She gazed after him as he wove his way down the road. Oh, Pip. He shouldn’t be wandering around here at night dressed in his finery. But she couldn’t go running after him until she’d found out a few answers for herself.
She crossed the road and slipped into the house. From previous inspections, she knew it was divided into tenements. The hallway and stairs were deserted, and no one seemed to be home on the ground floor. She hurried up the staircase and quickly knocked on the first-floor door before her courage could desert her.
“Come,” a guttural voice spoke from inside.
Her every nerve tingled as Nellie entered the apartment. She found herself in a small sitting room crammed from ceiling to floor with furniture, every surface crowded with cheap knickknacks. In the centre of the room was a round table where a woman sat facing the door.
“Come, seet down,” the woman instructed in her thickly accented voice. She was a heavyset woman of indeterminate age, clad in a profusion of colourful shawls, with a crimson scarf draped over her hair. Her skin was pasted with powder, her eyes heavily kohled, and her ears and wrists dripped with pinchbeck jewellery.
Nellie cleared her throat. “Are you…Madame Olga?”
“I am.” The woman inclined her head. “Madame Olga at your service, spiritual intermediary between ze living and ze dead. How may I assist you zis evenink?” Her bangles jingled as she waved Nellie towards the empty chair on the other side of the table.
Nellie slipped into the seat. An embroidered cloth of Eastern design covered the table, and on it were an unlit candle and a small plate containing a chunk of bread. A vague scent of Oriental spices mixed with cheap incense hung in the air. Behind the spiritualist was a gaudy velveteen curtain covering a doorway which led to the back offices. Madame Olga sat like an impassive sphinx, her magpie eyes studying Nellie’s appearance.
“You veesh to remove ze veil?”
Nellie started. “Oh, no. I prefer to keep it on, if you don’t mind.”
Madame Olga shrugged. “Ze fee is five shillings, payable in advance.” She stretched out a palm towards Nellie.
“Five…?” Nellie gaped at the medium. “Isn’t that an exorbitant sum?”
The medium pursed her carmine lips. “Vhat price can you put ven you can talk to ze dead through me?”
“Talk to the dead?” Nellie glanced around at the cluttered, nondescript room, the cheap furnishings, the frowsy woman. Was Pip so gullible he’d been taken in by this tawdry show? “Is that really what you do?”
“You are an unbeliever. Tell me, do you believe in ze afterlife?”
“I suppose so,” Nellie reluctantly conceded.
“Vell, vhy is it so impossible to believe that communication between this life and ze next can exist?”
“Through you?”
“Ze spirits move in mysterious ways. I did not choose to be their intermediary, but I bow to zer wishes. I am zer servant.” Madame Olga rested her elbows on the table, her indolence dissipating as her gaze sharpened on Nellie. “Tell me, ’as someone important to you died?”
Nellie instantly thought of her mother. “Yes.”
“Your mama, per’aps?”
A cool breeze skittered across the back of Nellie’s neck. Her heart skipped several beats. This woman was a mere sham, but nevertheless there was something chilling and unnatural in the atmosphere. Ghostly spirits clamouring to be heard through the medium? Perhaps. Perhaps her dead mother was indeed here, waiting patiently to tell her something. The fingers of her maimed hand twitched, causing the mechanical digits to cramp in sympathy. No, it could not be. Madame Olga had simply taken a calculated guess about her mother. Gripping her hands, Nellie nodded.
“Vould it not be a comfort to you to be able to contact her, to speak to her? She vorries about you. Vould you not like to reassure her?”
She tensed. “How do you know she worries about me?”
The medium’s eyes lit up. “I sense a great unease in you. You are deeply troubled, are you not?”
Nellie shuffled her feet beneath the table. This was not what she’d intended when she walked in here. She didn’t believe in spiritual mediums and talking to ghosts. The coolness on her nape had been just a stray eddy of night air. There were no phantoms here, and Madame Olga was a fraud who made money off susceptible people’s miseries. Nellie’s only purpose coming here was to uncover the truth about Pip.
Nellie leaned forward. “The man who left here a few minutes ago. Did he want to speak to a spirit?”
Madame Olga’s dark eyebrows beetled into a deep frown. “I do not talk about my clients.”
“Who did he wish to contact? Was it his wife? What did you tell him?”
“Avay wiz your pesky questions.” The woman flounced the fringe of her crimson shawl at Nellie. “Madame Olga does not betray her customers.”
“Oh, you don’t, do you? You merely light a candle and pretend to call up the spirits and feed your customers a lot of folderol in exchange for five shillings. That is not betraying them, I suppose.”
Madame Olga sputtered. “How dare you! Vhat cheek!”
Realising her mistake, Nellie raised her hand. “I beg your pardon, I only came here to transact a little business. Look, I will pay you if you can tell me what the gentleman asked of you. A couple of shillings is all I have, but—”
“Leave at once, whoever you are!”
“But I need to know—”
“Vhy do you hide behind zat veil? Vhat are you concealing?” The woman’s hand shot out and snatched hold of Nellie’s veil. Using her gloved hand, Nellie grabbed the woman’s wrist. A spontaneous reaction caused her thumb to trigger the two claws which gouged into Madame Olga’s flesh.
“Eek!” Madame Olga let out an ear-splitting squeal and reared to her feet, her solid frame knocking the flimsy table over Nellie. As Nellie tumbled to the floor, the woman shrieked, “Tibor! Tibor!”
The curtain behind Madame Olga exploded as a giant ogre charged into the room. Small, mad eyes sunk into the craggy buttresses of his head fastened on Nellie as she struggled to get to her feet.
“Knife! She’s got a bleeding knife,” Madame Olga screamed, her foreign accent disappearing under the pressure of the situation. “Get ’er, Tibor.”
The behemoth tossed aside the fallen table. Nellie backed away on all fours, air wheezing past her tight throat. With the mammoth blocking her exit, she appeared to be trapped. Tibor sniggered as her predicament became apparent, but his chortle cut off as the main door to the apartment crashed open without warning. Julian rushed headlong into the room, driven on by the momentum of his shoulder charge.
He glanced wildly around the room. “Nellie! Are you hurt?”
Tibor growled at the fresh intruder. “Julian, watch out,” Nellie cried out as the brute lowered his head and charged towards Julian.
At the last second Julian jumped out of the way, and Tibor crashed into the doorframe with a shuddering thud.
“Here, can you stand?” Julian held out his hand towards her, wincing as she clasped it. “Do you mind retracting the claws? They’re rather uncomfortable digging into me.”
“Sorry.” Quickly she sheathed her weapons. In her heightened state, she was not fully in control of herself. Julian’s crashing into the room had set her heart leaping, and the grasp of his hand on hers kept it hammering at a topsy-turvy rate. “But how on earth did you know I was here?”
“Murderers! Robbers!” Madame Olga shrieked.
Julian ignored the medium while keeping a wary eye on Tibor who was heaving himself to his feet. “Simple. I followed you.”
“You followed me! How…why…?”