Arthur & George

know?
    The cries of witness to Sir Arthur’s presence have now died down, perhaps because there has been no answering acknowledgement from the stage. What was Lady Conan Doyle’s message at the start of the service? That our earthly eyes cannot see beyond the earth’s vibration; that only those with the God-given extra sight, called clairvoyance, would be able to see the dear form in our midst. It would have been a miracle indeed if Sir Arthur had managed to endow with clairvoyant powers the various people still on their feet in different parts of the hall.
    And now Mrs Roberts speaks again.
    ‘I have a message for you, dear, from Arthur.’
    Again, Lady Conan Doyle does not turn her head.
    Mrs Roberts, in a slow waft of black satin, moves to her left, towards the Doyle family and the empty seat. When she reaches Lady Conan Doyle, she stands to one side of her and a little behind, facing towards the part of the hall where George sits. Despite the distance, her words carry easily.
    ‘Sir Arthur told me that one of you went to the hut, this morning.’ She waits, and when the widow does not answer, prompts her. ‘Is that correct?’
    ‘Why yes,’ replies Lady Conan Doyle. ‘I did.’
    Mrs Roberts nods, and goes on, ‘The message is: tell Mary –’
    At which moment another tremendous blast comes from the pipe organ. Mrs Roberts leans closer and carries on speaking under the protection of the noise. Lady Conan Doyle nods from time to time. Then she looks across to the large, formally clad son on her left, as if enquiring of him. He in turn looks to Mrs Roberts, who now addresses them both. Then the other son gets up and joins the group. The organ peals on relentlessly.
    George does not know if this drowning of the message is in consideration of the family’s privacy or a piece of stage management. He does not know whether he has seen truth or lies, or a mixture of both. He does not know if the clear, surprising, un-English fervour of those around him this evening is proof of charlatanry or belief. And if belief, whether true or false.
    Mrs Roberts has finished communicating her message, and turns towards Mr Craze. The organ thunders on, yet with nothing to drown out. The Doyle family look around at one another. Where is the service to go from here? The hymns have all been sung, the tributes paid. The daring experiment has been performed, Sir Arthur has come amongst them, his message has been delivered.
    The organ continues. Now it seems to be modulating into the rhythms which play out a congregation after a wedding or funeral: insistent and indefatigable, propelling them back into the daily, grimy, unmagical, sublunary world. The Doyle family leave the platform, followed by the officers of the Marylebone Spiritualist Association, the speakers and Mrs Roberts. People stand up, women reach under their seats for handbags, men in evening dress remember top hats, then there is shuffling and murmuring, the greeting of friends and acquaintances, and a calm, unhurried queue in every aisle. Those around George gather their belongings, rise, nod and grant him their full and certain smiles. George returns them a smile which is no equal of theirs, and does not rise. When most of his section is empty, he reaches down again and presses the binoculars to his spectacles. He focuses once more on the platform, the hydrangeas, the line of empty chairs, and the one specific empty chair with its cardboard placard, the space where Sir Arthur has, just possibly, been. He gazes through his succession of lenses, out into the air and beyond.
    What does he see?
    What did he see?
    What will he see?

Author’s Note
    Arthur continued to appear at seances around the world for the next few years; though his family only authenticated his manifestation at one of Mrs Osborne Leonard’s private sittings in 1937, where he warned that ‘the most tremendous changes’ were about to occur in England. Jean, who became a fervent spiritualist after the death of her brother at the Battle of Mons, kept the faith until her death in 1940. The Mam left Masongill in 1917; the parishioners of Thornton-in-Lonsdale presented her with ‘a large watch with a luminous dial in a leather case’. Though she finally came south, she never joined her son’s household, and died at her West Grinstead cottage in 1920, while Arthur was preaching spiritualism in Australia. Bryan Waller survived Arthur by two years.
    Willie Hornung died at St-Jean-de-Luz in March