'Oh, come on! You're not thinking of divorce?'
'I don't know yet. I'm just protecting myself.'
Pepper said, 'You have to believe me, Effie, please. There is absolutely nothing between Craig and me. For God's sake, I called him Mr. Bellman until yesterday evening.'
'At least the affair was polite.'
'It wasn't an affair, and it wasn't us! There's something happening at Valhalla which even I don't understand.'
'It's called two-timing. Now do you understand?'
'Effie, please. Valhalla was always a disturbed place… I always sensed that there was something unbalanced about it. But it's just as if Craig has triggered off a huge psychic upheaval. Yesterday evening, when we went up to that room where you found us together, that room was fully restored, fully furnished, with gilt mirrors and velvet curtains, everything. The room looked like new. In fact I think it was new. Effie - that's a psychic disturbance of incredible proportions. I've experienced sounds before; and distinctive smells; and the feeling that there's somebody there. I've even experienced emotions which were nothing to do with the way I was really feeling… like terrible sadness, in a room where a woman had to sit and nurse her dying child. But I saw this room. I experienced it. I felt it. And I talked and behaved like Gaby Deslys, not like me at all.'
Effie looked at Pepper steadily. Her expression was entirely serious; and sympathetic, too. The cool breeze from the river rustled the lime tree under which they were standing, and the shadows dappled her face.
'I don't know,' she said. 'I think you'd agree that it's pretty damn hard to believe.'
'You danced in that ballroom, Effie. You saw people who weren't there and cut your feet on glass that didn't exist. Yet it must have existed, at some time, and you have the scars on your feet to prove it.'
'So what proof do you have that you were Gaby Deslys?'
'The very fact that I know her name, and almost everything about her. I know where she was born, I know what her mother looked like. I know that she set off the riots that deposed King Manoel of Portugal, by saying that he had given her three fantastic pearl necklaces, even though he hadn't. I know something else, too; that she had roses tattooed on her breasts, just to please Jack Belias.'
With that, she unbuttoned her blouse and bared her breasts, right out there on the street. Several passers-by stopped and stared, and one elderly man nearly walked into a tree.
Effie said, 'Pepper- not here-'
But Pepper said, 'You want proof? Here's proof.'
Very, very faintly, Effie could see pinkish smudges on each of Pepper's breasts. They were so faint that they were almost invisible, and yet she could distinctly see that they were meant to be roses.
She nodded, and said, 'Yes. I see them,' and Pepper fastened up her blouse.
'Effie, this is a psychic disturbance that's powerful enough to make actual physical changes. Look at me! Not only do I have Gaby Deslys' memories but I have her tattoos, too. What's going to happen to me next? I don't want to be Gaby Deslys! I want to be me! Gaby Deslys lived in the 1920's and I don't want to live in the 1920's.'
'Craig kept saying he was Jack Belias.'
'I know how he feels. I'm sure, for a while, he was Jack Belias. And himself, too. But I swear to you, Effie, I wasn't me when Craig and I had sex yesterday evening, and he wasn't him. I did things with him that I never did with any man before - things that I never want to do again.'
'I don't want to hear about it,' Effie interrupted her.
'But you must; and you have to believe me. If Valhalla isn't cleansed, then Craig is going to become more and more like Jack Belias until he is Jack Belias, not just mentally, but physically. Jack Belias was a very strong personality, very dominant; whereas Craig is much weaker. Gaby Deslys was obviously stronger than me, and that's why I wound up with her tattoos, instead of her winding up with my bust size. Like I said, this disturbance makes actual physical changes to people.'
Effie suddenly thought of the way in which Craig's skin and colouring had been gradually altering in the past two weeks. She also thought of the impression that he had given her, the last time they had made love, that he had two testicles instead of one.
And then she thought of something else. His fingerprints. If his skin could be smooth like Jack Belias, and his hair darker, why couldn't his fingerprints have subtly altered, too?
SATURDAY, JULY 17, 11:03 A.M.
Walter Van Buren was wearing his Saturday-morning clothes, a sports coat and a turtle-neck sweater, both in the same beige as his weekday clothes. Effie was sure that if they started to produce automobiles the colour of bracken he would have been first in line. He was stoking his pipe, biting the tip of his tongue in concentration, when she was shown into his office.
'Ah… Mrs. Bellman. Good of you to visit.'
'You got my message?'
'I surely did, and I have to say that I'm very distressed about it. Effectively the sale has gone through. All the contracts have been signed and the vendors have your banker's draft. I don't know what the position is going to be when Fulloni & Jahn find out that your accounts have been frozen. They'll probably sue. In fact, I have to say that they're certain to sue.'
Effie said, 'I think I may have changed my mind. My husband and I had a... well, we had a misunderstanding yesterday. I haven't spoken to him today, but I don't see why we shouldn't be able to work something out.'
'I'm very relieved to hear that, Mrs. Bellman. You know, house-buying is the single most stressful human activity after armed combat.'
'In this case, I think it beats armed combat hands down.'
'Well, yes, you're right. But you should try the Feldenkrais method… wonderful for getting rid of strain. You have to think of your rear end as a clock, you know.'
'Pardon?'
'You have to rotate it, you see. Your rear end. It's very relaxing.'
Effie ignored his advice. 'I'll talk things over with my husband. Then I'll talk to my lawyer again and get back to you.'
'I'm pleased. Valhalla needs somebody like your husband to get it back into shape.' He sat back in his chair, and there was a faraway, unfocused look in his eyes. 'Somebody with passion. Somebody big. It would be a hell of a pity to see it deteriorate any further.'
'You sound almost emotional about it,' Effie smiled. She was aware that it was the first time she had smiled since yesterday evening.
Walter Van Buren blinked his eyes back into focus and sat up straight. 'Let's just say that I have a personal interest in the old place.'
Effie waited, but it became obvious that he wasn't going to tell her what this personal interest was, and so she stood up to leave.
He showed her to the door. As she left, he gently put his hand on her elbow and said, 'I like you, Mrs. Bellman. You kind of remind me of somebody I used to know, a very long time ago. So please take care. We wouldn't want anything happening to you, would we?'
'I'm not sure what you mean.'
'Old buildings can be very dangerous places sometimes. Don't forget your hard hat.'
'I won't,' said Effie, baffled.
She left the office and walked back up Main Street. As she crossed the road, however, she glimpsed him watching her from Van Buren Realty's front window, his face as pale as liverwurst. She couldn't think why, but the way he was watching her seemed deeply sinister.
SATURDAY, JULY 17, 11:57 A.M.
Norman must have been waiting for her. As she quickly walked past the open door of the Hungry Moon, he came leaping out like a jack-in-a-box. He was wearing a huge Indian shirt in purples and greens and he was wearing tiny sunglasses with amber lenses.
'Mrs. Bellman!' he called. 'Mrs. Bellman, I really have to talk to you!'
Effie glanced inside and she could see Pepper standing in silhouette at the crowded counter, wreathed in cigarette smoke.
'If you're worried about your contract, Norman, stop worrying. Your mom persuaded me to stay cool.'
Norman said, 'She told me about it. You kn
ow, like, she's not often sorry. But this time she's real sorry. She didn't want to hurt you, not for nothing.'
'It's all right, Norman. I think we've come to an understanding.'
'Well, I'm glad about that. And not just because of the work I was doing, or the money I was making. I mean, like, work is work, and money is money, but friends are friends.'
'That's right. Friends are friends.' She turned to walk on.
'Hey... you're not going?' said Norman, in alarm. 'I have to show you something.'
'I'm tired. I've had a bad week, okay? Can't it wait for some other time?'
'Please,' said Norman. 'This could be the answer to what's been happening up at Valhalla. It's true, I've seen it for myself. I don't know whether it's anything to do with occult disturbances or any of that stuff. You know what I think about that. Pretty sceptical, most of the time. But this is different.'
'Well, what is it?' asked Effie, impatiently.
'Do you know the Benton House, up at Salt Point?'
She shook her head.
'Well, I hadn't either. But mom had. She said that it's pretty famous, at least it is in psychic circles.'
'I think I've had enough of psychics for one day.'
'I guess so - but listen: the Benton House was built by this nutty religious sect in the 1890s, the Brotherhood of Balam. It belongs to the Historic Hudson Valley people now; but they've never got around to restoring it. Seems like they've tried about four or five times, but each time they've had to stop work because of some serious accident; and so the place is closed up. But Jim Bogard, one of the trustees, he let me borrow the keys. He wasn't supposed to; but I restored this gazebo for him last year, you know, and did a real special job on it, so he like owed me.'
'Norman... what has any of this to do with me?'
'It could have a whole lot to do with you, Mr. Bellman. No, I'm serious. The Brotherhood built the house in a special way… like the floor-joists were fitted circular, like a spider's web, which is a very unusual construction.'
'So?'
'So the only other place I've ever seen a floor constructed in the same way is the library floor at Valhalla.'
'Well?'
'The Brotherhood of Balam kind of upset their neighbours, so mom says, because of their rituals and stuff. But when their neighbours came looking for them, they locked themselves in their house. And then disappeared, totally disappeared, and nobody ever saw them again.'
'Oh, come on. I expect they had a secret tunnel.'
'Unh-hunh. I went all through the house, top to bottom. No secret tunnel. No secret doors. It's as solid as a rock.'
'Then what are you trying to tell me?'
Norman raised a hand to indicate that she should stay where she was. He disappeared back inside the store, and after two or three minutes he returned Carrying Pepper's huge grey cat, its eyes squeezed shut in displeasure, its heavy body dangling like a gamekeeper's sack.
'You met Houdini before, didn't you?'
'I saw him in your mom's kitchen. I didn't know his name was Houdini.'
'Hairy Houdini. He used to be called Merlin, after the magician, but he got caught in the dough-mixer once, down at the bakery; and he managed to squeeze his way out between the cogs and the beaters and get himself out of there. Didn't you, Hoods? A true escapologist.'
Houdini squeezed his eyes even tighter and looked as though he would happily scratch out Norman's eyes, if only he could wake up.
'Norman,' said Effie, 'I'm not in any kind of mood for games.'
'No game… I swear it. But if you don't see come to the Benton House to see this for yourself, you won't believe it.'
'You want me to drive up to Salt Point with you? Now?' Norman dropped Houdini into the back seat of his Charger and took off his sunglasses. He pushed back his hair, and suddenly Effie found herself looking at a serious, thin, but quite good-looking young boy. 'I couldn't get the connection myself,' he said. 'But then I looked up the Brotherhood of Balam in Nonconformist Theology in back of mom's store. The Brotherhood were very ethical, as a matter of fact, but they worshipped fallen angels, because they thought, like, that everybody should be given a second chance. That's what upset the local populace. That, and totally nude baptism. In particular they worshipped Balam, who used to be an angel of the Order of Dominations. Balam was kicked out of heaven because he argued with God that women were equal to men. Kind of a really early version of women's liberation.'
'And?'
'And... Balam was the spirit of yesterday, today and tomorrow, all three. Balam was the spirit of time, and invisibility, and everything happening at once… coincidence. Balam could tell you when you were born, what you were going to do in five minutes' time, and when you were going to die. And, listen, the floor that the Brotherhood built - this weird spiderweb-type floor, it wasn't so much a floor to stand on, although you could stand on it, it was like a clock.'
'You're losing me.'
'But don't you see? Jack Belias must have found out about the floor at the Benton House before he built Valhalla. He must have - the design is identical, except for the scale. Because what could a gambler have wanted more than anything else in the world? To talk to Balam, right? To ask him questions, right? To know what would happen before it happened!'
Effie said, 'You're talking... madness! Time, spirits, floors! What the hell are you trying to say to me?'
Norman reached out and took hold of her hand. His fingers were surprisingly dry and comforting and warm. 'I'm trying to find out what's going on, that's all. I'm trying to find out what's real and what's imaginary.'
'I think we can safely say that Balam is imaginary.'
'What about the man you danced with? The man who cut your feet? Like, how imaginary was he?'
'I don't know. As far as I'm concerned, it's finished.'
'Mrs. Bellman,' Norman said, with great gravity. 'It's far from being finished. Please - come with me to Salt Point? We could eat at St. Andrew's Cafe. I have a friend who's studying at the culinary institute there… he can get me a table almost anytime.'
'I appreciate the offer, Norman, but I'm not particularly hungry and I don't want to go to Salt Point.'
Norman stared at her for a moment and then he let his hair fall back over his face. He looked so disconsolate that Effie reached out and took hold of his hand. 'Norman… I've had so much grief with Valhalla… I don't want any more.'
'Okay, then,' said Norman. 'I understand. But I took Houdini up to the Benton House early this morning, and it worked, and there's no reason why it shouldn't work now.'
'What worked?'
'I have to show you. You won't believe it, else.'
It was just then that Effie looked up the street and saw a taxi stop outside Pig Hill Inn. The door opened, and Craig climbed out. She knew that she needed to have a long and soul-searching talk to him. In an odd way she had almost forgiven him for what had happened between him and Pepper Moriarty up at Valhalla. She didn't logically know why. But she could almost believe that he and Pepper were telling the truth about it. Craig, in spite of his irascibility, had always told her the truth; and she had a strong feeling that Pepper wouldn't dare to lie - that Pepper believed too strongly in the powers of light and darkness and mystical retribution.
If Pepper was convinced that she could use a few pinches of magic herbs to make a mistress's skin wither like an old apple, her eyes dull over and her breasts sag, then she obviously believed that somebody could do it back to her.
Craig disappeared into Pig Hill Inn's front door. Effie hesitated for a moment, then opened the door of Norman's car, and climbed into the passenger seat, and said, 'Sure, yes, why not?'
Norman looked pleased, and started the engine. He turned north-east, towards Nelsonville, and the Taconic State Parkway. Houdini sat up in the back with his eyes closed, his fur ruffled by the warm wind.
SATURDAY, JULY 17, 4:04 P.M.
They turned off the road and bounced along a rutted, rock-strewn track that ran down one s
ide of a cornfield. Black clouds were building up from the north-west, but the sun still shone warmly on the varnished corn-ears and the shivering leaves of the aspens that bordered the field on two sides.
They turned into a scrubby, pentagonal field of about two-and-a-half acres. Almost in the centre stood a large, boxy-looking house, with steeply sloping roofs and four pentagonal turrets, one at each corner. The house was painted in flaky grey, and the roof was green. The windows were as empty as picture frames with no pictures in them; except for one large window on the left-hand side, which reflected a shining-perfect view of the sun, and the gathering clouds, and the shivering aspen trees.
Norman stopped and they climbed out of the car. A thin wind was blowing, and Effie wished that she had brought her coat. He said, 'You should see the way they put this baby together. This was house building. I mean this was Yike joinery.'
Effie looked back towards the sun-gilded cornfield. It appeared curiously unreal, as if it were a background painting for The Wizard of Oz. She could imagine Judy Garland walking through it, accompanied by the Scarecrow. Then slowly the clouds began to nibble at the edge of the sun, and the field darkened, and the wind blew stronger through the stalks.
'Come on,' Norman urged her. He was carrying Houdini under his arm. 'You have to see this, you really do.'
They climbed up the front steps to the verandah, and he unlatched the screen door. 'They don't build houses like this any more. They can't. They may have the skill but they don't have any, like, psyche. This house was built on this exact spot because it was the right spot, whichever way you look at it. And it was built of the right materials and painted the right colour. That's what we call architectural psyche.'
He unlocked the front door. There was a dulled brass knocker on it, in the shape of a long, attenuated goat's face.
'Balam,' said Norman.
'Looks kind of miserable, doesn't he?' said Effie.
The House That Jack Built Page 25