The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound (6 page)

He shut his eyes and held his open palm out. Lizzie found the right line and traced it. Instantly pictures leaped into her mind.

“Good news!” Lizzie said. “I can see you, walking down the aisle of a country church. There's a beautiful young girl by your side.”

“Truly?” He gave a gasping laugh. “We are to be wed?”

“She's lovely, sir. Dressed all in white, flowers in her long, black hair . . . she's the happiest girl in the world!”

The man smiled dreamily for a moment. Then suddenly his eyes flew open, and the smile vanished. “Black hair? But my Julia is blond!”

Lizzie ushered him out of the tent as quickly as she could. “You both looked ever so happy,” she assured the confused young man.

The next customer was Becky. She peeped shyly into the tent, only coming inside when Lizzie beckoned her. She was clutching something tightly.

“If you'd been dressed like that when I met you, I'd have been too scared to speak!” Becky whispered. “You look like a gypsy out of a fairy tale.”

“It's only for show,” Lizzie said. “Did you bring something of your pa's?”

“Yes!” Becky opened her hand. A metal ornament gleamed there, circular and decorated with holes all the way through. There was a cross in the center and a loop at the top for a strap to go through. Lizzie had seen them many times, hanging from the harnesses of horses — including the one she'd met yesterday.

“A horse brass?” she asked.

“He loved Dandy,” Becky explained. “Horse brasses usually come in pairs, so when he died, we buried him with one of Dandy's. I kept the other one.”

Lizzie had to admit it was a perfect choice. A matched set of brasses, one here, the other in Becky's father's grave with him. If anything could make a connection, this surely could. If.

Lizzie gently took it from her. Becky watched with such a hopeful look on her face that Lizzie wondered if maybe, just this once, it was worth telling a white lie. She could pretend to see Becky's dad's spirit and say something comforting. The girl would be none the wiser.

She held the horse brass in one hand and stroked it with the fingers of the other, as if it had been a living person's palm. Then, to her astonishment, an image began to appear in her mind, first as a blurry outline, then as a human form walking toward her. The closer he came, the clearer his image grew.

“Can you see him?” Becky asked, breathless.

“Your pa . . . was he quite a strong bloke, with a bushy beard?” Lizzie asked.

“Yes!” Becky exclaimed.

“He's wearing a cloth cap and big work boots,” Lizzie continued. “And a waistcoat. Now he's smiling and holding a hand up. There's a scar across his nose.”

“That's him!” Becky couldn't sit still with excitement. “Paul Wardle's bulldog nipped him on the nose when I was little. It couldn't be anyone else!”

The image was speaking now. The voice echoed through Lizzie's mind. “Tell her I'm at peace, miss, if you'd be so kind. I love her dearly, and I couldn't be prouder.”

Lizzie repeated those exact words. Becky laughed and wept at the same time.

“I know she'll look after the farm,” the spirit told Lizzie. It was always so strange, hearing another voice in the inside of her mind where only her own thoughts usually were. “Tell her when it gets tough, to remember that I'm watching over her every day. Give Dandy a kiss for me.” The figure tugged at his cap in thanks and faded away.

When Lizzie had passed on everything Becky's father had told her, she tried to give the horse brass back.

“No, you keep it!” Becky insisted. “It's a present. You've been so lovely. I know he's with me now, not just as a memory, but really there! How can I ever thank you enough?”

As she hugged Becky, Lizzie saw a new, powerful vision in her mind.

It was night. Mist crawled around her ankles. She was standing in a graveyard, among the looming monuments and headstones. From close by came the scraping and rattling sounds of someone digging.

Lizzie tried to block the vision out, but it grew stronger. She was rushing toward a freshly dug grave. As it opened up to swallow her, she heard the terrible howl of a gigantic hound, and in the next moment, a piercing scream.

There was hardly any time before Lizzie was due to perform with Nora on horseback. She rushed off to the Sullivans' caravan, with the vision still haunting her.

Why would I see a graveyard?
Lizzie wondered.
It had to have something to do with Kensal Green, but why would someone be digging there at night? And that scream . . . it made her skin crawl.

No time to worry about that now!
Lizzie told herself.
I have bigger fish to fry.

Erin and Ma Sullivan were waiting for her at their trailer when she arrived. “Come on then, my love,” Ma said. “Let's make a Sullivan girl of you.”

First, Lizzie's hair had to be dyed red with henna or the audience would never take her for a Sullivan twin. It was messy, and the henna smelled like overcooked spinach, but the effect was astonishing. Lizzie's brown hair blazed a coppery red.

Then it was time to get dressed. Erin's white costume, spangled with sequins, was laid out and ready. Lizzie quickly slipped it on and stared at herself in a full-length mirror. The dress clung to her like a cloud, as light as a wisp of cotton. Sequins flashed and dazzled as she moved, catching the light from the oil lamp.

“Crikey,” she said, turning this way and that. “I feel so glamorous in your clothes, Erin.”

“We're not done yet.” Ma Sullivan sat her down and perched on a stool opposite. “Hold still.”

Erin looked on approvingly as her mother used a soft brush to dab Lizzie's cheeks with rouge. It smelled like roses. “This is the real stuff,” Ma Sullivan assured her. “All the most fashionable Parisian dancing girls wear it.”

As a finishing touch, Ma added some shimmering color to Lizzie's eyelids and warmed up her lips with some crimson makeup.

“Hair next.” With practiced skill, she gathered Lizzie's unruly hair up and braided it into a long plait. With a silver fastening at the end, it looked just like Nora's.

Ma Sullivan stepped back to admire her work. “Ah, Lizzie, if I didn't know better I'd say I'd had triplets all them years ago. You're the spitting image of my girls.”

Erin gave her a quick, fierce hug. “You're a wonder. Thanks for stepping in like this.”

“You all took me in and looked after me,” Lizzie said, feeling oddly shy. “I always felt like part of the family. So I'm happy to pretend to be a Sullivan if it helps you out!”

* * *

On the far side of the circus ring, opposite the main entrance where the public came in, was an archway made from brightly painted wood. This was the performers' entrance and exit.

A beaded curtain hung across the archway, making a glittering barrier. The lighting inside the show tent meant the archway was always dark, so performers could take their places and wait for their cues. It was like the wings in a theater.

Lizzie waited there in the shadows, watching the show start. Most of the seats were full. Fitzy, she was glad to see, was in top form, firing off jokes and making the crowd roar with laughter. What a relief it must be to have pulled in a decent audience!

The Boissets were the opening act. After some spectacular trapeze routines that had the crowd gasping, it was time for Dru to perform on the high wire. He and Collette were debuting a new routine. Collette cycled out onto the rope on a small bicylce, drawing wild applause. She pedaled back and forth for a moment, then Dru came toward her from the opposite end, using an umbrella as a balancing pole.

Lizzie's heart was in her mouth. Why, oh why did Dru refuse to ever use a safety net?

Dru and Collette play-acted the parts of a pedestrian and a cyclist meeting in a narrow lane, with neither one willing to step aside for the other. Dru hopped angrily up and down, the rope twanging as he did, then somersaulted on the spot. In response, Collette climbed up onto her bicycle seat and pretended to shake her fists at him.

The blend of comedy and daring high-wire action was causing a sensation with the crowd, but Lizzie felt sick with nerves. She knew she shouldn't watch, but privately she was afraid of what might happen if she didn't.

As a finale, Dru solved the stalemate by climbing up the bicycle's front wheel and balancing on his sister's shoulders. He bowed, and the audience went wild.

The band played a jolly tune, and Lizzie pressed herself against the side of the tunnel as the clowns came running past her. They hurried through the beaded curtain and out into the bright light of the circus ring. She gave them a thumbs-up for luck.

JoJo staggered past after the rest of the bunch, clutching his stomach. Lizzie caught a whiff of something nasty, like sour sweat.

Nora came up next to her. She'd been warming up the horses while Lizzie had been transformed into a Sullivan twin. “Don't fret, Lizzie,” she said. “You'll do fine.”

“What's JoJo doing out there?” Lizzie whispered. “He's supposed to be resting!”

“He didn't want to let Fitzy down,” Nora said.

The clown routine was set in a bakery. Didi, the serious whiteface clown, was bossing the others around, demanding they work faster. But the more the other clowns tried to follow his mimed orders, the more chaos resulted. Clowns carrying pies crashed into each other and, as messy fights broke out, pies were slipped in and sat on.

JoJo was usually the craziest of the bunch. He typically ran around, making trouble for Didi. Tonight, though, he was just lurching around the ring, holding his belly and sometimes falling to his knees.

Didi pelted him with pies and aimed kicks at his baggy bottom while the band played. The audience ate it up. Some of them were falling out of their seats from laughing so hard. But all throughout the act, Lizzie could see JoJo grimacing under his painted-on smile.

“They don't know,” Lizzie said, alarmed. “They think it's all part of the act. Poor JoJo must be feeling terrible.”

“He's a trooper, though,” Nora said. “He's had his clown face on since he came out of his trailer this morning! I expect he's raring to get back to work.”

All too soon, the clowns came back out and Fitzy was introducing the next act — “Two incredible young equestrian performers.”

Lizzie's stomach did flip-flops. They'd all be watching her now.

Nora gave her a quick squeeze. “You'll be fantastic.”

Hari came up behind them, leading Albert and Victoria. Lizzie looked into Albert's calm brown eyes.

“Please show your appreciation . . .” Fitzy was saying. There was a roll on the drums.

Lizzie stroked Albert's nose. “Look after me. Please?”

Albert whinnied softly. Lizzie took a deep breath and mounted his back.

“. . . for the Amazing Sullivan Twins!” Fitzy finished.

To the sound of a fanfare, Lizzie and Nora rode out into the dazzling lights of the sawdust ring. A sea of faces surrounded her.

I can do this
, Lizzie thought. She forced herself to smile and steadily rose to a standing position, holding Albert's reins firmly.

Meanwhile, Nora was already on one leg, cantering around the ring and waving at the crowd. There was a smattering of applause, but it was all for Nora.

It didn't matter. All Lizzie had to do was look pretty and not fall off. Despite the hundreds of people watching, she felt her confidence rise.

I trust you, Albert
, she thought. She gave the reins a twitch and Albert obediently trotted forward with Lizzie still standing upright.

“Bravo!” a man shouted. Was he mocking her? Lizzie didn't dwell on it.
I'm doing my best. What more can I do?

Most of the crowd only had eyes for Nora, and Lizzie was fine with that. Nora went through her routine without a single mistake, flipping onto her hands and back onto her feet, doing a pirouette on Victoria's back, and even catching the juggling clubs that Lizzie threw to her. The crowd clapped, but the act wasn't captivating them the way it did when Erin performed with her sister.

Nora came thundering around the ring for the big finale. Usually, she and Erin would leap through the air, do the splits midjump, and land on each other's horse. Lizzie wasn't ready to attempt jumping off, let alone landing on a horse. She quickly dismounted and held Albert's reins, leaving the saddle empty for Nora to land on.

She crossed her fingers as Nora rode toward her. A drumroll began. Even without Erin, the leap would an impressive stunt. The crowd had to like it, surely.

Then a rude voice rang out, aimed at Lizzie: “GET BACK ON THE HORSE, DARLIN'!” A few laughs followed, and Lizzie's cheeks burned with embarrasment.

The shouting had spooked Victoria, and she whinnied and reared up. Nora desperately tried to make her leap anyway, but it was a disaster. She toppled from Victoria's back and fell with a sharp cry, scrambling quickly out of the way in case the horse fell over onto her.

“Oh, no!” Lizzie gasped. Hari ran out to calm Victoria. Nora fled through the archway, choking back tears.

All Lizzie could do was trudge after her. The band quickly struck up a tune to close the act, but not quickly enough to drown out the booing from the crowd. It was only one or two voices at first, then others joined in, yelling, “Boo!” and, “You call that an act?”

Once safely backstage, Lizzie pressed her back against the wooden archway and tried not to cry. The lion was being led out now. Good. That would entertain this awful crowd.

“Lizzie, it's okay,” Malachy said from the shadows beside her.

“You must be joking,” Lizzie sniffed. “Didn't you hear them? I've never been so mortified.”

“I know the act got messed up. But at least you went out there!” Malachy said. “None of them can say they didn't get what they paid for, even if it wasn't what they were expecting. We advertised the Sullivan twins, and they got the Sullivan twins. Pop kept his word. That's all that matters.”