The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound (5 page)

“I'm the circus fortune-teller,” Lizzie said apologetically. “I can, sort of, see into the future.”

“There's no ‘sort of' about it!” Nora said. “Lizzie's just being modest. She's got powers!”

“But I ain't never talked to a . . .” Lizzie had to say the word. “To a ghost!”

“You've never tried,” said Erin, swigging her milk and raising her eyebrow.

Lizzie clenched her teeth and glared at Erin. “I don't even believe in ghosts,” she hissed. “Dead people go up to heaven. They don't stick around down here for a chat!”

“But Lizzie, your visions have never been wrong yet,” Nora said. “If anyone can talk to the dead, it's you. I think you should try.”

“Oh, you must!” To Lizzie's amazement, Becky fell to her knees. “I'm begging you. Please try.”

Put on the spot as she was, Lizzie had to at least consider it. Could she speak to a dead person? She could try, perhaps, but she wasn't even sure how. Apart from palm reading, which Madame Aurora had shown her how to do, her visions just happened. She didn't have any control over them.

So what on earth should I do?
Lizzie thought.
Wander around in the cemetery and knock on the gravestones, hoping someone answers? Sit in a circle like a spirit medium and ask if anyone is there? Knock once for yes, twice for no?

“Please?” Becky said, wide-eyed.

Lizzie knew she couldn't refuse. “All right,” she said. “You did us a favor, helping us get to the doctor and all, so I'll do it. I'll try to speak to your father.”

Before Becky could give her another enormous hug, Lizzie quickly added, “But not now, okay? There isn't time. We've got to get the twins back to the circus.”

“Fitzy will burst a blood vessel if we're not back soon,” Nora agreed. “Wait, Becky. I've got something for you.” She fished a slip of yellow paper out of her pocket. “Come along to the show tonight!”

“A circus ticket?” Becky said in delight.

“On the house,” Nora told her. “Can you come? I know you're busy here, so . . .”

“I'll come! Just try and stop me!” Becky exclaimed.

“Come to my tent before the show,” Lizzie told her, “and I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything. But I'll try.” She paused as a thought struck her. “Bring something that belonged to your pa. It might help me make a connection.”

After all
, Lizzie thought as they left,
I can't read a dead man's palm, can I?
Even the thought made her shudder.

* * *

Back at the circus the three girls gathered outside Fitzy's caravan, looking nervously at one another, not wanting to go in.

Eventually Lizzie spoke up. “Let's get it over with.”

They knocked.

Fitzy came out immediately with Malachy following close behind him. Seeing Erin's sling, Fitzy's face fell. “Is it broken?”

“The doctor said it was just a bad sprain,” said Erin.

“Then you can still perform?” Fitzy asked, sounding hopeful.

Erin shook her head sadly. “I've got to rest up while it heals. I can't ride.”

Fitzy covered his face with his hands. Then he parted his fingers so he could see through them. “How long?” came his muffled voice.

“Two weeks,” Erin told him.

“That's impossible. Can't be done.” Fitzy suddenly started walking off through the circus. The girls and Malachy ran to follow him.

Fitzy spoke quickly as he walked. “The posters have already gone up. They're plastered all over the town. I spent a fortune on them, like a fool! Can't be helped now, it's done, it's spent.” He spun on the spot and kept talking, walking backward, waving his hands. “You two are on the posters! The Sullivan Twins! I can't do the show with just one! What if people want their money back? What am I supposed to tell them?”

Lizzie had never seen Fitzy in such a panic. “The circus will be ruined,” he mumbled. “I can't let that happen . . . there must be something we can do!”

Suddenly Fitzy stopped. He looked from Lizzie to Erin and back to Lizzie. “Yes,” he said softly. “It just might work. . . .”

“What?” Lizzie asked, totally confused now.

“It's the only solution,” Fitzy said. “We can't do the show without two girls. You're about Erin's height. So you'll have to go on in her place.”

Lizzie's mouth fell open.

“Congratulations, Lizzie.” Fitzy patted her on the back. “You just became the new Sullivan sister. Better get some riding practice in!”

It was the craziest idea Lizzie had ever heard.

“But Fitzy, I barely know how to ride a horse,” she protested. “I can't do handstands and tricks on horseback like Erin does! I'll break my neck!”

“I can teach you,” Nora offered. “You'll pick it up pretty quick. After all, I was only four when I first learned. If I can do it, you can!”

“But the first show is tonight!” Lizzie exclaimed.

Malachy tugged at his father's brightly colored coat. “Don't do this, Pop. It's not fair to Lizzie.”

“Oh, I know it's a lot to ask,” Fitzy said. “But they don't call her ‘The Magnificent Lizzie Brown' for nothing, do they?”

“Pop, be serious,” Malachy said. “Erin's already hurt. Lizzie could get hurt too. We should play it safe instead of taking all these unnecessary risks.”

For a moment, Fitzy looked like he might give in to Malachy's reasoning. He rubbed his forehead and looked very tired. There hadn't been much of the old familiar sparkle in his eyes lately, and he had been putting in a lot of late nights.

“I owe a lot of money, son,” Fitzy said in a guilty voice that hurt Lizzie's heart. “More than I've let on to tell you the truth. If I could go back and do things differently, I would . . . but it's too late.”

Fitzy had always been a risk taker. Lizzie knew that. He'd taken a risk when he first gave her a job in his circus. If he hadn't, she'd probably be dead by now or slaving away in a match factory with phosphorus burns on her fingers. Seeing him now, so sad and defeated, Lizzie knew she had to do her best to help. She could take a risk too, for his sake. “I'll do it!” she said.

Fitzy glanced up, and the tiny gleam in his eyes shone like a spark in the night. “Good girl.”

* * *

Lizzie's one and only training session was in the show tent on the firm, sawdust-strewn ground. There would be no more rehearsals outside thanks to the rain. The ground was too soggy. Hari led Albert into the ring. Everyone else had quietly left before Lizzie arrived to give her some privacy.

They don't want to see me falling off and landing on my face
, Lizzie thought.
Can't blame 'em.

“He's the better behaved of the two new horses, so you can ride him,” said Nora. “He's used to having me stand up on his back, so he won't buck you off. Will you, my lovely?”

Lizzie rubbed Albert's neck. “We're going to have to learn to trust each other,” she whispered.

Albert whickered and dipped his head in what looked surprisingly like a nod. Erin checked the reins and the special saddle. “All set.”

“Right, then,” said Nora. “Let's get you up. Do you need a hand, or . . .”

Lizzie took the reins, along with a little tuft of mane, put her left foot into the stirrup, and pushed herself up with her right leg. She swung her right leg up and over, coming to rest squarely in the saddle.

“Good!” Nora patted her leg. “How do you feel?”

“Not too bad,” Lizzie admitted.

“Let's try a stand-up,” Nora suggested. “Pop your feet out of the stirrups.”

With Nora patiently talking her through it, Lizzie was able to draw her leg up and rest it on her shin. Then she put one foot on the horse's back followed by the other, so that she was squatting.

Lizzie felt ridiculous.
Who's going to pay to see this?
she thought.
Even with Albert standing stock-still, she was wobbling around wildly.

“Now rise to a standing position,” Nora said. “Slowly. Imagine there's an invisible cord connecting you to the sky. It helps you balance.”

Strangely, Nora's advice worked. Lizzie straightened her legs. “I'm standing up!” she said. “I'm doing it!”

“It's a start,” said Erin, clapping.

Lizzie swallowed, feeling like there was a lump of fear stuck in her throat. “It's a long way down,” she said, struggling to keep her balance. Albert shook his head and snorted, as if a fly was bothering him.

“Just get used to standing for now,” Nora said.

Erin pushed past her impatiently. “Try one leg!” she said. “Go on! It's easier than you think.”

“Erin!” Nora was furious.

“What? She's got to learn,” Erin argued.

“I'm teaching her, not you!” Nora snapped.

Lizzie stared at her quivering feet as the twins bickered. She lifted one foot hesitantly, felt she was about to fall, and put it straight back down again. In her mind, she heard crowds jeering and booing.

“Try putting your arms out,” Nora suggested.

Slowly, Lizzie raised her arms, trembling like a willow in the wind, until she was standing. Albert shifted beneath her, and she yelped, quickly dropping her arms again.

“Maybe if Lizzie just looks decorative, and you do all the stunts?” Erin suggested.

Nora wrinkled her nose. “That'll have to do, I guess, won't it?”

Lizzie looked out at the empty stands. Tonight the tent would be packed with people. She was going to be a laughingstock. She knew it.

Albert wasn't helping either. He stamped a hoof and whinnied loudly. Suddenly Lizzie was sure he was going to throw her. She dropped down to a squat and threw her legs back over his sides, clinging on for dear life.

That just made Albert worse. He fretted, not quite rearing up, but fidgeting and tossing his head.

“He doesn't like me,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. “This is never going to work.”

Hari appeared at her side. He stroked Albert's nose and crooned softly into his ear. “There, now. Easy, now. You're a good boy, yes you are.”

Almost instantly Albert was calmer. He nuzzled Hari's ear in turn, making him laugh.

“Maybe you should get this dress on instead of me,” Lizzie suggested with a pout.

“It's not that he doesn't like you,” Hari told her. “He's nervous because you're nervous. Do what I did.”

Lizzie leaned over and whispered to Albert as Hari had done. It worked.

“See how much better he is now?” Hari smiled at Lizzie encouragingly. “Animals have strong intuition. Even if you're scared up there, you can't show Albert, or he'll pick up on it and act scared too. You have to let him know that you trust him to keep you safe.”

* * *

Lizzie tried to put her upcoming performance out of her mind. She was still the circus fortune-teller and there was work to do. The penny gaffs and sideshows always opened up before the main show went on to help pull in the crowds.

Lizzie hurried to her mystic tent just in time for the start of her shift. As she pulled on her robes, she wondered what Fitzy would have done if she'd been injured. There weren't any other psychics to take her place. Lizzie lit some incense to give the stuffy tent an exotic atmosphere.

Her first customer arrived within minutes. She was a broad-shouldered young woman with tired eyes. She wore a dingy shawl, and in her arms, she held a baby wrapped in a grubby blue blanket. A toddler with a runny nose clutched at her skirts.

“It smells funny in here,” the child said.

“Don't be rude, Tommy! I'm sorry — do you mind if he comes in with me? Their dad's away at sea, and there's nobody to watch 'em, so . . .”

“It's fine,” Lizzie said with a pained smile.

“Ball!” Tommy lunged for Lizzie's crystal ball with his sticky fingers. Before she could snatch it away from him, he'd smeared it with heaven only knew what.

“Don't worry,” Lizzie told his dismayed mother. “It'll keep him happy if he has something pretty to play with.”

The reading began. As Lizzie traced her finger down the woman's lifeline, she saw images from her past: her wedding to a tattooed sailor man, the crowd gathered around her mother's deathbed, the day Tommy was born and she'd nearly died of a fever. When Lizzie glimpsed the future, it was Christmas. The woman's husband was proudly cuddling a newborn baby under the tree while an older Tommy bashed a wooden train against the furniture and his little sibling rolled about on the rug.

When Lizzie told her about the baby, the woman smiled bravely. “Another one? Well . . . the more the merrier, eh?” On her way out, she paused. “Did you see if it was a boy or a girl?”

Lizzie shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Never mind. It'll be a lovely surprise, I'm sure.”

The next customer was a nervous, skinny young man. Before Lizzie could say a word, he exclaimed, “I'm very much in love.”

“That's nice,” Lizzie said. “How can I help?”

“My beloved . . . she is beyond compare,” the man told her. “No words could possibly do her justice.”

“I don't do love potions, if that's what you're after,” Lizzie told him sternly.

“Certainly not!” The man swallowed nervously. “I wish to propose to her.”

“Look,” Lizzie said, dropping the mystic airs, “if you want to propose, why not just go ahead and do it? Jump in with both feet. That's what she wants.”

The man knotted his fingers together, shoved them in his lap, and looked strained. “But what if she says no? What, then? I lie awake at night, I toss and I turn . . . I tell myself not to be a fool and simply ask her, but then I imagine myself rejected, and I cannot bear it. Life would be unthinkable then.”

He doesn't need a psychic
, Lizzie thought.
He wants a good hard kick in the backside!
But she forced herself to smile. He was a customer, even if he was an idiot. “I can try to see your future,” she said. “Give me your hand.”