I smile gratefully, desperate to put all of this behind me. “Thank you for everything. For coming along without questioning why I needed you. Will you ring my bell later, let me know it’s finally done?”
“Of course,” he reassures me. “Anything you’d like, Ms Payne.”
I start down the hall towards the exit, twisting back before I get out of sight. “Oh, Edward?” I call back, waiting for him to meet my eyes, “You can call me Nat.”
Chapter Twenty
The date of the gala has arrived, the butterflies in my stomach as much of a signal as the date on the calendar. The final two weeks flew by with the final gala To Do items having kept me busy. I’ve organised plenty of high-profile events in my career, but this is the first one featuring ghosts. It will either be an incredible success or a total disaster.
In less than an hour, our guests will enter St Margaret’s front gate, crossing through the main building before ending up in the manicured gardens. None of the rooms inside are large enough to accommodate a seated dinner and dancing, so we took the event outdoors. A canopy covers the garden pathway, a red carpet guiding guests to the marquee. I left a wide entrance in front at Dr Radcliffe’s request so she can stand outside and welcome guests as they arrive.
Once the guests come into the marquee, their first stop will be a smaller tented antechamber and coat check area. I want all distractions sorted before anyone sets foot in the main tent. Jill will stand there while guests are arriving, gathering tickets and checking the guest list. After they have liberated themselves of their coats and bags, one of the greeters at the entrance will pull back the curtain and let them into the main marquee.
As soon as I saw the marquee go up, I decided that’s where I’d be, standing watch to make sure everything goes to plan.
I stride across the dance floor, doing my last-minute checks to ensure that everything is perfect before the first guest arrives. I’ve chosen a solid black gown for the evening. Kate helped smooth my hair into a simple twist and apply my make-up. My insides are liquid, but on the surface, I appear calm, cool and collected.
Jill, on the other hand, is wearing her excitement on her face. Her hair wrap is Oxford blue, coordinating with her white blouse and blue taffeta skirt. She flags me from across the marquee with a frantic wave. “I’m giddy with excitement, Nat. How can you be so calm?”
No point confessing my own nerves. I straighten my shoulders and smooth my dress. “I’ll be excited later, after all the food is served and people are well into their cups. Until then, I’m all business.” I look around the room, amazed at the transformation.
Two days ago, this was a bare circus tent. Now we’ve got rich wine-coloured drapes creating small alcoves all round the room. Each alcove is styled with decorations of a different era from the early 20th century, complete with wood panelling and faux fireplaces. They provide the perfect backdrop for our Eternals to play their roles to perfection, inviting guests into their parlours for a glass of champers and a chat. The dance floor lies in the middle of the room, with circular dining tables dotted around it. Guests should start their night chatting with the Eternals on the outskirts of the room and gradually work their way inward.
To my expert eye, every detail is perfect, except for one lone dining chair out of place. I nudge Jill, “Who was supposed to be tidying the chairs back up?”
“That’s Will’s job, but he’s gone to change into his suit. I’ll do it right now since I’m standing here.” Jill rushes off before I can reply.
Satisfied that everything is as it should be, I look for my next check-in. “Bartie, there you are.”
Bartie is standing over in the corner, half-hidden behind a large potted plant. When I arrived tonight, I discovered the Eternals can change clothes, but are limited to choosing styles they owned when they were alive. The cut of Bartie’s tux is straight out of the 1940s. He’s shuffling side to side while wringing his hands. He stops long enough to motion me over.
Leaning in, I whisper, “What’s wrong, Bartie? Tell me so I can deal with it.”
Bartie is my rock. If he’s freaking out, then it must be bad.
“I forgot my lines.” His ghostly face is paler than normal, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
“What lines?” I whisper back.
He shuffles his feet, “I mean, I forgot who I’m supposed to be. What I’m supposed to say if anyone approaches me. Oh, I’m ever so nervous, Ms Natalie. I’ve never had an acting role before.”
I’m shocked. “Not even in the school Christmas play when you were a kid?”
He shakes his head, “No, I was a child during the Great War, we didn’t feel much like celebrating in those days.” He finishes his thoughts with a whimper.
This calls for a full-on intervention.
I stand firm, head held high, forcing him to raise his gaze from the ground. “Your job, Bartholomew, is to walk our guests through the history of St Margaret. You must introduce the Eternals, tell the guests about their background and then step back and let the Eternals take the lead.” I soften my voice, patting his now solid shoulder. “It’s very simple, hardly different from a regular day at the office for a Head of Eternal Affairs.”
I can hear his knees knocking underneath his long coat, unfazed by my attempt at a pep talk. If nice and reassuring don’t work, I guess I can pull out my demon voice one more time.
“STOP BEING A NINNY. SUCK IT UP, GET OUT THERE AND
