Page 61 of The Midnight Carousel

Eric returns Maisie’s coat and holds out an envelope.

‘From Master Hugo.’

She eyes the envelope with suspicion. ‘What is it?’

Eric shrugs.

‘What you wanted, apparently. Master Hugo has made an appointment with that lawyer for Monday to get it signed if the terms are acceptable.’ Eric drops his voice. ‘I don’t know what it all means, don’t need to know, but I wish you the best of luck.’

Trying to contain her excitement, Maisie curls up in an armchair in the living room, looking through the contents as soon as Eric is gone. There’s no note, simply a contract to buy Maisie’s share of Silver Kingdom in exchange for a fair price.

It can’t be coincidence that Hugo’s decision has come hours after Maisie spoke to Nancy. In any event, it’s a relief to know that soon she will be free. After all these years of careful planning, she’s really doing this.

Though the fire crackles in the hearth, Maisie is gripped by the cold, so she retreats to Milo’s bedroom, burrowing under the patchwork eiderdown with him in his little wooden bed.

He smells of wax crayons and sleep. It reminds Maisie of snuggling up to Tommy on freezing winter nights at the shack, their arms around each other and their breath like mist as they whispered secrets about their parents.

My mum’s a ballerina , he would claim, his huge eyes shining.

Well, my mum’s a duchess and she takes tea with a talking dolphin every day , Maisie would reply, and they’d both try not to wake up the Sixpences by giggling.

Maisie feels a tear slip out and she hugs Milo tighter.

Did her mother ever lie with her like this?

Did she ever gaze at her child in adoration, watching her sleep?

Or show any affection? Probably not. The only adult Maisie remembers as being tender was Aunty Mabel.

It felt how Maisie imagines it would feel to bathe in angel kisses when her aunt brushed her hair every morning.

There’s a gentle tap on the front door. If this is Eric with another missive from Hugo, he will need to wait until morning. Maisie is too cosy to get up for anything. Snuggling closer to Milo, she ignores the second knock as well.

Until there is a third. ‘I know you’re in there,’ someone whispers through the letter box.

With a groan, she gives up. She knows exactly who it is.

She opens the door to James, who is leaning on the doorpost. The familiar irritation at seeing him flares up.

They have fallen into a strict arrangement whereby their only interactions take place when care of Milo is being passed between them.

James shouldn’t be here. She moves to close the door, but his foot is lodged in the doorway.

‘There’s something I need to talk to you about,’ he says. ‘It involves Milo. And it’s urgent.’

Maisie’s eyes narrow. She would sooner brave the wild dogs on Canvey Island than let James in, but Milo is her soft spot and she reluctantly relents.

Docile as a lamb, James follows Maisie to the kitchen and sits at the table while she remains standing, her arms folded.

He is twitching, one foot jigging up and down on the spot.

For someone usually brimming with confidence, he’s displaying signs of anxiety that spread to Maisie.

She can’t imagine what’s brought him here at this time of night.

‘So?’ she says, wanting James to say his piece and leave.

He removes a bottle from the inside pocket of his jacket, unscrews the lid and takes a swig. Maisie can’t believe what she’s seeing– and smelling. Moonshine? After everything?

‘Sorry,’ he says, reading the expression on her face.

He replaces the lid and puts away the bottle.

‘It’s been…’ His hands are trembling. ‘There’s been some trouble.

’ His forehead breaks out in a cold sweat.

‘My chum, Maurice, says I can stay with him for a few days but then I need to leave. Permanently.’ He looks Maisie directly in the eye.

‘I want you and Milo to come with me. A fresh start for us.’

Blindsided, Maisie stares at James. Has he lost touch with reality? While she thinks on what to say, she pours a glass of water for him.

‘I’m sure it’s not that bad,’ she replies, deliberately ignoring the statement about leaving with him.

It feels like she’s talking to Milo after he’s cut his knee or can’t find his favourite toy. James produces a cigarette, tapping it on the table and making no attempt to light up. Maisie wonders when he took up smoking.

He sips the water. ‘It’s worse than bad. A shipment of moonshine Freddie and I were transporting from Tennessee got intercepted by the police, and he’s blaming me.’

Getting involved with Freddie Fortescue and his dodgy dealings was always going to lead to trouble, but this isn’t the time for ‘I told you so’.

‘You can’t honestly expect us to go on the run with you,’ she says instead. ‘It wouldn’t be safe for Milo.’

Maisie can see the expression on James’s face harden. He scrapes back the chair and stands up. She’s never seen him like this, and can’t wait for him to leave.

‘Then all I need is my share of Silver Kingdom.’

Maisie is overtaken by a fear that everything she’s worked so hard for is melting away. Does James know she’s selling up? Did Hugo spill the beans?

‘ Your share?’ she replies, trying to keep her voice down in case Milo hears through the wall. ‘Silver Kingdom has nothing to do with you.’

His face turns scarlet. ‘But, darling, we’re still married, so what’s yours is mine,’ he says. ‘I’ll settle for half of whatever savings you have lying about.’ His eyes roam the room. ‘Where do you keep your cash these days?’

Safe in a bank, since that night she handed the box of money to him, Maisie refrains from saying.

‘No, James, that’s not how it works, by law. Sir Malcolm gave Silver Kingdom to me, and I’ve built its success. Even if we divorced, I get to keep my inheritance.’

He looks like he’s been slapped. Clearly, this was James back to his old trick of trying to part Maisie from her money, not knowing that she had consulted Mr Peabody on her marital rights within days of the separation. As he absorbs this information, James scowls.

‘And he should have given it to me ,’ he hisses. ‘ I was his family. I should have gone to America with him, not you. A court might say you stole that inheritance.’

Maisie’s mouth dries. Has James secretly resented her all these years?

‘Then take me to that court if you think you’ll see one cent of what you believe is yours.’

She has no idea what would happen if he did, but the overwhelming need to safeguard her child’s best interests has imbued Maisie with an impulsive ferocity.

Before she can react, James has made up the distance between them.

He grabs her wrists and is pulling her out of the kitchen and along the hallway.

She represses the instinct to scream, more terrified by the possibility that her son might wake up than by what might happen to her.

As James reaches the front door, Maisie tries to break free, but his bulk is too strong, and she finds herself bundled outside.

Shadows dance across the little garden surrounding the cottage, and out on the lake the surface is shiny black, as though a shoal of mackerel have risen from the depths.

Maisie looks back helplessly as James grips her arms and pushes her through the picket gate and out into Silver Kingdom.

All she can think about is that Milo is alone inside.

‘James, our son needs us,’ she says in a quiet voice, wanting him to release his grip and let her return to the cottage.

She hopes that appearing calm and talking about Milo will soothe James sufficiently for him to come to his senses.

He shoves Maisie forward, passing the rollercoaster and several food stalls.

Rides that offer so much enjoyment in the day are silent witnesses to James’s roughness now.

When he reaches the heart of Silver Kingdom, he manhandles Maisie up the steps to the carousel platform.

‘Why are we here?’ she asks, feeling increasingly fearful.

James snakes between watchful horses until they arrive at the central cylinder.

‘This bloody machine,’ he hisses. ‘You’ve always cared more about it than you ever have about me. We’d still be together if it didn’t exist.’

While Maisie admits to feeling a strong connection to the carousel, James is talking about this collection of metal and painted wood as if it were her lover. If she wasn’t so frightened, she would laugh at his jealousy of it.

With one hand keeping her held still, he uses the other to open a flap and begin pulling at wires.

Orange sparks fly and there’s clunking. As Maisie struggles to push him away from the mechanism, he pins her against the cylinder, his full weight crushing the air from her lungs.

She can’t breathe, can’t focus. Without thinking, she wrenches an arm free and reaches inside the cylinder for the chisel she once used to lever the music box into place.

James must feel a sharp blade against his neck because his eyes widen and he jumps back.

‘You’d really hurt me for this machine?’ he spits.

Maisie doesn’t know what she’d do if it came to it, but she daren’t lower the chisel now in case he lunges at her.

‘To protect myself,’ she says, advancing another step.

They half circle the platform like this, Maisie taking one step forward for every step James takes back.

His eyes are wild, and she is beginning to panic about how they will resolve this stalemate, when there are pounding footsteps, a vibration across metal.

Lucky Nate approaches followed by the rest of the Crew, the huge hulk of their figures stopping only feet away.

They must have heard noises of a struggle.

‘Fine evening for a stroll, ma’am,’ he says, tipping his hat at Maisie.

Both James and Maisie are silent, caught in the act. The men look between each other before forming a circle, their arms folded. Lucky Nate is nearest to Maisie.

‘You’re safe now,’ he says softly in her ear.

He places one hand on her shoulder and takes the chisel. James takes his chance to scrabble down the carousel steps. He kicks the platform, then runs off into the darkness.

‘Goodbye, James,’ Maisie shouts, trying to sound brave.

Shaking, she collapses against Lucky Nate. It will be all right. It will be all right. She is leaving soon.