Celeste and Hildegard were woken late the following morning by the maid who said there was a visitor waiting. Celeste could hear a conversation and knew by the voice that the visitor was Madame Sabina Petrova.
‘Why is she here?’ said Hildegard.
‘To take you home, I would think,’ said Celeste.
‘Once I would have wanted to go,’ said Hildegard, sadly, ‘but not now. Even though it’s cold here and the beds are damp and I don’t have a maid all to myself, I still would much rather stay with you and Anna. I’ll tell Mama that I want to stay. I mean, I’m thirteen, nearly grown up.’ But as she rolled down to the end of the sentence, her words sounded less assured.
Her mama’s voice was heard in the heart of her abandoned daughter.
‘I made a terrible mistake and I am humbly sorry for what I did,’ said Madame Sabina.
A little too loudly, thought Celeste, a little too theatrically. But Celeste could see the effect it had on Hildegard and who could blame her? Every child wants to know that to their mother at least they are the most important creature in the world.
‘I am determined to concentrate on Hildegard’s talents,’ Madame Sabina was saying. ‘There is much I can teach her. I thank you for looking after her, Anna, though I do believe you overstepped the mark and made…’ She stopped. ‘But never mind.’
‘Shall we go in?’ said Hildegard, getting up from her bed. She took Celeste’s hand and, still in their nightgowns, together they walked, barefooted, into the cold living room to face Hildegard’s repentant mother.
Madame Sabina didn’t rise when she saw her daughter. She was dressed more for a funeral than for Christmas and her penitent air appeared well rehearsed to both Anna and Celeste. Staying seated, the diva held out her small pudgy hands to her daughter.
Slowly, Hildegard went to her.
‘My darling little mouse,’ said Madame Sabina. ‘Will you forgive your foolish and jealous old mama? It’s very difficult for me to come to terms with the fact that my voice is not what it used to be. It’s hard to be overtaken by anybody, but especially by one’s daughter. I have wronged you and I ask for your forgiveness. I want to look after you, to love you, to care for you and to make sure that you have a fine career ahead of you.’
With every warm, honeyed word, Celeste could almost see Hildegard’s feet melting. Fifteen minutes later, she had dressed and Madame Sabina had her arm round her daughter’s shoulders as she steered her out of the apartment.
‘Anna and Celeste will be able to stay here, won’t they?’ asked Hildegard.
‘It’s taken care of, darling. Now, you go down to the carriage and wait for me like a good little mouse.’ The maid escorted Hildegard.
When they had gone, Madame Sabina said, ‘I want you out of here in fifteen minutes. You can leave all the clothes I bought you, Anna. Celeste, you may take one dress.’
Celeste went to the bedroom and dressed herself in the clothes that Quigley had bought her. She carefully packed up her toy theatre and tied string round the box so she could carry it. She slipped into her pocket Viggo’s snail, the Harlequin and the cut-out figure of a little dancer that looked like Maria.
She and Anna stood in the hall, warmly dressed against the weather.
‘Where did you get those clothes?’ asked Madame Sabina.
‘Mr Quigley was kind enough to buy them for us,’ said Anna.
‘Quigley has more money than sense,’ said Madame Sabina.
She was about to herd them out when a footman appeared in the doorway.
‘I have an invitation from His Majesty for Miss Hildegard Petrova and for Miss Maria,’ he said.
‘Give it to me,’ said Madame Sabina.
She tried to take the envelope but the footman gave her a look of such disgust that she let go of it.
‘I am here on the king’s orders, which are that this invitation is to be handed to Miss Anna, there being no surname.’ The footman looked Madame Sabina up and down. ‘You are not Miss Anna.’
Anna moved swiftly. ‘Thank you, I am Anna,’ she said and took the envelope.
‘As the invitation includes Hildegard, I should know the details,’ said Madame Sabina.
The footman took no notice of her. ‘Miss Anna,’ he said, ‘I have been ordered to wait for your reply, time being of the essence.’
Anna read what was written on the white card with the gold crest, then said, ‘Celeste, Hildegard and I have been invited to join his Royal Highness on a short voyage to commemorate those who disappeared on the Empress two years ago.’
She slipped the card into her bodice.
‘You will inform His Majesty,’ said Madame Sabina, ‘that in place of Miss Anna, Madame Sabina Petrova will accompany Miss Hildegard Petrova and Miss Maria.’
The footman unrolled a sheet of paper and looked down the list of names.
‘Your name is not on here,’ he said.
Anna said quickly, ‘I will be delighted to attend and so will Miss Maria.’ And before Madame Sabina could say another word, the footman was gone.
‘How dare you!’ she hissed at Anna. ‘You, a nobody. This is not the end of the matter. I don’t care what happens to you but money and power will always win over poverty. You will get out of here as soon as I have left.’
She slammed the apartment door.
Anna and Celeste stood motionless. When they heard the carriage drive away they too left the apartment and opened the door onto the frozen street.
‘We have to be on that ship come what may,’ said Anna. ‘And Hildegard must be there too.’
Snow had begun to fall again, bringing with it an eerie silence. Soon the city of C— was covered in a clean blanket of shimmering white.
They went first to Peter’s apartment only to learn from a neighbour that he and Viggo had gone to pay a visit to an old friend. Anna remembered the card Quigley had given her and they set off once more through deserted streets, looking in windows at happy scenes of families, and Christmas trees bright with candles. At last they arrived at a house that was painted orange and overlooked the canal. Anna pulled the bell. No one answered.
Celeste shifted the box containing the toy theatre to her other hand. Despite her mittens, the string was cutting into her frozen fingers. Snow had begun to stick to their clothes and they huddled in the doorway as the light faded.
‘What shall we do now?’ asked Celeste.
Anna looked in her purse and sighed. ‘I’ve enough money for us to stay no longer than one night in a hotel. But it’s Christmas and there is nowhere open.’
‘Perhaps Peter will be back soon,’ said Celeste, her teeth chattering.
It was then that the red and gold swan sleigh drew up in the middle of the road outside the house. There appeared to be no one in it and no one got out until finally the driver climbed down to wake up the sleeping passenger, and there in the gaslight stood Quigley. His face was white and he was dressed in a silvery Harlequin costume and a black conical hat.
‘Merry Christmas,’ he said as if he had been expecting to see them. ‘Come on in. You two look like ice sculptures. She chucked you out, then,’ he said, laughing. ‘I knew she would.’
Quigley’s ‘spare apartment’, as he called it, was a mansion. It was full of paintings and antiques, and Celeste and Anna were astounded by its grandeur. The servant took their bags and showed them to their rooms.
They joined Quigley in the warm drawing room.
‘We rang,’ said Celeste, ‘but no one opened the door.’
‘Of course not,’ said Quigley. ‘Someone such as myself has to say “Abracadabra” before it will open.’
‘Why don’t you live here?’ asked Celeste as tea was served.
‘I do sometimes. Sometimes like now.’
‘Where do you live all the other times?’
‘In a caravan in the park.’
‘Isn’t it chilly?’
‘It’s as cosy as a bug in a rug,’ said the clown. ‘I was born in a caravan. My parents did touring shows. I was on stage at three, at five I was their star attraction. I would sleep as the caravan went along the roads to the next village, then to the next. We performed in village halls, market squares, in stables and once in a barn where a cow was giving birth. Never have I felt safer or more loved than I did then. But when I became famous and had all this money, I was told I needed a big house to show everybody how wealthy I was. Sometimes I entertain here. Most of the time I want to get away and find a lovely lady who would like nothing better than to live with me in a caravan. But every lady I meet wants to live in this big house with me. And if truth be told, it’s the one place I don’t wish to be.’
‘You’ve never met the right lady, then,’ said Celeste.
‘Not only are you a living chandelier,’ said Quigley, ‘but perhaps you’re the wisest little girl that the moon ever shone on.’