Chapter 9

Lizzie ran blindly through the woods, stumbling through underbrush and tripping over tree roots. Branches whacked her and twigs caught in her hair, and there was no sign of the path – she no longer had any idea where she was.

‘Amelia!’ she yelled. ‘Where are you?’

Sinister whispers seemed to come from all around as the wind stirred the leaves. Lizzie wasn’t used to the woodland noises, and they made her heart pound with fear. She’d grown up with the sounds of a city – the shrieks of washerwomen, fights breaking out in back alleys, the smash and tinkle of shattered glass. Now unseen things all around her were chittering, squawking and scratching their claws on the tree bark.

She thought of the fairy pictures Charles Doyle had drawn. She remembered skinny little figures with narrow eyes and grins too big for a human mouth. That pinecone she’d picked up was still in her pocket, and she wished she’d thrown it away now.

Beware of the fairy, Flora had warned. Had this been what she really meant? To stay away from the fairy hunt? Lizzie didn’t want to believe it. If her powers had already tried to help and she’d thrown that one chance away, she might never get another…

A beating of heavy wings came from right behind her. She spun around and a shadow fell across her face. She screamed, high and shrill.

Next moment the thing was winging away again, with a rabbit clutched in its claws. Lizzie watched the dark body vanishing up through the trees. Whatever it was, it was big. An eagle? She suddenly thought with horror that there might be other creatures lurking in these woods – dangerous animals that might prey on a five-year-old girl.

Moments later, Alexander MacDonald came running out of the woods towards her, with Arthur Conan Doyle and his father close behind. ‘Lizzie? What’s wrong? We heard you screaming … where’s Amelia?’

‘I don’t know!’ Lizzie howled, close to tears. ‘She wanted to play hide and seek, but I can’t find her anywhere!’

The look of fury on MacDonald’s face made Lizzie want to run and hide. It only lasted for a second before he regained his composure. ‘Amelia?’ he bellowed. ‘Come out from wherever you’re hiding, this instant!’

Lizzie prayed the little girl would come running, muddy and dishevelled, laughing at how she’d fooled everyone. But the seconds ticked past, and nothing happened.

MacDonald became brisk. ‘She’s lost. We must take action. Miss Brown, take me to the last place you saw my niece. Arthur, Charles, go back to the group and tell everyone to look for her.’

‘Yes, sah!’ said Charles, with a stiff salute.

‘She told me about an oak tree,’ Lizzie told MacDonald as they strode between the trees. ‘She used to have picnics there, she said.’

‘I know the place. Come on!’ MacDonald broke into a run. Lizzie sprinted after him, gasping for breath. Fresh hope gave her strength. Through the trees, she could see the rest of the fairy hunt guests searching for Amelia.

We’ve got to find her, she thought. If only her powers would help! Why couldn’t she just have a vision and see where the little girl was?

They arrived at the oak tree. As wide round as a castle tower, it loomed among the other trees like a king. No wonder Amelia had loved it so much. But as they searched around the huge trunk, there was no sign of her.

‘She’s not here,’ MacDonald said. He staggered to a halt and stood looking around in bewilderment. ‘I thought … I was sure…’

The other searchers emerged into the clearing to join them. ‘No sign,’ Arthur said, wiping his forehead.

‘The sun’s going to go down soon,’ said Malachy.

‘He’s right,’ said Arthur. ‘She has to be found before nightfall, or we might never find her. We need to go to the police – they can get bloodhounds on the job.’

The Spiritualist with the explorer’s helmet muttered something, and the others all nodded gravely. ‘I beg your pardon?’ MacDonald demanded.

‘I was saying the fairies probably took her,’ the old man said. ‘Bloodhounds won’t do any good if she’s been taken to the fairy kingdom, will they?’

Lizzie wanted to slap him for that. ‘A little girl’s gone missing and you’re still blathering about fairies?’

‘You were warned!’ Grant yelled, pointing an accusing finger at Lizzie. ‘All along you’ve mocked and sneered. Well, now an innocent has had to pay the price for your arrogance.’

Lizzie stood dumbfounded. Her mouth opened and closed. He’s blaming me?

Grant took her silence as proof of her guilt. ‘We all know the fairies take human children when they are insulted. You made them angry, Lizzie Brown. The blame rests with you!’

The police station in the nearby town was not a cheery place. The walls were the cold, grubby white of dirty London snow. Faded posters pinned up on a board showed the ugly faces of wanted murderers, crooks and burglars.

Lizzie couldn’t stop thinking of little Amelia, alone in the forest with nobody to show her the way home.

‘Next,’ barked a police officer. An elderly Spiritualist stood, smoothed down her gown and walked with a sigh into the back room.

Everyone who had been on the fairy hunt was crammed into the police station’s waiting room. There was not enough room for everyone to sit, so the ladies took the benches while the men stood or went outside to smoke pipes. The police were taking statements from every one of them, one at a time. It was taking hours, and nobody would have recognized the happy troupe of people who had set off from the railway station that morning – Amelia’s disappearance had cast a gloom over them all. Only Grant seemed to be relishing the atmosphere. His narrow eyes and tight-lipped expression seemed to say I told you so.

Malachy wouldn’t stop looking out of the window. The sky had long since turned from grey to indigo to the deep blue-black of night. Lizzie knew what he was thinking – there was no way they’d be back in time for the performance that evening.

‘Next,’ the policeman said.

Lizzie’s thoughts churned around and around like dirty washing in murky water. The faces of the criminals on the station wall rose up in her mind, baring their teeth, reaching out with rough, blood-stained hands.

She had to help, but she didn’t know how. Why wouldn’t her powers tell her something? What was the point of having visions if she couldn’t have one when she most needed one?

‘Next!’ The policeman sounded angry.

Dru nudged her. ‘That’s you, Liz.’

Liz started to her feet. ‘Coming.’

The back room was even worse than the front, a featureless cell of stone lit by a single oil lamp on a central desk. A sergeant with a haggard face and thin black hair sat writing. The pen went scritch-scratch like a rat’s claws. He didn’t look up.

Eventually he motioned for Lizzie to sit. She felt queasy as she sat down on the little wooden stool. This is the silent treatment. I’ve heard of this. The rozzers do it to get people to talk.

She sat patiently, reminding herself she’d done nothing wrong. The sergeant lifted his eyes to her.

‘You’re a gypsy, are you not?’

‘No, sir.’

‘No?’

‘I’m with the circus, but I’m a Londoner born and bred.’

He glanced at his papers. ‘Fortune-teller, it says here. But you say you’re not a gypsy?’

‘No, sir, I’m not. But I can’t see why it would matter if I was.’ She knew exactly what he was driving at, and it was making her angry. Circus people weren’t the only travelling folk who had lies told about them wherever they went. A child was missing, and this policeman had already made up his mind who to blame.

‘You were alone with the little girl when she disappeared,’ said the sergeant. ‘You say she ran off. Can you say which way she went?’

‘I … I can’t.’

‘Eh? Come, come, girl. It’s a simple enough question. Which way did she go?’

Lizzie felt tears starting from her eyes and blinked them back angrily. ‘I had my eyes shut. We were playing hide and seek.’

‘I see.’ Scratch, scratch went the pen, no doubt writing down what a fool Lizzie was.

‘We’ve read about you,’ he said at length. ‘Your escapades have made the papers twice, even up here in Edinburgh.’

From his tone, Lizzie didn’t think the policeman was after an autograph. ‘I try and help people,’ she said.

‘Pull the other one,’ scoffed the sergeant. ‘You can’t fool a Highlander like you can those London softies. We cottoned on to you long ago.’

The other policeman leaned in. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how crimes just seem to happen around you?’

‘Anyone would think there was some sort of connection between Miss Brown and criminality,’ mused the sergeant. ‘Of course, it could just be a coincidence.’

‘Wallopin’ great coincidence, it would have to be,’ said the policeman.

Lizzie shook her head. ‘No, it ain’t like that.’ She felt guilty and afraid over Amelia, and now these two were all but accusing her of being a criminal?

All at once, something gave way inside and she couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. All the angry bitter sadness welled up inside her and flooded down her cheeks. The flame of the oil lamp blurred and split in her vision, and she sat with her face in her hands while the two policemen went to the back of the room and talked in low voices. She caught some of what they were saying: ‘Seems genuinely distressed’ and ‘No fathomable motive’.

She heard the door being opened. ‘You can go,’ the sergeant said.

Lizzie took a moment to dry her eyes on her sleeve and take a few deep breaths. She felt wretched, and Dru would probably think she looked ugly and red-eyed from crying.

‘On your way!’ the sergeant insisted. ‘Now!’

Lizzie hurried out of the room and back to join the others. When they saw the state of her, Erin and Nora gasped and went to give her a hug. ‘They were horrible,’ Lizzie mumbled into Nora’s shoulder. ‘They thought … they reckoned I’d done something.’

‘Obvious conclusion to draw,’ Grant said smugly.

Nora held Lizzie tight. Slowly and deliberately, speaking so the whole room could hear, she said without drawing breath, ‘Mister Grant, you’re making mighty free with that mouth of yours, so you are, but you might not be aware that our Lizzie has a sizeable family backin’ her up, so I’d be after shutting my mouth if I were you, or a caravan-load of Sullivan men might soon be offering to shut it for yeh, if you catch my meaning.’

Grant flinched as if every word had been a bullet. He turned pale, shuffled his feet and wisely said nothing more.

‘Thanks,’ Lizzie whispered to Nora.

When the police finally emerged from their back room, they told MacDonald there was nothing more they could do that day and everyone was free to go. ‘We’ll resume the search at dawn, sir,’ the sergeant said. ‘Half the town’ll turn out to help, like as no’.’

‘So we’re just going to give up?’ MacDonald looked haggard and old; he seemed to have aged twenty years in one day, like a man who’d fallen asleep in a fairy ring and woken up in the wrong century.

The sergeant was gentle but firm. ‘Sir, we’re working on the assumption someone’s taken the wee girl. We’re no’ hunting for her at this stage, we’re looking for evidence. If we try to do that in the dark, we could destroy vital clues.’

‘You must do as you think best.’ MacDonald slowly put on his hat and prepared to leave.

‘Sir?’

MacDonald hesitated. ‘Yes?’

‘I’d keep a close eye on your mailbox for the next few days. In case—’

MacDonald nodded grimly. ‘In case someone sends me a ransom demand.’

Lizzie caught a glimpse of the pain on MacDonald’s face as he left. The Penny Gaff Gang waited until all the Spiritualists had gone, then they headed out of the police station and down the hill towards the railway.

‘I expect the show’s over by now,’ Malachy said gloomily.

Dru gave a grim laugh. ‘Can’t have been much of a show without the Amazing Sullivan Twins, and two of the Astonishing Boissets missing.’

Hari groaned. ‘Fitzy’s going to kill us.’

To Lizzie’s relief, the train back to Edinburgh was mostly empty. As it pulled away, she sat at the back of the carriage they’d claimed for themselves, with the Spiritualists in a carriage of their own. MacDonald had chosen to sit with Grant and his cronies and not with her.

She looked out of the window at the woods. It would be freezing out there now. Lizzie shivered as she thought of Amelia. She might still be out there, lost, cold and alone. Or she could be somewhere even worse…