“These two ragamuffins have stolen my bag, officer!” boomed Turner, drowning out Luciana’s voice.
“What?” Luciana gasped.
“That’s a lie!” spluttered Charley. “He’s the one who—”
The momentary interruption gave Turner exactly the second of distraction that he needed. He yanked the bag from Luciana’s arms and walked swiftly away.
“Thank you, officer!” he threw over his shoulder. “I’m much obliged to you!”
“Wait!” cried Luciana. Both she and Charley tried to follow, but the policeman held them back.
“Now, now, now,” he said. “That’s enough of that.”
“He was stealing from us,” Luciana shouted, “and you’ve just helped him to do it!”
“Oh ho, so that’s how it was, was it?” The copper scoffed. “The gent in the cap and smart suit was the one that nicked a bag off two children who look as if they haven’t seen a bath in a month. A likely story.”
The policeman refused to believe Luciana and Charley’s true version of events. Even leaving out the bits involving magicians and puzzle boxes, it was hardly surprising. Finally Luciana realized that the only way they were going to get away was by running. She picked a moment when the copper was occupied with Charley and kicked out sharply with her booted foot, catching his shin. He gave a sharp yell and stumbled backwards.
“Run!” she yelled.
“You just injured a policeman!” Charley hissed, as they reached the end of the alleyway.
“He wasn’t going to let us go,” Luciana said, as they hurried into the dark tangle of streets that surrounded the station. She thought she should probably feel scared – after all, she’d just kicked a policeman! She did feel a bit guilty – she hoped the man’s ankle wouldn’t hurt for too long. But she felt far more guilty about what had transpired before the policeman had even arrived. She’d lost the Golden Butterfly, and in the worst possible way. It was on its way to Thursby even now – she’d let it go into the hands of the one person her grandfather had been desperate to keep it away from.
“Well, what are we going to do now?” Charley asked. “We don’t have any money left to get a train to Rotherton!”
“We have to go back,” Luciana said, home the last thing on her mind. “We have to warn Adeline and Clara.”
*
By the time they had returned to the theatre, the evening’s audience had begun to file in and the stage door was locked fast. Luciana hammered on it until Ben the stagehand pulled it open.
“What are you doing back?” he asked. “I can’t let you in, it’s nearly time for the performance!”
“You have to!” Luciana gasped, out of breath from running all the way. “We have to warn them that Thursby has the Golden Butterfly!”
Ben frowned in puzlement. “Who has the what now?”
“Just let us in, Ben,” Charley said. “It’s important.”
The boy reluctantly stood to one side and Luciana and Charley ran down the corridor. Clara was coming towards them and shushed them as they called to her, ushering them into the magician’s room. Once inside, Luciana explained what had happened. She wanted to speak to Adeline, but the magician had replaced her disguise and was once again Adolphus Merritt.
“He can’t speak to you,” Clara whispered. “The theatre is filling up ready for tonight’s performance. There are people everywhere. If anyone was passing and happened to hear…”
“I understand,” Luciana said, “but what do we do?”
Clara and Merritt shared a brief look. Then the magician turned away and his assistant led Luciana and Charley out.
“Come,” she said. She took them to her own small dressing room and waved them inside before shutting the door firmly behind them. “Listen to me. The Golden Butterfly doesn’t matter. If Thursby’s got it – well, good luck to him. I warrant it won’t do him any good – even if he puzzles it out, the device is only half the trick. Anyway, you heard what Adeline said – it’s broken, even if he knew what to do with it. All that matters now is this performance. Our performance. Do you understand? This is our life, our livelihood. Exposure would mean disaster – for both of us. People aren’t interested in magic any more, and we’ve worked so very hard to get this billing. We’re building an audience, a reputation. We can’t lose it now for the sake of a trick that she cares nothing for.”
Luciana looked down at her toes, feeling utterly hopeless. “But I was supposed to keep it safe, and instead all I’ve done is pass it straight into Thursby’s hands. And to think that he’s finally got what he wanted, without even having to work for it and after what he did to my grandfather. After what he did to her. Driving them from the stage, taking what they loved, what they had both worked for—”
Clara rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Luciana. You can’t think like that. Only Thursby is in the wrong here. And I understand your anger. Really, I do. But you don’t want it all to happen again, do you?”
Luciana shook her head miserably. “It’s so unfair,” she said. “This isn’t how it should be.”
Clara straightened up again with a sad smile. “No, it isn’t. But this is how it is, and we will learn to make the best of it. Now, I’ve got to get ready. The two of you can watch the show from backstage, if you like. We’ll find you somewhere to bed down afterwards, and tomorrow we will make sure you get home.”
Luciana wanted to protest. She no more wanted to return home now than she had before she’d lost the Golden Butterfly. But Clara was already bustling to her wardrobe, pulling out her stage costume.
“At least you get to do one trick yourself,” Luciana murmured. “Even if no one believes that it’s you doing it.”
“Oh,” Clara said with a brief laugh. “I won’t be doing that again. If you saw it, then others will too, eventually. We can’t risk one of those being Thursby. It was foolish of me in the first place, to risk so much just because of my pride.”
Luciana’s heart sank. “It’s so unfair. More than that, it’s – it’s absurd!”
Clara turned with a smile. “Well, perhaps one day, things will be different. Now, I have to change.”
Later, as they stood in the shadowed darkness of the wings and watched Adolphus Merritt weave another performance, Charley pressed his lips to her ear.
“There are just as many women out there in the audience as men,” he whispered. “Maybe even more. Surely all of them would watch a woman magician, even if their husbands would protest.”
“Perhaps,” Luciana whispered back. “But it would be their husbands who had the money to buy the tickets.”
Charley drew back and looked at her, as if this hadn’t occurred to him. “That can’t be completely true,” he said, still whispering. “My mother is the one who earns for us.”
Luciana nodded with a frown. “That’s true. But would she spend money coming to the theatre?”
Charley shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps she would if she knew she was going to see a woman on stage.”
Luciana sighed. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Charley looked out at Adolphus Merritt and Clara. “It’s a pity, isn’t it?” he asked. “It’s a pity that she doesn’t get to choose for herself.”
Luciana watched too. None of us do, she thought. None of us ever will, all the time that people like Thursby are in charge. And when will that ever change?
Luciana watched the rest of Adeline’s performance in silence, feeling more hopeless by the minute. She’d solved all her grandfather’s puzzles and she’d used her own magic skills to get here. But what good had it done? All she’d succeeded in doing was discovering a life she couldn’t have and had handed over her grandfather’s greatest trick to a horrible imposter in the process.
That night her dream of fire was worse than ever. Luciana tossed and turned, finally roused from a fitful sleep by a hurried knocking on Clara’s dressing-room door. She opened it to find Ben the stagehand standing outside, breathing hard.
&nb
sp; “Miss Luciana!”
“Ben!” Luciana said. “What on earth’s the matter?”
There was a noise further down the corridor and Charley stuck his head out of a room, his hair mussed. “What’s going on?” he asked. “It’s not even six o’clock yet!”
“It’s this,” Ben said, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “I went out to get a bite for breakfast but when I saw it I knew it couldn’t wait. This is what you were talking about yesterday, wasn’t it? The Golden Butterfly and Thursby.”
He passed it to Charley, who unfolded it as he reached Luciana’s side. It was a quarter-sized playbill of the sort that hawkers passed out on the street to tout for trade. Luciana and Charley stared dumbly at the creased yellow sheet.
Behold!
Come See the Extraordinary Skill of Carl Thursby!
The Greatest Magician Alive Returns to the Stage!
It was the next lines, though, that truly made Luciana gasp.
Be Amazed!
Be Astonished!
Be Flabbergasted by:
The Golden Butterfly!
The Greatest Illusion of Our Age!
“But how?” Luciana asked, horrified. “How did he unravel the trick so fast? How can he be ready to perform it just hours after he got hold of the wings?”
“Maybe he’s not,” Ben suggested. He pointed at the performance date. “Look. That date’s for the Tuesday after next. That’s more’n a week away, ain’t it? He’s eager to thump up a buzz, but he’s given himself plenty of breathing space.”
Luciana grabbed the paper and stared, her mind working overtime as she clutched at whatever remaining hope she could. “You’re right. So maybe there’s still a way to stop him! Perhaps we can find the wings and – I don’t know – steal them back again! After all, we know where they’re going to be! He’ll be rehearsing at the theatre every hour of every day between now and then, won’t he?”
Charley looked alarmed. “Ana, we can’t do that!”
“Why not?” she asked defiantly, the tide of despair that had crept over her the previous evening beginning to recede, excitement taking its place. “He stole them! Why shouldn’t I take them back?”
“Because this isn’t who we are,” Charley said tiredly. “Ana, all this … all this running about, plotting and scheming and adventuring. It’s not who we are.”
“It might not be who you are,” Luciana retorted, determined not to let this chance slip through her fingers. “But it’s who I am. I’ll do it on my own if I have to. You can go back to your nice safe life and be a gardener if you like, but that’s not enough for me.”
Luciana wished she could call her words back again as soon as she had said them, but it was too late.
“All right,” Charley said. “You’re right. I’m the one who doesn’t belong here. I should go back. I’ve probably still got just enough coppers to get myself a ticket.”
Charley turned and left the room just as quietly as he’d spoken. Luciana listened to his footsteps padding softly down the hallway. The silence in her room reigned for a few more minutes as she tried to quell the sick feeling that was bubbling in her stomach.
“You ever stolen anything before?” Ben asked into the quiet a moment later. “Cos it ain’t as easy as people think. And I wouldn’t recommend it if there’s any other way.”
“What other way could there possibly be?”
Ben shrugged. “You know what theatrical types really hate? Being upstaged. What you need to do is to rain on his parade.”
Luciana stared at the paper. She wasn’t listening to Ben. She was listening to the sound of Charley’s footsteps as he left.
*
“He won’t be ready to perform it in a week,” said Clara, as she and Adeline – perfectly made up as Merritt once more – looked at the playbill. “He can’t be. It wouldn’t be safe. The mechanism is broken.”
“Perhaps he knows a way to fix it?” Luciana suggested. “That must be possible, somehow?”
Merritt raised his arms in a shrug that said maybe.
“Well, we have to do something,” Luciana said, determined. “We can steal the devices back.”
“Oh no,” said Clara. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“All right then,” Luciana said. “You stage the trick yourself before he has a chance to perform it. The Saturday before him, say. Upstage him so well that there would be no point in him doing it himself.”
The magician actually laughed at that, although it was entirely silent. He took out a notepad and pen and scribbled for a moment. I told you, he wrote, there was only ever one set of the wings. They took me months to make. What do you expect me to do? Build a new set in less than a week?
“You don’t have the wings any more,” Clara ventured. “But what about my angel?”
Merritt looked up at Clara with a frown, then wrote another note. That’s not the same thing at all.
“Isn’t it?” Clara asked. “As I understand it, it works the same way, or very nearly.”
“The angel?” Luciana asked. “What’s that?”
It’s nothing, wrote the magician, moving away from them both.
“It’s a mechanical wonder,” Clara said. “Merritt made it as a Christmas present for me. A little toy angel about as high as my knee with wings that fold out from its back. I thought of it the minute I saw that broken wing opening. It’s exactly the same principle, isn’t it? The wings are built in the same way. They’re just smaller and a different shape.”
Merritt bit his lip for a moment, then scribbled some more. Yes, it is. But that doesn’t mean I could take them from the angel and use them for this trick. Anyway, the proportions would be wrong. They’d look tiny on you, Clara. And even if it could work, I’d never let you do this trick, not with your fear of heights.
“Then I’ll do it,” said Luciana.
Clara and Merritt both turned to look at her, astonished.
“What?” Clara exclaimed. “Don’t be ridiculous!”
“Why is it ridiculous?” Luciana pressed. “I’m not afraid of heights. I’m not afraid to try. Just imagine the interest it would generate if the granddaughter of the greatest magician in the world were to step on to the stage and recreate his greatest trick, the trick that finished his career. The theatre would be full. Wouldn’t it? No one would give Thursby’s show another thought.”
And then what? Merritt asked. Thursby would be even more incensed.
“So what?” Luciana asked.
The magician shook his head, and continued to write as Luciana watched.
I can’t have him scrutinizing me in any way. You must realize that! In fact, I’d rather he didn’t notice me at all. I’ve been very deliberate in our act – nothing too flashy, nothing too clever or different or new. All because I don’t want Thursby to bother with me. Understand?
“Because he might realize you’re a woman?” Luciana asked.
“Keep your voice down,” Clara hissed.
Adeline stared at her from the face of Adolphus Merritt. Then the magician leaned forward and whispered in Luciana’s ear so quietly she had to strain to hear the words.
“That’s only part of it,” Merritt said seriously. “You don’t know Thursby, Luciana. You don’t know what he’s capable of. What you’re asking me to do – I can’t. It’s too dangerous. I’d be calling Thursby out for the biggest fool in the world, and it wouldn’t just be me in his sights. He’d go out of his way to destroy me and everyone around me.”
“Then fight back,” Luciana said, stepping back. “I don’t understand why nobody stands up to Thursby. And isn’t this a perfect opportunity? I understand that you’re worried about risking your livelihood, I really do. But sooner or later, someone’s going to work out who you really are. If I did, others can too. Why not make it count, instead of just waiting for it to happen? Make it matter. Make it yours. Perform the Golden Butterfly, and then reveal yourself to be Adeline Morrell. How could anyone say a woman can’t perform magic t
hen? You’d have already proved them wrong. Thursby would be finished.”
Merritt shook his head and picked up his pen.
You are asking too much, Luciana.
Luciana’s heart sank, but the magician hadn’t finished writing.
I can’t shed this face, the magician went on. Adolphus Merritt is here to stay. But … if you really aren’t afraid to try the trick yourself… Perhaps we could consider that.
Luciana’s heart leaped. “I’m not. Truly, I’m not.”
Merritt turned away, deep in thought. After a moment he turned back and wrote another note.
We don’t have much time. If we’re to have any hope of succeeding, we’re going to have to start right now.
Clara sighed. “We’ll have to be very careful,” she said. “We’d have to get Ben to keep a note of everyone coming and going. Maybe even ask Mr Phipps to get extra security. Meanwhile,” she said to Luciana, “the first thing you have to do is actually stand on the stage.”
*
Clara led Luciana out into the great cavern that was the stage. The curtains had been lifted and she could see directly out into the auditorium. Seats stretched back into the darkness. The balconies gleamed a dull gold from the lights overhead. Empty, the theatre seemed so much bigger than it had when Luciana herself had sat in the audience.
“Try to imagine it full,” Clara said quietly, into the expansive silence of the place.
Luciana swallowed. “There are so many seats…”
Clara squeezed her shoulder.
Luciana took a deep breath and tried to centre her thoughts, but something was bothering her.
“What did A—” she had to stop herself, almost saying the wrong name. “Adolphus mean, when he said that I didn’t know what Thursby is capable of? Why is he so afraid of him?”
Clara frowned. “I don’t want to scare you. And really, they’re just rumours. No one has ever been able to prove anything.”
“I’d rather know. I’m the one who’s going to be out here, aren’t I?”
The assistant sighed. “All right. Magicians that Thursby doesn’t get on with have a habit of having … unfortunate accidents.”
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