Lily (16 page)

When were they going to fit in finding Father? Still, the dark, close little room felt very safe. Who would look for them here? Mama and Marten would never suspect they were in a theatre. How could they be, when two days ago they’d hardly known such things existed?

Lily had no idea how Marten hunted – whether she was following their magic somehow, or simply sniffing them out like a dog. But here, surrounded by people, was surely a good place to hide? They would stay a while, she thought, gratefully. Only a little while, until they knew more about the world they’d escaped into. Then they’d set out searching.

‘It’ll be busier this afternoon,’ Daniel explained back in the office, as he pulled out a loaf of bread, and a hunk of hard cheese for their lunch. ‘Late nights mean theatre people often sleep late, even though the show doesn’t open till next week. But after lunch more people will start to trickle in to rehearse.’

‘What do you want us to do, in your act?’ Lily asked. ‘I’ve never seen a magic show – or been to a theatre, even, apart from this one. I don’t know what happens.’

Daniel snorted. ‘Most of the people in this country have never seen a magic show. It isn’t exactly illegal, but it is a little, er, borderline. People will know it isn’t real – how could it be, we’d be arrested. But it’s got to look real. And people will wish that it was, you see, that’s the important thing. Everyone loves a little bit of mystery. Just a little magic, at a nice safe distance.’ He sighed. ‘I hope so, anyway. You saw Neffsky arguing with me earlier on. He’s convinced it’s going to be a disaster.’

‘Is he part of the show, too?’ Lily asked.

Daniel nodded. ‘He’s a singer. We have all sorts – jugglers, contortionists, the sword-swallowers, although we may not have them for much longer. The act’s getting to them, I think. They’re fighting all the time, and when you spend a great deal of your life with a sword in various bits of you, it’s dangerous to lose your temper. Then there’s the ballet troupe, of course, and the Six Sandersons, they’re trick cyclists.’ He stopped, looking at Lily’s blank face. ‘You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m talking about.’

‘People
swallow
swords?’ Lily asked him doubtfully. ‘That seems even sillier than the rabbits.’

Daniel frowned and leaped up from the tigerskin rug, where he’d been sitting to eat his share of the bread and cheese. ‘The rabbits are not in the slightest bit silly. I shouldn’t have called them commonplace before. They’re pure white, very expensive, actually.’

‘I’ve never met a sensible rabbit,’ Henrietta said, snatching the crust out of his hand, and bolting it. Then she stared at him smugly.

‘Come and watch, come on! And you, quiet,’ he added fiercely to Henrietta. ‘The rest of the performers will be coming in. You all need to be careful.’

He led them into the main theatre, and trotted up a set of little steps onto the stage. ‘Sit there,’ he ordered, waving them into the front row of chairs. ‘I just need to fetch everything. For the real performance, of course, everything will be all set out ready.’

Lily and Georgie curled themselves shyly into the chairs he’d pointed out, and watched wide-eyed. The theatre had filled up while they were eating sandwiches in the office. A knot of men in shirtsleeves were hauling painted screens up and down at the back of the stage, and arguing about something that had stuck, and exactly whose fault it was. Meanwhile a group of girls in filmy pink costumes were dancing in a line across the stage, their arms linked, and cleverly avoiding the scenery mechanism with a series of hops.

Daniel came back onto the stage, now wearing a top hat, and carrying a little table with a bright-red cloth on it, trimmed with bobbles. Mrs Porter had had something very like it in her sitting room back at the house, Lily remembered, with a sudden lurch inside. She wondered how angry Mama had been, after they ran away. Would she have revenged herself on the servants? Mrs Porter had always been bad-tempered and impatient, but then she had been like that with everyone. She’d given Lily raisins in twist of paper, and sometimes even sugar. Lily blinked away a film of tears, as she watched Daniel making odd gestures around the covered table. He appeared to be trying to show that it was definitely a table.

Then he swept the hat off his head, bowing elaborately to the audience. He came to the front of the stage, and wafted the hat about, turning it up so that they could see it was empty, swirling his hand around inside, and even tossing it into the air. ‘Imagine that I’m wearing a long black cloak,’ he hissed to them. ‘It helps. And there’s music too, very dramatic, eerie stuff. Mostly Fred on the violin.’

Lily nodded. Georgie was trying not to laugh, and Henrietta was sitting up on her chair, watching with an air of deep suspicion. Her tail was twitching, ever so slightly. Lily stroked her, and whispered, ‘Whatever it is, don’t talk!’ Henrietta only glared.

Daniel strolled back to the table, putting the hat brim-down on the table, while he unfolded a white silk handkerchief, which he spread out on the table with a flourish. Then he placed the hat on the handkerchief, paused dramatically, and pulled a small, rather surprised-looking white rabbit out of the hat.

The dancers and stagehands, who’d obviously seen it several times before, seemed not even to notice, but Henrietta barked excitedly, standing up on her chair, and jumping around on all four paws. Lily and Georgia clapped a little, out of politeness, and Daniel frowned. He came back down the steps towards them, affectionately cradling the rabbit.

‘Didn’t you like it?’ he asked in a low voice. He looked rather hurt, and Georgie patted his arm encouragingly. ‘It was very – nice. I’m sorry, it’s just such a simple little spell,’ she whispered. ‘Lily could do it, and she hasn’t been trained at all. Her magic really only started to work a few days ago.’

‘But it isn’t a spell!’ Daniel hissed crossly. ‘The rabbit was there all the time!’

Henrietta nodded excitedly, her tail practically vibrating.

‘No, it wasn’t.’ Lily shook her head. ‘You showed us – you held the hat upside down. The rabbit would have fallen out, even if you’d covered it up inside the hat.’

Daniel smirked. ‘It was though. Not in the hat, exactly…’

‘Back of the table.’ Henrietta whispered it out of the corner of her mouth. ‘Tipped it in when you turned the hat the right way up again.’

‘Did you see?’ Daniel asked her anxiously.

Henrietta shook her head a fraction. ‘Smelled,’ she murmured. ‘Clever.’

‘Well, if it wasn’t real magic, I suppose it was rather clever,’ Lily admitted. ‘Why a rabbit though? Why not a cat? Or – or a hedgehog?’

‘Rabbits keep still,’ Daniel explained. ‘And they don’t make any noise either. Imagine wrapping a cat up in a silk handkerchief, and hanging it off the back of a table for twenty minutes. Even if it didn’t tip the table over, it would rip my hand to shreds as soon as I tried to pull it out of a hat.’

Henrietta snorted, but rather regretfully. She was eyeing the rabbit as if she envied it a little.

‘You would be better than a rabbit,’ Lily told her lovingly. ‘Rabbits have no character.’

‘Well, I think that’s why it’s funny. Bella just looks so innocent.’ Daniel stroked the rabbit’s ears gently, and it went on suspiciously eyeing Henrietta. ‘A very clever dog, though… It’s an interesting idea.’ He stared at Henrietta thoughtfully. ‘Until now, I’ve done all my tricks by myself, but the possibilities are endless if you have people working with you. I have the drawings for a cabinet – I tried to convince one of the dancers to hide in it and help me, but she was very suspicious of the whole idea.’ He scowled gloomily. ‘In fact, she said that I was mad, and she wasn’t going to climb into any such instrument of the devil.’ A smile curved the corner of his mouth, and he looked dreamy for a moment. ‘It would be the most wonderful illusion. I thought of adding a sort of shadow play element, after she said that, so that there would appear to be great clawed hands…’

Lily sighed. ‘Is it dangerous?’

‘Oh no! Well…no. Only a little squashed,’ Daniel admitted.

‘If you promise to give us money for food, as well as the room, we’ll do it. Advise you on the illusions, and climb out of cabinets. Won’t we?’ She nudged Georgie.

Georgie was chewing her hair again. ‘No real magic?’

Daniel shook his head firmly. ‘It’s tempting, but…we mustn’t.’

‘Very well.’ Georgie nodded.

‘Who are you?’ A girl the same age as Lily was standing in front of them, looking contemptuous. Daniel had promised to introduce them to some of the other theatre people, but he had gone to put Bella the rabbit away in her hutch, leaving Lily and Georgie to watch the rehearsals. ‘This is private rehearsal time, you know. You can’t simply walk in and sit down. Sam! There’s a pair of country bumpkins sitting in the auditorium! Get rid of them!’

The man in charge of the stagehands, who had now managed to mend the scenery mechanism, and were practising the change from a Japanese water garden to a Talish forest, turned round. There was a set to his shoulders that made Lily think this sort of thing happened rather often. ‘What is it, Miss Lydia?’ he asked politely.

‘I told you! Trespassers!’ The girl pointed a finger dramatically at Lily, until Henrietta snapped at it. Then she reeled back shrieking, as the stagehands snorted with laughter. ‘Somebody shoot it! It probably has hydrophobia!’

‘Miss Lydia, these young ladies are part of Mr Daniel’s new act.’

‘And so is our dog,’ Lily said sharply. ‘And she isn’t mad. You stuck your finger in her face, and she was very restrained – she didn’t even touch you.’

Miss Lydia ignored this completely. Her expression had changed as soon as she heard that Lily and Georgie were part of the show. The contempt was still there, but now it was tinged with jealousy, and a hint of fear. ‘You? Performers? Hardly, dressed like that.’ She waved a hand to indicate their outdated dresses, and smirked nastily.

Lydia herself was wearing a miniature version of an adult’s dress, floor-length, and tightly-laced. Her waist was tiny with the corset, and the huge bustle sticking out behind, but Lily thought she looked desperately uncomfortable. She was carrying a little frilled pink parasol, and her hat fountained pink feathers over her long, silvery-blonde curls.

‘So what do you do? He can hardly pull you out of a hat.’ Lydia laughed, a very artificial, musical little laugh on at least six notes.

‘Ah! I see you’ve met!’ Daniel hurried down the steps looking slightly anxious. ‘Lily and Georgiana, this is Lydia Lacey.’

‘The Little Silver Songbird.’ Lydia fluttered her eyes closed in pretend modesty, clearly expecting them to be impressed. When they didn’t say anything, she looked up crossly. ‘My voice is famous. Even the royal family have heard of me.’

Lily smiled. The royal family had almost certainly heard of her too, but for different reasons.

‘Mr Daniel! I hope you’re going to clear the stage for Lydia to rehearse.’ A large woman with very bright yellow hair, a colour that surely couldn’t be quite natural, was bearing down on them. Despite her bulk, there was something about her round, greenish-blue eyes that made Lily sure the woman was Lydia’s mother. Her dress was even more extreme than her daughter’s, and she looked as though she might explode out of it at any moment. ‘She needs perfect quiet – she can’t possibly perform with all this going on.’ She skimmed a glance over Lily and Georgie, and clearly decided they were not worth commenting on.

‘Perhaps just this once – we are rather pressed for time, with the grand re-opening next week,’ Daniel began, but Lydia’s mother seemed to inflate like an outraged pigeon, putting her dress at even more risk of bursting. He sighed. ‘Lads! Down tools. Miss Lacey wishes to rehearse.’

‘
Thank
you.’ Lydia’s mother bowed to him graciously.

Sam, the head stagehand, stomped down the steps and settled himself leaning against the front of the stage to talk to Daniel. He nodded at Lily and Georgie in a friendly sort of way, and then his gaze fell on Henrietta, and his eyes brightened.

‘Lovely little thing, aren’t you?’ he cooed, holding out a hand for her to sniff.

Lily scowled meaningfully at Henrietta, but she needn’t have worried. The little pug was practically simpering, rubbing herself around Sam’s hand, and looking up at him adoringly.

‘Goodness, she’s never normally that friendly,’ Lily said surprised.

The big man smiled, and shrugged. ‘She’s a little beauty. We’ve fixed that winch now, Mr Daniel.’

‘Good, good. Sam, would one of the carpenters be able to knock me up a little something, for the act, do you think? A sort of folding cabinet, nothing too complicated… And talking of winches…’

Over the days that followed, almost everyone else in the theatre welcomed Lily and Georgie, especially after Daniel had carefully implied that they were some sort of distant cousins of his. One of the stagehands even told her that their act was proper clever. But Lydia and her mother lost no opportunity to be unpleasant. Lydia deliberately tripped Georgie in the wings, and tore her silver dress for the act. She had apologised sweetly, claiming it was an accident, but Henrietta had seen her quite clearly.

‘She’s jealous,’ Henrietta had told them later that night, back in their little room. The sisters were sharing an old brass bed that Daniel had unearthed from somewhere. The mattress was lumpy, and had a slight odour of mouse – although it was only Henrietta who could really smell it – but they slept curled all three together, never missing their cold, dusty rooms back home.

‘I don’t understand why she’s jealous of us,’ Lily complained. ‘She’s the great singing star, with her sketch in the newspapers, and princes from all over Europe wanting her to come and entertain them. Or so she says.’

‘She showed me the newspaper article,’ Georgie admitted gloomily. ‘It did say she had a wonderful voice, and that the audience was moved to tears.’

‘Huh,’ Lily muttered. ‘But we don’t sing. Why should she be so mean?’

Henrietta padded further up the bed to nestle on the counterpane in between the sisters. ‘They are starting to see it, I think. I know you don’t admire Daniel’s tricks, but if you had no magic… If you’d never seen magic… They are impressive. And our little additions are masterly,’ she added smugly. ‘Georgie adds dramatic atmosphere. And Alfred Sanderson – he’s the red-headed one who can play the violin while he’s going backwards on the unicycle – said that I had natural comic timing.’ She licked Lily’s hand sympathetically. ‘And you look very nice in your blue dress.’