Page 34 of The Midnight Carousel
A car screeches up the driveway, spitting gravel.
Maisie watches from the parlour window as Hugo leaps from the driver’s side, runs around to help his wife out and disappears indoors, calling for Sir Malcolm.
She wasn’t aware that the Randolphs were visiting today, but since Silver Kingdom reopened Hugo has become a regular visitor again, sometimes dropping in unannounced.
Occasionally, he’s accompanied by Nancy, but only if she isn’t busy shopping or lunching with friends.
Perhaps Hugo is here to talk to Sir Malcolm about the business once more.
Their only topic of conversation is how to recoup the money from the short time that Silver Kingdom was forced to close.
Maisie can tell that the matter causes Sir Malcolm considerable anxiety, because for the past few nights he’s been back to barely sleeping, banging about downstairs until the early hours.
With the visitors reaching ever greater numbers, day on day, Maisie hopes that soon they won’t have to worry so much.
She waits for Nancy to enter the house and start bossing everyone about, more wary than ever after the woman’s overbearing behaviour at the dinner party.
It comes as a shock, then, to observe that Nancy is the polar opposite today. She stands silent in the driveway, staring at the sky, dressed in a lacy cream shift that could pass as a nightdress. She appears altogether less colourful, as though she’s been wrung out. What has happened to her?
‘Would you like a drink, Nancy?’ Maisie asks, going outside.
As though she hasn’t heard the question, Nancy looks around and gives the trace of a smile, but her eyes hold a vacant look. Pity tugs at Maisie’s heart.
‘Perhaps a lemonade on the patio?’ Maisie continues. ‘It’ll be nice to talk.’
Nancy lets Maisie take her by the arm and lead her slowly, first to the kitchen to collect refreshments, and then to a bench outside the drawing-room windows overlooking the shore.
It’s clear that she’s under the influence of some sort of medication.
This must be the tonic Hugo was referring to on the day Clementine Pickford disappeared.
Maisie has seen the full-page advertisements for barbital in newspapers.
The lake gleams like a pearl in the early-morning sun, lapping gently. Maisie sits sipping pink lemonade, watching the dance of light form patterns on the surface while Nancy gazes into space.
‘Dr Carlton thinks I should stop trying for a child because the next miscarriage might kill me.’
Nancy’s voice makes Maisie jump. Croaky and soft, it sounds like it’s been lying dormant for years.
Maisie doesn’t like to point out that the doctor could be right.
She’s heard countless stories of women bleeding to death in childbirth– from the servants muttering amongst themselves, to obituaries in the Chicago Tribune .
‘And what do you think?’
Nancy looks taken aback, as if no one has ever sought her opinion about her own body.
‘I think…’ she says, her voice a little stronger. ‘I think I don’t care about dying if there’s even the smallest chance of having a baby. I would see it as a good thing to bring another life into the world.’
It’s Maisie’s turn to look surprised, because she hasn’t given much thought to having children of her own.
Even marriage doesn’t hold a particular interest for her, and Sir Malcolm has never mentioned the subject.
She supposes it will not only be expected of her one day, but it might be necessary if something happens to him.
The question she has repeatedly asked herself over the years pops up again: what would become of her without a male protector?
Unintentionally, her mind wanders to Laurent.
His kindness makes Maisie feel safe, and being treated like an adult by him is making her start to feel like one.
She feels a stirring inside. His grey eyes are hypnotic: the colour of storm clouds, with the same power behind them.
The way they gaze without guile makes Maisie believe that their sole purpose is to absorb everything about her– and, truthfully, she likes it.
No, she can’t get her hopes up. They haven’t even kissed, and he is leaving in less than a week.
‘It’s not something I ever really think about,’ Maisie admits quietly.
Nancy’s glazed expression focuses on Maisie for a moment before drifting towards the lake.
‘But having children is why we’re here, as women. What else are we, what’s our point, if we aren’t mothers?’
Nancy asks this question as though she’s never considered anything else.
‘We could have jobs, fulfilling lives anyway, couldn’t we?’ Maisie asks.
She thinks back to her own restlessness to do something with her life, and Laurent’s belief that Silver Kingdom is dependent on her. After the lock-up, Maisie believed she might never again find joy in helping to run the park, but that’s beginning to change.
A long silence follows before Nancy speaks again.
‘Do you think Hugo will be very upset if he never has an heir? He hasn’t really said.’
It occurs to Maisie that Hugo becomes less easy-going and more uptight every time she sees him.
On the fateful day Mary Pickford visited Silver Kingdom, he had kept a watchful eye on his wife, and then, at last week’s dinner party, Maisie noticed his jaw flexing at some of Nancy’s comments.
She casts her mind back to the telephone conversations she overheard, when Sir Malcolm consoled his brother, reassuring him that everything would be fine.
‘I’m sure he’s more worried about you,’ she replies.
‘Yes, sometimes I worry about me too.’
It’s a strange thing to hear from someone who is usually so sparky.
‘What I wouldn’t give to at least hold one of them,’ Nancy continues, as though she hasn’t registered Maisie’s lack of response. ‘It’s not asking for a lot.’
It makes Maisie think of her own mother, denied the chance of seeing her daughter grow up. In this moment, she understands Nancy’s pain with all her heart, shares her loneliness. For all her wealth, this glamorous woman ultimately lives as small a life as Maisie.
Nancy reaches out and takes Maisie’s hand.
As the two women sit side by side, Maisie’s thoughts circle around to the mothers of the missing children. Billy’s mother. Clementine’s mother. What suffering they must have endured. If only she could make everything better by bringing their children back one day.