‘I don’t know.’
‘The future?’ Nelson looked bewildered. ‘Bad omens. I knew it.’
Tig was frustrated, excited, trapped. The room didn’t contain enough air.
‘I heard her talking that first night. I thought I’d dreamed it,’ Tig admitted. ‘Was she predicting the future then, too?’
‘Perhaps.’ His voice was very calm and even. She tried her best to match his tone. ‘And if this came true, maybe that prediction will, too.’
‘What was it?’
Faber folded his arms across his chest. Stubborn old man, Tig thought.
‘And last night, she said: “Follow the rabbit through the flame.” What does that mean?’
‘Enough questions!’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that after all these years of caring for her, she’s finally talking back. That must mean something.’
Stage Fright
Tig sat in the front row of the stalls She should be excited about her first real chance to act as director and save Faber’s show, maybe even the whole Royale. But she couldn’t concentrate at all. Her eyes kept wandering to Euphonia’s face, wondering when the mouth might open and another prediction come out.
They’d all agreed to put the carriage accident out of their minds, and continue the rehearsal while they still had the chance. But Tig’s thoughts were all shaken up and muddled.
Faber walked onto the stage. He stood front and centre and cleared his throat. ‘Ladies and gentlemen.’
‘Can’t hear you!’ shouted Nelson from the back row.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Faber said, louder.
‘Don’t clasp your hands like that,’ said Tig. ‘It looks like you’re nervous.’
Faber put his hands down, arms hanging poker-straight by his side. It was not an improvement.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he repeated.
‘Still not loud enough!’ yelled Nelson.
Faber muttered something under his breath which Tig thought might have been a German swearword. His jaw was clenched in annoyance.
‘Speak from your stomach, not your throat,’ said Tig. ‘Or you’ll strain your voice.’
‘The stomach does not speak,’ said Faber.
Tig had never seen someone look so uncomfortable. His machine sounded more human than he did. If Tig couldn’t get him to present well when it was just her and Nelson, what chance did she have of getting him to do it in front of a full audience?
‘What about a few jokes?’ suggested Tig.
‘I don’t know any jokes,’ said Faber.
‘Of course you don’t,’ muttered Tig.
Nelson jogged down the aisle towards them. ‘I do! Lumpy’s always telling jokes.’
‘Lumpy?’ said Faber. ‘Is that a name?’
‘My uncle,’ said Nelson.
‘It’s Leopold really,’ explained Tig, ‘but when Nelson was little he couldn’t—’
‘I don’t care,’ said Faber. ‘Get on with it.’
Tig gave Nelson an apologetic shrug. Prickly, ungrateful man, being so rude when they were trying to help him.
‘Ahem,’ said Nelson. ‘What would Neptune say if all the seas dried up?’
Faber looked on, blankly.
‘I haven’t a notion!’ Nelson finished.
Tig giggled.
‘That is a joke?’ said Faber.
‘Yes,’ said Nelson. ‘You say “I haven’t a notion”, meaning, I have no idea what Neptune would say.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘But you would say that. In the show,’ said Tig.
‘And it sounds like you said “I haven’t an ocean” – as in, Neptune would say that he hasn’t got an ocean any more.’
‘And this is funny?’ said Faber, looking doubtful.
‘It’s definitely not funny if you have to explain it,’ Nelson said mutinously. ‘Try it. Get the machine to say the first bit.’
‘I don’t want to do jokes,’ said Faber.
‘Come on,’ said Tig. ‘You have to do something. You agreed.’
Faber sighed, but went over to the machine and sat down. Laboriously he worked through the question key by key.
‘Now you answer it,’ said Tig.
‘I haven’t any oceans,’ said Faber, his expression as blank as the machine’s.
‘Oh dear,’ sighed Tig. ‘Maybe not a joke, then. Do you know any riddles?’
‘Riddle is a word-puzzle, yes?’
‘That’s right.’ Tig brightened.
‘No,’ said Faber, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know any riddles.’
‘Ugh,’ said Tig in frustration. ‘You’re not even trying, professor. Watch how it’s done. Nelson?’
Nelson drew himself up dramatically. ‘What gets bigger the more you share it?’ he boomed.
‘I don’t know,’ said Tig, stroking her chin in an exaggerated way like the music-hall actors did. ‘What does get bigger the more you share it?’
‘Happiness.’
‘Hmm,’ said Faber. ‘I like that.’ He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. ‘Euphonia, tell me, what gets bigger the more that you share it?’
He pressed the keys skilfully and Euphonia replied in her flat, groaning voice, ‘Happiness.’
‘Fantastic!’ said Tig enthusiastically. He was finally getting into the spirit of things. ‘Perhaps you could try actually looking happy, at the same time.’
The edges of Faber’s lips pulled outwards, in an approximation of a smile.
‘A few of those,’ said Tig, ‘and a bit of conversation back and forth between you and the machine, and we might have a proper show.’
‘Oh, and you can take suggestions from the audience!’ said Nelson. ‘Ask them what words you should make the machine say!’
‘Yes,’ said Tig. ‘Like pineapples.’
‘Or higgledy-piggledy.’
‘Are these more jokes?’ Faber said, frowning again.
‘No. They’re a way for you to show off your invention. To prove you can make it say anything,’ Tig told him.
‘Yes,’ said Faber. ‘That’s good. I want them to appreciate the machine, not my wit.’
‘No fear of that,’ said Nelson under his breath.
‘What if…’ An idea was beginning to form in Tig’s head. ‘What if you invited someone up to examine the machine? Let them look underneath it, and behind the curtains and stuff, to prove there’s no trick.’
‘No,’ said Faber, quickly. ‘I don’t want strangers near my machine.’
‘What if it was Tig?’ said Nelson.
‘Perhaps…’ Faber nodded thoughtfully.
‘I’m not sure,’ said Tig. ‘Snell might catch me up there?’
‘He won’t,’ said Nelson. ‘He’s going to a card game tonight. I know because he made me shine his shoes for it.’
‘Fine,’ said Tig. ‘I’ll do it tonight, so you can practise, professor.’
* * *
A few hours later, Tig flopped down into a seat in the front row.
She was exhausted, and more than a little nervous about going up on the stage, but the sight of Nelson – no, Lord Dauncy – sitting regally in the private box cheered her up. Already she could hear whispers from the people sitting nearby, speculating about who the rich visitor might be. The seats were still fairly empty, but if tonight went to plan news would start to spread and they’d sell more tickets tomorrow.
The curtain rose. Yes, the stage looked much better. With great effort, she and Nelson had swapped out the shipwreck flats for plainer ones which looked like the inside of a library. The beach backdrop cloth had been taken down and replaced with a plain black one. They’d even adjusted the lights to surround Euphonia with a softer glow. Tig was proud of what they’d managed to do in such a short time.
Professor Faber’s performance started no better than the previous night. During his introduction, he looked directly at Tig several times. She hoped the audience couldn’t tell. It would spoil their plan if people
realized Faber already knew her.
His voice was still too quiet as he ran through his well-rehearsed lines about the creation of the machine, and then sat down to play.
‘My name is Euphonia,’ said the machine.
Once again the audience reacted with a mix of fascination and revulsion.
Faber stood up and placed his hand behind his ear in an exaggerated listening pose.
‘What’s that I hear?’ he said, unconvincingly. ‘You do not believe my invention can really speak?’
Other people in the front row were looking at their companions, baffled, and glancing over their shoulders. It was obvious no one had said any such thing.
‘Perhaps someone would volunteer to check my claims.’ He pretended to look around, shielding his eyes from the theatre lights. ‘You, miss, would you be so kind as to come up on stage?’
Tig tried to look surprised and flattered when he beckoned towards her. She wasn’t much of an actress, but she couldn’t possibly do a worse job than Faber.
She walked up on stage, self-conscious with so many pairs of eyes watching her. It was as though she had forgotten how to move her legs normally. Nevertheless, she smiled widely, determined to make this show a success.
‘Welcome, stranger, whom I have never met,’ said Faber. ‘Please confirm there is nobody hiding in the workings of the machine.’
Tig walked slowly around the machine, standing back from it and peering beneath the tabletop. ‘There’s nothing here but wood and brass,’ she said in a loud, clear voice, facing the audience.
Faber pulled a face that was perhaps meant to be an easy smile, but looked more like someone had put hooks in the side of his mouth and pulled. ‘And would you care to check behind the curtains?’
Tig walked from one side of the stage to the other, peering behind the red curtains as though she might find something unexpected.
What she found was Gus.
Oh no!
Gus didn’t normally hang around and watch the performances – he usually scurried out through the back as soon as the curtains were up. But today he was still there, standing by the ropes, arms folded, a smug look of ‘you’re in trouble’ on his face.
Faber, unable to see Gus from his position at the front of the stage, laughed nervously. ‘Did you find anything?’
‘Nothing at all,’ said Tig, turning back towards Faber and the audience and trying desperately to pretend that everything was fine.
‘Place your hand in front of Euphonia’s mouth,’ said Faber. ‘I will press on the bellows and you will feel the air flowing outwards.’
‘It’s as though she is breathing,’ said Tig, glancing towards the audience with a look of awe.
They politely applauded.
‘Can it say any word at all?’ said Tig. Her eyes darted to where Gus had been standing in the wings, but from the brightly lit stage she couldn’t see his face.
‘Suggest one,’ said Faber.
Even though they had planned for this, her mind was suddenly blank. ‘Theatre Royale,’ she spluttered after too long a wait.
Faber nodded and slowly Euphonia began to repeat the words. The audience clapped again.
Finally, after what felt like an excruciatingly long time, Faber told Tig to sit down and she returned to her seat. It was hard to focus on the remainder of his performance – all she could think about was Gus’s gloating smirk and the inevitable trouble when Snell found out she had gone up on stage.
She remained in her seat when the show was over and the audience were making their way out. Once the theatre was empty, she and Nelson met the professor on the stage.
‘How was I?’ he asked.
‘It was good,’ said Tig. ‘You were good.’ Her eyes darted towards the exits, wondering if Gus or Snell would stride in at any moment. Eliza might not mind, but Snell was looking for an excuse to punish her after their confrontation.
‘Were the audience happy?’
‘You did a grand job, professor,’ said Nelson. He sat down on the stool behind Euphonia, pulling off the wig and scratching his head all over.
‘Mm-hmm.’ Tig nodded. She could say that Gus was lying, or mistaken. The wings are dark, she hadn’t said her name…
‘You’re not paying attention, Miss Rabbit,’ said Faber. ‘You said you wanted to help.’
‘I do,’ she said.
‘Both precious things…’
All three of them stared at Euphonia. Nelson tried to jump up from the stool and knocked it over.
‘Held captive below and behind…’
‘…and within the machines.’
The machine fell silent. Tig stepped aside but it didn’t matter now. Whatever had happened, it was finished. Faber looked furious.
‘Is that another prediction?’ said Tig urgently.
‘Lower your voice,’ said Faber. He lovingly adjusted one of Euphonia’s curls. ‘Whatever is happening, I need to be cautious about who knows it. I can’t have people interfering with my machine while I work this out.’
‘What is she trying to tell us now? Precious things,’ said Tig. ‘What could that mean? Money? Ooh, treasure! Hidden treasure in a secret place!’
‘Tig,’ Nelson said quietly. ‘You’re doing it again.’
‘Silence!’ said Faber suddenly. ‘I heard something. Is there someone else here?’
‘Hold on,’ said Nelson. He jogged to the back of the stage and stuck his head through the workshop door. ‘Hey! You!’ he called to someone out of sight.
Tig and Faber exchanged a look of concern.
‘It was Gus, I’m pretty sure,’ said Nelson. ‘Went running as soon as he heard me coming.’
‘That sneak,’ said Tig.
Faber unfastened his bow tie and stuffed it into his pocket. ‘We can’t discuss this here.’ He walked back towards the Green Room, Tig at his heels. Nelson followed, a little more reserved.
Once they were all inside the Green Room, Nelson closed the door. The professor sat down and reached for his notebook. ‘I must record every detail – the time, the words, her position on the stage…’ He dipped his pen and began to scribble more notes. Tig couldn’t tell if he was excited or scared. ‘If I can only work out what’s causing it…’ He tapped the end of his pen against his teeth, thoughtfully, then resumed writing.
‘Behind and beneath the machine – but there wasn’t anything under the machine, or behind it, just empty stage.’ Tig paced the room, back and forth.
‘Unless she means under the stage… Stage machinery,’ said Nelson.
‘I’ll bet that’s it! She’s saying we’ll find something important down there.’
‘You’re getting overexcited. Predicting the future is impossible,’ said Faber. He looked like a man who had seen a ghost, though Cold Annie was nowhere to be seen.
‘But she predicted the carriage accident!’
‘A coincidence,’ said Faber. ‘She didn’t mention a carriage, or an accident. Sometimes, we’re so keen to make sense of things we see patterns where they don’t exist.’
‘We have to go and look under the stage,’ replied Tig. She had a gut feeling that she was right about this, and she always trusted her gut. Euphonia was telling them something important.
‘Isn’t it dangerous down there?’ said Faber. ‘You are going to get yourself hurt.’
‘Yes, Tig, it is dangerous,’ added Nelson.
‘She didn’t say someone was going to get hurt! If she can see the future, she’d warn us if we were in danger!’ Tig protested.
‘Ridiculous,’ said the professor. ‘We have no idea how any of this works. Even if she could tell the future—’
‘Which she can,’ said Tig. Her frustration was growing. It was so obvious to her what was happening. Why were they both being so wary and evasive?
‘We have no way of knowing what she would and wouldn’t tell us. Or, or if it’s always true. Or what the predictions really mean.’
‘That’s simple,’ said Tig. ‘We can find o
ut. We can test this prediction. If we find the treasure then we know she really is predicting the future.’
‘She didn’t say treasure, Tig!’ Nelson put himself in her path to stop her pacing. ‘You’re getting carried away, like you always do. You’re going to get in trouble – like you always do!’
‘Fine!’ Tig snapped. ‘She didn’t say treasure. But even if it’s not treasure, if we find something, some proof that she knows the future…’ She grabbed Nelson’s hands. ‘Maybe she can tell us how to save the Royale!’
A knock sounded on the Green Room door.
The Grave Trap
‘Miss Rabbit, are you in there? Come out at once!’
Snell! Gus must have run to tell him about Tig’s appearance on stage the moment he got back from his card game. She was in for it now.
The professor saw her panicked expression and gestured for both children to stand behind the door.
‘Miss Rabbit!’ The knocking became more insistent.
Once they were hidden, Faber yanked the door open. ‘What is the meaning of this? You know I do not like to be disturbed.’
‘Apologies. I was looking for Miss Rabbit.’
‘She isn’t here,’ said Faber.
Tig grabbed Nelson’s hand and squeezed it, hoping Snell wouldn’t ask to come inside. He was waiting for an excuse to dismiss her.
‘Gus saw her on the stage during your show,’ Snell said.
‘He was mistaken.’
‘With all due respect, Mr Faber—’
‘Professor.’
‘If Gus says he saw her—’
‘He was wrong.’
She liked to hear Faber use his scathing tone on pompous Snell, even though it would put him in a terrible mood and they’d all suffer for it later.
‘We don’t go in for that sort of thing, here. It’s not respectable to have the cleaning girl putting herself in the public eye.’
‘Understood,’ said Faber, sharply.
The Incredible Talking Machine Page 9