Page 39 of The Midnight Carousel
Nursing a glass of wine, Maisie tries to block out the joyful sounds of the amusement park.
In the ten days since Laurent has been gone, she’s steered clear of Silver Kingdom during opening hours.
Being confronted by the sight of lovers strolling arm in arm, or mothers holding the hands of their children, would be too much to bear.
Instead, Maisie inspects the park late in the evening.
She has decided to do the paperwork in the parlour for the time being, and has transferred the necessary business files from the office near the ticket booth to the house.
The workforce know either to see her in the parlour or, better yet, to speak to the Randolph brothers if they need help.
So far, there’s been nothing more taxing than organizing another print run of entrance tickets, ordering a gallon of oil for Mrs Ferretti’s dodgems and looking over the accounts, which is just as well, because it’s been difficult to concentrate.
Consuming thoughts repeat in Maisie’s mind like a stuck gramophone record.
Will I always be angry? Why did my parents leave? Why did Laurent kiss me?
That moment felt as if she were dancing with him on the edge of the universe, gliding past stars. It clearly meant less to Laurent, at least not enough for him even to have told Maisie that he had a wife.
A restless ache makes Maisie want to scream, tear her hair out, rage.
But she holds herself in check to avoid alarming the staff.
Ever since her outburst after reading Laurent’s letters, all the servants have been keeping an eye on her: Peggy Mae bakes cookies for her; Clara brings in magazines; Eric tidies her papers; and Arnold visits every night to reassure Maisie that he’s still keeping Silver Kingdom’s customers away from the caramel-coloured horse.
It felt like a wound was being ripped open when she learnt from Hugo one week ago about Beau Armitage’s release.
Bumping into him outside the parlour, he’d explained that the Bureau didn’t believe the alibi provided by some married woman, who had claimed she was with him that day and late into the night, so they wouldn’t be looking for anyone else.
Still, Maisie was horrified: an abductor remains out there, whether it’s Beau or not.
Or there’s more to the disappearances than meets the eye.
Maisie is no nearer to explaining her strange experience on the ride.
Hugo must have noticed her expression, because he’d added, ‘It’s fine, Maisie. Mr Armitage is moving to Los Angeles to get away from it all. And the authorities there will keep an eye on him, let the Bureau know if he returns to Chicago, so he’s prevented from coming back to the park.’
Sir Malcolm was equally relaxed about the news when Maisie had questioned him over dinner later, brushing away her concerns with a wave of his hand. That night, Maisie spent thirty minutes laying stones near the carousel to ward off another disappearance.
Draining her glass, she glances at the drinks ranged on the chest of drawers: that was the last of the white wine and red makes Maisie feel worse. Careful to keep on the right side of tipsy during working hours, she saves the bourbon, gin and brandy for the evening to fully anaesthetize the pain.
She heads for the drawing room, where she hopes to procure a bottle of Chablis.
‘Nice to see you, Maisie.’
The voice makes her jump. Turning around, she’s taken aback to see James standing in the doorway of the study, dressed in a full set of tails, complete with a white bow tie.
‘Aren’t you a little overdressed for gardening?’ she asks.
He looks amused. ‘Didn’t you hear? I’ve found a permanent job.
Arnold’s cousin works at a jazz club and they had an opening there.
Gus, the owner, couldn’t wait to snap me up once he’d read my résumé,’ he claims, not even trying to disguise the pride in his voice.
He holds out a small package. ‘I’m on my way there now.
I only stopped by to bring Sir Malcolm a thank-you gift for helping me out when I first arrived, but I can’t find him. ’
She’s astonished that no one thought to mention it.
Then again, the focus of her discussions with Arnold has been the carousel, and Sir Malcolm hasn’t been himself lately.
Thinking back to her nightly dinners with him since Laurent left, Maisie now realizes that they’ve spoken less and less each night, both lost in their own thoughts.
It makes James’s news a pleasant surprise– at least he won’t be hovering around Silver Kingdom any more.
‘Sir Malcolm is probably dealing with a problem in the park. Just leave the gift on the console table, and he’ll see it when he comes in.’
From her position near the staircase, Maisie spies a bottle of champagne through the open door of the drawing room. A couple of glasses should prove sufficiently strong to blur her thoughts for the next few hours.
‘You look like you need cheering up,’ James says, as though he can see into her mind. ‘And I know just the thing. Come along to the jazz club. It’s my night off tomorrow, and I can show you around the place.’
Maisie frowns. ‘No, thank you, I’m busy,’ she lies.
‘Oh, come on, it’ll do you good,’ he insists. ‘Don’t you fancy a few hours of fun with a friend?’
She hesitates. James is pushy and arrogant and she doesn’t consider him as anything more than a vague acquaintance.
But, with Laurent gone, Maisie feels so desperately alone that she finds herself tempted by any chance of companionship.
Although she is on good terms with the servants, ultimately, they are still staff and, therefore, duty-bound to be courteous to her.
As a result, she doesn’t feel it’s fair to burden them with her confidences.
‘All right,’ she agrees, hoping to flush the detective from her mind.