'Have you ever been to a seance, Edgar?' asked my uncle - a seemingly wild divergence from the doll he had so gravely placed in my hands. He sat slowly down in his chair.
'No, sir,.' I replied.
'But you are aware of such things?'
'Yes, sir,.' I said. 'People try to contact their departed loved ones. There are, I believe, those who claim to be able to allow spirits to speak through them.'
'Mediums,.' said Uncle Montague, sitting down once more.
'Mediums, yes,.' I added.
'You said "claim", Edgar,.' said Uncle Montague.
'You are sceptical, then?'
'I have heard tell that there are those who say they have such powers, but who are fakers and conjurors, Uncle. I do not think it possible to speak to the dead.'
Uncle Montague smiled and nodded, tapping the ends of his fingers together and sinking back into the shadows.
'There was a time I would have shared your view,.' he said, looking back to the window. I followed his gaze and thought I heard running footsteps outside on the gravel path by the window. Surely, I thought, the village boys would not dare to enter my uncle's garden.
My uncle had either not heard the noise or was untroubled by it, because he leaned towards me, smiling.
'I have a story on that subject that may interest you, Edgar,.' he said. 'Perhaps it will change your opinion.'
'Really, Uncle?.' I said, still feeling a little self-conscious holding the tiny doll. 'Please tell it, then, sir.'
'Very well, Edgar,.' he said. 'Very well.'
Harriet edged backwards towards the door as her mother began to speak. It was dark at the outer edges of the room, though it was only two in the afternoon. The heavy velvet drapes at the window blocked the light of day. The only illumination in the room was a lamp in the centre of an oval table, around which were seated eight women, whose expectant faces were lit by its greenish glow.
'Is there anyone there?' asked Harriet's mother in the odd trapped-in-a-well voice she reserved for these occasions, a voice that her clientele seemed to find haunting, but which Harriet always found faintly ridiculous.
'Are there any among the spirit world who wish to come forward and contact their loved ones here today?'
Actually, the truth was Maud was not Harriet's mother at all - and that was not the only lie they told, not by a long way. For one thing, Lyons was not Maud's real name; it was Briggs. They took the name Lyons at Harriet's suggestion - Harriet's own name was Foster - because it sounded more sophisticated.
They told people they were mother and daughter because it made them feel at ease. They had just enough of a familial resemblance to make it work, but in any case, as con-artists they knew that in the main, people simply accepted whatever you told them, provided it was credible.
Harriet and Maud had met in a workhouse on the Kilburn Road. They got the idea for the con when one of the other women told them about a seance she had seen her mistress host, when she had been a parlour maid. The maid had stolen from the guests and been caught and kicked out - hence her presence in the workhouse - but Harriet had seen straightaway that there was money to be made, if gone about in the right way.
They refined this piece of opportunism by taking control of the seance themselves. They advertised in one of the better ladies' magazines and presented themselves as experienced medium and doting daughter.
Spiritualism was all the rage and they found their gullible clientele needed very little convincing. It was Maud's job to commune with the spirits of the departed and while the ladies (and sometimes gentlemen) were busy listening to her wails and mutterings, Harriet would raid the coats and bags, taking small but valuable items that would not be readily missed.
If a pair of earrings or a silver snuff box was discovered missing a week later, the devout mother and daughter who helped contact their dear-departed loved ones would hardly be suspected of involvement. And even if they were, they would be long gone.
They had already decided that they should leave London for pastures new. Maud knew some people in Manchester. There was a lot of money up north. Another week or two and they would have changed their names and be buying their tickets at Euston station.
Harriet backed through the door and out into the hall just as she had done in so many houses over the last months. She blinked into the relative brightness once she was out of the gloomy drawing room. The afternoon sun was streaming in through the stained glass above the front door and making a jewelled light on the walls.
Maud's voice seeped through the wall, tremulous and plaintive. Harriet smiled to herself and made her way back down the hall and up the stairs. The servants had been given the afternoon off at their suggestion, but she was careful as always not to enter the room above the seance in case a squeaking floorboard might alert one of the group.
She opened a door and peered in, ready to make her excuses about being lost if it was occupied. But there was no one in the room, which evidently belonged to children - girls, judging by the amount of lace and the enormous doll's house. It was certainly of no interest to Harriet, who quickly closed the door and moved on.
None of the rooms proved very interesting in fact. Mrs Barnard clearly did not trust her servants and had locked away anything of any value. Although Harriet had managed to lift a few interesting items and a little cash from the bags and coats of the women at the seance, it was hardly a memorable haul.
As she returned downstairs, she saw two doors to her left that she hadn't noticed before and wondered if there might be anything worth investigating in them. She turned the handle of the left-hand door. Just as she did so, a voice behind her made her jump.
'I shouldn't go in there if I were you.'
Harriet turned to see a girl standing behind her, a little younger than herself. She was dressed in expensive, if rather old-fashioned, clothes.
'Hello there,.' said Harriet with her most winning smile. 'What's your name, then?'
'Olivia.'
'Olivia?' said Harriet. 'That's a pretty name. Well, I'm sorry, Olivia. I'm afraid I was lost.'
'Lost?' said the girl with a little snort. Harriet did not much like her tone.
'Yes,.' said Harriet. 'But the door was locked. I see now I came the wrong way.'
'The door is not locked, miss,.' said Olivia, stepping closer in a way that Harriet found unaccountably threatening. 'It is blocked. We call it the Un-Door.'
'The Un-Door?' said Harriet.
Olivia nodded, smiling even more. 'That's what we call it,.' she said. 'Because it's a door, but it's not a door. Do you see?'
'Well, if the door is blocked, Olivia, why tell me I shouldn't enter?' asked Harriet, trying to retain her temper. 'I could hardly go through a door that is blocked now, could I?'
Olivia carried on smiling but made no reply.
Harriet scowled.
'Anyway,.' said Harriet, turning away. 'I must get on.' She walked towards the drawing room, in which the seance was taking place. She turned back as she opened the door, but the girl was gone.
Harriet re-entered the seance just as silently as she had left. She took a few seconds to adjust her eyes to the gloom and when she did so she could see Maud, staring ahead in a trance. Harriet had to admit it: Maud really did look the part.
Harriet glanced around the table - it was the usual mixture of the curious and the desperate: sad widows in their black clothes and jet jewellery, bored wives looking for a thrill. She stifled a yawn. Suddenly, Maud began to scream
'Please!' she shouted. 'Maud! For God's sake!
Help me! Help me!'
The voice was so wild it made the whole room gasp and Harriet was as taken aback as anyone else - especially to hear Maud using her own name. Harriet was momentarily rooted to the spot.
'Help me!' Maud screamed. 'For God's sake! Help me! Maud! Maud!'
Harriet pushed forward and grabbed Maud and tried to calm her down. Had Harriet not known Maud was a charlatan she would have said that she was possess
ed; her whole body seemed to be in spasm as if she had been struck by lightning.
'Goodness,.' said an excited voice to her left. 'Is Mrs Lyons all right?'
'Quite well,.' said Harriet brusquely, and indeed Maud did seem to be coming out of it. She blinked up at Harriet.
'Does anyone know a Maud?' said Mrs Barnard, looking round the table.
'What's that?' said Maud, startled at hearing her own name.
'That's right, Mother,.' said Harriet, frowning at her. 'You were saying the name Maud just now.'
Maud stared back, confused.
'I think perhaps Mother has overtired herself,. ' said Harriet. 'Perhaps we should end it there.'
There was a groan of disappointment from the assembled ladies, but Mrs Barnard said that, of course, Mrs Lyons must not exhaust herself and that perhaps she ought to take a turn in the garden.
Harriet agreed and took Maud outside as the guests collected their things and began to leave, with Mrs Barnard thanking each of the ladies in turn. Harriet took Maud by the arm and led her away to a more secluded part of the garden.
'What the devil were you playing at in there?' hissed Harriet. 'You were using your own name, your real name! You trying to get us put away, you silly wench?'
'Don't you talk to me like that,.' said Maud, still trying to shake off her wooziness. 'Or I'll . . .'
'Or you'll what?' whispered Harriet. 'You think I'm scared of you? Don't make me laugh. What were you up to?'
Maud shook off Harriet's grip and took a deep breath.
'I don't know,.' said Maud sleepily. 'I don't remember. It was as if the voice was coming from somewhere else. 'Ere, you don't think I can really, you know . . . ?'
Harriet laughed. 'What? Really hear the bleeding dead? Are you on the gin again?'
Maud made no reply. She had a strange bemused look on her face and Harriet began to wonder if she was having some kind of seizure.
'Are you all right, Maud?' she asked, more annoyed than concerned.
'I don't know,.' said Maud, turning to Harriet. 'I don't know.'
Harriet saw Mrs Barnard coming and nudged Maud in the ribs.
'Mrs Lyons, I must thank you once again,.' said Mrs Barnard, walking towards them. 'The ladies all agreed that it was quite the most illuminating session we have had. Particularly when you were host to that poor creature at the end. Do you have any idea who she might be? We are all baffled.'
Harriet raised an eyebrow.
'No,.' said Maud uncomfortably. 'I am afraid I do not.'
'It may have been a wandering spirit calling out for help,.' suggested Harriet.
'Oh dear,.' said Mrs Barnard, squeezing her hands together. 'Do you think so? The poor thing.' She shook her head sadly, her eyes closed as if in prayer. Harriet rolled her eyes at Maud, but Maud seemed to be staring off into the distance. The next moment she staggered sideways into Harriet's arms.
'Goodness,.' said Mrs Barnard. 'I think Mrs Lyons is feeling faint. Won't you please come back inside?'
'No, no,.' said Maud. 'I am sure I shall be quite well.'
'I must insist,.' said Mrs Barnard. 'Perhaps a glass of sherry . . .'
'Yes,.' said Maud, brightening at the thought of a drink. 'It is rather early, but perhaps just this once - for medicinal reasons.'
'What is the matter with you?' hissed Harriet as they followed Mrs Barnard back inside. 'You were supposed to keep her outside.'
'I don't feel quite right,.' said Maud pitifully. 'Honest, I don't.'
'You ain't right in the head if you ask me,.' said Harriet, suddenly smiling sweetly as she saw Mrs Barnard looking back towards them.
Mrs Barnard ushered them through the front door.
'Please go on in, Mrs Lyons,.' she said. 'Sit yourself down and I shall fetch us some sherry. I would send for a doctor but the servants will not be back for an hour or so.'
'That won't be necessary,.' said Maud, going for the nearest door handle.
'Not that one, Mother,.' said Harriet. 'That door's blocked.'
'Blocked?' said Maud.
'Yes,.' replied Harriet. 'The Un-Door they call it, I believe.'
Mrs Barnard stared at her in amazement. 'Now how would you know a thing like that?'
Harriet shifted uncomfortably, realising she had made a slip letting on that she had looked around the house while the seance had been in progress. Never lie more than you have to, she told herself. The truth always sounds more convincing.
'Your daughter told me,.' Harriet said, in control once more.
'My daughter?' said Mrs Barnard, looking puzzled.
'Olivia,.' said Harriet with a smile.
'Olivia?' said Mrs Barnard. 'You met Olivia?'
'Well, I had stepped out for a little air,.' continued Harriet breezily. 'And I thought I might find a glass of water. I was trying the door handle when . . .'
'Olivia,.' prompted Mrs Barnard.
'When Olivia appeared and told me that the door did not lead anywhere and told me that you called it the Un-Door.'
'The Under?' repeated Maud, becoming increasingly confused.
'The Un-door, Mrs Lyons,.' said Mrs Barnard. 'And Olivia told you that? How clever of her. Please come this way.'
Mrs Barnard took them through to the room in which the seance had been held. The curtains were pulled back and daylight chased away all the atmosphere Maud and Harriet had painstakingly created for the benefit of the ladies. It had returned to being a rather ordinary, stuffy drawing room. Mrs Barnard opened one of the French windows to let in some air, then went over to the drinks cabinet and poured three glasses of sherry.
'Come with me, ladies,.' she said, handing them a glass each. As she walked away Maud stared at Harriet with a questioning look, but Harriet merely frowned and followed Mrs Barnard back down the hall.
'Do you see how these two doors are evenly spaced?' she said. They nodded. 'Well, it seems that at some point many years ago they decided to take down a wall and open the two next-door rooms into one large room, as we have it now. I am told that they did not want to spoil the symmetry of the hall and so left this door here.' She indicated the left-hand one, then turned the handle of the door to its right. They followed her through.
'As you can see,.' she said. 'The door - the Un-Door - does not appear on this side of the wall.'
Maud gave Harriet a slight nod of her head towards the cabinet nearby full of nicely concealable silver trinkets. Harriet nodded back.
'Come, I have something else I would like to show you,.' said Mrs Barnard. 'That is if you are quite recovered, Mrs Lyons.'
'Me?' said Maud. 'Oh, I'm quite all right, my dear. You are so kind to be concerned. But we ought to be going really, shouldn't we, Harriet?'
'Oh, but you have time to see the doll's house?' she said.
'The doll's house?' said Harriet.
'I am really not sure we have . . .' began Maud, but Mrs Barnard was already leading them out of the room and towards the stairs. After a moment's pause they followed on behind.
Mrs Barnard led them up the stairs and opened the door Harriet had opened earlier.
'I'm sure Olivia will not mind,.' she said.
'Oh, look, Harriet,.' said Maud, feigning interest. 'Look at the doll's house there. I can't think I've ever seen one finer.'
'Yes,.' said Mrs Barnard. 'It is a copy of the house we are in. The doll's house was here when our father bought the house in fact. We inherited it from the previous occupants.'
'It's beautiful,.' said Harriet in genuine admiration. 'I would have loved a house like that as a child.'
Mrs Barnard sighed. 'I never liked the house to be honest,.' she said sadly. 'I used to share this room with my sister - the house was really hers. She would play with it for hours. But there was something about it that rather gave me a chill. Still does actually.'
'A chill, madam?' said Harriet. 'Why?'
'Well,.' said Mrs Barnard with a sigh. 'My sister became rather obsessed with the doll's house, I am afraid to say. She would
sit in front of it like someone at prayer, muttering and mumbling. She would fly into a rage if I so much as touched any of the dolls. It was as if they were real to her.'
'But is that not true of all children, Mrs Barnard?' said Harriet.
'Yes,.' said Mrs Barnard with a sad smile. 'But my sister was different from other children. She lost . . . all sense of reality. I suppose she lost her mind. I found her one day, laughing like a wild thing, huddled in the corner, wide-eyed, pointing at the doll's house. She never really recovered her wits. She became frantic and feverish, and no amount of laudanum seemed to calm her.' Mrs Barnard's eyes sparkled with tears as she turned to Harriet. 'In the end her heart simply gave out. She was only twelve.'
Harriet was surprised to feel a small pang of sympathy for Mrs Barnard. 'It must have been very hard for you,.' she said.
'It was,.' said Mrs Barnard. 'It was. But it was a long time ago. Life moves on.'
Mrs Barnard turned back to the doll's house.
'As you can see,.' she said, pointing to it, 'the doll's house shows the room downstairs as it was before the wall was taken down. In the doll's house, the Un-Door actually opens into a tiny room. Do you see?'
Harriet and Maud peered forward. The doll's house was indeed a rather good copy of the house in which they stood, the front wall and roof removed. There was the room in which they had held the seance, there was the hall, there was the bedroom they were in, complete, incredibly enough, with a tiny copy of the doll's house. And there was the room that no longer existed: the room the Un-Door had once led to. Harriet noticed that it had several tiny figures sitting in the chairs.
'This may help,.' said Mrs Barnard, handing Harriet a magnifying glass. 'The detail is extraordinary.'
Harriet peered at the figures. There was something disturbing about them. Not only did the detail seem impossibly fine, but some of the figures had carefully painted features on their china heads and some had been left strangely blank.
'Well,.' said Maud, growing a little concerned at the amount of time they were spending at the house. 'I think we should thank Mrs Barnard for showing us around . . . But we really must be on our way.'
Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror Page 3