The Girl Who Walked on Air (12 page)

And so I turned gloomy. Miss Lilly’s cards had predicted difficult times. Now that one more bad thing had happened, I feared others would come fast on its heels. All without Mam’s heart to bring me luck. I pined for Pip too. It was odd to wear new clothes with not a single dog hair on them. And I thought often of dear Jasper and prayed he was healing well.

Meantime, the weather grew colder. Icebergs the size of houses drifted past us. Each night they groaned like beasts, then at sunrise they turned the colour of the sky. The ship had to slow down to sail around them because, Gabriel said, an iceberg was much bigger below the water, and that what you saw wasn’t even half the story. The image troubled me more than I’d have liked.

Then, three evenings later, there was to be dancing in the ballroom. By now I was ready for a bit of fun. Mr Wellbeloved still hadn’t made clear his intentions. He spent most of his days sending telegrams and pacing about like a panther. This plan of his – whatever it was – had clearly fired him up. It didn’t help steady me down.

‘Oh, do tell us what you’re planning, sir,’ I’d asked more than once.

‘Patience, Louisa,’ he’d always reply.

So it was a joy to think only of dancing. I chose my frock with extra care, a dark green silk one with long ruffled skirts. A quick scamper up and down the passage told me I’d be able to dance a polka in it. And it was a beauty of a frock; its colour set off my bright hair a treat.

‘Will you dance?’ I asked Gabriel as the band struck up their first tune.

No one else had yet got to their feet. The empty dance floor stretched before us. High above it was a domed glass ceiling, the night sky all black against it. The room itself seemed to glitter. There were lamps and mirrors on every wall, and wherever you looked champagne glasses caught the light. Around the edges of the dance floor people sat in armchairs, talking loudly. The whole place was abuzz. And so was I.

‘I’m supposed to ask you, Louie,’ said Gabriel.

He looked dashing in evening tails and a white necktie. Mr Wellbeloved, who sat with us, wore the same. Though because he’d kept his hat on the effect was more dramatic. More showy.

I didn’t see the point in sitting down just to stand up again. So I grabbed Gabriel’s hand and pulled him to his feet. ‘Thank you, I’d love to dance,’ I said.

His face lit up with a grin. I’d not seen him smile for days, and I’d missed it. Though I hadn’t missed Mr Wellbeloved’s pale eyes. I felt them now, burning into my back.

‘Come on, then,’ I said, eager to be off.

Gabriel resisted. ‘No, let’s do it properly.’ He put a hand on my shoulder, the other supporting my fingers.

‘Ready?’

I nodded.

He counted us in. ‘One and two, three and four.’

It made me giggle. ‘I
can
dance. I’m not a complete ninny.’

In reply, he swung me round so fast my hair whipped my cheeks. We set off across the room, Gabriel leading, me going backwards. We moved light as clouds. At the end of the floor, Gabriel stopped. Releasing my hand, I turned under his arm. He was still smiling. I didn’t look anywhere else; I didn’t want to. Yet I felt everyone’s eyes on us now. It sent little shivers right down to my feet.

‘Let’s show ’em!’ I said, as Gabriel took my hand again.

At the right beat, we set off again in a polka. We went faster now, skipping and turning at dizzying speed. The violins matched our pace. Round and round the floor we went. Our feet moved in perfect time. I laughed for the sheer joy of it. Gabriel looked awful happy too, as if he was surprised by how good it felt.

‘A bit more?’ I said, as we broke from our hold.

He nodded eagerly.

‘Watch me.’

I didn’t go back into his arms. This time, I hitched up my skirts and skipped on the spot in a jig. Then I spun round, once, twice. The music took hold of me as I danced round the floor. Arms raised, I felt my hair fly outwards. I imagined myself not on board a fancy ship but at home dancing before the flames of a campfire. The heat of it glowed inside me. I didn’t want to stop.

But Gabriel touched my arm.

‘Shall we?’ he said, holding out his hands.

I took them. Facing each other, we crossed our arms at the wrists.

‘Lean back,’ he said. ‘Just shuffle your feet on the spot.’

As I did so, we started to spin. We went slowly at first. Then our feet got faster. And faster. The ballroom whizzed by in a blur of lights. Gabriel’s grin spread huge across his face. I’d lost count of the music now. All I felt was the whirling in my head.

Eventually, the music slowed. We came to a dizzy stop.

‘Thank goodness that’s over!’ said someone within earshot. ‘They dance like savages, not children!’

Gabriel caught my eye. We pulled faces and sniggered behind our hands. Better savage than dullard any day of the week.

Other couples had now taken to the floor. Their polkas were slower, lumpier attempts than ours. And they kept cutting across us, shooting cold looks our way as they passed. It was time to sit down.

Back at our table, Mr Wellbeloved was statue-still. He didn’t speak, though I sensed he had something to say. I gulped down some water and flopped into a chair. Gabriel sat opposite me. His face was flushed with heat.

‘That was quite a spectacle,’ said Mr Wellbeloved in a voice so quiet I had to lean forward to catch it.

I sat back.
Oh
. He didn’t seem pleased. Gabriel wasn’t smiling now either.

‘We were just having a bit of a lark, sir,’ I said.

‘Indeed, I saw. So did the rest of the upper deck.’

I looked across at Gabriel.
Say something, then
, I willed him, but he stared miserably at his feet. I crossed my arms. So, we should’ve danced like carthorses, should we? At least then we’d have blended in. But what showstopper in their right mind would want that?

The music’s jaunty beat began to grate on me. I didn’t think I’d dance again tonight. I got to my feet. ‘I’ve a headache,’ I lied, ‘so I’ll say goodnight.’

Gabriel stood up fast. ‘I’m coming too.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘You seem to have taken offence.’

I stared at him, confused.

‘It was a compliment,’ he said. ‘Your polka might not have been to everyone’s taste, but every single person in this room was watching you.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That’s different, then.’ I admit I felt rather pleased.

‘There’s something between you two. You have a . . . what shall we say . . . a chemistry. A connection,’ Mr Wellbeloved said.

Suddenly, I couldn’t meet Gabriel’s eye.

‘We’d be foolish not to put that connection to good use,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘Very foolish indeed.’

Gabriel breathed in sharply. His eyes closed in a long, painful blink.

‘What d’you mean by that, sir?’ I said.

‘Think about it, Louisa.’

My brain went blank. I’d no idea what he meant.

Then I felt it in my belly, a cold hard sense that something wasn’t right. Oh no. He wouldn’t:
or
would he?

‘Sir,’ I said, struggling to stay calm. ‘That night at Chipchase’s you said the offer was for one of us only. So I’ll ask you again: give me the job. And let Gabriel go home.’

‘Louie . . .’ Gabriel tried to protest.

I kept on. ‘Please, sir! A dance is one thing, but the tightrope’s something else. It ain’t right to put him through it, not when I’m so willing.’

Mr Wellbeloved sat back in his seat and crossed his legs. ‘Did I really say the offer was just for one of you?’

‘You did, sir! You know you did!’

He didn’t answer. His face gave nothing away either.

For six more days and nights, Mr Wellbeloved kept us dangling. Then a red light appeared on the horizon. Someone on deck cried, ‘There’s Halifax!’ and a cheer went up. Not from me. The sight of land made my heart thud, for it meant we’d soon know our fate.

The very next morning we sailed down a channel busy with boats. Two pilots guided us in to New York harbour, which looked so different from Liverpool. The buildings here were low and mostly made of wood, and the air had a tang to it, like the sea mixed with tree sap.

An hour or two later, we arrived in dock. After being checked for fever, we finally set foot on dry land. The whole world tipped sideways until my legs got used to it. The docks were thick with passengers just off the ship, and pedlars selling oranges and onions, and others offering rooms for the night, all hollering to be heard.

And then something quite extraordinary happened: a sudden surge in the crowd knocked Mr Wellbeloved’s hat off. It fell from his head onto the cobbles. Hatless, he seemed to be shielding his right ear.

‘Move along,’ said a woman, pushing into me as I stopped and stared.

Next time I looked, his hat was firmly back in place.

Mr Wellbeloved didn’t let go of his hat rim again until we were on a train, heading north. That Gabriel and me were both still here revealed something of his plans. In the seat opposite mine, Gabriel’s fingers drummed against his knees. And he seemed so far away, so dazed, it was near impossible to talk to him. In turn, it rattled me. Me, who should’ve been thrilled just to be here. Yet my dream was his nightmare. It made the whole thing so bittersweet it was becoming hard to bear.

As it was, we soon left the city behind us, passing forests and grass plains far bigger and greener than any back home. It all looked the same after a while. If my mam was anywhere out there I’d sooner find a needle in a hay barn. Eventually, my eyelids grew heavy. It was then Mr Wellbeloved cleared his throat, making me jump in my seat.

‘Louisa, Gabriel,’ he said, ‘I have a proposition for you both.’

My mouth went awful dry. I glanced at Gabriel; he was fidgeting with his jacket sleeves.

‘You will perform on the high wire,’ he said, looking straight at me. ‘And, I promise you will take America by storm.’

My jaw dropped. At last. The words I’d been dying to hear.
‘
Oh thank you, sir!’ I gasped.

But he’d already moved on to Gabriel. ‘Both of you.’

The excitement went dead.

‘I’ll pay handsomely,’ he said. ‘You’ll go home with fame and fortune.’

No one spoke. The world flashed by outside the window and suddenly it was hard to breathe. As Mr Wellbeloved shifted in his seat, Gabriel shrank back in his. His face was white.

I began to shake all over.

This was wrong.
All wrong
.

‘Sir, it didn’t go well last time, not with the two of us,’ I pleaded. ‘It’d be much easier to just take me.’

Mr Wellbeloved looked surprised. ‘But of course it would. That’s why I want you both.’

It took a second to understand what he was saying. As a performer, I knew the risks. And I did my best to stay safe. This was different. It wasn’t about Gabriel’s contract – or not only that. This was about pushing things
beyond
the limit.

And he wasn’t finished yet.

‘You’ll be Master Blondin and Little Miss Blondin, after the Great Blondin himself.’

Taking a deep breath, I said, ‘Does it have to be Blondin?’, for it didn’t sit well with me, not since Sharpfield, when my hero had fallen a long way short.

‘Yes.’ Mr Wellbeloved fixed me with his piercing eyes. ‘It fits perfectly. No other name will do.’

Slowly, painfully, it dawned on me. My heart felt ready to punch through my ribs. ‘So we’ve come here to be like Blondin?’ I said.

‘Exactly right. Just like Blondin. Except there’ll be two of you.’

Blondin had come to America to do one thing. A remarkable, death-defying thing that I’d pored over pictures of for as long as I could remember. At last, I understood Mr Wellbeloved’s plan.

My head filled up too much, too fast. Mr Wellbeloved had bought me dresses, paid my passage. He was my ticket to better things. I’d wanted this so badly. Yet his plan was madness.

‘It’s Niagara Falls, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘You want us both to cross Niagara Falls.’

This wasn’t a
WHIFF of death
show.

It wasn’t even close.

No, this had the very
STENCH of death
to it.

Mr Wellbeloved smiled, showing his teeth. ‘Yes, my dear, I do. And you shall.’

I awoke in a big brass bed. It was morning. Sun beat against the still-drawn curtains, making the room feel stifling hot. A drumming sound filled my head, and for a second I thought I was back on the ship in steerage. Only I wasn’t, I was in a fancy bedchamber.

We’d travelled into the night to reach Niagara Falls. The noise hit me as soon as I’d stepped off the train. It sounded like distant thunder or the rumbling belly of a horse. A cab took us through dark streets to a house signposted, ‘Mrs Franklin’s Lodgings’, where Mr Wellbeloved said he always stayed. For Gabriel and me, he’d booked the rooms either side of his own. This was where I found myself now.

The bed was too big for me alone. It needed Pip crawling up it to lick me good morning. And the room itself, all dried flowers and frills, didn’t feel right either. What I’d give to see a painted chair or a hand-knitted blanket. Or to smell lapsang tea as it steamed in my cup. All at once I felt a great ache for home.

I’d not even Mam’s taffeta heart to comfort me. It seemed an omen for everything I felt, especially in my dream of finding Mam. Where was the empress Miss Lilly’s cards had promised? The only person watching over me was Mr Wellbeloved, and that didn’t feel much like help. My lip started trembling. Then came tears, great fat ones dripping off my cheeks and onto the pillow.

Eventually, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. So far I’d not helped Gabriel much, and though I was sorry, it shouldn’t make me lose sight of why I was here. Most of all, I wanted to go home proud and happy. And I wanted it to be soon.

Getting out of bed, I threw open the windows. Instantly, the growl of the Falls became a roar. I stepped onto a little balcony, blinking in the sunshine. The ravine lay about two hundred yards ahead. Trees gave way to bare rock and then, far below, the river ran white and furious. The sight made my stomach twist.

Clear as day, I saw the headline: HORROR AND DISGUST AS CHILDREN PLUMMET TO THEIR DOOM. And back at Chipchase’s, I imagined Jasper reading the newspapers and wondering who this Master Blondin and Little Miss Blondin were. Perhaps even Ned would too. Knife sharp, I felt another pang for home. It almost made me turn and run. Yet something held me to the spot.

My eyes followed the river upstream, past the big steel bridge that spanned the gorge. A fluttering started in my belly. I knew this scene from the pictures in my scrapbook. Dotted among the trees were more houses joined by dirt roads, and then bigger buildings that might’ve been factories or mills. Further on, a mist hung over the water. As I craned my neck, I saw what looked like a park with tents in it.

Further on still,
blimey
, there they were, Niagara Falls themselves. Or rather, two waterfalls. The smaller American Falls were on this side of the ravine. Up ahead were Horseshoe Falls, the water like a wall curving from one bank to the other. The sound was never-ending. A rushing, rumbling noise like it was inside your skull. None of it felt quite real. I was spellbound.

And in that moment it all made sense; why Blondin had walked Niagara Falls, and why we would too. It wasn’t just the glory of performing for the crowds, or the money. It was more about taking their breath away. Doing something extraordinary. Making punters forget their woes for a few measly minutes, and being sure they’d never forget you.

But for Gabriel it wasn’t like that. He’d nearly come to grief that night at Chipchase’s. To freeze up over Niagara Falls, with no wooden platform ten steps behind, would be horrifying. It was too risky – for both of us. Mr Wellbeloved
had
to change his mind. Yet no one said no to him, so Gabriel reckoned. And I was beginning to see what he meant.

I went back inside and dressed quickly. Just as I reached the door, I heard voices in the hallway. One was a woman’s with a strange, lilting accent. The other belonged to Mr Wellbeloved.

‘Kindly let me pass, before this water goes cold,’ said the woman. It was Mrs Franklin, who owned the lodgings.

‘Don’t you have a maid for that?’ said Mr Wellbeloved.

‘She’s busy with all these guests arriving for your show.’

‘Then hire another one.’

‘I can’t just do that.’

‘You can if I tell you to.’

‘Please let go of my wrist,’ Mrs Franklin said. Then came a sharp cry. ‘You’re hurting me!’

‘I need to trust you,’ he said in a low hiss, ‘with the girl. You know very well who she is.’

Girl? Did he mean me? I crouched near the keyhole to hear more.

A rustle of skirts. Another squeal. I flinched.

‘I’ve trusted you this far,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘Don’t let me down now.’

There was more whispering, then retreating footsteps. I guessed they’d both gone.

Then came a knock at the door. I leaped away from it quick.

Mr Wellbeloved didn’t wait to be asked in. He shut the door behind him and slammed a jug of hot water down on the washstand. ‘So, my dear, have you worked it out yet?’

‘Worked out what, sir?’

‘We’ve met before, haven’t we?’

I shuddered like someone had walked over my grave.
Sharpfield.
So he had remembered.

‘As soon as I saw you, I knew,’ he said.

‘Knew what?’

Mr Wellbeloved studied me closely, head on one side. ‘Your hair. It’s quite unusual, don’t you think?’

Anyone else saying it and I’d have grinned and said thank you. Instead, I tucked my hair behind my ears with a scowl.

‘Mr Chipchase didn’t like it,’ I said. ‘He made me cover it up, often as not.’

Mr Wellbeloved looked amused. ‘Did he now?’

But it wasn’t funny, not to me. It didn’t feel right to talk of Mr Chipchase either, and I wished I’d kept quiet. I tried to reach the door again, but he put an arm out to stop me.

‘Louisa,’ he said. ‘Listen to me. It means nothing that I chose Gabriel. I could’ve chosen anyone, just as long as I chose someone over you.’

I stared at him. What on earth did he mean? The man was clearly warped.

Then I remembered what he’d said about the ship’s gate and me climbing it.

‘I knew you’d come anyway,’ he said. ‘And the harder I made it for you, the more you’d want it. Like I said, you’ve got guts.’

It sounded bizarre, yet it also made sense: the trunk full of dresses, the offering to pay my passage. It was as if he’d been expecting me. I shuddered again. What kind of person would plan such a thing?

‘I needed to know you’d be up to the task,’ he said. ‘Crossing the Falls isn’t for the faint-hearted.’

‘So why make Gabriel do it?’

Mr Wellbeloved folded his arms. ‘Gabriel is my performer, Louisa. He does as I say, and that’s final.’

I opened my mouth to plead. Then shut it again. It was pointless. One look at those pale eyes and I knew the case was closed.

‘The crowd must expect danger,’ Mr Wellbeloved said. ‘You know that as well as I do.’

I did. The
whiff of death
.

‘Believe me, I know,’ he said. ‘Crossing Niagara was my dream once too.’

‘
You
were a performer?’

‘Indeed. Yet someone else crossed the Falls first.’

‘Blondin,’ I whispered.

‘Indeed, Monsieur Blondin.’ Mr Wellbeloved sneered at the name. ‘Now it’s your turn, and we must give the public something different. Something original.’

My head was spinning. What an odd way to do business. Not at all like Mr Chipchase; you knew where you were with him. With Mr Wellbeloved, everything was so . . . well . . .
twisted
.

‘First we must eat,’ he said.

Not that I had much appetite now. But I was relieved when he finally opened the door. Halfway through it, he stopped.

‘Ah, yes, I nearly forgot.’ He reached inside his jacket and pulled something out. ‘I do believe this is yours.’

He held out a clenched fist, turned it over and opened his fingers. Lying on his palm was my mam’s red taffeta heart.

‘Oh, sir! I hunted everywhere for this and thought I’d lost it!’ I cried, taking it from him.

‘It means a lot to you, I can see.’

‘Yes . . . it’s my . . .’ I stopped.

He was staring at me queerly again. I didn’t want to talk about Mam. She was my business, not his.