Rich in time are the sick and injured, near drowning in long days of boredom, swimming in and out of sleep. Celeste tried to use these unchained hours to make sense of where she was: in an iron bed with linen sheets and ironed pillowcases.
For the first few days after the accident she felt that she was drifting on clouds, hanging on a thread between sky and sea. Her whole body was bandaged, white upon white. There was snow and only a short breath of day that was all too soon swallowed in the darkness of curtains drawn tight against the cold. Candlelight danced across wallpaper making strange shapes that wandered into her dreams.
Celeste couldn’t remember the order of things that had brought her to this soft bed. Time passed, people came, she heard what they had to say. Among them was Madame Sabina Petrova, talking to the doctor.
‘Will she live?’
‘I cannot say,’ he answered. ‘Her injuries are extensive.’
‘How long then before she dies?’
Celeste thought that was a good question. She imagined she would float away from here.
‘It is in the lap of the gods,’ the doctor said. ‘If the fever passes, she might survive but I have no idea if she will ever see again from her right eye. She will be severely scarred and, of course, the chances of her dancing are remote.’
These visits were punctuated by sleep and the ticking of clocks, changes of bandages and silence. Celeste woke once with a start to see an angel sitting at the end of her bed. Celeste couldn’t think why she was wearing such flimsy clothes on such a cold night. Her dress was pure white without any decoration except for a pair of gauze wings. Celeste recognised it as one of the costumes from The Saviour. How strange, thought Celeste, that the Angel of Death should be wearing a ballet costume. Miss Olsen would be furious if she found out. Celeste tried and failed to make the angel’s face come into focus. Her hair was the same colour as her own. Celeste smiled.
‘It is good to see you smile,’ said the angel. ‘I have been so worried about you. I have tried to give you all my strength so that you might get better.’
‘Why?’ said Celeste.
‘Because I thought you were going to die.’
‘Am I imagining you?’ asked Celeste. ‘You are not my reflection?’
‘No, I am not. I have been with you all the time, you just haven’t seen me until now.’
‘I can’t believe it,’ said Celeste. She laughed.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked the angel.
‘Miss Olsen would be cross if she knew you had stolen one of her costumes,’ said Celeste. She turned her head, expecting either or both of them to vanish.
The angel came closer.
‘Are you an angel? Or are you a ghost?’ Celeste asked.
‘Don’t you remember me?’
‘No, but I think I know you,’ said Celeste. ‘Have you come to take me home?’
The angel, who might be a ghost, shook her head. ‘We can’t go home unless you win the Reckoning. Do you remember the game you were playing before the accident?’
‘How do you know about the game?’
‘Because I played it first.’
‘Who are you then? Do you have a name?’ she said.
‘I’m called Maria.’
‘You’re not here,’ said Celeste. ‘I can see through you.’
The door opened and as the nurse came in, Maria disappeared.
‘Are you warm enough?’ asked the nurse.
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Celeste. ‘Did you see anyone here just now?’
‘No, of course not.’
A clock chimed twelve somewhere deep in the silent house. Celeste didn’t know if it was midnight of that night, or if more nights had come and gone.
She heard Madame Sabina say, ‘I can’t have her taking up this room forever.’
It wasn’t to the doctor or the nurse that she spoke but to Mr Gautier who was standing by the bed.
‘She is a child,’ he said.
Madame Sabina’s voice was harsh. ‘All I mean is that I will be very pleased when this is over – one way or the other.’
‘The papers are full of your great benevolence,’ said Mr Gautier drily. ‘They say you are the spirit of this city.’
Madame Sabina sighed. ‘I suppose as long as they keep writing those articles she can stay. However, I tell you it costs me money – and I’m no charity.’
‘Have you any idea what would have happened if the audience had been admitted to the auditorium and the curtain had gone up? An accident like that would have been the ruin of the opera house.’
‘At least,’ said Madame Sabina as she left the room, ‘it’s given Massini time to write some decent tunes for me to sing.’
Mr Gautier looked down at Celeste and said softly, ‘I wonder what game she’s playing.’
Game. The word made Celeste remember the cave with the sleepers. She must wake up, she told herself, she must wake up to win the Reckoning.
The fever had passed. Celeste lay propped on a small mountain of pillows and the curtain was drawn back to let in winter’s watery sunshine. The room seemed smaller now she could see it better. She realised it was in the attic.
The doctor took the bandages from her arms and face.
‘How much do you see with your right eye?’ he asked.
‘There are two of you and one is floating,’ said Celeste.
‘It may improve with time,’ he said. ‘You are young.’
He nodded to the nurse, who handed her a silver-backed mirror. Celeste saw her face and arms were pitted with scars. Her right eye was bloodshot and there was a line across the pupil.
‘It’s a shock, I know,’ said the doctor.
He bowed and left her, taking the nurse with him.
Celeste held up the mirror to her face and was astonished to see two faces staring back at her – one scarred, the other not. The ghostly angel had appeared from nowhere, dressed just as she had been before.
‘I’m here to help you remember.’
‘How can you help me?’ asked Celeste.
‘I was helping you. I was trying to, but you didn’t hear me. You kept saying you weren’t a dancer, and you didn’t let me in.’
Celeste was certain she was dreaming and closed her eyes.
‘Wake up! You must wake up. You can’t sleep any more. If you do, I’ll never find you again.’
‘I am awake,’ said Celeste.
‘Tell me what happened.’
‘You mean when the chandelier fell?’
‘No, when you met the man in the emerald green suit,’ said Maria.
Celeste suddenly felt that she had walked out of the forest of forgetfulness into a clearing and for the first time in a long while she could see sunlight. She leaned forward, as close as she could to the angel.
‘I know who you are,’ said Celeste. ‘You’re my twin.’
‘At last!’ said Maria.
‘I can’t believe I’d forgotten you,’ said Celeste. ‘The other half of me. I should have known you. Why didn’t I?’
‘The man in the emerald green suit casts a spell of forgetfulness over the player. My memory is coming back to me. I played the first part of the game. I didn’t have the strength to go on, but I am not a ghost.’ Celeste held out her hand and watched Maria’s fingers disappear in hers. ‘I can help you as long as he doesn’t find out we’re not the same person. Did the man in the emerald green suit ask you to guess his name?’
‘No,’ said Celeste. ‘I’m not dreaming, am I? You are here?’
‘You know I am,’ said Maria. ‘Try to concentrate. What story did the man in the emerald green suit tell you?’
‘That I had been found on the steps of the opera house.’
‘Did he tell you you could dance?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s good, that’s very good. Because he believes there was only one child on the ship.’
‘It’s as well that I didn’t have to dance, otherwise I would have given the game away,’ said Celeste.
‘I always used to tease you that you had two left feet,’ said Maria.
‘I saw the man in the emerald green suit again,’ said Celeste. ‘After the chandelier fell.’
‘He’s very contrary,’ said Maria, ‘and not to be trusted. He told me first he wanted me to dance. But he didn’t.’
‘What else?’
‘To guess his name. I believed that was a trick, so I concentrated instead on my ballet.’
‘You are the answer to all that’s been missing,’ said Celeste. She lay back on the pillows. ‘Do you remember that fairy tale? It was to do with midnight.’
‘Yes. I thought it was just a story to frighten children,’ said Maria, moving onto the bed.
‘I used to think that too,’ said Celeste. ‘I remember one part – if you were to wake on the dot of twelve minutes to midnight then… then you…’
‘Then you would vanish into the gutter of time,’ said Maria. ‘A kingdom ruled by…’ She paused, trying to recall the story.
‘A man in an emerald green suit?’ suggested Celeste.
‘I can’t say who or what it was. I know we were both terrified of the idea of there being…’ She stopped. ‘I remember. The man in the emerald green suit told me, what will be hasn’t yet happened and what has been is being played again and it was up to me to stop the inevitable, to uncover where the past meets the present and…’
‘Find the future?’ said Celeste.
‘I think that’s right,’ said Maria.
