved out the way as she took centre stage and went to have a word with Arthur. As I moved through the crush I noticed the journalist making notes in a small jotter. There was a deep frown upon her face. Her photographer merely looked bored.
Arthur was standing at the rear of the crowd with the look of a man who is trying desperately to fade into his surroundings. “What’s with the limp?” I asked him and he winced involuntarily. “I thought that was just for the social?” Arthur winced and nodded at the newspaper reporter while Mary carried on with her increasingly over the top tirade about being persecuted as a witch.
“I’ll be done for if the social see me in a photograph.” said Arthur, shaking his head.
“Arthur.” I sighed. “In the very unlikely event that they do take a picture with you in it then it’s not going to be obvious that you have a limp now, is it? It’s not quite the kind of thing that you can capture in a photograph is it?” Arthur frowned.
“Not even if I do this?” he said, and his face took on a painful wince, his face now a perfect mime of pain.
“Not even if you do that.” I sighed and deciding I was wasting my time returned to the front of the crowd where Mary was just finishing. Slowly she faded into the darkness just as Jack’s van arrived across the road. Off we went again! Our next stop, the “litter bin ghoul” went pretty well. Edward seemed to be warming to his various parts and the crowd seemed to be getting into the spirit of it. His costume for this one was slightly different, and again looked pretty authentic. He almost looked like a completely different person altogether!
Then we were off again, and so we made our way to our half way point and a rendezvous with “The Chip Shop Ghost” which was Mary again. The plan was to stop at the chip shop for about ten minutes or thereabouts so that everyone could buy themselves some chips or whatever from the chip shop that we played the scene outside of. Mr Chan’s was a fine old chippy and Mr Chan was more than pleased to have a new influx of customers eager to fill their boots with his food. As well as that we were on a ten per cent cut of any grub they all bought so everyone was a winner, really.
Mary did her stuff and afterwards most of the punters lined up to get some chips while I took a breather and Arthur rested his supposedly “gammy” leg. Again the reporter was scribbling furiously in her notepad, and the photographer did take a picture this time, but it was of all of the people queuing up for chips. Odd. A few minutes later I had to have a word with Mary as well. She seemed to be trying to line some of the punters up for palm readings, but I soon knocked that on the head as Jack arrived and drove her off for the next stop.
“Is this an authentic chip shop?” one of the Americans asked me, and unsure exactly what an authentic chip shop actually was I just nodded. He seemed happy with this and began taking photos of the grinning Mr Chan who was by now stood in the window of the chippy, waving. I think if I’d given him another five minutes he would probably have been doling out autographs too. I gave them another minute or so and then we were off again to our next but last stop, and “The mystery of the Seventh lamp post”. Edward played a blinder on this one and as he made his way back to the van for our finale I could see both Mary and Jack waiting for him, the van’s engine running. For the finale all three of them would have a part, Jack at last getting the chance to bet involved rather than just being the chauffeur.
By now Arthur was almost dragging his leg behind him. Several of the punters had begun to look at him suspiciously, as if his limp could in some way be catching. Thankfully none of them had decided to take a picture of him. Yet. God knows what he might do if they had tried to. And so we approached our final location. So far I had got through the night on adrenalin alone, but by now I could feel myself starting to sag a bit. I could tell several of the walkers felt the same way too; the long line of people now stretching out behind me more than it had done at any other point during the evening. The journalist and the photographer managed to keep up though. I could make them out striding along, deep in conversation.
Our final location had been very carefully chosen. It was a wide, square courtyard into which there was only one entrance, through a long narrow alley. It was quite big, and would easily fit all of our walkers in at once. It was also pitch black. I thought, not for the first time, that we were very lucky to find it. It was perfect for our last tale, “The Legend of Spring Heel Jack”.
I waited at the entrance to the alley whilst everyone caught up, herded forward by the furiously limping form of Arthur, who was just about visible at the back. I gave a little speech about the legend of Spring Heel Jack and then announced that we would all be filing in to the courtyard through the dark alley in a moment. I made a great show of approaching the passage into the courtyard slowly, as if scared of what we would find in there, and called out. “Are you ready, Jack?”
It was, of course, a double feint. I needed to know that Jack was in place and ready, along with Edward and Mary. From the darkness a loud deep growl came back in answer, loud enough for everyone there to hear it. “I am ready!” hissed Jack. “I have been ready for a long time!” Smiling to myself, I thought that Jack sounded really good! As I noted this I began to herd the people into the darkness, making sure they all kept to the left because Mary, Edward, and of course Jack were on the right hand side ready to finish off the night’s events. I was silently quite pleased with myself. Everything had gone relatively well and we were nearly done. I think we could just about manage to fit in a pint or two on the way home once the finale was over.
The walkers continued to file into the darkness of the courtyard, and over the sounds of the occasional “Oh. Excuse Me.” and “Oops - sorry” I could hear Jack growling away in the darkness. He really was getting in to the part! Mary and Edward would of course remain quiet, until, as per the script, they would appear from the darkness and drag poor old Spring Heel Jack off to Hell. Not a bad final flourish, even if I say so myself, and it allowed all three of them to exit so I could bring the night to a close with a quick little speech and then we were all over and done.
As the last few walkers filed into the courtyard I could see Jack was really getting in to it now. I was still stood at the head of the alley with Arthur but I could see two little red lights bobbing about in the dark. It had taken ages to sew the two little bulbs into Jack’s outfit. They were salvaged from a light up Santa hat I had found in the box room, but they certainly seemed to be doing their job at the minute.
The crowd was relatively silent now, though I could hear nervous giggles coming from one or two people. Jack was really going for it now. The two little red Santa lights jumped furiously up and down as if Jack was hopping, or more like it loping, from foot to foot. It looked as if he had been taking lessons in limping from Arthur! It was difficult to determine however, because apart from the two little red pin pric
ks of light dancing all over the place it was completely pitch black in there. Jack gave a loud deep growl and several squeals rose from his now captive audience. “Don’t milk it, Jack” I laughed silently to myself and began to head into the darkness of the alley and then the courtyard.
Which is when I heard loud shouting from the street off to my right. I remember thinking that was all I needed, some bloody drunks interrupting the end of the show, and I was about to get Arthur to head them off whilst I hastily brought the evening to a close when I saw three figures running along the road towards us. They were still some way off but I recognised Edward’s outlandish outfit straight away. Then behind him, Mary as well. Followed by Jack. Even though they were still quite some way off I could hear Jack shouting. “Sorry, mate! The effing van broke down! We’ve had to run the last quarter of a mile!”
I glanced at the three of them. Looked into the twin red points of light capering about in the courtyard, a low, deep hissing noise coming from the darkness. An ominous growling. Looked at Arthur who was blinking furiously. His limp seemed to have settled on his face instead now. Then I blinked again at the three rapidly approaching figures running down the road towards me. “Tell them to stay here!” I hissed to Arthur, who seemed to be glad he was not going to have to go into the courtyard itself.
I strode into the darkness and the two little pin points of light seemed to settle upon me.
“All are here now!” growled a deep voice. I thought it may have been a question, but thinking back it was more of a statement really.
“All come to see Jack.” Came the voice in the dark.
“Come to catch him?” growled the voice and this time it was a question.
Then there was a dull glow of red light, growing brighter, dark red flames flickering upon the shape of a figure crouched in the corner, a long black cloak wrapped about it. Flames flickered about its body, lighting up the courtyard. It revealed a scene that was a little bit like a sea of faces all cowering in what looked like utter terror!. No face was visible. Just a long arm outstretched, covered almost entirely by the cloak. The hand ended at what seemed to be a long set of claws. Flames flickered about its fingers. Several screams arose from the audience. Then the shape moved forward. I was dimly aware of the sounds of commotion coming from the alley that lead in to the courtyard.
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