Chapter 10

The train eventually drew into Waverley station. Lizzie stayed glued to her seat, huddled in the darkness of their train compartment, until everyone else had left the train – she didn’t want to run into MacDonald’s accusing glare or Grant’s sneer. Maybe it would be better if she just stayed here on the train all night, despite the freezing air that made her breath fog.

‘Come on, Liz,’ Malachy said, holding his hand out. ‘Chin up. The police will find her, I’m sure of it.’

‘I expect they will,’ said Lizzie hoarsely, still looking out of the window. She didn’t speak the words that whispered in her mind. They’ll find her dead, frozen under a tree, and it’ll be my fault.

‘On your feet,’ Malachy said. He pulled her off the train and didn’t stop pulling until the Penny Gaff Gang were standing together in the street. They looked at one another, at a loss for what to do next. The thought of going back to the circus and telling Fitzy what had happened wasn’t very appealing.

Collette suddenly exclaimed. ‘Alors! It’s Fergus!’

The journalist was walking along the road opposite, and seemed to be deep in thought. He changed direction at once when he heard their calls, weaving through the pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages and finally running up to meet them. ‘Fancy bumping into you lot at this time of night! Go on, then. What’s the scoop?’

‘Scoop?’ Lizzie said, wondering how he could have known.

Fergus laughed. ‘You’re at the train station instead of at the circus. Wasn’t tonight supposed to be your gala performance? There’s definitely something dodgy going on – I can tell from your faces. You all look like a pack of foxes caught raiding a henhouse!’ He chuckled, then saw the solemn looks they were giving back. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘This is bad news, isn’t it?’

‘Very bad,’ Lizzie said.

Fergus rubbed his hands together briskly. ‘Bad news is still news. If you’ve got a story, I want to hear it.’

‘It’s Amelia,’ Lizzie began, but Fergus hushed her.

‘No, not here in the street! Let me take you somewhere we won’t be overheard…’

The steak-house Fergus took them to was rowdy, brassy and full of light. They had to push their way in through the crowd of people already waiting. Whiskery men shouted at one another across tables and Lizzie saw blood mixed in with the sawdust on the floor. Maybe it’s from the steaks, she thought hopefully.

‘What’ll you have, Fergie?’ hollered the woman behind the counter, who had mounds of red hair and a body like a prizefighter. Nora and Erin stared at her in awe.

‘Biggest pot of tea you can make, Norma, and a round of oatcakes.’

‘Back room?’

‘If you please!’

Soon they were huddled together around a table in an untidy little room piled up with broken furniture. There was even an old piano in the corner, candelabra and all. Fergus swept the picked-clean oyster shells and crumpled papers off the table with his arm. ‘It’s not fancy,’ he admitted, ‘but it’s private. Now, tell me everything.’

Lizzie told the whole story while Fergus nodded gravely and made notes. It made her sick with worry to think of what the newspapers would say. Every time her name had been in the headlines before, it had been to praise her as a heroine. What would the papers say about her now?

At least Fergus was a friend. She felt she could trust him. She hoped she could, at any rate.

A huge tray of tea, oatcakes and cheeses arrived. Everyone gratefully helped themselves, except Lizzie. She couldn’t stop thinking of Amelia, who’d probably had nothing to eat tonight.

‘So, Miss Brown,’ said Fergus. ‘Where is she?’

‘I … I don’t know,’ Lizzie said, startled. Did he think she was behind it?

‘I know you don’t know,’ he said evenly. ‘I’m asking you for an opinion. Little girls don’t just vanish into thin air. So where is she?’

‘The fairies took her,’ said Nora.

Lizzie groaned. ‘Come off it! Not this again!’

‘No, Lizzie, you come off it!’ Erin snapped. ‘All those old stories don’t just come out of nothin’, you know. No smoke without fire, right?’

‘Fairies do make off with human children,’ Nora said sadly. ‘They’re known for it. Amelia wouldn’t be the first.’

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but that just made Erin angrier. ‘God’s sake, Lizzie, wake up! You’re a psychic! You talk to flamin’ ghosts! But you’re a sceptic when it comes to fairies, are you? Where’s the sense in that?’

Malachy came to her rescue. ‘Lay off her, you two. You’ve said your piece.’ He rapped his teaspoon on the table like a judge calling for order in court. ‘Let’s look for another explanation for Amelia disappearing. A rational one, that makes sense to all of us.’

Fergus nodded. ‘What about her uncle, Alexander MacDonald? He’s got the motive.’

‘Of course!’ Malachy said, slapping his head.

Collette looked confused. ‘His own niece? Why?’

‘MacDonald only owns half the woollen mill,’ Fergus explained. ‘The other half’s in her name. If little Amelia was out of the way, it would all belong to him.’

‘There’s a lot of money in that mill,’ Hari said. ‘He’d be even richer than he is now.’

‘That’s horrible,’ Collette shuddered.

‘And it ain’t true,’ Lizzie exploded. ‘He’d never let anything happen to her. He loves her! I’ve seen it for myself.’

‘Greed can be a powerful motive,’ Fergus said with a shrug. ‘Some of the things I’ve seen, in this job…’ His voice trailed off.

‘So she’s dead,’ Lizzie said, her voice shaking. ‘That’s what you reckon, ain’t it? She’s been killed because her uncle wanted more money.’ Dru reached to give her hand a comforting squeeze, but she jerked it away. ‘And it’s my fault.’

‘No,’ Dru insisted.

‘It is. She ran off while I was playing hide and seek with her. I should have stopped her … I should—’

‘Stop that, right now,’ Malachy told her. ‘I know you feel bad, Lizzie. We all do. But crying isn’t going to bring her back, is it?’

Lizzie pulled herself together. He was right – she had no business feeling sorry for herself when Amelia might still be out there, needing her help. She took a deep, stuttering breath and let it out again. ‘Thanks, Mal. But we do need to do something.’

Hari spoke up. ‘What do we usually do when we have a mystery to solve?’

‘Most times, we start from one of Lizzie’s visions,’ Malachy said. ‘I wonder … Liz, could you use your powers?’

‘I can’t just make a vision happen. They come to me.’

‘But if Amelia’s dead…’

Lizzie realized what he was asking her to do. The thought horrified her, but she knew she had no choice.

‘I could try and talk to her spirit,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But I’d have to have something that belonged to her.’

Suddenly she remembered the hair ribbon in her pocket. It had been lying there in the forest, the only trace left of Amelia, and she’d picked it up. Slowly she pulled it out and lay it on the table in front of them all.

‘There’s a stroke of luck,’ Malachy said.

‘Go on, tell us what you can see!’ Fergus leaned in expectantly.

‘Mon Dieu!’ hissed Collette. ‘Leave her alone. Don’t you understand what you’re asking? She was the last to see Amelia alive, and now you all want her to see her dead?’

They all sat back, a little shamefaced.

‘Sorry, Lizzie. You don’t have to.’

‘Yes I do, Mal,’ Lizzie said. ‘I let her down back there in the woods. I ain’t going to do that twice.’

She held onto the blue ribbon as if it had been Amelia’s hand and tried to empty her mind of all thoughts, but they bubbled up nonetheless: What if I don’t see her? Then, on the heels of that: What if I do? What if the poor little thing is dead, but doesn’t know it yet? I’ll have to be the one to tell her…

Images were forming behind her eyes. She took a sharp breath. It was beginning.

But Amelia’s spirit didn’t appear. Instead, Lizzie was seeing things through Amelia’s eyes, but not as she was now. A younger Amelia was holding out her chubby arms to Flora – her mother – who laughed and picked her up.

Something was shimmering in the corner of her eye. She felt Amelia craving it, needing to see it. A fairy? Then, as the colourful blaze swung into view, she understood. It was a Christmas tree, covered with tiny candles and glittering ornaments. Amelia’s laughter echoed in her mind.

‘Help me, Amelia,’ Lizzie whispered. ‘Show me what I need to see.’

More images flashed through her mind. Amelia, dressed in black, crying at her mother’s funeral. Amelia looking down at a picture book, mouthing the words as she read them. Now she was jumping up and down as a kindly-looking woman poured hot water into a bath tub. Maisie? No, some other nanny. This must be from before Maisie’s time.

Lizzie flew through the years of Amelia’s life like the pages of an illustrated storybook. Was this what it was like to be a normal child? Was your whole life a multi-coloured blur of playrooms, classrooms, toys and books? Lizzie couldn’t take it all in – she was deathly tired and the ordeal of the day was dragging at her. She shouldn’t have done this. Readings always drained her. Her grip on the ribbon slackened, and the images began to fade.

No. Hold on just a little longer. She clutched the ribbon tightly, forcing herself to concentrate.

Just for a second, she saw her own face through Amelia’s eyes. There were trees behind her. She heard the words ‘hide and seek’.

It’s earlier on today, she suddenly realized. She sat bolt upright.

Laughing happily, Amelia ran through the woods and Lizzie saw the huge oak tree lurch into her vision. It loomed larger and larger. There was a sudden blur – and Lizzie abruptly snapped out of the trance, gasping like a shipwrecked sailor clawing her way to shore.

Nobody spoke a word as Lizzie gulped down a whole mug of tea and wiped her mouth.

Then she sighed. ‘Sorry. I tried my best.’

‘You didn’t see her ghost?’ Hari asked.

For the first time that day, Lizzie felt a spark of hope. ‘No. I saw through her eyes, into her past. That means she’s still alive!’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Positive, mate.’

Fergus stretched and reached for his hat. ‘Well, you pack of ruffians have led me astray once again. I was on my way home, but it’s back to the office for me – I’ve got tomorrow’s headlines to write.’ He yawned. ‘I might get some sleep around dawn.’

For the Penny Gaff Gang, there was nothing left to do but take the weary walk back to the campsite. By the time they reached it, the stars were out. Silent caravans stood waiting for them, their windows dark.

‘Nobody’s waiting up for us,’ Nora said.

‘They probably got bored of waiting,’ Malachy told her. ‘It’s gone midnight. Get some sleep while you can, everyone. There’ll be hell to pay tomorrow.’