Underbelly (33 page)

“
Something happened that upset you. Whether that was real or a dream, you’re upset either way and that upsets me. I’ll watch over you while you sleep until we know one way or the other.”

“
No, James. It’s very doubtful that…why would it happen?”

Because you’re married to me, Grey thought. As the new day began and as they travelled westward Germaine tried to convince him that she had been mistaken, telling him that if he had never heard of incubi he would have accepted it for what it was, a dream. Grey wanted to know for certain and he kept his word, staying awake that night while she forced herself to sleep. In the morning Grey felt tired and tried to sleep for a few hours before looking for work, waiting until Germaine had risen.

“
James, wake up, the President’s here to see you,” Germaine said, rubbing his palm and the back of his hand with her thumb and fingers.

“
What…I can’t…what?” he said, disorientated. He squinted as he looked at her, forcing himself to sit up.

“
Sorry. I only said that to trick you, to show you how easy it is to be confused when you first wake up. Don’t look so worried, he’s not really here,” she said, smiling toothily.

“
I’m not worried, just confused.” He rubbed his eyes and said, “I take your point. Maybe I’ve made this hard for you by talking of incubuses when it might just be a nightmare. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just worry about you.”

“
I have nightmares all of the time, about what happened to my family, about Inge. I was dreaming that we were making love – that’s not a nightmare,” she said, her voice demulcent as she flattered him. “I was hysterical. Can we put it behind us?”

“
Yep, of course we can. I am going to ask Laura about it when we see her, just as a safeguard, but I trust your judgement and if you know it was a dream then it was a dream.”

“
It was a dream,” she said, her lie seeming to convince him. Hopefully she would eventually fool herself.

Grey chose to believe Germaine though he still wanted Laura to allay his concerns. Laura could not, as Laura Spencer no longer existed – she never had, the name was always an alias. Eleanor Griffin on the other hand would help him when she had the time. Eleanor had managed to elude the church and roamed North America freely and conducted her own investigation, into the occult, and she discovered that beyond the wholesome family values, the images of mothers baking pies, fathers smoking pipes with freckle-faced blond children playing gaily around them – beyond that façade there was an underbelly to rival Europe’s sinister cabals. It took a lot of digging to find and the practices were confined to a select few, men and women who she observed closely for a time. Her intuition told her that they lacked any power, but they were certainly on the correct path to gain power or obliteration. She approached some fellow practitioners; others she merely spied upon, the length of time of her surveillance depending on their prowess and her level of interest.

She had already performed one extreme rite which had increased her power, cutting off her right breast and burning it as an offering, and her success in this (a spell which she did not take lightly, her breasts important to her) proved to her that she could go further, her potential still not fully realised. Grey would hopefully come up with some useful information for her, Eleanor giving him plenty of time as she felt it would be difficult and her own research was coming up with a few useful discoveries.

Grey worked at an abattoir in Calgary, a job he detested, but which paid quite well and he wanted to treat Germaine, who still seemed a little upset. When he told his workmates about his sideline one of them told him not to waste his time and that he couldn’t compete with Kenneth Stratt. Grey learnt that Kenneth Stratt was a Canadian medium of 20 years standing, a medium who could draw the crowds in, and it intrigued him greatly. He talked about him excitedly to Germaine, feeling a kinship with him even though they’d never met – there was a bond of understanding, he’d had it with Agnes Whirry and even with Cecil Winston. When Grey learned that Kenneth Stratt was performing in Calgary, at a venue that held 2000 (a figure that Grey could only dream of pulling in), he bought tickets for himself and Germaine and awaited his performance eagerly. The show was less than half full, but he still had over 800 in, which Grey felt was impressive. Stratt was in his early 50s, a man who combined pathos, dignity and compassion in his visage alone, and when he started performing his charisma flooded the hall. His transfigurations were uncanny, making him look like a different man as he was possessed, at one point falling to his knees to gasps from the audience, who were equally entertaining. There were tears and screams from the audience, one woman blessing Stratt and profusely thanking him when he mentioned her son. By the end of his performance, for which he received a standing ovation, the sweat poured off Stratt, who presented himself as a benevolent guardian of their loved ones. After the show was over merchandise was offered at the front of the stage, including a self-published autobiography of Stratt. Grey thought that 10 dollars seemed very steep but the vendors said that the high price covered publishing costs, which were very expensive. Stratt had gone back to his dressing room where private consultations were available for 25 dollars. The sessions were strictly one on one and Grey was the fifth to be seen, waiting an hour for his private session. Grey whispered to Germaine that he’d try not to kill a fellow medium this time before he was ushered into the large dressing room where Stratt stood up and shook his hand, his eyes studying Grey clinically. Up close Grey saw that Stratt’s thick brown hair was a hairpiece and after introducing himself Stratt asked him who he wanted him to contact.

“
Nobody, Mr Stratt, I just wanted to meet you. That was a wonderful show you put on,” Grey gushed.

“
Thank you. How long have you had this interest in spirituality?” Stratt asked politely.

“
A little over ten years. That’s when I had my first experience.” Grey shared much of his past with Stratt who seemed amused initially, though he did keep looking at his watch (he usually did most of the talking and found listening to Grey very boring), before he eventually lost patience and said,

“
My time is quite valuable so I’m afraid I have to rush you. I’m a solo artist so if you’re thinking of us working together then I’m going to have to disappoint you.”

“
No, no, I’d lower the quality. You were really good: I can’t compete with that. I just wanted to meet you to discuss our talents because there doesn’t seem to be many of us around,” Grey said politely, still quite the fan.

“
There aren’t many of us around and I’m sorry to tell you this; you don’t have the gift.”

“
How are you so sure of this,” Grey said, suddenly becoming very doubtful of him.

“
My spirit guide is certain.”

“
Then you either have a poor spirit guide or you are a liar. I hope you aren’t conning these people,” Grey said, becoming quite angry at the thought of the mourning being fleeced by him – even he had been fooled.

“
Don’t judge what you could never understand. If you want to believe that you have these powers, then delude yourself. Good day,” he said sharply.

Germaine sat reading Stratt’s book when Grey came back through to the hall and he said loudly, “Let’s go, Germaine, it’s a con.” One of Stratt’s employees shouted at him to leave, sounding furious at him, giving Grey a death stare, which he returned – they were likely all in on it. As they left he explained to Germaine, who admitted that she wasn’t fully convinced by him but hadn’t wanted to say anything because she didn’t want to upset a good medium.

“
You could have said, I wouldn’t have minded. What gave him away?” Grey asked.

“
It wasn’t him, he was a good actor, although he made it too dramatic at times,” Germaine said. The nature of the gift lent itself to occasional neurosis and there was no sign of that in Stratt; there were not always any signs in Grey when he performed, but it was impossible to imagine Stratt having any private moments of mental fatigue. “It was the mother of Alfie who made me doubt it. She played the grieving part well but then when her speaking part was over she did not give off…her body, it didn’t...I could see she wasn’t real.”

“
I never noticed. What was she doing?” he said, interested in what he had missed, impressed at his wife's astuteness – for her tender age she was incredibly perceptive.

“
It was nothing really, very small things.”

“
You’re more observant than I am. At least we’re going to save some money on toilet paper for a while,” he said, holding up Stratt’s book,
Friends Forever
. That was all the entire book was good for, yet he found himself reading it and becoming very angry. Stratt had been conning the public for 24 years – how much money had he taken under false pretences in that time?

Grey made some enquiries and his findings gave him a dilemma. Stratt’s life of lies helped him conclusively decide, erasing any doubts, that he could not lie to the relatives of the dead. He could not pretend they’d been friends and he had heard their last words on their deathbed, which meant that he was going to cause more misery if he passed on the messages. He had promised the soldiers that he would pass their words on, but perhaps he could do that in an anonymous letter, giving the message without technically lying. He considered this because he no longer wanted their tour to be dictated by the messages – he wanted the tour to be dictated by Kenneth Stratt’s movements. Stratt was touring Canada from west to east, travelling to many of the places Grey and Germaine had already been through, culminating in a show in New York before his overseas tour, which Grey would not follow. Germaine went along with Grey’s idea, which seemed a little strange, but Quebec and New York appealed more than the Northern States of America (and he promised they would not travel through Regina). Grey put on performances a night after Stratt in the same town, offering the residents the chance to see a real medium, handing out leaflets to those that queued up to see Stratt. Grey found that this guaranteed him good attendance’s (always around 30), and in a town in Ontario where he and Germaine had stayed at previously, and where he had given a good show during his first visit, 81 people came through the doors. Grey offered to speak to people after his shows, never for a fee, the half dollar entrance fee the only charge, and he couldn’t help everyone and was honest enough to admit it. One widow who he couldn’t help shook his hand and said, “I respect your honesty. I paid 30 dollars to hear that Stratt come up with a pile of bullshit about my Greg. Oh, it sounded good at the time. It was only when I left I realised he’d been jerking my chain,” she said furiously.

“
He’s a fraud. I did the same as you, I paid to see him privately too, and just like you I saw through him. I’m not claiming to be an expert at this but I am genuine and there will be others out there that are too. My advice would be, don’t trust them if they want a lot of money to help you,” Grey said, her words pleasing him. Not all of those that saw his show disbelieved Stratt, some walking out a few minutes into Grey’s performance, which sometimes threw him off his stride, but most left believing in Grey too.

Grey had to work in orthodox positions too, as the shows often yielded no profits (the places they’d previously stayed in and where he had performed tended to be the exception, usually making a minimal profit), which proved hard after one show. An ape of a man wanted to talk to him alone after his show, waiting until Grey had talked to others at the front of the hall (Grey offered privacy if they wanted it but most were happy to sit with him at the front of the stage) and he sat opposite Grey as he shared his problem, Germaine the only other person left in the building. She screamed as he grabbed her husband’s hand (and she was tempted to run and cursed herself for it) and snapped his fingers back, breaking three of them as he issued a warning for him to stay away from Kenneth Stratt’s shows, leaving afterwards. Being unable to use his right hand for heavy work cost him his job and limited the positions he applied for. Germaine offered to work but her offer proved unnecessary as Grey found work as a night cleaner in the next town where he performed another show the night after Stratt’s, and he stood outside and badgered Stratt’s crowd for longer as a statement that he would not be scared off. He had Germaine stay away from his show in case there was trouble but nothing happened even though the attendance was high. Germaine fretted while Grey found the situation humorous, calling Stratt his warm-up guy – he provided the interest for his show, whetted their appetites for such things. Stratt was unintentionally launching him.