When Lizzie had passed on everything Becky’s father had told her, she tried to give the horse brass back.
“No, you keep it!” Becky insisted. “It’s a present. You’ve been so lovely. I know he’s with me now, not just as a memory, but really there! How can I ever thank you enough?”
As she hugged Becky, Lizzie saw a new, powerful vision in her mind.
It was night. Mist crawled around her ankles. She was standing in a graveyard, among the looming monuments and headstones. From close by came the scraping and rattling sounds of someone digging.
Lizzie tried to block the vision out, but it grew stronger. She was rushing toward a freshly dug grave. As it opened up to swallow her, she heard the terrible howl of a gigantic hound, and in the next moment, a piercing scream.
CHAPTER 6
There was hardly any time before Lizzie was due to perform with Nora on horseback. She rushed off to the Sullivans’ caravan, with the vision still haunting her.
Why would I see a graveyard? Lizzie wondered. It had to have something to do with Kensal Green, but why would someone be digging there at night? And that scream . . . it made her skin crawl.
No time to worry about that now! Lizzie told herself. I have bigger fish to fry.
Erin and Ma Sullivan were waiting for her at their trailer when she arrived. “Come on then, my love,” Ma said. “Let’s make a Sullivan girl of you.”
First, Lizzie’s hair had to be dyed red with henna or the audience would never take her for a Sullivan twin. It was messy, and the henna smelled like overcooked spinach, but the effect was astonishing. Lizzie’s brown hair blazed a coppery red.
Then it was time to get dressed. Erin’s white costume, spangled with sequins, was laid out and ready. Lizzie quickly slipped it on and stared at herself in a full-length mirror. The dress clung to her like a cloud, as light as a wisp of cotton. Sequins flashed and dazzled as she moved, catching the light from the oil lamp.
“Crikey,” she said, turning this way and that. “I feel so glamorous in your clothes, Erin.”
“We’re not done yet.” Ma Sullivan sat her down and perched on a stool opposite. “Hold still.”
Erin looked on approvingly as her mother used a soft brush to dab Lizzie’s cheeks with rouge. It smelled like roses. “This is the real stuff,” Ma Sullivan assured her. “All the most fashionable Parisian dancing girls wear it.”
As a finishing touch, Ma added some shimmering color to Lizzie’s eyelids and warmed up her lips with some crimson makeup.
“Hair next.” With practiced skill, she gathered Lizzie’s unruly hair up and braided it into a long plait. With a silver fastening at the end, it looked just like Nora’s.
Ma Sullivan stepped back to admire her work. “Ah, Lizzie, if I didn’t know better I’d say I’d had triplets all them years ago. You’re the spitting image of my girls.”
Erin gave her a quick, fierce hug. “You’re a wonder. Thanks for stepping in like this.”
“You all took me in and looked after me,” Lizzie said, feeling oddly shy. “I always felt like part of the family. So I’m happy to pretend to be a Sullivan if it helps you out!”
* * *
On the far side of the circus ring, opposite the main entrance where the public came in, was an archway made from brightly painted wood. This was the performers’ entrance and exit.
A beaded curtain hung across the archway, making a glittering barrier. The lighting inside the show tent meant the archway was always dark, so performers could take their places and wait for their cues. It was like the wings in a theater.
Lizzie waited there in the shadows, watching the show start. Most of the seats were full. Fitzy, she was glad to see, was in top form, firing off jokes and making the crowd roar with laughter. What a relief it must be to have pulled in a decent audience!
The Boissets were the opening act. After some spectacular trapeze routines that had the crowd gasping, it was time for Dru to perform on the high wire. He and Collette were debuting a new routine. Collette cycled out onto the rope on a small bicylce, drawing wild applause. She pedaled back and forth for a moment, then Dru came toward her from the opposite end, using an umbrella as a balancing pole.
Lizzie’s heart was in her mouth. Why, oh why did Dru refuse to ever use a safety net?
Dru and Collette play-acted the parts of a pedestrian and a cyclist meeting in a narrow lane, with neither one willing to step aside for the other. Dru hopped angrily up and down, the rope twanging as he did, then somersaulted on the spot. In response, Collette climbed up onto her bicycle seat and pretended to shake her fists at him.
The blend of comedy and daring high-wire action was causing a sensation with the crowd, but Lizzie felt sick with nerves. She knew she shouldn’t watch, but privately she was afraid of what might happen if she didn’t.
As a finale, Dru solved the stalemate by climbing up the bicycle’s front wheel and balancing on his sister’s shoulders. He bowed, and the audience went wild.
The band played a jolly tune, and Lizzie pressed herself against the side of the tunnel as the clowns came running past her. They hurried through the beaded curtain and out into the bright light of the circus ring. She gave them a thumbs-up for luck.
JoJo staggered past after the rest of the bunch, clutching his stomach. Lizzie caught a whiff of something nasty, like sour sweat.
Nora came up next to her. She’d been warming up the horses while Lizzie had been transformed into a Sullivan twin. “Don’t fret, Lizzie,” she said. “You’ll do fine.”
“What’s JoJo doing out there?” Lizzie whispered. “He’s supposed to be resting!”
“He didn’t want to let Fitzy down,” Nora said.
The clown routine was set in a bakery. Didi, the serious whiteface clown, was bossing the others around, demanding they work faster. But the more the other clowns tried to follow his mimed orders, the more chaos resulted. Clowns carrying pies crashed into each other and, as messy fights broke out, pies were slipped in and sat on.
JoJo was usually the craziest of the bunch. He typically ran around, making trouble for Didi. Tonight, though, he was just lurching around the ring, holding his belly and sometimes falling to his knees.
Didi pelted him with pies and aimed kicks at his baggy bottom while the band played. The audience ate it up. Some of them were falling out of their seats from laughing so hard. But all throughout the act, Lizzie could see JoJo grimacing under his painted-on smile.
“They don’t know,” Lizzie said, alarmed. “They think it’s all part of the act. Poor JoJo must be feeling terrible.”
“He’s a trooper, though,” Nora said. “He’s had his clown face on since he came out of his trailer this morning! I expect he’s raring to get back to work.”
All too soon, the clowns came back out and Fitzy was introducing the next act — “Two incredible young equestrian performers.”
Lizzie’s stomach did flip-flops. They’d all be watching her now.
Nora gave her a quick squeeze. “You’ll be fantastic.”
Hari came up behind them, leading Albert and Victoria. Lizzie looked into Albert’s calm brown eyes.
“Please show your appreciation . . .” Fitzy was saying. There was a roll on the drums.
Lizzie stroked Albert’s nose. “Look after me. Please?”
Albert whinnied softly. Lizzie took a deep breath and mounted his back.
“. . . for the Amazing Sullivan Twins!” Fitzy finished.
To the sound of a fanfare, Lizzie and Nora rode out into the dazzling lights of the sawdust ring. A sea of faces surrounded her.
I can do this, Lizzie thought. She forced herself to smile and steadily rose to a standing position, holding Albert’s reins firmly.
Meanwhile, Nora was already on one leg, cantering around the ring and waving at the crowd. There was a smattering of applause, but i
t was all for Nora.
It didn’t matter. All Lizzie had to do was look pretty and not fall off. Despite the hundreds of people watching, she felt her confidence rise.
I trust you, Albert, she thought. She gave the reins a twitch and Albert obediently trotted forward with Lizzie still standing upright.
“Bravo!” a man shouted. Was he mocking her? Lizzie didn’t dwell on it. I’m doing my best. What more can I do?
Most of the crowd only had eyes for Nora, and Lizzie was fine with that. Nora went through her routine without a single mistake, flipping onto her hands and back onto her feet, doing a pirouette on Victoria’s back, and even catching the juggling clubs that Lizzie threw to her. The crowd clapped, but the act wasn’t captivating them the way it did when Erin performed with her sister.
Nora came thundering around the ring for the big finale. Usually, she and Erin would leap through the air, do the splits midjump, and land on each other’s horse. Lizzie wasn’t ready to attempt jumping off, let alone landing on a horse. She quickly dismounted and held Albert’s reins, leaving the saddle empty for Nora to land on.
She crossed her fingers as Nora rode toward her. A drumroll began. Even without Erin, the leap would an impressive stunt. The crowd had to like it, surely.
Then a rude voice rang out, aimed at Lizzie: “GET BACK ON THE HORSE, DARLIN’!” A few laughs followed, and Lizzie’s cheeks burned with embarrasment.
The shouting had spooked Victoria, and she whinnied and reared up. Nora desperately tried to make her leap anyway, but it was a disaster. She toppled from Victoria’s back and fell with a sharp cry, scrambling quickly out of the way in case the horse fell over onto her.
“Oh, no!” Lizzie gasped. Hari ran out to calm Victoria. Nora fled through the archway, choking back tears.
All Lizzie could do was trudge after her. The band quickly struck up a tune to close the act, but not quickly enough to drown out the booing from the crowd. It was only one or two voices at first, then others joined in, yelling, “Boo!” and, “You call that an act?”
Once safely backstage, Lizzie pressed her back against the wooden archway and tried not to cry. The lion was being led out now. Good. That would entertain this awful crowd.
“Lizzie, it’s okay,” Malachy said from the shadows beside her.
“You must be joking,” Lizzie sniffed. “Didn’t you hear them? I’ve never been so mortified.”
“I know the act got messed up. But at least you went out there!” Malachy said. “None of them can say they didn’t get what they paid for, even if it wasn’t what they were expecting. We advertised the Sullivan twins, and they got the Sullivan twins. Pop kept his word. That’s all that matters.”
* * *
Once the show was over and the last of the audience members had filtered out into the night, Fitzy called all the performers back into the big show tent for the traditional after-show chat. It was all part of Fitzy’s style. If any performance hadn’t been up to scratch, he’d let you know while it was still fresh in your mind, so you could do something to fix it. But there was always humor and respect. Fitzy would never humiliate anyone in his circus in front of the others, no matter how badly they’d screwed up.
Lizzie and Nora still sat uncomfortably, waiting for him to turn his attention their way — as he surely would. The audience had booed! Had anyone in Fitzy’s Circus ever been booed before?
“Lizzie, you’re a real trooper. Thank you for stepping in at the last minute.” Fitzy whistled and puffed out his cheeks. “You had a tough crowd tonight, though, girls. I think some of them had had a bit too much to drink. Don’t take it to heart, eh?”
“Okay, Fitzy,” they said together.
Lizzie had to smile. Now she and Nora were speaking the same words at the same time, just like Erin!
“Hari, see what you can do to calm Victoria down,” Fitzy continued. “At this rate, that wretched horse will be the death of — I’m sorry, sir, the show’s finished.”
Everyone turned to see who had interrupted. Dr. Gladwell was poking his head around the entrance. “And what a rip-roaring show it was!” he said. “Sorry to interrupt. I was wondering if I could check young Erin’s arm.”
Lizzie leaped to her feet. “This is Dr. Josiah Gladwell, Fitzy! He helped us. We left him a ticket to the show.”
Fitzy strode over and shook the doctor’s hand, pumping it up and down. “Doctor, welcome. We’re all in your debt. Erin, let’s see your wrist.”
After the doctor had gently checked the swelling and moved Erin’s wrist back and forth a little, he patted her on the shoulder. “Good girl. You did what you were told, didn’t you?”
“I did, Doctor,” Erin said proudly. “Lots of rest, no messing around.”
“She’s healing up nicely, sir,” the doctor told Fitzy. But despite his words, Dr. Gladwell looked concerned.
Relief shone out of the ringmaster’s face. But then he looked puzzled. “What’s the matter now?”
Dr. Gladwell was peering over his glasses at JoJo. “That clown over there,” he said. “How long has he been ill?”
“A couple of days, possibly longer,” Fitzy said. “Why?”
“I need to remove his makeup.” The doctor stepped forward and looked startled when the clowns closed ranks around JoJo.
“You’ll do no such thing, mate,” said Didi, sounding cold and menacing.
Fitzy cleared his throat. “Doctor, it is very much against circus custom to remove a clown’s makeup without his permission.”
“It certainly is,” Didi said. The clowns muttered in agreement.
“Then I must ask the gentleman to do it himself,” Dr. Gladwell said with a shrug.
The clowns angrily rallied around JoJo. “You can’t do that!” Didi said. “It’s his face. You can’t make him take it off!”
“I’m afraid it’s a matter of the utmost importance,” the doctor insisted.
JoJo looked up at Fitzy through pained eyes. “It’s nothing,” he protested. “Just a few spots, that’s all.”
“JoJo,” Fitzy said softly, “please do as the doctor says.”
With trembling hands, JoJo reached for a sponge and water. He wiped a stripe of white makeup from his forehead. The clowns surrounding him gasped and backed away as they saw what was underneath.
The clown’s skin was covered with ugly round bumps with little dimples in the center. It was the same disease that had left Becky’s face scarred . . . and had killed her father. No wonder JoJo had been suffering. He’d worn his thick makeup to hide the signs.
“I thought as much. This man has smallpox,” Dr. Gladwell said. “He’s gravely ill.”
“JoJo,” Rice Pudding Pete sputtered, “why didn’t you say something? You could have told us!”
JoJo coughed. “Didn’t want to be a bother,” he said.
Lizzie remembered the vision of death she’d seen when she touched JoJo. Ma Sullivan was shaking her head and whispering something to Pa. She looked like she badly wanted to say, “I told you so.”
“He has to be kept away from other people and given treatment immediately,” the doctor said. “Your whole cast could be infected.”
“Right.” Fitzy nodded “Didi, get JoJo to the hospital right away.”
“Oh, you needn’t do that,” Dr. Gladwell said. “The nearest hospital is miles away. I can take him back to my house with me. I’ve been immunized, so I can give him the treatment he needs.”
“Are you sure?” Fitzy looked stunned. “Isn’t it a terrible imposition?”
“My dear sir, it’s the least I can do. A circus is just the sort of fun we need in this gloomy old place. Let me take JoJo home, and if you like, any of your cast who haven’t had smallpox before can be immunized. What do you say to that?”
“Thank you!” Fitzy burst out. “Thank you ten thousand times over.” He shook the doctor�
��s hand so hard he nearly rattled the little man’s glasses off. Then he clicked his heels together. “Anyone who hasn’t had the smallpox yet, meet here tomorrow at ten to sort out your immunizations. No excuses!”
* * *
The Penny Gaff Gang — Lizzie, Dru, Hari, Malachy, Nora, and Erin — lingered in the show tent after everyone else had left.
“You looked très belle up there on your horse tonight,” Dru teased Lizzie. “I think your new career suits you. But oh, how I miss your brown hair.”
“I’ll do it in my mystic veil next time, so they can’t see my face!” Lizzie squirmed, still feeling the sting of humiliation. “I don’t know how you can stand it, having all those people staring at you.”
Erin laughed. “That’s the fun of it! Being in the glare of the lights, the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand . . .”
“Better you than me,” Lizzie said. “Give me my nice quiet tent any day of the week.”
Malachy banged his walking stick on the ground. “Silence! I hereby call this meeting of the Penny Gaff Gang to order. Lizzie Brown, prophet of things to come, you have something to tell us, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do, actually.” Lizzie stood up. “I’ve had a vision. It was a cemetery . . . Kensal Green, I’m sure of it. There was digging after dark, an open grave, a dog howling, and then a girl screaming.”
“Who were you reading for?” Malachy asked.
“Nobody,” Lizzie said. “It just came to me. I think my powers are sending me a warning.”
The twins’ eyes went very wide. They looked terrified. Lizzie could guess what they were worried about, but it wasn’t going to stop her.
“Something’s going on up at the cemetery,” she said boldly, “and I want to go and investigate. Who’s with me?”
CHAPTER 7
“Lizzie, you can’t mean it!” spluttered Nora. Her voice fell to a whisper. “Go to the cemetery?”
“Don’t you think we’ve had enough bad luck here already?” Erin said, glancing fearfully around the ring. “What in the world’s gotten into you?”
The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Devil's Hound Page 5