CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
leap of faith

( TW: character death )

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

WITH A WEDDING booked, naturally the preparation swarms Button House in the months preceding it. The latest one is a large shipment from a catering company. Flurries of white vans arrive and unload boxes of gleaming silverware into the house.

     Some of the ghosts protest — Fanny, naturally, is appalled at the condition of the silverware sets — while others embrace the wedding plans quite readily. The Captain throws himself into the self-appointed duty of wedding planning, already keeping a log of all the deliveries coming into the house. Then there is Kitty, beside herself with excitement at the prospect of being a bridesmaid. Mary keeps spouting old superstitions about wedding days, and Pat reminisces of the legendary disco at a friend's wedding.

     And as for Effie? Well, it's entertainment, isn't it?

     By the time the delivery vans have left, Alison and Mike are feebly surveying the piles of boxes in the house. Effie is stood between them, unbeknownst to Mike as he remains unaware of her presence.

"Where are we gonna put all of it?" Alison ponders out loud.

"Not in my room, I hope," Effie scoffs.

"Can't we just leave them out?" Mike asks, although seeming unconvinced by his own suggestion. The boxes are everywhere, and frankly a tripping hazard.

"Or... we could put some in the attic," suggests Alison.

"Nah, that place is creepy," Mike shakes his head. "I haven't been up there since we moved in."

"Mike, that was ages ago!"

"So what? It was when you had your injury. Besides, have you been up there yet?"

Alison blinks twice, then gulps. "No, I guess not..."

"What are you so afraid of? That a ghost will jump out at you?" Effie snickers, earning a glare from Alison.

But Effie must admit, even she hasn't really been up to the attic before. Not to the deep, dark corners of it anyway. What was there to see besides cobwebs and old boxes of things she can't even open? Oh well, she thinks cheerily, better late than never!

So she tags along with Alison and Mike on their attic trip, whether she likes it or not. It feels like the tip of the iceberg has been flipped — no, this time it feels like the peak of Everest, ascending above cloud cover where Effie knows little to nothing about it. She didn't think there was anything left in Button House that was unknown to her.

Whilst the living beings have to climb up the ladder with boxes, Effie dissolves effortlessly up to the attic floor. "Yes, I think this will do quite nicely," she nods with her hands on her hips.

"Oh, I'm glad you think so," Alison huffs and puffs up the ladder.

Mike immediately clicks a ghost being present — by now, he is adjusting to moments when his wife is speaking to the phantoms. "Which one is it?" he asks plainly.

"Just Effie," she replies.

About five or six boxes are loaded upstairs before Alison and Mike call it a day, breaking a sweat. They seem satisfied enough that they have cleared some small space at least. They fold the ladder back up — Effie, ever curious, stays behind for a moment. She strolls around the dusty floorboards on which her shoes leave no print. She dips her head into some of the boxes to get a sneak peek at wedding equipment. There was never this much faff when I got married, she thinks. Then she remembers how long ago that was... coming up to a century ago now.

     What a way to make me feel old.

     Effie continues her box-search, walking around and inspecting the dangling cobwebs and the dormant shadows. A tiny squeak emits from a corner of the attic. She watches a mouse scurry into the dark. With nothing else to do, she follows the squeaking rodent into the shadows — but then it isn't the mouse she is focused on.

     Instead, a pair of almost balletic-looking shoes poke out from behind the box.

     She looks up, and there is a young man curled up and staring back at her.

     Effie doesn't know who screams first — all she knows is that they are trying to out-scream each other, until she clasps a hand over her mouth and so does he. About a million questions race through her mind as her eyes bulge towards him.

     "What are you– who are you—?"

     "I'm Ralph," he gasps out, catching his breath again. "Ralph Elton."

     She squints at him, inspecting the young man as the adrenaline of the fright wears off. Ralph (as he is apparently named) can't be older than his early twenties, surely. The smattering of freckles across his light brown skin only makes him look younger. But for just how long has he been here? He can see her, so Effie can safely assume he is a ghost — Alison's gift is not a common one. Although it does not explain his curious attire, consisting of a leotard and tights with leather shoes that hug the slender point of his feet.

     "I'm... er... I'm Effie," she blinks fast at him.

     "I know," says Ralph. "Well, you, anyway. I've seen a few of you from up here over the years. The caveman, for instance, and that funny old fellow who runs laps around the gardens."

     "That would be the Captain. Sorry, just how long have you been here?"

     "I've lost count of the years, exactly. But since 1891."

     1891?! And she never even knew he existed?

     "You mean to tell me you've been hiding from us in the attic for that long?!" Effie exclaims incredulously. "How come we've never met you?"

     "Well, that was sort of the intention..."

     Ralph cowers slightly, tucking his knees into his chest. He instead turns his attention to the mouse squeaking next to him. To her surprise, the mouse proceeds to scurry past him and dissolve straight through the walls. "That's Zeus," he mentions casually. "He's been up here with me since some military man crushed him with a box some eighty years ago."

     "Zeus... of course..." she nods slowly, not entirely convinced that the name matches its owner.

     Still, Effie is intrigued by this ghost who has managed to remain undiscovered all this time. How was that possible? Soon though, her bewilderment is replaced with insatiable curiosity. She supposes she was looking for some excitement, and she got it. Effie lowers herself to perch on one of the silverware boxes, facing Ralph in the gloomy attic.

     "So, Ralph," she tries sounding cheery, "how was it that you ended up here, at Button House?"

     Ralph gulps loudly; his eyes seem to glaze over, remembering something before he gives a shudder. "I'd... rather not say."

     Effie can't blame him for not wanting to recount his death. So, she shifts the focus slightly. "That's an interesting ensemble you have going on there," she nods to him.

     "It's more than an ensemble. It is practically my uniform... even if I wish I'd been a tad more clothed when I, you know..." Ralph clears his throat sheepishly. "I'm a trapeze artist. Or was, anyway."

     "Oh, how exciting!" Effie perks up. "Were you in the circus?"

     "I was. Zimmerman's Circus, have you heard of it? No? Perhaps not. I was born into the circus, you know. My parents met there, and my grandparents were one of the acts in its founding days. They even performed to the Queen and Prince Albert, while he was still more able to make public appearances."

     "What were the other acts?" she leans forward, interested.

     Ralph starts to seem more enthused too, coming out of his shell as he reminisces. "We were all like one big family. I was on the trapeze with my brothers and sisters. My mother walked the tightrope. My father was a strongman, in every sense of the word, and he could balance two acrobats stood on a table, which he was holding up only with his teeth—"

     "With his teeth?!"

     "— Yes, I'm telling the truth! And there were so many other acts there. We travelled all over the country, and even a bit of the continent. I remember it so vividly. I was only a child, really, it was all very exciting. And I'd only recently turned twenty-one when I came to Button House, and I... I then..."

     Ralph trails off again, his gaze downcast. He rolls his shoulders back uncomfortably at the memory of what must have been his death. Effie does feel sorry for him — and she still wonders why he has felt the need to hide for all this time. Well, if she has anything to say about it, he shan't be in hiding for much longer.

     "Ralph, I have an idea. Why don't you come downstairs? No, listen," Effie holds her hand up when he protests, "I think it would do you some good to mingle a bit. I don't know why you feel the need to shut yourself away, because we're a nice bunch... well, some of us, anyway. What do you have to lose? Go on, take a leap of faith!"

     His head whips up straight to look at her, suddenly clammy. "Leap of faith?!" he echoes in horror.

     Effie reconsiders her choice of words; she quickly has a vague idea of how Ralph met his untimely end. "Or rather, take a chance. You never know, you might rather like it."

Ralph hugs his knees tighter in and considers this. "You've been very kind, Effie," he admits, making her smile. "Well... I suppose I could try."

"That's the spirit!"

Ralph tentatively stands to his full height, suddenly seeming rather tall and slender in his frame. He follows Effie downstairs — she feels like she is gently coaxing a scared animal out of the darkness. He looks around the decorated walls and halls in silent awe, as they must make quite a change from the grim attic. There is an innocence and hesitance in the way Ralph walks that intrigued her. If he was a circus performer, the height of putting yourself out there, she hadn't expected him to be so gauche and anxious when he wasn't flying through mid-air.

     Suddenly, Ralph stops in his tracks, looking embarrassed.

"Wait... I look silly," he gestures to his leotard.

"What?"

"Look at me — who would want to die dressed like this?"

"Dressed like what?" asks a familiarly obnoxious voice, accompanied by jingling bells. Julian and Norman have appeared on the landing together, staring in surprise at the not-quite-new ghost. Ralph stares back at them — at the lack of trousers on Julian, and the thorny jester's suit adorned with bells that frames Norman's miserable face.

"Upon reflection," Ralph murmurs, "I suppose it could have been worse."

"This one of the wedding entertainers?" asks Julian. "Ah, yeah, I think I've seen one of these. I was at a conference in 1989, and we went to this club—"

"No, he's one of us," Effie explains, before the attic ghost can speak up. "This is Ralph. He's a flying trapeze artist, and he has been here for over a hundred years hiding in the attic upstairs." As she introduces him, he gives an awkward wave, seeming uncomfortable in his own skin.

"He does seem familiar..." Norman trails off thoughtfully.

As he ponders, Mary and Kitty join the group, also taking in the spectacle of another ghost on the premises. "Oh, I remembers 'im just a bit," Mary folds her arms in curiosity after hearing his introduction once more. "S'been so long since I last saw him, I did think he had been sucked off long ago..."

"Is the attic quite exciting? I haven't visited it before!" Kitty giggles.

"Um... no. It's rather dark, dusty. And there are mice," Ralph replies.

"... Oh," she mumbles. Nevertheless, she still beams at him, and it seems to bring Ralph the first inkling of comfort since he came downstairs.

But all of that drains away when Fanny walks into the room. When she locks eyes on the trapeze artist, she freezes, narrowing her eyes in recognition. Ralph is paralysed like a deer in headlights as she takes him in. There is a striking tension between them — the kind when one or both are trying to estimate where they know each other from.

"Lady Button?" Ralph blurts out. "I– don't know if you..."

At his loss of words, Effie takes over. "Ralph has been here for over a century, Fanny. He was a trapeze artist in the circus! I never even knew a circus came to Button House."

"Yes, it did. Zimmerman's. I remember," says Fanny, everything falling into place. She turns and faces Ralph. "And I remember you. And... that night in the tent, that dreadful night. I had no idea that afterwards, you became... well, like me, like all of us. After you f—"

"I can't do this, I'm– I'm sorry!"

Ralph suddenly bolts away, leaving the other ghosts little opportunity to chase after him. "Ralph!" Effie calls. "Wait, come back, we didn't mean to upset—"

"I'd rather be eaten by the circus tiger than do this!" he snaps back; not out of spite, but out of pure fear.

     Just like that, he's gone. Effie lets out a defeated sigh. At least he can't go very far — unless he suddenly moved on, there is only so much of Button House he can wander if he isn't in the attic. She turns to Fanny, who is pursing her lips together in grim remembrance of something. "Fanny, did you say you had seen him?" asks Effie.

     "Yes," Fanny nods, "he performed with that circus, Zimmerman's."

     "I know, he told me that."

     "And I was in the audience. At the time, George and I hadn't been married very long. I told him it was a silly idea to host a circus on the grounds of Button House, but he was intrigued and insisted it would be a good idea. Well, then that happened with Ralph... and then we had an entirely different situation to deal with! That story was circling around the papers for a solid couple of weeks."

     "By that, do you mean he...?" Effie trails off, not letting the sentence finish.

     "Effie, he's dressed for the trapeze, isn't he? How do you think he went?"

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

DATE:
MAY 2nd, 1891

     "LADIES and gentlemen, boys and girls! The extravaganza continues!" The voice of the ringmaster, Bartholomew Zimmerman II, booms through the circus tent to a peal of cheers and applause.

     Meanwhile, behind the heavy curtains, waits with bated breath Ralph Elton and his siblings — the other components of their flying trapeze act, The Soaring Crickets. He works together with his eldest brother, Claude, as the catcher, and then with his sisters Ioanna, Minnie and youngest brother Ivor as they all fly through the air.

     "Is Lord Button enjoying the show so far?" Ralph asks to Ivor, who can spy through the crack in the curtains.

     "Yes, it looks like it."

     "And Lady Button?"

     "Ralph, you work yourself up far too much when we have supposedly higher-up audiences," Ioanna smirks at him. "Need I remind you that we have performed to royalty?"

     "I know, I know," Ralph grins, "but I am the way I am. I like to put on a good show."

     "And you always do. We do."

     That is true. Ralph knows the art of the trapeze like the back of his hand. Since he was a little boy, flying through the air has been a completely natural feeling, to the point where he feels lost when stumbling on two feet on the ground. No matter what, Claude always catches him. It is as effortless as breathing. And he knows their family's trapeze act is the most anticipated one in Zimmerman's Circus at the moment — in a world of comical clowns and strongmen, they are the coveted stars of the show.

The group go where they need to be, taking their spots at opposite ends of the ring. Claude is on the other side whilst Ralph and his siblings will ascend up to a platform.

     "... I know you have been waiting patiently, and you needn't wait a moment longer," announces Zimmerman's voice. "They are the weightless sensation... they have flown over our British Isles and beyond on the continent... without further ado, I give you our soaring crickets!"

There is an eruption of applause as they walk out, and Ralph soaks in every drop. Children, adults, even the Buttons are enjoying the show. Adrenaline thunders through his body and pumps in his heart as he climbs up the ladder to the trapeze. He always gets the sense that he is gaining altitude up here — well, he would be, wouldn't he? The Zimmerman's tent is enormous, leaving their flying trapeze act to tower over thirty feet above the ground. Only a layer of mattresses lie beneath at the floor.

Ralph exchanges a look with his siblings. The show is about to start. A lively instrumental from the circus band plays out with booms of brass horns and clashes of cymbals, all with the drum beat behind it. Opposite them, Claude starts swinging on the catch-bar, dangling upside down by his legs. He swings to great heights, gaining momentum.

Then the first sibling leaps out — it always goes Ioanna first, followed by Ralph, then Ivor, and finally Minnie. Ioanna swings high on her fly-bar, always slicing through the air gracefully. When she and Claude almost meet in the middle, she dives with her arms safely into his. The crowds let out an awed gasp and clap fiercely as they swing back-and-forth together.

Taking position, Ralph shifts his gaze to the crowds for a moment, just seeing how huge they are. He spies the Buttons in one of the front and centre seats, the lady slightly less impressed than the lord of the manor. As Ioanna begins to make her return to the platform, Ralph wipes his sweaty hands on his tights. She lands back as her other siblings catch her. Ioanna's hair is a wild, windswept mane as she curtsies gracefully to the crowd.

Ralph takes hold of the fly-bar with both hands, watching Claude swing in the distance like a pendulum. He feels the air rush past his torso as he sweeps all the way up to the ceiling, then backwards so far again that he can hear the murmurs of his siblings over the music. And the crowds are going wild — they know that Ralph is the showiest flyer. He always throws in an extra trick, one he keeps secret from everyone except Claude.

Tonight, it will be a pirouette catch. On the next swing up to his siblings, Ralph turns himself around on the fly-bar so he is now facing his sisters and Ivor. He sees their smiling faces, hears their cheers, thinks about the sheer number of people in the crowd...

And then he feels a sudden frenzy in his chest — shifting from excitement into panic like no other. Where did it come from? It sends his mind into overdrive, something else taking over.

He lets go. He attempts the pirouette, executing it flawlessly. His hands reach for Claude's and brushes his fingertips. And then, slick with sweat, they just slip.

Everything slows down for a moment. He realises he is gripping nothing. Dangling down at him, he sees Claude's eyes start to widen in horror, only just comprehending what has happened before Ralph even has. The plummet might not as well be happening. It feels like he is still suspended mid-air.

And I almost got it, too, Ralph just has time to think.

Then everything speeds up again, and forty feet feels very quick indeed as he plummets down to the screams of the audience.

{⋅. ✯ .⋅}

"I'LL maaake love to you, if you want me to," Julian sings off-key, thrusting his hips, "and I'll hold you tight, baby all through the niiiight—"

     "I don't want him to..." Mary warbles quietly in despair.

     Effie has to agree, as she and the rest of the ghosts start to regret having Karaoke Club tonight. Julian's rendition is grating on the ears and, frankly, mortifying on the eyes — it is some R&B song from the 90s, which he only heard posthumously but was convinced would've gotten him in the dance-floor at a by-election after-party (his words, not Effie's... she isn't sure she wants to know the rest).

"I'll maaaake love to you, if you want me to, and I will not let you go, 'til you tell me to—"

     "Bravo!" Effie quickly and fiercely begins clapping her hands together. The other ghosts soon follow suit, realising this could be a way to silence Julian. He naturally gloats at the praise, even taking a little bow and straightening his tie smugly. "Now, since that's over, is it my turn?"

     "Of course," Pat nods, "show us what you've got, Effie."

     Effie switches places with Julian, stood before the rest of the ghosts perched on the sofa or watching from behind it. For a moment, she feels a sinking guilt in her chest — she wishes Ralph hadn't run off earlier. Fanny also seems to be slightly pensive thinking about him. Effie thinks of how he could've been down here now, enjoying the company of the other ghosts, and not closing him off from the world.

But he isn't here. So, she decides not to dwell too much. He'll re-surface if he wants to.

"This is a little number I've been quite taken with recently—"

"Before you start, is it from 'Chicago' or 'Cabaret'?" the Captain interjects.

Damn it. Effie gulps and trails off. "Um... not– not necessarily, but you know what? I was trying to be somewhat contemporary, and now I can see you don't care for it. So I'll pick something from my day, shall I?"

There goes Effie's plan to emulate Catherine Zeta-Jones. Instead, she sings an Annette Hanshaw song from her youth, and delights enough when the ghosts applaud at the end. After that, Kitty steps up for her rendition of 'Amazing Grace' (by rendition, that means high-pitched wails of "Amazing Kittyyy, how sweet the sound!"). Then the Captain decides they have heard enough and goes forward for his turn.

"Snare drum! Pom-pom-pom, ba ba-ba ba..." the Captain mimes his own little orchestra to the bemused audience. "Horn section! Piccolo! Bum ba baaaa..." He merrily performs each instrument silently, until he mimes the cymbals, and—

     CRRRASH!

     The sound has all the ghosts but the Captain pivoting in their seats to the doorway. "Whatever was that?" asks Kitty.

     "The Coldstream Guards," boasts the Captain.

     "No, no. It came from downstair," Robin says.

     The Karaoke Club quickly disbanded, the ghosts scurry downstairs to see what is the matter. Mike and Alison must have gone up to bed long ago, so who is making all the noise? They swim through the darkness in the living room to be greeted by a tall and burly figure carrying a flashlight. His eyes are visible through slits in his black balaclava.

     "Oh! I know what this is!" Julian snaps his fingers.

     "A masked ball!" Kitty cheers.

     "No, no, we had it at the Bramptons', it's, um..."

     Pat answers over him, "Burglary—"

     "— Insurance fraud!" At Julian's answer, all the ghosts glare at him, and he clears his throat. "Oh, yes, I suppose it might actually be a burglary. Yeah."

     "Good Lord, there's another one!" the Captain stands back, noting another burglar emerging, only smaller in stature.

     "Well, I can't see no cameras," he says.

     The lights switch on and the taller burglar takes off his balaclava. It reveals a pale of cold blue eyes with bags underneath them, and a balding head. "Oh, it's you, Nev," he grunts. "I didn't recognise you."

     "I was just wearing a hat."

     "Oh. Right."

     After a beat of awkward silence, the men get back to work.

     "Let's see what's worth nicking, shall we?" says the older burglar.

     Effie seethes as she watches them inspect Mike and Alison's belongings, because she can't do anything. But the Captain has a plan, as always — she has to commend him on his consistency in that area. Spinning around on his heel to face the ghosts, he waves his swagger stick at them.

     "Alright. We have enemy insurgents. Somebody warn Alison, tell her to inform the authorities," he instructs, and the ghosts give obedient nods. "Where is she?"

     "In bed, I think," says Thomas, already half-way down the corridor, "I'll go!"

     "And I'll go and make sure he doesn't embarrass himself!" adds Effie, chasing after the poet.

     If she can dance the Black Bottom in heels, she can bloody well run in them too. She soon finds herself caught up to Thomas as they race up the stairs. They are zipping down the corridor breathlessly when they almost collide with another figure.

     "Move out of the– Ralph?!"

     The new face from earlier stands before them, his eyes wide and alert. "There are burglars in the house!" he warns, "I saw them come in, I tried to warn you."

     "Yes, we know that. Why do you think we're running around like headless chickens?" Effie huffs; Thomas has already sped past her, so she gives up on trying to stop him from overstepping with Alison.

     "Still, I thought you should know..."

     "Well, we do, and we're just telling Alison—"

     "Alison isn't home."

     Effie suddenly feels very cold. She stares incredulously at Ralph through the darkness. "What do you mean, she's not at home?"

     "She left the house earlier. And I heard Michael through the floor making a big fuss about being home alone... I thought you knew. Anyway, what could Alison do? It's not like she can hear us."

     Oh, but she can, thinks Effie in despair. But there is no time to explain all that. All she knows is that their only tie to the living world, Alison, is not at their disposal right now, and they have to do something.

     Whatever that is, they're on their own.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

AUTHOR'S NOTE !

( date: 10th november, 2024 )

new character alert!! originally there weren't going to be many (or any) additional ghosts other than effie, but along the way i couldn't help myself. ralph is the last one though, i promise. if you can't remember the cast list, our anxious trapeze artist is played by kit young, and all this time he's been hiding in the attic. what do we think of ralph so far? also i sometimes worry that i'm introducing these extra ghosts for no reason, because ultimately this is EFFIE'S story, but the temptation to create different ghosts from different historical eras is too strong.

p.s. i spent way too much time trying to get the trapeze scene right, so hopefully the terminology and descriptions are believable enough...

this is intended to be a double update of sorts, so i'm going to work on the next chapter immediately — but i can't promise how soon it will come out because my life is pretty hectic right now 😅 so just bear with me!

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