Ghost Song by Sarah Rayne Read Free Book Online Page A

anywhere you like in the castle, but whatever you do, don’t open the seventh door…” And so you instantly want to open that door more than anything.’
    â€˜Or in this case demolish a wall.’
    â€˜We aren’t going to do that, are we?’
    â€˜Not yet,’ said Robert.
    â€˜I hope that’s a joke.’
    â€˜So do I.’
    â€˜But now I’m here,’ said Hilary, still staring about her, ‘I don’t think the Tarleton’s got a monster to its name.’
    â€˜No monsters at all,’ said Robert, and then, to see how she would respond, said, ‘There are maybe a few ghosts,’ and was absurdly pleased when she said, ‘Yes, the ghosts are definitely here, aren’t they? All those singers and musicians and dancers and backstage people…’ She glanced at Robert. ‘And the man who prowled the streets and hid inside the old London fog. Whoever he was, I have a feeling he’s still here sometimes.’ She frowned. ‘Can we get onto the stage from here?’
    â€˜Yes, there are steps on the right. You’d better have the spare torch.’
    Hilary took the torch and walked down the centre aisle, occasionally reaching out to touch the worn surface of a chair. Halfway down she looked up at the boxes at the side of the stage, and stopped abruptly. Robert saw her expression alter, and said, ‘Hilary? Is something wrong?’
    Hilary was shining the torch onto the box. For a moment she did not speak, and then, in a low voice, she said, ‘I think there’s someone up there.’
    Robert’s heart skipped several beats and although he was not aware of having moved, he discovered he was standing next to her, holding her arm protectively. ‘There’s no one there,’ he said, peering into the shadows. ‘The place is empty.’
    â€˜There is someone there.’ She moved the torch. ‘He’s stepped back, but he’s still there. He’s watching us.’
    Robert shone his own torch onto the box and for the fraction of a second thought he saw the shadowy figure of a man wearing a long coat and a deep-brimmed hat pulled well down to hide his face…
    He moved the torch again and then, with a gasp of relief, said, ‘It’s all right—it’s just the fall of the curtains inside the box. Can you see how they sort of bunch together on the right? It does look like a man’s figure. That’s what you saw.’
    They were not exactly whispering, but they were speaking in low voices as if afraid of being overheard. Robert was aware of a stir of unease, because when he left the theatre after his survey, those curtains had been pushed so far back against the wall they had been barely visible. He had noticed it particularly, because he had gone into the box to inspect the timberwork. But now those same curtains were in a different position: three quarters drawn and hiding most of the box’s interior. Had someone been in since the survey and moved them? But Hilary said no one ever had the keys.
    To say any of this would only frighten her, so in an ordinary voice, he said, ‘It’s an optical illusion. Like when you see faces in cloud formations or cracks in a ceiling that look like a map of the world.’
    Hilary said, in a very soft whisper, ‘But what about the shadow?’
    The shadow. Robert saw it then: a blurred outline fell on the wall of the box nearest the stage and was unmistakably man-shaped. Exactly as if someone really was standing there, looking down at them. And curtains, surely, did not cast shadows…
    To dispel the sudden apprehension, in a challenging voice he called out, ‘Hello? Is someone there?’
    The echoes picked up his voice and bounced it round the empty auditorium, and Robert waited, his eyes still on the box, but nothing stirred. It was impossible to see more than a small portion of the interior, but when he shone the torch again