Chapter 13

There were only minutes left until the show was due to start. Lizzie pushed thoughts of Lady Susannah out of her head as she changed out of her clairvoyant’s robes.

It was a relief to be back in normal clothes. The day had been roasting hot and the evening ahead was likely to be tropical too. Sitting in those heavy robes was like being a sausage baked in pastry.

She took a short cut to the show tent, slipping behind the caravans and into an ornamental garden. The heat brought the scent out of the exotic flowers, and made her feel light-headed and dreamy.

Johnson jumped out from behind a bush. She screamed as he lifted a shotgun and levelled it at her. ‘Who goes there?’ he barked.

Lizzie gasped for breath and felt her pumping heart. ‘You scared the life out of me!’

The groundskeeper squinted at her and grunted. ‘Oh. It’s you. The circus girl.’

‘Who the ruddy hell did you think it was going to be? Napoleon Bonaparte?’ She scowled at him as a thought struck her. ‘You better not be hunting our elephants with that gun, ’cause if you so much as touch them, Fitzy will have your hide.’

Johnson lowered the shotgun, breaking it open as he did so. ‘Don’t take that tone with me, missy. I’m on guard. That Maharaja might be a trusting fool, but I’m not.’

Slowly it dawned on Lizzie that having the grumpy old man and his gun hiding out here might be a good thing. At least he seemed to know Lady Susannah and the Maharaja were in some sort of danger.

‘Who exactly are you guarding against?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know yet,’ Johnson grunted. ‘But I know this much. If that man’s daft enough to go parading his wealth about through the streets of Whitby, then invite the whole of the town to his castle, then he’s only himself to blame if he’s robbed again!’

‘You think someone’s going to try, don’t you?’

‘God knows there’s enough folk hereabouts who don’t care for him, and they’d love to get their hands on some of the wealth he insists on showin’ off.’ He patted his gun. ‘Well, not while I’m about to let that happen. His money pays my wages.’

Lizzie saluted him. ‘Jolly good. Carry on, that man.’

Johnson eyed her, unsure if she was taking the mickey or not. ‘On your way,’ he muttered.

Lizzie ran the rest of the way to the show tent. She felt some of the weight had been lifted from her shoulders, now that she knew the old curmudgeon was standing watch. He didn’t want to see Lady Susannah come to harm any more than she did.

As she neared the red and white striped show tent, she saw all the crowds had already gone inside. Johnson had made her miss the start. Well, never mind – circus people could always go round the back.

She slipped in through a humble canvas flap, into the backstage area with its darkened animal cages and pasteboard scenery standing in wait, and went round towards the back of the audience stalls. Lizzie lifted the dividing curtain, saw the seats were packed with people and grinned to herself. Lady Susannah and the Maharaja were right in the very front row, watching the performance. Surely nobody would try to hurt either of them in front of all these people? There had to be thousands here…

Johnson was on guard outside with his shotgun. The show tent was packed. Nothing bad can happen, she told herself. So she settled down to watch for a while.

Parp! went a horn as Didi, the serious whiteface clown, stood stock-still with rice pudding dripping down his face. JoJo threw up his hands in mock horror. The audience roared. The other clowns capered and bumbled about while Didi chased them from one side of the ring to the other.

Lizzie laughed so hard her sides hurt. So far the show was going down brilliantly. The people of Whitby were acting like they’d never seen a circus before – and for all she knew, many of them hadn’t.

All the hard work her friends had put in at rehearsal was paying off now. The Maharaja had a whole new set of routines to marvel at, and he was every bit as delighted as he had been in Oxford. Lady Susannah just smiled politely, fanning herself, draped in a lace shawl. Lizzie felt a bit sorry for her – she must have too much on her mind to enjoy the fun.

It was sweltering hot inside the show tent. No wonder Lady Susannah had her fan out. The air was growing stuffy, and the smell of so many people packed together – not to mention the circus animals – wasn’t exactly pleasant. Never mind, Lizzie thought. Only a few more acts to go until the interval, then we can have cool lemonade with ice from the ice house.

‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,’ Fitzy called, raising his hands. ‘Those were, of course, the clowns. And now, a very special treat. Please welcome those daredevil girls, the equestriennes without equal, two matching measures of pure poise and poetry – the astounding Sullivan Sisters!’

Erin and Nora went cantering into the ring and instantly stood up on their saddles, smiling and waving at the audience. Gasps rang out.

Lizzie stared. The twins had told her they were working on new costumes, but they were still wearing the same dresses they’d worn in Oxford. Maybe the new ones hadn’t been finished in time. She decided to believe that, and ignore any more sinister explanations that might be creeping into the back of her mind.

Gurinder Bhatti stood up in his seat and applauded. ‘Go on, girls! Bravo! Bravissimo!’

Each of the twins, as they passed by, gave him a curtsey from horseback. The Maharaja found that charming, and blew kisses to them across the sawdust. He didn’t seem to notice Lady Susannah slumping lower and lower in her chair.

Lizzie watched closely. The lady fanned herself weakly, but it clearly wasn’t doing enough to stop the suffocating heat. Maybe she’d misunderstood the vision of her choking to death? Perhaps this was the moment, and she’d just been gasping for breath? Maybe, as Fitzy had said, the vision was symbolic.

No – there had definitely been a rope round her neck. And now Lady Susannah was whispering something to the Maharaja, who looked sad but nodded and waved her off. She must be excusing herself, so she can go and get some fresh air.

Sure enough, the lady stood and made her way to the main exit. She staggered as she walked and had to steady herself against the backs of the seats. If Lady Susannah left the tent, she’d be exposed to whoever was out there, waiting to do her harm. She had to be warned. But if Lizzie tried to struggle through the audience and catch up, she’d never reach her.

Without thinking twice, Lizzie turned and ran. She sprinted through the backstage area, out through the canvas flap and around the edge of the show tent, leaping over guy ropes as she went.

Lady Susannah was hurrying across the lawn towards the castle. The fresh air must have perked her up, because she wasn’t staggering any more. Lizzie rushed up to her, shouting as she went: ‘Your ladyship! Are you all right?’

The lady spun around, saw Lizzie and let out a startled yelp. She tottered to a halt and pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘The heat … it was too much for me. I am retiring to the castle for a rest.’

‘You shouldn’t be out here on your own! It ain’t…’ Lizzie paused, remembering how angry the lady had been about her violent visions. ‘It ain’t sensible, ma’am, what with your jewellery being stolen and all.’

‘How kind.’ Lady Susannah managed a smile. ‘But you needn’t trouble yourself. I promise, I shall lock my bedroom door and check under my bed for miscreants.’

Lizzie offered her arm. ‘I’ll walk you up there.’

The smile faltered. ‘That won’t be necessary. Now, run along back to your circus. You’re missing the show.’

‘I’ve seen it before,’ Lizzie said firmly. She didn’t want to miss the final version of Dru’s seaside tightrope act – the thought of what might happen if she wasn’t there to watch made her squirm – but Lady Susannah’s safety was more important.

Lady Susannah heaved a deep, impatient sigh and took Lizzie’s arm. ‘Very well. If you insist on nursemaiding me, I cannot refuse. Not in my weakened condition.’

As Lizzie led the lady back to her bedroom, a feeling slowly crept over her. Malachy sometimes read her single-page ‘penny dreadful’ stories bought from the street vendors, and in those the victims would often report a ‘feeling of being watched’ just before a horrible crime happened.

Lizzie knew those stories were just badly written trash. But that was how she felt now, as the lady gripped her arm and they climbed the long avenue of stairs up to her bedroom. It feels like we’re being watched. Lady Susannah’s room was high up in one of the towers, but Lizzie insisted on walking all the way up there.

When they finally reached the room, Lizzie understood why the lady would feel safe here. It was a wonderful, private haven, hung with mediaeval-style tapestries and smelling deliciously of lavender and herbs, with a grand high window offering a spectacular view over the gardens. A lamp, turned down low, was burning on the bedside table next to an abandoned copy of Punch.

Lizzie ran to the window while Lady Susannah settled herself on the bed. ‘You can see all the way to the sea!’ Lizzie exclaimed.

‘Yes, you can,’ the lady said wearily. ‘Since you’re here, would you be a dear and fetch my smelling salts? It’s a little brown phial on the dressing table.’ She closed her eyes and lifted her feet onto the covers, shoes and all.

Lizzie turned to the table with its huge arched mirror and stopped in her tracks. The table’s surface was strewn with jewellery – pearl necklaces, silver chains, pendants of ivory and jade, all muddled up as if they were a child’s playthings. Lizzie forgot to breathe. There, in the middle of the jewels like an egg in a baby dragon’s nest, gleamed the Heart of Durga.

Lizzie was suddenly closer to the giant ruby than she’d ever been before. For a giddy moment, she thought she could feel a mystical heat radiating from it. If she put out her hand, she could touch that beckoning, faceted surface.

She could do more than touch it. She could take it. In the mirror, she could see Lady Susannah stretched out on the bed, her eyes closed. It would be a matter of seconds just to snatch up the huge jewel and pocket it.

Well, if this was supposed to be some sort of test, she wasn’t biting. There was the little brown bottle of smelling salts, ridged down the side so you could easily feel for it in the dark. She picked it up and brought it over. ‘Here you go, yer ladyship. A whiff of these will bring you round.’

‘Just put them on the bedside table, would you?’ the lady murmured. She didn’t open her eyes.

Lizzie drew the curtains shut, darkening the room but for the lamp. Just for a moment, she remembered what it had been like to look after her mother, when she’d been slowly wasting away. That was one of many Rat’s Castle memories she didn’t dwell on often.

‘Better put the lamp out,’ she said. ‘Dark and peaceful, that’s what you need.’

‘Leave it lit!’ Lady Susannah snapped. ‘Off you go now, girl. Run along. I need to rest.’

‘I can sit and keep you company,’ Lizzie protested. ‘Just till the show’s over, then the Maharaja can come and look after you…’

Lady Susannah sat up. ‘What is the matter with you?’ she said sharply. ‘Is your head still full of that nonsense about murder and mayhem? Daggers in the dark, is that it?’

‘I know what I saw,’ Lizzie stammered. ‘And I know you don’t believe it – an’ I can’t make you – but it’s still true! My visions are never wrong!’

‘For heaven’s sake.’ The lady didn’t conceal her disgust.

Lizzie felt like shaking her, she was so frustrated. ‘It ain’t up to me. The stuff I see, it always comes true! If I leave you alone, and something happens to you, it’s my fault!’

‘I don’t know whether you’re a fantasist or a half-wit, and frankly I don’t care,’ Lady Susannah yawned. ‘Let me put it to you this way. Either you leave, or I shall have you sacked.’

‘You can’t do that.’

‘Can’t I? All I have to do is tell my Maharaja not to pay Mister Fitzgerald his fee unless you are sacked. He will have to get rid of you or face ruin.’ The lady lay back down on the pillows. ‘Close the door behind you.’

Lizzie’s hand shook as she pulled the door shut. She stood in the hallway outside, clenching her fists and breathing hard, refusing to cry although Lady Susannah’s words burned in her stomach.

‘I’m trying to save your life, you stupid woman,’ she whispered. ‘One day you’ll thank me. Yes you will. One day.’

She paused at a tower window and looked out across the darkening land. Evening was drawing in. She could see the sea in the distance. There was only one ship still in the bay. Lizzie wondered what it was doing out there, all by itself. Was that a white mist gathering around it?

Next second, her heart missed a beat as a green light shone from the lone ship. It’s the ghost ship – and it’s closer to the shore than ever!

The light flickered as she watched. Then it flickered again. At first Lizzie thought the lantern was swaying in the wind, but then it suddenly struck her that there was a pattern to it. Three flashes, then a pause, then three more.

She watched the light flicker rhythmically and wondered what it could possibly mean. A ghost with a message from beyond the grave? Or maybe it was something even more sinister than that.

In a sudden flash of certainty that filled her with dread, she knew her instincts were right. Lady Susannah was being watched – and something terrible was going to happen to her. But she couldn’t stay here and guard her, not without ruining Fitzy’s Circus.