The Girl Who Walked on Air (10 page)

The second I got into our wagon Pip was upon me. Jasper got up from his seat too and hobbled the few steps between us.

‘I heard them cheering you, Louie. You must’ve put on a great show,’ he said.

I couldn’t help but smile. ‘Don’t overdo it. Come on, sit down.’

‘You sound just like me,’ he laughed, and holding my hand planted three kisses on the palm.

It was good to be home.

‘Now, tell me everything,’ Jasper said, once I’d settled him back in his chair. ‘How did it feel? What were the best bits? Did it all go to plan?’

For the first time in ages, he looked bright-eyed and pink-cheeked. As I sat at his feet, Pip curled up at mine. I started from the beginning, and saved the best part till last.

‘You’ll not believe it, but Mr Wellbeloved was in the crowd.
The
Mr Wellbeloved!’

‘Crikey! Is that so?’

I nodded eagerly. ‘He was mightily impressed. He wants to take one of us to America!’

Jasper whistled. ‘America, eh? Phew!’

He fell quiet.

I twisted round to face him. ‘What do you make of that, then?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said.

‘If he does choose me, I won’t go. Not if you don’t want me to.’

‘I can’t keep you here, Louie, and it’s not fair to try. My days as a performer are over, but yours are just beginning.’

‘But if you’re still sick . . .’

Jasper sat up straight in his chair, as if to make a point. ‘Do you think he’ll choose you?’ he asked.

‘Maybe. But if I do go, I’ll be back soon.’

And I meant it. These were my people here. My very bones.

For a while we sat quietly. Yet my head was busy with all sorts of thinking, including Miss Lilly and her cards. The first one she’d shown me was of a man striding over a cliff edge. The fool going into the unknown. And the last one was of a strong woman, the empress, who’d watch over me. If I believed in that flimflam.

I took a deep breath. ‘I‘d like to read my mam’s letter,’ I said.

Behind me, I sensed Jasper go very still. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I am.’

There wasn’t much inside the old tea tin. Just a folded-up piece of paper and a little scrap of cloth.

I read the letter first.

When I could bear to, I read it again. And again, more slowly this time. The words didn’t seem to sink in.

Eventually, Jasper touched my shoulder. ‘It’s not what you’d thought, is it?’ he said.

‘No.’

It was as if a bird was flying about inside my chest. I’d expected to find coldness in that letter, or some feeble excuse. Yet she’d called me her little baby girl, and said ‘dear’ and ‘love’. It was like reading big long words I didn’t quite understand.

‘You should have told me before,’ I said.

‘I did try.’

I suppose Mr Chipchase had tried too, and I’d not listened to him.

‘Well, you should’ve made me hear it. All this time, I’ve hated her, and . . .’ I trailed off. I didn’t know who to be angry with now. Truth was, I didn’t even
feel
angry. In a daze, I picked up the scrap of cloth. Held up to the lamplight, it didn’t look so dull. It was a rich red taffeta. Flattened out, it was shaped like a heart.

‘That night I found you, it was tucked inside your blankets,’ Jasper said.

I smoothed it over my knee, and kept stroking it just to see its shape. ‘Can I keep it?’

‘I’m sure she meant it for you.’

A lump grew in my throat. She seemed to love me. My own mother had actually loved me. I felt completely floored, and began to cry in earnest. Jasper rubbed my back until I stopped, then he handed me a handkerchief to wipe my face.

I took a big breath. The tears made my chest ache. ‘Do you know any more about her?’

Jasper shook his head. ‘I’d only just joined the circus myself. I didn’t know much about anything, only the trapeze.’

‘That night, did you even
see
her?’

Again, a shake of the head. ‘It was a foggy winter’s night. The show had just ended. When I got back to the wagon I found a basket on the steps. You were inside.’

‘But you didn’t even know her. Why did she choose your wagon?’

‘I don’t know. The fog was very thick. Perhaps it was just the first one she came to.’

Perhaps.

I glanced down at the letter, tracing her curly writing with my finger. She’d touched this paper once.
My own mother
.

My finger stopped. ‘Do you know why she was in trouble?’

‘I’ve no idea. A young woman, down on her luck, with a baby. It’s not as unusual as you’d think, sadly.’

‘Did she ever work here?’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t know, Louie. To this day I’ve never been entirely sure why Mr Chipchase agreed to take you in.’

Tolerate me, more like
. At least that’s how it was up until two days ago, when he’d finally given me a chance to show my talent. What a sudden change of heart he’d had. Though after tonight he might well change it back again.

‘Perhaps Mr Chipchase was flattered. She’s said very nice things about his circus. Have you asked him?’ I said.

Jasper pressed his fingers to his brow. ‘He wouldn’t talk about it. He clammed up, just like you do, Louie, when something’s too much. But he’s always assumed she’d come back for you.’

‘So why hasn’t she?’

He squeezed my shoulder.

‘Do you think she’s still alive?’ I said.

‘She might be. We don’t know.’

Miss Lilly’s cards had shown a strong woman watching over me. She had to be still out there somewhere.

‘I’d know if she was dead,’ I said. ‘I’m certain she’s not.’

Jasper watched me closely. ‘The world’s a very big place, Louie. I doubt you’d ever find her.’

‘I can dream.’

Yet he knew me. And I knew myself: once I’d seized a thing, I wouldn’t let it go. In my mind, I pictured Mam thinking me lost without trace.

But perhaps
I
might find
her
.

I’d certainly stand more chance of it travelling the world than I would staying here with Chipchase’s.

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’ Jasper warned.

He meant it for the best, I knew. Yet for some reason my mam hadn’t come back for me. I’d always assumed it was because she didn’t care. But maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe something was keeping her, stopping her from coming back. Mr Chipchase seemed to think so.

I was beginning to wonder it too.

When I woke it was barely daybreak. My head started churning right away.

My mam loved me
.
My mam loves me
.

It still hadn’t sunk in. I’d not get back to sleep now either.

The horses were surprised to get their oats and hay quite so early. Once I’d finished feeding them, I took Pip for a walk along the beach. The sky was just pinking up in the east. Aside from the gulls, we were the only creatures out here. The sea, flat as quicksilver, lapped at my bare toes. With a shiver, I gazed at the horizon and thought of all that lay beyond.

After a goodly while, I turned for home and saw a flattened square of grass among the dunes. It was the size of a small tent. Or rather, where a small tent had been. Pip ran over to it and began sniffing madly. My stomach flipped over. I started to run. The closer I got, the more obvious it was. No tent meant no Gabriel.

He’d gone.

The sadness of it hit me and I filled up with tears. Yet despite the shock, it did make sense. No true performer could bear any more shows like last night. When things went that wrong, it was time to quit. At least he might be happier.

Taking a deep breath, I dried my face on my sleeve. So, what now of Mr Wellbeloved’s choice?

Yesterday, there’d been two of us to choose from; today there was only one. He’d have to choose me; there was no one else. I felt a sudden panic. Then thrilling excitement. I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me. Ned’s voice made me catch my breath.

‘Gabriel went just before sunrise,’ he said.

I looked round, thinking he’d be pleased, but he still seemed sour. It felt a long time ago now since we’d shared a proper laugh. I was sorry for it.

‘Did he say where he was heading?’ I asked.

‘Don’t you know?’

‘Know what?’

‘He went with Mr Wellbeloved.’

I didn’t quite follow. ‘Mr Wellbeloved? Where?’

‘You
don’t
know, do you?’

For a moment I thought he was trying to spare my feelings. Then I saw the glee in his eyes, and the dread landed
doof
in my stomach.

‘Mr Wellbeloved came for him this morning. They caught the Liverpool train about an hour ago. They’re going to America.’

I stared at him blankly. So they’d gone together. Without me.

‘I’d go back to bed if I was you,’ said Ned.

Except he wasn’t me. Now that America was in my brain there was no changing it. I wasn’t about to go back to being a nobody. I wanted crowds. Fame. The
whiff of death
, even. Poor Gabriel didn’t. It terrified him, and I wondered if maybe he’d gone against his will. Then there was Mam. I couldn’t forget her, not now I’d read her letter.

Ned started to walk away.

‘You were right about the fancy gent,’ I called out.

He stopped.

‘Turns out he was Mr Wellbeloved looking for Gabriel. Thanks to you, he found him.’

Ned’s mouth was set in a grim line. ‘I’m glad of it too.’

‘But you’re not right about everything,’ I said, ‘so don’t think you are.’

For one thing, I wasn’t going back to bed.

The next train for Liverpool left at just after eight. Catching it was the easy part. A quick dip under the arm of a man carrying parcels and I managed to sneak into one of the third-class carriages. At first, the train stopped plenty. Each time the conductor asked for ‘Tickets, please’, I ducked down to tie my bootlace. Then the proper countryside began and the stops got fewer. As I sat quietly the doubts began.

No one had seen me leave the showground. I’d put on my plainest frock and wrapped some cheese and bread in a cloth for the journey. Jasper was fast asleep, so I left a note beside his teacup. Then I kissed his palm three times;
that
had been tough enough, but dear Pip followed me right to the door. Just the thought of him made my throat go thick.

Fields sped past the window in a blur of green and brown. My heart was sinking now. Mr Wellbeloved didn’t want me; I was fooling myself. He’d chosen Gabriel Swift, who had experience and proper training. I should go home. Forget about it. Go back to selling tickets and sewing sequins. Life would be easier if I did.

Easier maybe. But not happier. Last night my eyes had been truly opened. The crowds loved me, and so did my own mam. I was still reeling from the shock of it. To turn away now would be madness, like cutting myself in half and never being whole again.

And there was Gabriel. It just didn’t seem right that he’d agreed to go with Mr Wellbeloved. Not when last night he’d been so scared. Or maybe Mr Wellbeloved really had chosen Gabriel. If so, then he’d made a mighty mistake. I needed to tell him and offer myself instead. He’d realise and be glad. Then Gabriel would be free, and I’d go to America in his place.

The train slowed ready for the next stop. The chugging wheels seemed to echo my thoughts:
Stay or go? Stay or go?
Stuffed down my shift was my mam’s red taffeta heart. I’d put my faith in it. If a strong woman really was watching over me, I’d be all right.

Five long hours after leaving Littleton, I finally reached Liverpool docks. It was a grim place. Red brick buildings blocked out the sun, making the water look too black and the quayside feel too small. There were two types of passenger, or so it seemed: those carrying bundles on their backs, and those whose bags were carried for them. The place was heaving. How I’d ever find Mr Wellbeloved I’d no idea.

Three ships sat alongside the dock. The biggest had a great steam funnel and two masts. This, I guessed, was the ship going to America. Men ran to and fro, carrying trunks and boxes and mattresses on board. Stood near the gangplank was another man handing out cards saying ‘Visitor Pass’.

I went up to him. ‘What ship is this please, mister?’

He didn’t look up from his notes. ‘The SS
Marathon
. Bound for New York.’

‘Any others going to America today?’

‘Just this one.’

So it had to be the right ship.

‘Can you tell me who’s on it?’

He looked up. His eyes slid over my frock. I wasn’t one of the smart passengers and he knew it.

‘I’d like to say goodbye to a Mr Gideon Wellbeloved,’ I said, sniffing pretend tears.

‘Mr Wellbeloved?’ The man seemed suddenly impressed and scanned his list. ‘Yes, of course. Upper deck, cabin 12A.’

And just like that he gave me a visitor pass.

Once on board, I followed the signs, heading straight for cabin 12A. At first, the passageways were narrow and stank of oil. Countless times I flattened myself against the wall as more boxes and crates and goodness knows what went past. As I reached the upper deck the passageways widened. There was carpet underfoot, wood panels on the walls, and paintings and carvings making the ship look like a townhouse. I gazed about me in awe.

Little knots of people started to appear. And my word, these were rich-looking folks, especially the women, with their narrow skirts all bumped out at the back and hair curled at their necks.

‘May I assist you?’ asked a man wearing a badge that said ‘Steward’. When I showed him my visitor pass, he insisted on escorting me right to the cabin itself.

‘Cabin 12A,’ he said, as if I couldn’t read the brass sign on the door. He knocked once then pushed the door open.

The cabin was empty.

The steward looked at his watch. ‘You’ve ten minutes. The ship sails at half past one.’

Someone called him then, so he left me. My fingers went to the front of my shift. Mam’s taffeta heart was still there. It felt cool to the touch.
Think sharp, Louie.
Ten minutes wasn’t long. Once I’d found Mr Wellbeloved, I still had to convince him to take me instead of Gabriel.

The cabin floor was heaped with luggage labelled ‘Wellbeloved’. In among it, I recognised Gabriel’s kitbag. Which meant this was definitely their cabin. And they must be here on board. But where?

Back out in the passage, another sign said ‘Dining Saloon’ and it had a picture of a finger pointing ahead. I followed the hum of many voices, praying Mr Wellbeloved’s was one of them.

The dining saloon was another grand affair, with carved pillars and vases full of flowers. White-clothed tables were set for lunch, yet no one was sat down. Women, men, children with their nannies, all stood around chatting. More men in waistcoats moved among them with trays of champagne. There were plenty of top hats; though none were especially tall. By now I was hot and very bothered. Where the devil was Mr Wellbeloved?

In a far corner a boy had his back to me. There was something familiar about the way he ran a hand through his hair. My heart leaped:
Gabriel!

Rushing over, I almost collided with a steward.

‘Steady miss!’ he cried, his drinks tray lurching.

I didn’t stop, elbowing past all the satins and silks until the boy was right before me.

Already grinning, I tugged his sleeve. ‘Gabriel?’

The boy turned round.

He wasn’t Gabriel. Not even slightly. I went very red.

‘Sorry,’ I muttered. ‘You ain’t who I thought.’

The boy sniffed. ‘Clearly,’ he said, and turned his back.

By now, other people were staring too, all with the same snooty look on their faces. I grew hotter and crosser. And to cap it all, the steward was back with his tray of glasses.

‘May I see your pass?’ he said.

I went to give it to him. A minute ago it’d been in my hand. Now the blasted thing wasn’t here.

‘Just hang on.’ I searched my pockets.

No sign of it.

‘I had it, I swear I did,’ I said in growing panic.

The steward was already signalling with his eyes to another man by the door. ‘The fun’s over, miss. Time to get off the ship,’ he said.

Wildly, I looked around for Mr Wellbeloved. I had to find him, fast.

The steward put his drinks tray down. His mate by the door was now halfway across the room. My heart started racing. Two of them. One of me. There was nothing else for it.

I ran.

Once through the doors, I turned right. Anywhere just to keep moving. More of those finger signs pointed the way to the deck. I ran faster, my boots thudding hard on the carpet. The passage ended in two flights of steps. One was a proper staircase. The other was a narrow set of steps. I took these. Only one steward was behind me now. I needed to shake him off my tail. I took the steps two at a time. At the top was a little door. The handle was stiff and it took me a moment to force it open. Once I was through, I slammed the door behind me.

The deck was packed with people. Some leaned over the railings, calling goodbyes towards the quay. Others stood in huddles, singing songs or saying prayers. My hopes sank. No sign of a tall top hat here either.

Somewhere on deck a bell started ringing.

‘Last call for visitor passes,’ came the cry.

Abruptly, the bell stopped ringing. As if on cue, people began sobbing. All around me white hankies waved at the quayside, where more hankies waved back. Time was running out. If I didn’t find Mr Wellbeloved very fast, I’d be back on dry land with nothing.

The steward had almost caught up now, but he still hadn’t spotted me in the crowd. I did the first thing I could think of. Just like everyone else, I waved at the quay. He did too, or rather gestured with his arms. A few hearty shouts and the gangplank was raised. Smoke belched from the ship’s funnel. The deck seemed to shudder. At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks. Then, bit by bit, the quay slipped away. The ship was moving and I was stuck on board. And I still hadn’t found Mr Wellbeloved.

Yet come what may, we were sailing. Next stop America.