Celeste couldn’t quite describe how she communicated with Maria, but she did her best to explain it to Anna as they walked to Peter’s apartment. They had left Hildegard to learn her part. To their surprise, Madame Sabina had sent a maid and the coal buckets were full and the apartment warm.
‘I hear Maria in my head,’ said Celeste. ‘It isn’t me – her voice is very Maria-ish.’
Anna laughed. ‘She keeps her words short and sharp.’
‘Yes – unlike me,’ said Celeste, pulling her muffler tight about her neck.
Anna had to admit they were both dressed poorly for the weather. ‘We’ll soon be there,’ she said, putting her arm round Celeste. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You’re not like Maria at all. You might be identical in looks but you are the mirror opposite of each other in personality. I should have known straight away when I saw you eating with your left hand. Maria is right-handed. Tell me about the beams of light.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Celeste. ‘It only happens when I’m angry.’
‘Is it what scared Hildegard?’ asked Anna.
‘Yes. She told Madame Sabina and now Madame Sabina has seen it for herself.’
‘This is what worries me. I think Madame has sent the maid to spy on us and tell her if it happens again.’
‘Which it won’t, I promise,’ said Celeste.
‘It’s a good thing that you’re staying at Peter’s.’
‘Madame Sabina looked frightened when she saw the lights,’ said Celeste.
‘Yes, but before we know it, she will have you on stage, starring as the Living Chandelier.’
They both laughed.
‘Bet I can beat you to the corner,’ said Celeste.
And still laughing, they ran until they reached the end of the street.
‘What else do you remember, apart from the hat shop?’ asked Celeste, out of breath.
‘I have a vague memory of the ship – the Empress. It was Christmas but I didn’t take any days off – I imagine I didn’t want to.’
‘Do you have a family?’ said Celeste. ‘I expect I used to know that.’
‘No, I was brought up in an orphanage,’ said Anna. ‘Perhaps that’s why I believed the story I was told about us – I mean Maria and me – living in poverty. I didn’t question it, not until today in the hat shop. Today I feel I’m me again.’
‘I think once you start remembering, you remember much more than you think,’ said Celeste.
‘It appears that I do. It was the 27th of December when we boarded the ship. It was night. It wasn’t going to be a long voyage, but you insisted on bringing your Christmas present – a toy theatre. You told me you would have to find a role for the Harlequin because he didn’t belong in the play… but after that there’s nothing more. It’s as if my memory runs out of road and into a fog. I thought I would write it all down when I go home and see if it helps me remember anything else. But I keep thinking about Madame Sabina. There’s no bond between her and her daughter at all. I feel sorry for Hildegard.’
‘Madame Sabina’s horrid,’ said Celeste, ‘and envious.’
The streets were full of people weighed down with parcels. The shop windows glowed honey-bright and all the goods on offer seemed to have been dusted with magic. They stopped and looked in the window of a toy shop. There was a tin train set complete with rails, a station, a porter and a tunnel. Every time the train went through the tunnel it let out a hoot and a puff of smoke. But it was what was in the middle of the display that had both Celeste and Anna fixed to the spot.
‘That’s…’ Celeste couldn’t finish what she was about to say.
It was just like the painted wooden toy theatre that she remembered choosing that Christmas. The scene within the small proscenium arch showed a watery cave painted in greens and blues. A figure of Neptune rose from behind the rocks and before him stood a little girl.
‘I don’t remember a scene in a cave,’ said Celeste.
‘Celeste!’
It was Viggo.
‘You’re late and Uncle Peter sent me to see if Anna is all right. He gave me the right amount of money for a cab.’
‘Look,’ said Celeste, pointing to the toy theatre.
Viggo peered in the window.
‘The theatre? It’s beautiful,’ he said.
‘It’s exactly like the one I remember,’ said Celeste.
‘The one her parents bought for her,’ said Anna.
‘If I had enough money,’ said Celeste, ‘I would buy it.’
‘Let’s go in and have a look at it,’ said Viggo.
And before Anna could think of a good enough reason to say no, he had pushed open the shop door and an inviting warmth drew them into the toy shop. It was a kaleidoscope of a place, filled with well-heeled and warmly dressed ladies and gentlemen who could afford expensive presents for their children.
‘Could we see the toy theatre, please?’ said Viggo to a shop assistant.
‘There’s only the one,’ said the assistant, ‘and it’s part of our window display. I’m sorry but it’s not for sale.’ She was about to serve a customer but stopped when she saw Celeste’s marbled eye. She stared at the scars on her face, then lowered her voice. ‘Forgive me for asking, miss – are you the girl who was injured in the accident at the Royal Opera House?’
Celeste nodded.
‘What a brave girl,’ she said. ‘Wait a moment.’
She went up to a smart-looking gentleman in an embroidered waistcoat. He seemed to be the owner of the shop. For a few minutes they were deep in conversation and occasionally the shop owner glanced in their direction.
‘Perhaps we should leave,’ said Anna.
But then the shop owner came over to them and, bending down so he was the same height as Celeste, said, ‘Would you like to have the toy theatre?’
‘Oh, yes, very much,’ said Celeste. ‘But I don’t have any—’
‘It will be yours,’ he said. ‘After all, Christmas is a time for magic.’
He delicately took the theatre from the window, packed it in a box and wrapped it in Christmas paper. Then, to the cheers of the customers and shop assistants, he handed the rather large box to Celeste and said, ‘This is a gift from my toy shop to a very courageous young girl. And it’s not to be opened until Christmas Eve.’
‘Thank you so much, sir,’ said Celeste.
Viggo was holding open the door thinking they should leave before the shop owner changed his mind, but he walked out in front of Celeste and Anna, hailed a cab and paid for it.
Celeste found herself with the box on her lap, seated with Anna and Viggo and being driven home with her chilly feet in bags of straw for warmth. Inside her head, she heard Maria’s voice.
‘A toy theatre is too small for actors.’
‘Thank you, Viggo,’ Celeste said.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ said Viggo.
‘Yes, you did,’ said Anna, laughing. ‘I would never have had the cheek to do what you did!’