Page 33 of The Midnight Carousel

Laurent is awash with irritation. It is patently obvious that James is making Maisie feel uncomfortable with his attentions.

After depositing her back in her office, he goes looking.

Soon he is meant to interview Beau Armitage’s former accountant.

But he does not care. His single-minded focus is on finding that man.

Laurent marches between the labyrinth of stalls.

He looks at the rear of the catering units and behind rides, coming face to face with the innards of Silver Kingdom.

At the Smugglers’ Saloon, an airless side room is filled with servers changing shift.

‘Who’s gonna join me for a card game at Barnie’s?

’ the pirate who served Laurent calls in a thick American drawl, removing an eye patch.

Nothing is what it seems here. Staff in costume. Fabric ghosts. The mountainous backdrop of Billy Goats Gruff Land made of painted papier maché. Clever lighting disguising the rigging that operates the puppet dragon in the Oriental Paradise ride. A carousel at the centre of a great mystery.

‘Illusion is all distraction.’ Laurent recalls the words of the Great Magician Ronaldo, said with a cryptic air, during their final interview about his business manager’s untimely death by guillotine.

After being released the next day on bail, he was never seen again.

This is what Silver Kingdom is, Laurent decides. One giant magic trick.

Near the dodgems, he asks a group of workers whether they have seen the new groundsman.

These are the silent wheels of Silver Kingdom, Laurent has observed.

With gnarled hands and shoulders as powerful as dray horses, they heave sacks on their shoulders and scale the rides to check the parts. The men exchange glances.

‘The cherry orchard,’ the oldest man answers in a gruff voice, pointing north.

Stealthy as a fox, Laurent cuts a zigzag past row after row of trees. Soon the sound of whistling draws him to a deserted spot beside the lake. He spots James reaching for a handful of sour-cherries with his back turned. Too late, the younger man senses someone approaching, and turns around.

Laurent advances with speed. Taken by surprise, James backs against the gnarly tree trunk. Mutual dislike hangs in the air.

‘I’m Sir Malcolm’s family, so you better step away,’ James warns, his face red.

Laurent fixes James with a stare.

‘I know exactly who you are,’ he responds in a firm voice. ‘The sort to cause a young woman discomfort. It is clear that she wishes you to leave her alone.’

A shadow crosses James’s face. ‘And I know your sort, which is why I have my eye on you,’ he says. ‘I saw it in the army. Officers swanning in and sweeping the local girls off their feet, then leaving them heartbroken when it was time to deploy elsewhere.’

Laurent is momentarily thrown. ‘There is no need to concern yourself with me,’ he says, attempting to hide his uneasiness. ‘Simply leave Maisie in peace.’

With a final cold look, he steps back. James strides off, scowling.

‘Fuck you, Detective,’ he calls over his shoulder, disappearing behind a line of trees. ‘Fuck you!’

Laurent experiences a bloom of shame. It does not take away from the fact that he senses the younger man is a pest to Maisie, but James makes the same point as Madame Rose.

He thought he was doing so well in heeding the fortune-teller’s warning.

He took care not to look at Maisie earlier, merely to engage in pleasant conversation.

Now a troubling comprehension creeps upon him.

Before, when they came upon the Jules Verne ride, he was near enough to feel her body heat, bringing his face close to hers.

This was not to make himself better heard, nor to bring her attention to the figure lurking in the distance, he admits to himself.

No, he had been on the point of kissing Maisie.

Only the sight of James had stopped him.

Laurent resolves to do better. Whatever his own desires, he must tread softly when it comes to Maisie’s feelings.