The Sixth Key(94)

‘The dead?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I thought that the Day of the Dead was the time to visit the graves?’

‘I know, but I prefer coming today, All Saints’ Day. Tomorrow will be so busy and noisy. It’s far more peaceful today.’

‘May I ask why you read to the dead?’

She blinked at me. ‘Why not?’

‘I suppose I don’t know,’ I said, rather stupidly.

‘You’re not from here, are you?’

‘No, I’m sorry, my Italian is a little rusty.’

She smiled and looked down just a little. ‘You’re visiting?’

‘I’m writing a novel. I guess one could call this . . . my research.’

She gave a slight nod of understanding. ‘Many writers were fascinated by Venice. Ezra Pound . . . Henry James, he’s also here. Did you see his grave?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you like it here?’

I looked around. ‘Venice is a beautiful city.’

‘No, I mean, do you like the Island of the Dead?’

I paused. ‘I’ve never been to a more intriguing place.’

‘Are you interested in the dead?’

‘I suppose I must be.’

‘They are in need of communication.’

‘Is that what you’re doing? Communicating with them?’

‘I’m not a medium, if that’s what you mean. I don’t do that!’ she said, hurriedly. ‘Communication with the dead has to be a conscious experience. But it’s usually very difficult because when we speak to them everything is reversed.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘You know, here you ask a question and I answer it . . . that’s how we communicate. But across the threshold, when you put a question to the dead, it should be a statement and the answer comes to you as a question.’

‘And so the dead can think?’

‘One’s awareness, one’s consciousness still exists, even without a body. One can still have awareness without it, if one develops it in life. If one does not, one enters a realm of shades.’

‘As the Greeks feared?’

She smiled. ‘Better to be a beggar on Earth, than a king in the realm of shades!’

I nodded. There was something old-fashioned about her, something I couldn’t pinpoint. ‘So what does reading do for them?’

‘It informs them.’

‘But aren’t they all-knowing?’

‘The dead can’t know anything they didn’t know in life, unless . . . well, there are extenuating circumstances, but in the natural course of events if while alive they spent all their time learning only about the material world, they’re lost when they enter the world of the spirit. This is the tragedy, you see? What I do for them gives them comfort; my reading warms the cold they feel and cools the heat. It is a gesture of love.’

‘But what is love to them?’

‘Love is the bridge that unites the dead with the living. Love, to the dead, is a consciousness of life.’

She put the book down and looked about her furtively, seeming fearful suddenly. ‘Soon, terrible things are going to happen. I don’t know that I can help so many young souls who are going to pass across the threshold.’

‘What do you think is going to happen?’

‘Don’t you know?’ she said, wide-eyed.

‘No.’

‘War, of course! A war unlike any other war; so many will die and they will not know they are dead. Then there are others who may have made pacts, all sorts of rituals, promises . . . They will remain tethered to life, even in death, which constitutes a kind of torment. But then you already know that, don’t you?’

I had no idea what she was talking about.

‘You don’t remember me, do you? That’s all right, as long as you don’t forget the solution to the riddle of this grave.’

‘What solution?’

‘Don’t you remember? Oh, dear! You should leave. These places have a way of growing on you until you can’t distinguish whether you’re alive or dead. Look over there, see that?’ She pointed to a tall palm growing out of a grave. ‘That was once a seed, floating free in the wind, now it’s a part of this place. You don’t want to end up like that. Not all of the dead rest easy.’

I looked at her more closely and realised that she was dressed as a woman would have dressed in the 1930s.

She leant forward. ‘You have to come back in 2012.’

‘But we are in 2012.’

‘No! That’s still seventy-four years away!’

I gave a nervous laugh, completely thrown. I could see that she was either an excellent actress or entirely serious. I didn’t know which would be more disturbing. ‘Has someone paid you to say these things?’