The Girl Who Walked on Air (11 page)

One thing I learned pretty quick on board ship: steerage class was for poor people. First class was for rich folks. Each had their own bit of deck to roam about on. Steerage’s was right next to the engines, which was where I found myself now. It was separated from first class by gates; tall, locked gates. So I was on one side. And Mr Wellbeloved and Gabriel were on the other. It wasn’t exactly a help.

One gate stood near the coal heap. The other, on the opposite side of the ship, was next to the mast. Stewards passed through them quite often. They made a show of all the locking and unlocking, which I supposed was meant to impress the rich passengers. And that afternoon there were plenty up on deck, pointing and crying things like ‘It’s Mount Snowdon!’ or ‘I swear that town’s Fishguard!’, though to me it just looked like land. Truth was, I was too twitchy for sightseeing. I was worried for my own skin, and for Gabriel’s too. The sooner I found him the better.

Every hour, I’d give each gate a shake. I double-checked the bolts and chains too. But the gates were locked. Always locked. And twelve feet high with spikes on top, the bars slippery from the sea air. I’d never get over one, or even through one.

By nine o’clock it was dark, and most people had retired. I found a quiet spot by the coal heap, but it wasn’t in the slightest bit comfy. There was no Pip curled up next to me either. It made me long for home so much it hurt.

Touching Mam’s red heart, I breathed out long and slow. It calmed my thoughts. Then I noticed cooking smells wafting up through the hatches, and grew properly starving. I’d eaten the last of my bread and cheese hours ago. All I could think of now was pies and gravy, or a nice leg of chicken with the skin all crisp.

A voice in the dark made me start.

‘You still up here?’

A lamp shone over me. I scrambled to my feet. ‘I’m feeling sick,’ I lied, hoping the person couldn’t hear my stomach growl.

The lamp didn’t move. Blinking, I saw the outline of a steward. He grabbed my arm. ‘All steerage must be in the hold at night. Ship’s orders.’

I tried to twist free but he held on firm.

‘Find yourself a bucket to be sick in. There’s plenty down there.’

He dragged me towards a hatch. With his free hand he flung it open. Heat, noise, the smell of dinners and damp clothing all rose up into my face.

‘In you go,’ said the steward, pushing me. ‘And stay there.’

Above my head, the hatch slammed shut. A bolt slid across it. My spirits sank. This was my lot until morning.

Uneasily, I climbed down into the hold. The air was close and sour. And
snakes alive
, the noise! Up on deck, the engines were loud. Down here in the belly of the ship, the clunking, droning din seemed to drill inside my skull. I wondered how I’d stand it all night.

Yet people were getting ready to sleep. There were bunks along the sides and down the middle of the hold. I’d never seen so many beds all in one place. An old woman patted a place next to her.

‘You look lost, dear,’ she said.

‘I ain’t ever been on a ship before,’ I said.

‘Well, take a good long look. This is home for the next ten days.’

I shuddered.

‘There’s nothing a night’s sleep won’t cure,’ she said. ‘Come on, up you get.’

Grateful, I joined her on the hard wooden bunk. She even covered me with part of her blanket, which smelled of lavender and made me sad again for Jasper, Pip and the wagon we all shared. The rolling of the ship sent many folks off to sleep. Plenty more were poor sailors. Despite what the steward had said, there weren’t many buckets. And once they’d filled up, folks had to use the floor. The smell was ripe.

All through the night the puking never stopped. Nor did the drone of the engines. When my eyes grew heavy at last, I dreamed of thunder. Each time I woke up gasping for air. My hand went straight to my shift and the red scrap underneath. Soon as I felt it, I knew the storm wasn’t real. The ship sailed smoothly onwards.

At first light, the hatches were opened again. The air came in sharp and cold. Quick as you like, I was back up that ladder. We were now sailing in open sea. Behind us, the ship left a white trail across the water, and high above us, gulls still screeched. The wind had picked up a little. It helped clear my head, though the engine noise still rang in my ears.

More people emerged from steerage to empty their pails over the side. And then came the breakfasts of cake and hard biscuits. It was agony to watch people eating, knowing I’d no food myself. The old lady with the blanket might’ve shared what she had, but it didn’t seem right to ask. I headed to the nearest gate. Locked, of course. So was the one on the other side of the ship.

Locked, locked, locked.

My frustration grew. There had to be a way through these gates. I went to kick the blasted thing. Then stopped.

A lone first-class passenger was up on deck. He was staring out to sea. He didn’t have a hat on, and even though I wasn’t sure it was him, I pressed my face against the bars of the gate.

‘Mr Wellbeloved, sir?’ I called. ‘Mr Wellbeloved?’

The wind was strong. He didn’t hear me. I tried again.

‘Sir? Over here! Mr Wellbeloved!’

He didn’t look up. Yet the more I studied him, the surer I was. This man was tall and slender, with jet-black hair. His side whiskers were pointed in the same unusual way.

I started waving frantically. ‘Over here! Please! Sir!’

He glanced my way. Just once. Then he turned and went back inside.

I couldn’t believe it.
So close and yet so far!
I shook the gate. Kicked it. Cussed at it.

The noise brought a steward running.

‘Oi! What are you playing at?’

I froze.

‘Get away from that gate, d’you hear me?’

I turned round. His shiny-buttoned chest blocked my path. It was the same gruff steward from last night.

‘Ticket,’ he said, holding out his hand.

I stared at it blankly.

‘Ticket,’ he said again. ‘I’ve had enough of your mucking about.’

My heart plummeted. I was stuck. Well and truly. Behind me was the gate. In front was all silver buttons and dark wool coat.

‘My nanna’s got it,’ I lied, ‘and she’s still asleep in the hold.’

He squared his shoulders. I could tell he wasn’t buying it.

‘We’d best go and find her then, hadn’t we?’ he said, and his big hand came down heavily on my shoulder.

Think, Louie, think
. But my brain was whirling too fast. And he was dragging me back towards the hatch.

‘I say! Stop at once!’ cried a voice behind us.

The steward halted. Ever so slowly he turned, dragging me with him. Standing behind the gate was a gentleman wearing a very tall top hat.

‘Mr Wellbeloved! Oh sir! It
is
you!’ I cried.

The steward let me go. I rushed at the gate. Never was I so glad to see anyone.

‘Oh sir! I must talk to you! It’s urgent! Please, sir, you see . . .’

Mr Wellbeloved put a gloved finger to his lips. ‘Not now,’ he said. He turned his attention to the steward. ‘This child is with me.’

‘Then how come she’s over here and you’re over there?’

‘My good fellow,’ Mr Wellbeloved said, in a way that meant the opposite, ‘let’s not make a fuss. I will pay her passage and take custody of her. Now kindly open the gate.’

He gave the steward something; I didn’t see what. But it was enough to put a smile on his face.

Within minutes I was sat in the dining saloon. The other passengers stopped eating. You’d have thought they’d never seen a girl before.
Let them stare,
I thought, for I never did mind being looked at. I even flashed a smile, though no one smiled back.

All the while, Mr Wellbeloved sat opposite me, chin resting on his hands. He smiled with his eyes, like something amused him. Perhaps it was my stomach, growling for all to hear. It was hard to concentrate on anything with dish after dish of food being carried past our table. So I was glad when he told me to order from the menu.

Then Mr Wellbeloved sat back in his chair. ‘So, tell me,’ he said, crossing his legs. ‘What’s this urgent matter you have to discuss with me, Louisa?’

I tensed up. No one called me Louisa.
Ever.

His eyes were pale grey with dark rings around the coloured part. They made me think of wolves. I remembered what Mr Chipchase had said, about him not being all he seemed.

‘Where’s Gabriel?’ I said suddenly. ‘Is he all right?’

Visions of him locked in a cabin or tied to a chair sprang into my head.

Mr Wellbeloved smiled, this time with his mouth. ‘He’s very well, don’t you fret. You’ll see him soon enough.’

Relieved as I was, I felt myself go red. He’d seen my concern for Gabriel and it amused him.

Before I could say more, a silver domed plate was placed before me. Underneath it were eggs, kidneys, bacon. I ate fast. Mr Wellbeloved watched with raised eyebrows. And once I was finished, and had my cup refilled with hot chocolate for the second time, I put my elbows on the table. I was ready.

‘I want to perform on the high wire,’ I said. ‘I
have
to perform. It’s in my bones.’

I almost told him about Blondin and my scrapbook. But it felt a bit too private under that wolfish gaze. And I reckoned I could do this on my own merits.

‘I have a very real talent, sir.’

He didn’t say anything, but his eyes never left my face.

‘I came after you because . . .’ I faltered. ‘I want this chance more than anything. America would be an absolute dream for me. You saw me that night at Chipchase’s . . . I am good, sir, aren’t I?’

He tilted his chin. Was it a ‘yes’? I couldn’t tell.

‘So, you see, I think you chose the wrong person for your show. I’m here to ask you to reconsider.’

He stayed silent for a long moment. Then he said, ‘I expected you to climb that locked gate, Louisa.’

‘Pardon?’

I wished he’d call me Louie.

‘Nothing will stand in your way. You’ve got guts. I admire that in a person.’

‘Oh . . . right . . . well, ta very much.’

For someone I barely knew, he seemed to know me rather well. It made me think of Miss Lilly’s cards, which had also seen inside me. It all felt a bit odd.

‘Why didn’t you choose me, then?’ I said.

His eyes twinkled. ‘Who says I haven’t?’

I stared at him. Had he changed his mind? ‘What are you saying, sir?’

‘Nothing yet.’

He was toying with me. It was too much. My patience snapped. ‘Please give me the chance, sir! Let me be your star turn! You won’t regret it, I promise!’

His hand went up to silence me. ‘Sometimes, Louisa, you have to wait patiently for gates to open.’

‘But Gabriel doesn’t want . . .’ I stopped.

Stood in the doorway was Gabriel Swift. He wore a fresh suit of clothes and his hair flopped over his cheek. He looked surprisingly well.

‘Gabriel!’ I cried, jumping to my feet.

His face fell in horror. ‘Louie . . . why are
you
here?’

After breakfast we went to cabin 12A.

‘Make yourselves at home,’ said Mr Wellbeloved, though he didn’t take off his hat.

The cabin was tiny for three of us. It was like being sardines in a box. Gabriel fidgeted so much our elbows kept bumping. Truth told, I was on edge myself. If only Mr Wellbeloved would change his mind, then we’d all be happy. Though for that I supposed I’d have to wait.

‘We’ll get a bed put in here for you,’ Mr Wellbeloved said, opening a side door. Another tiny room led off it. ‘The green trunk contains clothes. Select yourself something . . .’ his eyes ran over me, ‘. . . appropriate for the upper deck.’

‘Thank you, sir!’

First a fine breakfast, now new clothes. Things didn’t seem
that
bad. Mr Chipchase had painted a right dark picture. Yet Mr Wellbeloved was actually being kind.

The tiny space was a dressing room of sorts. The trunk sat open on the floor, tissue paper spilling out over the sides. I knelt down and started rummaging till I was elbow deep in lace and silks. These weren’t like circus clothes. The colours were pale, not bright, the skirts long, not short. And there wasn’t a sequin or feather in sight. These were towners’ clothes,
fine
towners’ clothes. I’d never worn anything like them.

Outside, the wind had got up. The ship rolled, making the water slosh about in the basin on the washstand. I washed in it quick, then tried on a dress. It was pale blue with little buttons down the front, and it fitted snug as a glove. Yet stood before the mirror I hardly knew myself. The girl staring back looked so
dull
, as if her greatest dream was to sit in a parlour doing cross stitch. The frock wanted for a bright feather or extra ruffles on the sleeves, and the skirts were too long to walk in. Perhaps another of these dresses might suit me better. There were plenty to choose from, and they were all in my size. And all brought on board ship in Mr Wellbeloved’s luggage.

My head began to spin. Mr Wellbeloved was travelling to America with a young man. And I might’ve been wrong, but Gabriel didn’t look like the type to wear frocks.

So why bring them with him?

It was quite a coincidence.

There was a knock and the door opened.

‘Perfect,’ said Mr Wellbeloved, taking in my new look.

I forced a smile. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘And were the other clothes suitable?’

I hesitated. He read my face. ‘Ah! Not fancy enough for you, eh?’

‘No, sir, it’s not really that. It’s just that . . . well . . .’ I couldn’t hide my doubts. ‘Gabriel’s the performer you chose, so it’s . . . well,
surprising
to find all these girls’ clothes here. I can’t imagine they were meant for him.’

He didn’t say anything. I fiddled with the buttons on my dress as I felt his eyes bore into me. Then he laughed. Head back, a flash of gold teeth showing. Once, in a sideshow, I’d seen a caged tiger yawn; I was reminded of it now.

‘Think about it, Louisa,’ was all he said.

I did think about it. So much that my head hurt. The best cure was being up on deck, leaning over the rail as the sea churned below. The salty spray turned my new frock stiff and my hair escaped its pins, though I didn’t much care. In the end, only one idea made sense: Mr Wellbeloved had chosen Gabriel by a whisker. The clothes had been packed just in case he’d gone for me, and he’d not had time to remove them. It sounded a fair bet, and it made me feel easier. For if it really had been so close, surely he’d agree to swap us over. He didn’t
seem
to mind my being here. Quite the reverse, in fact.

Unlike Gabriel.

His fine manners had deserted him. Clearly, he didn’t want me to take his place at all. In fact, he seemed jealous. Perhaps Mr Wellbeloved had promised him great things in America, and now he did want the glory after all. Me turning up had scuppered his plans; I’d seen as much in his face. It made me want to shake him.

Or perhaps I should be feeling guilty. No. I couldn’t manage that. Not long ago Gabriel had come to
my
circus, taken a role that should’ve been mine. This was what I kept reminding myself.

By late afternoon the storm had set in proper. Most people had taken to their cabins, and I found Gabriel in ours. He was stretched out on his bunk, but seeing me he sat up sharpish.

‘You ain’t very pleased I’m here, are you?’ I said.

He got up off the bed.

‘No you don’t.’ I blocked his way out. He sat down again. ‘Not till you tell me what’s going on.’

Gabriel held his head in his hands. I supposed he was seasick, for he did look frightful pale. ‘What are you doing here, Louie?’ he said. ‘You stowed away, didn’t you?’

‘Might’ve.’

‘Why?’

I sighed. Had he really forgotten that night at Littleton, when he’d been too terrified to perform and I’d brought the house down?
Me.
Not him.

It was time for plain talking. ‘Mr Wellbeloved was going to
choose
one of us that night.’ I stressed the word. ‘Then, despite the fact that you’d run away once, and you didn’t want to go with him, he did
choose
you. It doesn’t make sense.’

Gabriel shook his head. ‘You shouldn’t be here,’ he said bleakly.

‘But don’t you see? That night at Chipchase’s, this seemed like the last thing you wanted. Yet for me it was a dream come true. I believed he might choose me – it would’ve been best for both of us. I even told Jasper all about it!’

Only now I felt daft. It was obvious I’d got the wrong end of the stick about Mr Wellbeloved’s intentions. And Gabriel’s for that matter. ‘So why
are
you here? After what happened. After you . . .’ I hesitated.

‘ . . . seized up. Got stage fright. Couldn’t do it.’ Now he glared at me.

‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

Neither of us spoke. Outside, the wind raged. Rain lashed against the porthole window. It suited my spirits, which had sunk to a new low. I’d wanted to help Gabriel, not fight with him. It seemed I’d mucked that up too.

Then Gabriel said, ‘You still haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?’

‘To change Mr Wellbeloved’s mind. If I get the American job, you’ll be able to go home. And we’ll both be happy.’

I didn’t mention Mam – that was family business, best kept private. Jasper doubted I’d find her, and he was probably right.

Gabriel smiled weakly. ‘Mr Wellbeloved won’t just swap us, Louie. Things aren’t that simple.’

He wasn’t jealous of me, I saw that now. He didn’t sound anything like a person wanting glory.

‘Let’s wait and see,’ I said.

‘It won’t do any good.’ He clasped his hands together, flexing his fingers. ‘I broke my contract by coming to Chipchase’s. That’s why he followed me.’

‘Oh.’ My stomach dropped. ‘Heck.’

In the circus world, broken contracts were bad with a capital B. Ned had told me about it, tales of battered legs and poisoned horses. I didn’t know whether to be cross or sorry. But I did finally understand. No wonder Gabriel was so uptight.

A sudden wave hit the ship. I staggered sideways. ‘Can I sit down?’

Gabriel shifted up to make room for me. I dropped down heavily beside him.

‘So, Mr Wellbeloved won’t agree to it,’ he said again.

‘Well, he ain’t exactly thrown me overboard.’

‘Not yet, no.’

I looked sideways at him. ‘What d’you mean by that?’

‘He’s not a man to be crossed.’

‘He’s been all right to me,’ I said, gesturing at my dress.

‘No one says no to Mr Wellbeloved and gets away with it.’

‘But I want him to say
yes
!
’

‘Be careful what you wish for, that’s all.’

Without meaning to, I glanced at his neck. Those marks were still there, though by now they’d gone purple. Quickly, I looked away.

‘He’s planning something for America. Something very, very big,’ Gabriel said.

‘Tell me.’

‘That’s all I know. You should have stayed at Chipchase’s, Louie. He made you a showstopper. Wasn’t that what you wanted?’

It was.

Yet, now the idea of America had taken hold, nothing else was enough. I couldn’t just go home and forget all about it.

‘It took me years to get that showstopper part,’ I said. ‘And I still don’t understand why Mr Chipchase changed his mind so sudden. Mostly, he just holds me back. Still wants to, I reckon, even though he knows I’ve got talent.’

For that was how it felt. There was always some reason why I
couldn’t
do things
,
rather than why I
could
. Yet how to explain it to a boy who was scared? The very things he feared, I loved with all my being.

And there was my mam. The hope of finding her had taken root too. It wasn’t about to go away, though I’d no idea where to start looking.

‘Well, I’m glad I’m here,’ I said. ‘But Mr Wellbeloved
is
a bit strange, ain’t he? And I do wish he’d take that blasted hat off sometimes.’

‘Louie,’ said Gabriel. ‘He
never
takes that hat off.’

Which struck me as odd. Because on deck this morning he
was
hatless. Yet when he came to the gate to speak to me the hat was definitely on again.

‘Maybe it’s his lucky hat,’ I said, though it didn’t sound likely. Someone as rich as Mr Wellbeloved had luck enough already.

‘Well, he’s certainly attached to it,’ said Gabriel.

‘And to you. He doesn’t want to let you go in a hurry either.’

Gabriel stiffened. ‘I told you. I broke my contract. Just leave it, can’t you?’

‘All right! No need to snap!’

We fell into uneasy silence. It wasn’t like Gabriel to be touchy. Mid-thought, my hand went to my shift strap. My fingers stopped. Mam’s heart wasn’t there. I prodded my sleeve right down to the wrist; not there either. Bewildered, I scanned the cabin.

‘What have you lost?’ asked Gabriel.

I crouched down to look under the bunk. Just packing cases and dust, nothing else. Dizzily, I stood up. ‘A piece of red cloth shaped like a heart. It’s important.’

Gabriel got off the bunk as I thumped pillows, shook out blankets. No sign of it.

‘It must be here somewhere,’ I said, growing hot.

‘We’ll find it, don’t worry.’

He didn’t ask questions, like whose heart was it and why was it so special. Not like Ned, who’d push and push until he got an answer. It was some relief. Certain things were best left alone until you were ready; Gabriel understood that about me at least.

While he checked the cabin, I searched the dressing room. By now I was close to frantic. I looked everywhere: my old clothes, the trunk full of new ones. Then we went back up on deck, and came down again. We retraced every single step but found nothing. The heart had vanished into thin air.