In the end, there had been nothing left but to bury his uncle as quietly as possible, to sell off his furniture, and parcel up such books and personal effects as he wished to take back to England. There was also a distressing body of correspondence that Stephen chose to destroy. He had found it under a false floor in the bottom of his uncle’s wardrobe, and it left no doubt as to the extent and nature of the elder Melhuish’s extra-curricular activities. Stephen’s uncle had clearly been blackmailing many people for years, and the only mystery was what he had done with the money. With the exception of the hundred pounds Stephen had given Estée, and an additional hundred and ten in a collar box in the wardrobe, it had vanished without trace. Rather reluctantly, for he had no other money, Stephen kept the collar box money to settle debts and to pay for his expenses on his journey home. The return ticket he already had, and accordingly, in early March with his affairs finalised, he found himself in possession of a first-class booking to Paris, with connections to the boat train for Victoria.
He was finishing off the last of his packing when an unexpected letter arrived. It had been sent through the ordinary post and gave an address in the Old City, in Snow Street, not far from the cathedral. I learn you are travelling back to England soon, wrote Anna van Homrigh. It would be good to see you again before you leave. If it suits, I shall expect you tomorrow afternoon—at three o’clock, perhaps? It was less a command than a statement of fact, for of course, Anna must expect that he would want to see her, too. In fact, Stephen had already tried to visit her, but he had found the house in Young Devil Yard abandoned. This had happened, according to the landlady, on the very night of the confrontation on the bridge. She had been unable to tell him where they had gone, and he had been worried, though he suspected their departure had been merely precautionary. The letter appeared to confirm this, and accordingly, at about half past three on the following day, he found his knock at the Snow Street door being answered by none other than Bridget Barker, as red-haired as ever, and to his surprise, quite obviously pregnant.
‘Good afternoon, Mr Melhuish.’
‘Mrs Barker. I hope your husband is well?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, as they walked up a steep flight of stairs. ‘He is not here this afternoon. He is at the railway station, booking tickets for us to travel to England next month. My husband has decided he wants to go and live in London. Now that matters are resolved here, he sees no reason to stay in Ostermark any longer. It is so difficult here if you are a foreigner.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Stephen had a faint idea that in London Michael Barker would appear just as much a foreigner as he did in Starberg, but he did not want to pour cold water on the enterprise. ‘How—how very interesting for you. Is your aunt going, too?’
‘Ah, no,’ said Bridget regretfully. ‘Aunt Anna says she is too old to move again. Here she is: she has been waiting for you all afternoon.’
She opened a door on the landing and, with a strange sense of déjà-vu, Stephen entered a small parlour so like the one where he had first met her that it seemed he was back in December in the house in Young Devil Yard. Anna van Homrigh was sitting at the same round table in the middle of the room, with her clipping book, newspapers and court circulars spread out before her. As Stephen approached she took off her glasses and put down her scissors with a smile.
‘My dear boy, you’ve come. How good of you. I did so want to say goodbye.’
‘I tried to visit you before Christmas, ma’am.’ Stephen sat down on an adjacent balloon-backed chair and drew it up to the table. ‘When I went to the other house, they said you’d left.’
‘It was best to be sure,’ said Anna practically. ‘I did not know how Greitz would react, or how much power he would have at his disposal after the locket’s destruction. As it turns out, I think he’s having rather a hard time of it. I doubt any of us will hear from him in the near future. You know about poor Esther Trier, of course.’
‘They said at the legation that she drowned,’ said Stephen. ‘There was a lot of gossip that he pushed her, but I saw her jump. He tried to save her, you know. At the very end, he was so preoccupied with what was happening to her, he forgot about everything else.’
‘The old magicians would have held Greitz in great contempt for that,’ said Anna. ‘They would have considered him weak. Putting people before power—but then, his was always a very degraded power anyway. I am sorry for him, despite everything. I think, in his way, he did love Esther, though if she had lived at the expense of his ambitions, I am sure that love would ultimately have turned to hate.’
‘He didn’t love Estée,’ said Stephen.
‘No, he didn’t,’ agreed Anna. ‘Nor Sally, either. To love someone, you must be able to see them as an individual. Greitz saw those girls as the two halves of the star locket. The stakes were too high for him to become attached to them. But of course, Esther had a different perspective. Even though she had rejected our teachings, she had been brought up with the Casimirites. Greitz’s influence had rubbed off on her over the years, but not so completely that she could condone the destruction of her child. And Greitz could not cut himself off from her so easily either. When we love somebody, Stephen, we always leave a little of ourselves behind with them, and they leave a little of themselves behind with us.’
‘There’s just one thing I do want to ask you,’ said Stephen. ‘Did you know it was her? Did you know that Estée was the copy?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Anna nodded. ‘Not at first, though. I had been praying for her, you see, for all of you, right from the very beginning. But the evening you arrived, after you had all gone to bed, when I prayed for Estée, I kept seeing an image of the poor child with no face. But that was not for me to reveal. It would only have caused distress, and what would have been the point? It would not, I think, have altered the outcome for her; the time had come for the locket to be destroyed or rejoined. But it did help me to know what to do. I tried to let her have the freedom to make the decision for herself. The half-life she had was precious to her, and I would not for one moment have taken it away.’
‘You tried to warn me,’ said Stephen. ‘That morning, before Estée and I left, you said that hard decisions cannot be shirked, and you were right. I should have listened to you. If I had, it would have made it easier, in the end. Some parts of it, at any rate.’
‘That is a very difficult thing to admit,’ said Anna van Homrigh. She looked at him with clear, sympathetic eyes. ‘Especially for someone of your age. At eighteen, we all know we are right. Then, painfully, we begin to learn that we are not. I think, in your heart, you knew, too, Stephen. You have some of the same gifts that I do. Gifts of observation and contemplation; of being a watchman, sensing danger. You were there for a purpose, and I think you have learned a great deal. Next time, you will understand what is happening, and be ready for it. For unfortunately, there always is a next time. That is the nature of the struggle we are in.’
‘I hardly like to think about that,’ said Stephen. ‘What do you think is going to happen next?’
‘It is already happening, I am afraid,’ said Anna. ‘By my own analysis, Ostermark will become part of the Prussian Empire within five years. Tensions between the Great Powers will continue to grow. In time, the whole of Europe will slide into war, and drag the rest of the world in after her. There will be blood and fire and horror, and such unbelievable carnage as people will be unable to credit. The child my niece is carrying in her womb will be part of a conflict that will destroy a whole generation. I will not live to see it, Stephen. But you will, and you must be ready for it. What we have gone through these last few months will be nothing by comparison.’
‘I’ll try,’ said Stephen uncomfortably, and Anna reached over and unexpectedly patted his hand.
‘Don’t worry too much. It is still a long way off, and many things may yet be changed. But now I must ask you a question, if you will not think me too impertinent. It has been three months since the star locket was rejoined. Ha
ve you seen Miss Taverner?’
‘No.’ Stephen drew a deep breath. ‘To tell you the truth—I haven’t had the heart.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Anna. ‘But you need to go before you leave Ostermark. If you don’t, you will find that some little part of you will never be quite convinced that Estée has gone, and in the long term, that will not be helpful for you. I know what it is like, you see, not to be able to say goodbye.’
‘Yes,’ said Stephen. ‘I suppose you do.’ He looked at the table. ‘And, I suppose I owe it to Miss Taverner to see her. It’s not her fault, after all.’
‘No,’ said Anna. ‘It’s not. I would not suggest it if I did not think you would find it a comfort. The sorrow will go with you, as it has gone with me. But it will ease with time, and life holds many consolations.’
‘I’m sure it will.’ Stephen drew a deep breath. ‘I promise you, I shall go and visit Miss Taverner. And now, ma’am, I must take my leave of you. Thank you for seeing me—and for all your help.’ He pushed back his chair and stood up. Anna van Homrigh rose too, and took his hands in hers. To Stephen’s surprise, her eyes filled suddenly with tears and she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
‘I never told you how much you remind me of my son. May God bless you, Stephen, and protect you.’
Sally Taverner had prepared for her meeting with Stephen Melhuish carefully. She had chosen a time when she knew her mother would be out of the apartment, for she did not want any interruptions, and she had sent the maid on an errand which would keep her occupied for at least two hours. She had chosen her clothes with care, picking a conservative blue dress which she hoped would be totally unlike anything Estée Merton had ever owned. But though she had deliberately done her hair in a tight bun that hid much of its length and colour, Sally could do nothing about her features. The moment she answered the door and saw the expression on her visitor’s face, she knew that all her efforts had been completely in vain.
They sat together in the drawing room, and worked their way through the prescribed social niceties: Stephen’s enquiry after her health; hers after his imminent departure from Ostermark. She told him, too, that she was leaving soon for Lausanne, and he asked if she was looking forward to it. The answer, of course, was yes, but it seemed disloyal to her parents to say so. The conversation faltered and left the two of them in uncomfortable silence.
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Sally, at last. ‘I realise this is not what you wanted. I know what you must be thinking.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ Stephen replied, wishing desperately he had followed his instincts and stayed away. ‘It’s not your fault.’
‘That’s very generous of you,’ said Sally. ‘I just wish I could feel the same way. I know it’s stupid of me, but I keep feeling guilty that I’m alive. It’s as if I’m the one who killed her. I had nightmares afterwards, when I was ill. It was terrible.’
‘You couldn’t have known,’ said Stephen, and this time, he felt on firmer ground. ‘Neither could she.’
Sally shook her head. ‘No. It was obvious, really, for anyone who had eyes in their head. When I first saw her I was so frightened, I didn’t know what to think. There she was, this other me, and all I wanted was for her to disappear. Then all at once she was gone again, and it was quite logical. I had the front, the main part of the locket. Estée just had the casing. And there was always the fact that my birthday was before hers. The one thing I couldn’t understand at first was why Mrs Merton would have taken the copy when she could have had her own niece. But I think I understand that now, too. I think perhaps she couldn’t bear to steal her sister’s child. Or perhaps she was just afraid of Esther and Greitz. Esther really hated her, you know. It was quite horrible.
‘I understand all this now. But it wasn’t like it at the time, Mr Melhuish. When we were down there on the river, we really didn’t know which one of us was the copy. We just knew that destroying the locket was the only thing that would finish it. Estée felt that, just as much as I did; I know she did. Whenever I think about her now, I keep telling myself that. It’s the only thing that makes me feel as if I have a right to be here. I know that to someone like you I must be a terrible disappointment, but that’s honestly the way it happened.’
‘You’re not a disappointment,’ said Stephen. ‘Just—disconcerting. I couldn’t tell you apart in those dark cloaks, you see. I thought it was her.’
‘It was her locket that confused you, wasn’t it?’ said Sally. ‘You didn’t expect Estée to be wearing it.’
Stephen nodded. ‘We’d found your star in my uncle’s apartment, but she’d given it to me to look after. That was why I had it in my pocket. The last time I saw Estée, she had nothing around her neck. I thought the person who was wearing the star was you.’
‘I gave it back to her,’ said Sally. ‘In Esther’s house, before we left. It was hers, after all. It didn’t seem right that I should have it. So in the end we both had our own halves of the locket.’ She put her hand into her pocket and brought out a small brown envelope, folded in half. ‘I brought this back with me. I thought perhaps you might like it, as a memento.’
Stephen opened it. Inside was the slender gold chain, broken, halfway down from the clasp, that he had last seen glittering in Sally’s hand on the bridge. It was hard to associate it with Estée, when he had never seen her wearing it, but he knew Sally was trying to be kind. And he wished her well: truly, he did. But he could not say to her what he really thought: that to him, she was the one who was the shadow, and that she always would be.
‘Here,’ he said impulsively, and he put his thumbnail in the catch of the necklace and undid it. Sally took the piece he offered her, and toyed with it with her fingers.
‘Mr Melhuish,’ she said, ‘I think perhaps you have misjudged me. That I have misjudged you. And I think as well that we have not been very good friends. I know you are going home today, but I would like to hope—if we ever met again—that perhaps in the future we could be better friends than we have in the past.’
‘Perhaps we shall,’ said Stephen, and as they rose from their chairs, he took her hand. As he did, he felt in Sally’s palm under Estée’s chain, the hardened ridge of the star-shaped scar. Her brown eyes looked up at him, and on impulse, he suddenly did what he had never done to Estée, and leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
‘Goodbye,’ Stephen said. At that moment, he realised that Estée was truly gone. For the first time he was thankful to Anna van Homrigh for telling him to come. There was much he did not understand about what had happened, but he did understand the necessity for it. And that, he thought as he left the Taverners’ apartment and climbed back into the cab he had left waiting with his luggage, was some small consolation for all he had gone through.
‘Where to now?’ said the driver, and Stephen, after six months in Starberg, had enough Ostermarkan to reply to him.
‘The station,’ he said, as he swung into the carriage. ‘I’ve a train to catch to England.’
About the Author
NATALIE JANE PRIOR is the author of numerous books for children and young adults, including the successful fantasy series Lily Quench, the classic picture book The Paw and the companion novel to The Star Locket, Fireworks and Darkness, winner of the 2003 Davitt Award for Young Adult Fiction. Her books have won the Aurealis Award (for fantasy and science fiction), have been Honour Books and Notable Books in the Children’s Book Council of Australia Awards, and have been shortlisted for numerous children’s choice awards.
In addition to writing, Natalie is part-owner of a business which imports and retails baroque and renaissance woodwind instruments to the Australasian market, and she has a particular interest in the baroque recorder.
Natalie lives in Brisbane with her husband and daughter. When she gets a spare moment she enjoys sewing and gardening.
Also available
FIREWORKS AND DARKNESS
The temperature in the room dropped, like the bitter cold
<
br /> before a storm, and the smell of magic gathered like a mist.
Then the windows rattled, the floor shook and the paper
stars and firework cases and all the trumpery tackle of
Casimir’s trade suddenly lifted off the shelves and whirled
around him in a blinding, stinging storm…
Simeon Runciman is a firework maker who used to be a dark magician; a difficult man with a dangerous past. His son, Casimir, has always known part of the truth about him. But when Simeon’s enemy, the sinister magician Circastes, reappears in their lives intent on revenge, Casimir is caught in a web of murder, deceit and magic. Forced to fight for his own survival, Casimir must also confront the harsh truth of who his father is and what he has done, as well as the real nature of the magic he wields.
Praise for Fireworks and Darkness
‘Natalie Jane Prior’s talent for weaving together fascinating and macabre detail…is testimony to her depth of historical knowledge and prodigious story-telling powers’ Award-winning author James Maloney
‘an intriguing and well-crafted story’ Reading Time
‘an imaginative melding of history, magic fantasy and family drama’ Viewpoint
‘an exciting story of intrigue, magic and mystery’ Fiction Focus
Copyright
Star Locket Page 21