The Empress, her flags flying, was ready to sail. Her passengers were aboard though no one had seen the king arrive and the crowd that had gathered at the harbour wondered where he was. The tide was on the turn and the crew and passengers were eager to be off. They were waiting for a final carriage to arrive.
A sea-fret had blown in and the onlookers watched as the ship disappeared in a fog that clung to her tall masts and decks, turning her into a ghost ship coming out of the mist.
The press was there too, to report on this historic voyage. A photographer was hoping to take one of the first photographs of the king boarding the Empress, if he would only stand still long enough for the exposure. Above them seagulls screeched in the fast-fading light of the last day of the year. The crowd cheered when a carriage arrived at the gangplank, but it wasn’t the king who stepped out but Anna and Celeste.
‘Where is the king?’ A murmur ran through the crowd. ‘Perhaps he’s already on board.’
Stephan helped Anna and Celeste from the carriage, then reached in and lifted out the box containing the toy theatre.
‘There she is!’ shouted someone in the crowd. ‘It’s that girl who lights up.’
Finally the photographer had someone to take a picture of.
‘This way, ladies,’ he said. There was a flash and the image of the young woman and her charge, blurred by movement, was captured on dry gelatine plates.
Once aboard, Stephan showed them to their cabin. They had been given one of the state rooms that looked out the starboard side of the ship. Flowers, a bowl of fruit and a bottle of champagne were waiting for them with a printed card listing the night’s entertainments.
Celeste studied it. ‘Every hour of the evening has been planned,’ she said to Anna with a heavy heart. ‘There isn’t a time when I can perform my play.’
Anna sat on the bed. ‘I’m too tired to think about it at the moment. What we’re going to do is have a nap. Things always seem better after a nap.’
‘The king doesn’t know about my play,’ said Celeste, ‘and if he doesn’t know…’ She yawned. ‘I’m not tired,’ she added.
‘We’ve got this far,’ said Anna. ‘We’ll just have to hope for some luck.’
Celeste, like Anna, lay down on the bed, which was very comfortable with soft feather pillows.
‘I won’t sleep,’ she said. ‘You might be able to but I can’t. I’m too worried.’
Before she could say another word they had both fallen fast asleep to the sound of the ship’s horn as it bade a long, low, sad farewell to the shore.
They woke to find that the lights in their cabin had been lit and their dresses had been laid out for them.
Celeste stood up and promptly fell over. The ship was on high seas and the weather was stormy. She looked out of the porthole and all she could see were foaming white-tipped waves that tossed the Empress about as if she were Neptune’s toy. Twice Celeste was thrown from one side of the cabin to the other as she put on the sailor dress with the red pompoms. There was a knock on the door and there was Stephan.
‘Can I come in?’ he said.
‘Is it going to be like this all the time?’ asked Celeste.
‘There are reports of gales,’ said Stephan. ‘His Majesty was told that the weather was going to be bad but I don’t think he realised quite how bad it would be. I think there will only be ten guests for supper – most of them are suffering from sea-sickness.’
‘Which means?’ said Celeste.
‘It means there’s a chance for you to do your play. Anna has told me about it and how important it is, for all of us. You’re looking very pale, Anna. Are you ill?’
‘No, I feel much better.’
‘I’ll have the toy theatre set up in the saloon.’
‘But the king might not want to see the play.’
‘I think he will. He was told this evening about Hildegard, and how close you two were.’
Anna put the shawl Stephan had given her round her shoulders.
‘Do you have your sea-legs?’ she asked Celeste after Stephan had left.
‘Sort of,’ said Celeste, grabbing hold of the table. ‘Have you yours?’
‘Yes,’ said Anna. ‘Sort of.’
‘I hope I have everything in the right order,’ said Celeste. ‘I’m going to do the play first, then you’re going to sing Hildegard’s song, and then I’ll do the lights. And at the end of it you stand up and say…’
‘I can make all this disappear.’
‘You must not forget that part.’
‘Come here, my little treasure,’ she said, and hugged Celeste. She tucked her hair back so that her face could be better seen. ‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘I haven’t thought about it until now, but I wonder if those scars are a map that will take us home.’ She paused and said, ‘Do you think Stephan will be there too?’
‘I hope so,’ said Celeste.
The interior of the ship was beautiful; the rooms panelled with wood that shone like liquid gold. In the candlelight everything was warm and inviting and completely detached from the outside world.
‘We are a small party,’ said the king, welcoming them. ‘And I am very pleased to see that you two haven’t succumbed to sea-sickness. Alas, that can’t be said for the rest of the party, or my musicians. Never mind, we will make our own entertainment.’
‘I have brought with me my toy theatre, sir,’ said Celeste, very seriously. ‘I’ve been rehearsing a play for a long time so I can perform it for you.’
‘You have? Well, my little dancer, I would like to see the play. When would you like to perform it?’
‘At twelve minutes to midnight,’ said Celeste.
‘That is precise.’
‘It is. I suppose it is a precise play.’
‘Then I can think of nothing I would like to see more.’ He looked at Anna and said, ‘I was informed about the sad death of Madame Sabina Petrova’s daughter and was shocked. I feel deeply for your loss and for our loss as a country. The waste of a young life stains all our hands red.’
At dinner Celeste was seated next to a very green-looking lady who only survived the first course before she had to be excused, and two of the other guests also felt the need to retire to their cabins. As dinner finished the sea became still. It was so unexpected that the king asked to see the captain.
‘Sir, we are in the waters known in the past as the Devil’s Cauldron,’ said the captain. ‘It often has different weather. I’m afraid I cannot explain it.’
The lady sitting on Celeste’s other side overheard and whispered, ‘Really, no one wanted to come. But it wouldn’t have been proper to refuse.’ And she too disappeared to her cabin, not due to sea-sickness, but fear.
In the saloon Stephan had arranged the toy theatre as Celeste wanted. Black cloth surrounded it so that the audience couldn’t see her and Anna behind. Backstage, two small tables had been set, either side of the theatre. Celeste carefully laid out the little characters. Anna said she would take the song sheet onto the upper deck where she could practise.
‘Don’t get washed overboard,’ said Celeste.
Now all that was left to do was to wait and waiting was the hard part. It struck Celeste that the clock had decided to go very slowly indeed and drag out every minute of these last hours of the year.
At twenty minutes to twelve, Anna came back from the upper deck. Celeste noticed that her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were shining.
Only four people were well enough to watch the toy theatre production. Whether the other guests had been felled by sea-sickness or by their great anxiety about the danger they might be in was impossible to tell.
The king sat on an upright chair, his legs stretched out before him, and waited for the cardboard curtain to rise. Celeste began the play, and the knowledge that she had performed it before gave her courage. With each scene change the audience clapped.
In the last scene, Anna sang the song that had been written for Hildegard and she sang it with such feeling that tears ran down her cheeks. There was genuine applause and Celeste came out to take a bow with Anna, then stood in front of the theatre and the light from her scars beamed so bright that she became invisible to the audience.
The king stood, and at that moment Anna swept the shawl from her shoulders and said, ‘I can make it all disappear.’
Celeste closed her eyes as the beams that came from her shone brighter than ever before. She was certain nothing had happened, certain that if she opened her eyes she would find everything just as it was, certain nothing had changed.
