Page 15 of The Midnight Carousel
With that, he pulls down the lever just as Maisie had shown him; there’s a dull hum followed by the first strains of music. Maisie can feel the children’s excitement building with her own, and she claps as the carousel moves off.
Arnold begins tap-dancing between the horses, treating the platform like a revolving stage.
He grips the poles to perform high kicks, glides across metal, spinning and bouncing on his feet as everyone cheers.
Soon the carousel builds up speed, the images painted on the canopy blurring into streaks of colour.
As Billy’s horse rushes past, Maisie waves, and he smiles.
Tears prickle her eyes as she is taken back to the happy day at Clacton funfair.
As the carousel moves around, the boy disappears from sight, then reappears a few seconds later, disappears, reappears, each time Maisie holding her breath until she spots him.
This time, though, his smile has vanished, and he’s sobbing, barely clinging to the pole. Worried for him, Maisie looks at Mrs Wadham, whose face has turned pale. ‘Can you tell your man to stop the ride?’ she asks Maisie.
Maisie waves at Arnold, trying to attract his attention.
There’s a bright flash: it’s the same lightshow that she and Sir Malcom saw when they rode the carousel.
As though a swarm of fireflies has descended, the underside of the canopy is alight, a kaleidoscope reflecting the patterns on the platform.
A loud cheer follows. The glare is so strong that Maisie shields her eyes.
Seconds later, the ride ends, and a clamour of bright-eyed children spill down the steps like a giant wave.
Rushing with Mrs Wadham to help Billy, Maisie runs past a line of horses.
Seconds later they locate the horse with the golden saddle, but there is no sign of the boy.
After circling the platform three more times, they still can’t find him.
‘Where is he?’ Mrs Wadham asks Maisie, her forehead creased with worry. Without waiting for a response, she rushes from the carousel. ‘Billy!’ she shouts. ‘Billy!’
Maisie stands at the edge of the platform, looking out.
There are around thirty people here, including the children, and everyone has scattered in different directions.
Some have already resumed playing hoopla; others are gathered on picnic rugs.
Maisie can see the Papadopoulos boys heading for the shore with the fish-seller’s sons. But Billy is nowhere.
Her heart races. Mrs Wadham is darting between the groups now, asking around about her little boy. With a growing sense of unease, Maisie joins her.
‘How has no one seen him?’ Mrs Wadham cries when they’ve questioned every person.
The woman is frantic.
‘He must be here somewhere,’ Maisie says, scared now too.
Mrs Wadham is close to tears. Her eyes dart between the lake and a poorly lit area of trees. ‘I need to get my husband. He needs to be here.’
Surely Billy is hiding somewhere, waiting for his big moment to pounce out and scare everyone.
Mrs Wadham ushers her three older children indoors so as to keep an eye on them while she uses the telephone, and Maisie sets off to find him.
Several search parties are formed. Arnold leads the other servants to an overgrown area at the furthest corner of the grounds.
Mrs Papadopoulos is in charge of the large group exploring the shoreline.
Nancy looks distraught, her skin flushed and beaded in sweat.
‘The poor little thing,’ she murmurs, following Mrs Wadham to check inside the house.
‘We’ll find him. We will,’ Maisie can hear people reassure each other.
She starts by crawling under the refreshments table.
After finding no one there, or anywhere around the area where the games are set up, Maisie ends up back at the carousel.
Perhaps Billy returned here. She stands peering at the structure, alert for any movement.
The early-afternoon sun has dipped behind a bank of clouds and the space beneath the canopy is cast in gloom.
Goosebumps crawl along Maisie’s skin. Sitting there with shadows playing on the metalwork, the carousel has lost its joyous sheen, and it now seems sinister. Perhaps it saw where Billy ran off to.
Don’t be silly, she tells herself, the carousel isn’t a person.
She steps on to the platform and heads for the control cylinder, which is the only place left where no one has looked.
Less than three feet in diameter, the small space is empty.
Disappointed, Maisie emerges on to the platform again.
A chill makes her shiver– it feels like she’s being watched.
As she rubs her arms to warm up, there’s a wail from the house.
Groups emerge from different parts of the estate, and soon everyone is moving towards the direction of the sound, with Maisie hitching her dress off the ground and pelting at full speed.
She imagines Billy having slid down the banisters and fallen off, or burned his hand on the gas stove.
She tries to push the idea from her mind as she’s the first to fly through the back door and into the kitchen.
Mrs Wadham is weeping on the shoulder of the worried-looking gentleman Maisie knows to be her husband, the tailor.
He must have been visiting a client nearby to have arrived here so quickly.
Billy’s siblings are sitting quietly at the kitchen table, ashen-faced and holding hands.
Maisie feels terrible for them all. Evidently, someone has telephoned the police because the room is filling up with men in blue uniform.
One approaches Maisie, and the questions start: H ow many guests were invited?
Did you notice anything suspicious? Where were you when Billy disappeared?
Just when Maisie thinks that the situation couldn’t get any worse, Sir Malcolm bursts in, back from his meeting.
She experiences a rush of dread. Her situation in this house is so precarious that the last thing she needs is his witnessing this chaos.
It wouldn’t surprise Maisie if he banished her from the household for bringing such trouble here.
‘What in damnation is going on?’ he demands, his voice like thunder.
Maisie is overcome by a sensation of light-headedness. An image appears, the frightened face of a little boy sobbing as he spins around on the carousel.