Behind them, the crowd were growing impatient once more. The foot-stamping and yelling had begun again. Thursby curled his lip.
“You think any one of those degenerates out there would believe that any of these illusions could have been devised by a woman any more than I can? You stole them, each and every one. It is the only explanation. And moreover –” he continued, as Adeline made as if to speak – “I offer you this choice. Retire from the stage tonight and hand over every mechanism you have appropriated to me, or be exposed and bear the consequences of your repulsive subterfuge. I’ll give you a moment or so to make your decision.” He walked away, going back to his seat.
Adeline and Clara looked at each other.
“No!” Luciana cried. “You can’t do it. You can’t even contemplate it! You can’t let him win!”
At that moment, Mr Phipps appeared, as red-faced as ever. “What’s the hold-up?” He asked. “Your public awaits you, sir! You must go to them at once!
Adeline looked at Clara for another moment. Then she turned to Luciana. “Where is your deck of cards?”
“In my bag,” Luciana said, confused.
“Get them.”
“Wait a minute,” said Mr Phipps, registering Adeline’s voice beneath Merritt’s make-up. “What—”
“Can you use them even with your bad hand?” Charley asked.
Luciana flexed her sore fingers. “I can try.”
Adeline turned to Mr Phipps. “Sir,” she said. “You and every audience member out there are about to witness a first for the stage, in this very theatre.”
“Ahh,” said Mr Phipps. “Will it make me money or turn me bankrupt?”
“Neither, Mr Phipps, though I wager it will make this place the talk of the town.”
The theatre owner beamed. “Well then, I say have at it!”
“All right,” said Adeline, turning to the others with a deep breath. “Once more then. Clara, Luciana – watch from the wings. You’ll know when to follow my lead.”
And with that, Adolphus Merritt walked back on to the stage, alone.
The audience cheered as Merritt appeared again. The magician walked to the centre of the stage, right above where Thursby himself sat. Merritt held up his hands for silence and the cheers subsided. A murmur rippled around the audience instead as they realized that the silent magician was actually about to speak.
The figure on stage took a deep breath.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” began Adeline Morrell in her clearest voice. “Please, I pray your attention for just a few moments more.”
At the sound of her voice, an astonished hush fell over the audience.
“I believe I am right in saying that many people here tonight have enjoyed the performance,” Adeline went on. “However, there is something you don’t know. I am not quite what I seem.”
As she spoke, a murmur rose again.
“I solemnly swear that each and every trick you have seen tonight has been my doing. And yet Mr Carl Thursby – he is seated here, right in front of me – has decreed that this cannot be so. He has also decreed that I must hand over all of the secrets of my tricks to him, so that he might add them to his own repertoire instead.”
Luciana was watching Thursby when Adeline said this. He spluttered and went to stand up to protest, but the magicians on either side of him held him back.
“So,” the magician on stage continued, over the growing muttering of the audience, “I thought that the thing to do is break my silence and reveal my true self.”
And with that, Adolphus Merritt reached up and pulled off his false nose to reveal the face of Adeline Morrell.
There was a moment of silence.
“You see,” rang Adeline’s voice into the audience. “The Grand Society of Magicians – Mr Thursby in particular – does not believe that women can perform magic. And yet all of you have witnessed not one but three women doing just that all evening. The first is myself, Adeline Morrell. The second was my assistant, Clara Smith. Here she is.”
With that, Adeline waved her wand at a point on the stage. There was a bang and a shower of sparks. The audience gasped as they cleared to reveal Clara, who took a flourishing bow, right in Thursby’s direction.
“The third was Luciana Cattaneo, adopted granddaughter of Marko Cattaneo – the Magnificent Marko, and … my daughter, of whom I am very proud. Ladies and gentlemen: the Golden Butterfly.”
Adeline raised her hands, spreading them out towards where Luciana stood, thunderstruck at this introduction. Charley grasped her shoulder.
“Go on,” he said in her ear. “And don’t forget to show them that you can use the cards!” He gave her a gentle push and Luciana found herself walking out on to the stage.
Luciana fed the cards from hand to hand as she walked towards Adeline Morrell, who was watching her with a smile. Luciana played with the deck, thinking back to how she had seen the Magnificent Marko perform with them himself. She threw them in the air and collected them back together again with ease. She held up the ace of hearts to the audience, then showed them how she’d put it back into the pack before reaching over and producing it from Adeline’s ear.
Adeline turned and with a large, looping circle of her wrist, pointed her wand at Clara, who began to lift into the air, until, with another flick of the magician’s wrist, she hovered about four feet from the ground, without a single trace of fear on her smiling face.
“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” Adeline called loudly to the audience, “do you think that women can perform magic or not?”
There was a second of utter silence and then a loud whistle and a whooping cheer exploded from two seats up in the gods. Luciana looked up to see Timothy Fervent on his feet, grinning, waving and hollering. Then someone else stood up and started clapping, and Luciana realized that it was Isabella Cattaneo. Her grandmother stood on the balcony, applauding, with Charley’s mother on her feet at her side.
Then another pair of hands joined the ovation, then another. The noise spread as more and more people stood up and cheered. In just a few moments the whole place was on its feet.
Carl Thursby stood too, but only to push his way out of his row. Philpot Danvers scurried after him as he stormed out of the auditorium. The rest of the Society members, though, were clapping along with the audience. One of them walked towards the stage and climbed on to it. His coat tails flapped a little in the breeze from backstage as he approached Adeline with a warm smile.
“Tobias Creases, at your service, madam,” he said. “May I please address your audience?”
Adeline gestured to the audience. “Please do.”
Mr Creases moved to the front of the stage and held up his hands for silence.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I am Tobias Creases, Deputy Master of the Grand Society of Magicians and I think I can say with some confidence that in the near future I may just be receiving a promotion. I believe that I can also say, on behalf of the Society, that we have seen an extraordinary level of talent here this evening. And, in recognition of this, the Grand Society will happily grant an exception in this case and admit each of you as full – women – members.”
He concluded his speech with a beaming smile. The audience erupted in applause once again, and Mr Phipps, standing at one side of the stage, gave an ecstatic thumbs up. Adeline, though, looked at Luciana and Clara.
“What do you think?” she asked them both quietly, as the noise died down.
“An exception?” Clara repeated.
“In this case?” Luciana added.
Adeline smiled. “That’s what I heard.”
Clara shook her head. “No,” she said.
“It wouldn’t be right,” agreed Luciana.
Adeline nodded. “All right. Luciana – why don’t you tell them?”
Luciana took a deep breath and turned to the audience and Mr Creases.
“We appreciate the offer, but no thank you.”
A whisper rushed through the crowd. The magicia
ns in the front row looked at each other, perplexed. Tobias Creases looked shocked beyond belief.
“‘No thank you’?” he repeated. “You – all of you – are saying … no?”
“We can’t be the only women magicians,” said Adeline. “There will be others. There should be others. But you said we’d be the exception in your society. And that’s not right. So unless you let any woman who wants to be a magician join – then thank you, but no thank you.”
“Let any woman magician join?” Creases spluttered. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’d be overrun with absurdity. They’d want to paint the dining room pink. They’d clutter up the place with lace and babies. It would be the end of magic as we know it.”
“No,” said Luciana. “It would be a change, not an end. Everything changes, but that does not mean that everything ends. Like a butterfly, coming out of its cocoon. It would be a new age, that’s all, a new age of magic. Perhaps it would even save the profession. After all, it hasn’t been doing so well of late, has it?”
“Well said, my dear,” said Adeline. “In fact, Mr Creases, I am not so sure we need you at all.”
Creases’ face had turned a livid shade of purple. “Why, of all the ungrateful—”
“Grateful? To you?” Clara said, her voice indignant. “Why on earth should we be grateful? Are you somehow under the impression that we exist because of something you did?”
Creases continued to cough and splutter. “You’ll never make it work. No one will want to see a show comprised entirely of women!”
“Why not?” Adeline asked dryly. “They’ve watched plenty comprised only of men.”
“But how will it work?” fretted Mr Phipps, his champagne glass quivering in one anxious hand. “I’ll be bankrupt! If I let you stay on the stage unlicensed, the Society will blacklist me! I’ll never get another act again.”
They were all in Adeline’s dressing room. Outside, Ben was attempting to control the stream of Stage Door Johnnies that were all desperate to meet the one and only Adeline Morrell. Well-wishers, ill-wishers, autograph-hunters, journalists – they all wanted to get in to see the woman magician in person and at close quarters. Ben, poor boy, had been told that no one should be allowed in. Charley had slipped out and found Timothy Fervent, bringing him back through the theatre and backstage to join the party.
“Oh, you’ll have plenty of people coming along, don’t you worry!” Fervent said. “It’s the best show I’ve seen since the Magnificent Marko and that’s no word of a lie.”
“That is praise indeed,” said Adeline with irony, tying off the bandage she had been fastening over Luciana’s burn. It was, thankfully, not as bad as they had first supposed.
“Eh, it were a shocker though, seeing you rip that nose off your face,” Fervent went on, still excited. “I’d seen you close up and had no idea!”
There was a knock at the door.
“I said no admittance!” Adeline called.
“I thought you might make an exception for me,” called back a familiar voice, and the door was pushed open to reveal Isabella Cattaneo.
Luciana leaped up from her seat. “Grandmother!”
Isabella’s face was stern, but her eyes were twinkling. “Champagne? How lovely.”
There was a second of silence and then Adeline said, “Please come in. I shall get you a glass.”
“Thank you for coming,” Luciana said, wanting to hug her but unsure whether she should. “I didn’t think you would.”
Isabella cupped Luciana’s face in both hands. “My darling girl, I would not have missed it for the world. Your grandfather, God rest his soul, would have been so proud.”
Tears filled Luciana’s eyes. She blinked them away. “Do you really think so?”
“Oh, I know so. He would have loved every second – but especially the Golden Butterfly and what happened at the end. You were all marvellous.”
It wasn’t until she let go of it that Luciana realized she’d been holding her breath. They sat down and Adeline, also smiling, handed Isabella champagne. Isabella nodded her thanks as she took it.
“You’re hurt,” said Isabella, seeing Luciana’s bandage.
“It’s nothing. I can’t even feel it.”
Isabella shook her head. “It’s hard, isn’t it?” she said. “A life on the stage.”
Luciana grinned. “Worth it though.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” said Mr Phipps. “But I really am worried about this, you see. You are all, as Mrs Cattaneo put it, marvellous. But you can’t fill my stage indefinitely, can you? And if I can no longer get magicians to play here, what am I to do? Magic is going to be the only thing anyone wants to see on the stage for a very long time now.”
“It seems to me,” said Isabella, “that Weston’s could make quite a name for itself as the home of female magicians. As Luciana said – these three can’t be the only ones.”
“But how to find them?” Clara asked. “They’ll either have spent years hiding what they know or they won’t be trained – they’ll have the inclination but no skill.”
“We should start a school,” said Luciana. “We could train girls like me who want to be magicians.”
“What a fantastic idea,” Clara said. “We can start our own society.”
“Yes,” said Luciana, excitement growing. “It would be for anyone who wanted to learn how to create magic of their own one day, no matter who they were or where they came from!”
Adeline looked thoughtful. “It’s a nice idea,” she said. “And it would ensure you’d never have to worry about the Society again, Mr Phipps. But a place like that – we’d need space. Places for the students to stay, room to train in a safe environment. Could we use the theatre for that?”
Mr Phipps looked uncomfortable. “I like the idea too, but this place has to earn money. The rent alone would put me out of business in a month.”
“It sounds to me,” said Isabella Cattaneo, “as if you need a house for this school of yours. Somewhere with plenty of rooms. Somewhere that isn’t really being used properly at the moment. Somewhere … like our house in Midford.”
Luciana gasped and threw her arms round her grandmother’s neck. “Oh! Would you let us? Really?”
Mrs Cattaneo laughed. “Oh, my dear. How could I visit your grandfather’s grave with a clear conscience ever again if I did not? Besides,” she added, looking up at Adeline as Luciana pulled back, “this is all the family I have. Perhaps it is time to get to know it better.”
*
Later that evening, once the hubbub outside had died down, Luciana and Charley saw Isabella and Agnes to their hotel and then walked along the river back towards the theatre. The lights of London were in full force beneath a sky full of stars.
“Will you still stay in London?” Luciana asked.
Charley considered. “I don’t know,” he said. “It depends. I was thinking that you’d probably need a fulltime housekeeper for this school of yours.”
“A housekeeper?” Luciana laughed. “You?”
He shrugged. “Well, maybe just a sort of housekeeper. One that climbs up into the rafters of theatres and operates winches from time to time.”
They laughed together until Luciana sighed. “None of this would have been possible without you,” she said. “You stuck by me every step of the way, even when it was difficult.”
Charley smiled. “Well,” he said. “Every good magician needs a good assistant.” He grabbed her arm, pointing up at the star-littered sky. “Look! A shooting star!”
Luciana looked up just in time to see the last streak of light as it vanished from view, lost to the vastness of the universe. She knew from her lessons that the star itself was long gone, and yet here was its light, still burning through the night sky. It made her think of Marko’s words.
Everything changes, but that does not mean that everything ends.
Luciana smiled. Tonight was a new beginning, and she couldn’t wait for the future to start.
As always
, huge thanks to my wonderful agent Ella Kahn at DKW and my editor at Stripes, Ruth Bennett, for first seeing the potential in Luciana’s story and then shepherding me through the writing and editing process. The beautiful cover is the genius work of Pip Johnson, to whom I am very grateful. Thanks also to everyone at Stripes who work so hard to polish, publicise and market these books, particularly Charlie Morris, Lauren Ace and Ella Whiddett. Last but never least, thanks to my ever patient and forever supportive husband Adam Newell. You are far more than I deserve.
Author Biography
Sharon Gosling’s first middle-grade book, The Diamond Thief, won the Redbridge Children’s Book Award in 2014. Her young-adult horror title, Fir, published by Stripes, was shortlisted for Lancashire Book of the Year 2017. She also writes books and articles about television and film, and has written, produced and directed audio dramas. Sharon lives in a small village near Carlisle, in Cumbria.
@SharonGosling
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING LIMITED
An imprint of The Little Tiger Group
1 Coda Studios, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing Limited in 2019.
Text copyright © Sharon Gosling, 2019
eISBN: 978–1–78895–119–7
The right of Sharon Gosling to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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