Ways to See a Ghost

near the door, Isis could see he was working through the crowd with a direction. He was heading towards Cally.
    She was waiting for him by the box office. Hands together, head tilted, her dark hair flowing down her back. The purple dress shimmered. Silver bracelets cut graceful lines across her bare arms. She was the eye in the storm of clamouring, pushing fans.
    She was in her stage pose.
    Isis saw people glance at Cally, then fall back and form a pathway between her and Philip.
    “Mummy beautiful,” said Angel. And she was right, Cally had transformed herself, just the way Philip was able to. She didn’t look ridiculous now, she looked…
    “Like a princess,” Isis whispered.
    “Calista,” called Philip. She smiled, still waiting.
    Whispered questions and answers scurried through the crowd.
    “Who’s that?”
    “Calista Dunbar, she’s a new psychic.”
    “She any good?”
    “Must be.”
    Cally held her place until Philip reached her. But he was different too. Glamorous, surrounded by the adulation of his fans.
    “I’m so glad you could make it, Calista,” said Philip, taking hold of one of Cally’s hands, lifting it to his mouth. Sighs rose from the crowd, like they were watching a fairy tale. Philip held his gaze steady as he gently let go of Cally’s hand. A flush rose at her throat, and her poise shattered.
    “It was so kind of you to invite us,” she said, too quickly,her voice squeaking. “I can’t tell you how excited I am.”
    Her own glamour was broken, crushed by Philip’s. No longer a princess, just another of his fans. An overdressed one.
    Philip held his arms out to the crowd.
    “I’d like to introduce you to Calista Dunbar, a new talent who shows potential to become a true psychic, in the future.” He smiled at the people surrounding them. “She’s here to see how it’s done.”
    There was a ripple of laughter, and the crowd stared at Cally, inspecting her.
    Isis kept her place by the wall, hot with borrowed shame. He’d made Cally sound like she wasn’t any good, but she didn’t seem to have noticed.
    “Have you got your tickets?” Philip asked her, and she nodded enthusiastically.
    “Thank you.” Cally held up two grey ticket stubs. “It’s so kind of you.”
    Philip smiled, and turned to sign an autograph.

    The tickets turned out to be for seats almost at the back of the theatre. As they walked to their row, the stage looked tiny and far away.
    “It was still very generous of him to give us free seats,” said Cally, her disappointment only just hidden by her bright tone. She peered and fidgeted, trying to get a better view, and when she saw an empty place five rows forwards, she hurried down to find out if it was free. Cally’s excitement was plain as she headed back.
    “One of their friends has a stomach bug and couldn’t make it. No one’s going to be sitting in that seat…”
    Isis sighed, knowing what was coming.
    “You go and sit there,” she said to her mum.
    “Are you sure?” asked Cally, worrying now. “Will you be all right back here?”
    Isis nodded.
    Cally turned to the middle-aged woman sitting next to Isis. Plump and pale, dressed in a white blouse and black skirt, like she’d come straight from work.
    “Would you keep an eye on my daughter?”
    “I’ll be
fine
!” hissed Isis.
    The woman smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Don’t you worry.”
    As Cally squeezed her way past people to get to her new seat, the theatre lights went down. A flute played a lilting, eerie tune into the red-glowing darkness. Dry icehissed onto the stage, as coloured lights flame-flickered over the auditorium. There was a scatter of exclamations in the audience, and Isis realised Philip Syndal was on stage. From nowhere, as if by magic. He stood with his head lowered until the flute spiralled to the end of its lament, then a single spot brought him into bright, white light, and every other stage light went out.
    Philip lifted his head.
    “Welcome,” he said, “to an evening of wonder. Tonight, I will take you to the border between this world and the next.” The single light dimmed, fading into dull yellow. Philip was candlelit, a small flame against the dark. “Together, we will cross the border, we will go beyond… And those who have gone before us will turn back, and speak.”
    He opened his arms, walking to the front of the stage. The light followed him, brightening again.
    “Spirits and friends, I am here. Speak. I am listening.”
    Isis