By lunchtime Celeste had delivered all Peter’s invitations except two: Miss Olsen’s and Albert Ross’s.
Reluctantly she climbed the stairs to the wardrobe department. The young seamstresses gleefully looked up from their work.
‘What are you doing here?’ said Miss Olsen, not glancing away from the cutting table. ‘This is not the place for you. Please leave.’
‘I have an invitation for you,’ said Celeste.
She held out the envelope.
Miss Olsen sniffed. ‘Who is it from?’
‘Peter,’ said Celeste.
Miss Olsen sniffed again as if by smelling the envelope she would know what was inside.
‘You mean Mr Tias. There’s no need to stand there. Now you’ve delivered it you can go.’
Celeste ran back down the stairs, bumping into Albert Ross as he came up.
‘There you are, there you are,’ he said. ‘I knew it would be you, skittering around, trying to dance your way to the bottom. You’re not going to ask me what I have in my hat?’
‘Not today,’ said Celeste. ‘I have an invitation for you.’ She handed it to him and was about to leave, only to feel his hand grasp her dress.
‘Now, how can I read it, tell me? How can I know what is in this envelope unless you help me?’
Celeste freed herself and moved away from him. She took back the envelope, opened it and gave him the card.
‘What does it say?’ asked Albert Ross.
‘Mr Tias is having a Christmas party at his apartment.’
‘What’s that to me?’
‘He has invited you to the party.’
‘I don’t like parties,’ he said. ‘Why should I go?’
‘Because parties are fun?’ she suggested.
‘No, no, they’re not. They are full of people I don’t know and who have never said a word to me, and I am expected to talk to them. That’s not fun. So I’m not going.’
He put his mittened hands up to his little round goggles and adjusted them.
‘I’ll keep the invitation, though,’ he said, ‘and the envelope. You never know when it won’t come in useful.’
Miss Olsen appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘Albert,’ she called down, ‘I have coffee on for you. You, girl, be gone. You’re not wanted up here.’
Viggo found Celeste as she was about to go back to the dressing-room.
‘I have the afternoon off,’ he said. ‘And something to show you.’
He took her hand and led her to one of the empty dressing-rooms. Hanging on a hook was a boy’s suit of clothes – hat and muffler, and on the floor a scruffy pair of boots. For a moment it reminded Celeste of the sleepers in the cave of dreamers.
‘Put them on,’ said Viggo. ‘Don’t take too long.’ He could see that Celeste was on the point of asking questions and added, quickly, ‘Do you want to see the Empress or not?’
Unnoticed, they slipped out of the auditorium through one of the exit doors into the empty street. It had been a sunny morning with no snow but by the time they’d arrived at the harbour it was getting dark.
‘Do I look like a boy?’ said Celeste.
Viggo studied her.
‘Not completely,’ he said honestly. ‘Pull your hat down over your eyes, bring your muffler up past your chin. Whatever you do don’t speak. Let me do the talking. Your voice would give you away.’
Celeste felt a tingle of excitement. This was an adventure. She walked purposefully beside Viggo.
‘Is this dangerous?’ she asked.
‘I suppose it is,’ said Viggo, kicking a pile of snow and feeling himself to be as grown-up as ever he would be.
The harbour was not far from the theatre nor hard to find for the masts of the ships rose above the houses and pierced the sky. Steamboats, cargo and passenger ships lined up, waiting hungrily for tides and anchors to set them free. The jangle and jingle of the rigging sang with the longing for adventure and above the hurly-burly was the scream of seagulls. Celeste breathed in the smell of tar, of wooden timbers soaked in seawater. The harbour was busy with passengers arriving and leaving, porters unloading and loading ships, and amid the bustle no one paid any attention to two young lads. Viggo asked several people where the Empress was.
A porter said, ‘Out of bounds for the likes of you. Now skedaddle.’
It wasn’t easy, but they found her. Compared to the others, she was a small ship of an elegant design, and at the same time Celeste thought she looked a vulnerable vessel. They waited, hidden behind some crates, watching the comings and goings. The gangplank was down but as far as they could see, there was no one aboard the ship. She looked quite deserted.
‘Is she how you remember her?’ asked Viggo.
‘I don’t know,’ said Celeste. ‘It was night when we went on board and I never really saw her from the outside. If I could see inside I think I would know if this was the ship we were on.’
‘That’s too risky,’ said Viggo. ‘You’ll just have to… Celeste… no!’
Celeste had moved swiftly and was approaching the gangplank.
Viggo could think of some very rude words but as he joined her, he just said, ‘Be careful.’
‘I only want to see inside the saloon,’ said Celeste. ‘Then I would know for sure. I’ll only be a minute and then I’ll be out again.’
It had grown dark and there were hardly any lights on the ship. Once on board Celeste felt her heart beating fast. Those were the steps that led down to the saloon – she remembered them. She could see very little and had to feel her way. There was something about the ship that was eerie, she thought. She looked in the saloon. It was hard to make it out in the gloom but occasionally the ship moved and a light of sorts shone weakly through a porthole.
Yes, thought Celeste, this is the ship. I remember the saloon, and the table was here… She crept to where it had been put so that her toy theatre could be placed on it. She had almost forgotten the danger she was in and too late felt someone grab her.
‘Well, what’ve we got here?’
She couldn’t see the sailor’s face but his clothes were rough and his manner rougher. ‘I’m taking you to the First Mate. Do you know what he does with little stowaways like you?’
Celeste said nothing but her mind was racing. Where was Viggo? Had he been caught too?
The sailor marched her to the upper deck and then said, ‘On second thoughts, I don’t think I’ll bother the First Mate. I’ll throw you overboard. Who’d miss you? No one. Just another accident, happens all the time.’
Celeste felt a warm feeling of fury. How dare this brutal man threaten her? As always, she was unaware of the effect of her anger. Light poured from her scars and the sailor jumped back, a look of fear etched on his face.
‘What kind of demon are you?’ he said. He took a pistol from his belt and aimed it at her. ‘If you’re a ghost this won’t hurt you. If not, you’ll be dead.’
‘Leave her be!’
Viggo could see the pistol as he jumped out of his hiding place. He ran to Celeste, saw a flash of fire and heard the bang. He stumbled, pulling Celeste down with him. All the light in her had gone out. Viggo felt a sharp pain in his arm.
‘What’s going on, Andersen?’ said a voice.
‘We’ve got snoopers. I’m dealing with it.’
To Viggo’s amazement – and relief – it was Stephan Larsen who was kneeling beside them, holding a lantern.
‘They’re children,’ he snapped. He brought the lantern closer and saw that the faces were those of Viggo and Celeste. Viggo was obviously in pain and Celeste’s eyes were closed.
‘What have you done?’ he shouted. ‘Don’t stand there, man, get help.’
‘I didn’t mean to shoot anyone,’ said Andersen. ‘But it wasn’t human, what the lad did. There was light beaming from him. I’ve seen many things but I’ve never seen that before. Honest, Mr Larsen, I didn’t mean to kill him.’