Julia by Peter Straub Page A

named McClintock. He made carpets. I bought this furniture from them.”
    “Any deaths in their family? Any tragedies?”
    “I don’t know. They were childless people.”
    “But you’ve seen something. Things in this house.”
    “Well, I’m afraid it might be my husband,” Julia said, and laughed.
    Mrs. Fludd immediately closed up, separating herself from Julia; then, relenting, she took Julia’s hand. “Ring me if you ever want advice,” she said. From her bag she extracteda white card which read
Rosa Fludd, Interpreter and Parapsychologist
. Printed at the bottom was a telephone number.
    Mr. Piggot approached the couch, followed by the perky Mr. Arkwright. “It
is
time?” said Mr. Piggot. “I’m eager to investigate some theories I had at the shop since our last meeting.”
    “Of course, love,” said Mrs. Fludd, firmly back in her former role. She clapped her hands together twice and conversation in the room ceased. Miss Pinner and Miss Tooth turned their white faces raptly to the couch.
    “Time,”
breathed Miss Tooth.
    At opposite ends of the room, Lily and Mark also turned to face Mrs. Fludd; Lily with an expression combining eagerness with satisfaction, Mark wearily. Julia had time to wonder what was wrong with Mark before Lily asked her to turn off the lights.
    She jumped up and went quickly to the light switch. Glowing gray light entered the room from the big windows; in this soft diffused semidarkness, Julia could see the fixed, rapt expressions on the faces of the “group.” She and Mark were outsiders here, and she moved to his side.
    “Have you a candle or small lamp, Mrs. Lofting?”
    Julia went into the dining room and turned on a little ceramic lamp in the shape of a toby jug.
    “Move it further away, please,” commanded Mrs. Fludd. “I must ask you all to join hands at the beginning. Look at the light behind me. Cleanse your minds.”
    The little lamp cast only a feeble light into the living room. Julia, joining the group, found herself being gripped by Mark on her right; he was holding her hand tight enough to hurt her. On her left Mr. Piggot’s hand was surprisingly soft and damp. His wafery skull shone palely in the twilight.
    The group members, once they had joined hands, moved to sit on the floor, awkwardly, pulling Julia and Mark down with them. Only little Miss Tooth accomplished the move from standing to sitting with grace, seemingly floating to a cross-legged position; Miss Pinner moved with a machinelike efficiency. Julia, covertly watching her, thought she could smell oil and gears.
    Once on the floor, the group members looked past Mrs. Fludd’s head to the soft light emanating from the toby jug lamp. Mark, brooding, had set his face into a mask of weary tolerance. Both apprehensive and skeptical, Julia, too, looked at the lamp. After a bit her eyes began to burn. When she glanced at the others, she saw that the group members had closed their eyes; their faces hung in the air like death masks. Mrs. Fludd sat in a perfectly ordinary position on the couch before them, her hands folded in her lap. In the pane of the tall back window, her head and the lamp glowed against the darker glass. Whitish clouds scudded above the flamelike, dissolving orb of the lamp.
    “Close your eyes,” said Mrs. Fludd, her voice very slow and quiet. Mr. Piggot, to Julia’s left, sighed and slumped backward, tugging her hand. “You may open them later if you wish.”
    She closed her eyes. About her she heard breathing. Mark gripped her right hand harder, and she shook her hand in his, signaling him to loosen; he pinned her hand yet more tightly.
    “One of us is having trouble,” said Mrs. Fludd. “Who is it?”
    Mark said, “I’m getting out of this.” He broke contact with Julia and stood up.
    “Close the group,” said Mrs. Fludd. “Mr. Berkeley, you will sit quietly outside the group and observe.”
    Julia hitched sideways and grasped Lily’s cool hand. It lay passively in hers. Lily