Page 70 of The Midnight Carousel
As Maisie catches the streetcar from Laurent’s hotel, she feels giddy.
For a change, she lets herself revel in the excitement.
Over the next few days, they will discuss solid plans for her move to Paris, and Laurent will spend some time with Milo.
She considers how to tell her son about his father’s death.
It’s all so tragic. If James wasn’t so desperately driven to be something more, if he hadn’t delayed escaping to come for Maisie, he would still be alive.
Sorry, so sorry. Despite everything, Maisie experiences a sorrow that James’s dreams were cut short at the age of twenty-eight, while she has the rest of her life to enjoy.
With the park closed to visitors, Maisie is the solo passenger by the time the streetcar stops at Silver Kingdom.
Her main purpose in being here is to sift through the wreckage for any surviving possessions; even before she reaches the gates, the stench of smoke is a clue that the task will prove fruitless.
Nevertheless, she treads carefully through the ruins, heading for the cottage’s red-brick chimney, which rises as the only surviving structure like a beacon.
The cottage itself has been razed to the ground, as has the amusement park, with the rides little more than black mounds sitting amongst a landscape of utter devastation.
Ash piled upon ash hides further layers of ash.
After twenty minutes of digging through and recovering only a melted fork, three partial chair legs and a cracked earthenware pot, Maisie gives up and wanders towards the shore.
Removing her shoes, she embarks on her second reason for coming here.
She takes an empty jar from her purse and wades into the shallows.
It’s bitterly cold, but she pushes deeper for her son’s sake.
Sticking her hand in the mud and rummaging around, she finds a plump lamprey.
She places it into the jar with water before returning to the bank.
There, Milo will never know the difference from the first Mr Arnie.
A lone figure has appeared, her long, scarlet dress flapping in the breeze scuttling across the lake. Before, Maisie would have made her excuses and left, but she owes this woman her life.
‘Thank you for bringing me to my senses,’ she says to Madame Rose, as she replaces her shoes. ‘It was lucky for me that you came along when you did.’
The fortune-teller cocks her head slightly as if she’s considering a curious question. ‘Luck? Or destiny?’
Maisie gives a weary smile. She doesn’t know why she was expecting anything more than a cryptic answer.
‘I’m not sure I really believe in either,’ she admits.
‘Oh, I don’t know about that. Those little stones you lay around Silver Kingdom would say otherwise.’
Maisie blushes. She had no idea anyone else even noticed. ‘People would think I’d lost my mind if they knew.’
Madame Rose laughs as if she’s quite accustomed to the feeling.
She links arms with Maisie as though the two of them are close friends.
They head towards the tennis court, where a large group is gathering.
The workers have arrived, most probably to demand answers from Hugo about the future.
Feeling terrible for them, Maisie wants to start helping out immediately.
It’s slow progress through the debris. Passing the remnants of the helter-skelter, and a lump of wood where the doughnut stall once stood, Maisie can’t help remembering all the happy times here.
Madame Rose stops by a circle of warped metal, staring into space.
Maisie looks away. This is the wreckage of the carousel.
‘Did you ever sense what happened?’ Maisie asks. ‘Is that why you told me that I wasn’t ready for the answer?’
Madame Rose smiles kindly at Maisie. ‘I believed you knew what happened. You see things, sense things not everyone does, but you hold yourself back.’
Maisie’s eyes flick briefly to the carousel, and back again to Madame Rose’s smiling face, her thoughts focused on what possessed her even to think about mounting a burning horse.
‘Trust it,’ she tells Maisie. ‘That’s what makes you different.’
Maisie thinks of all the people she’s ever known in her life.
‘Isn’t everyone different? Which really makes us all the same.’
Madame Rose grins in answer, her teeth gleaming.
They reach the tennis court. The clamour from the workforce is deafening, and Maisie can barely hear as Madame Rose whispers in her ear, ‘Best of luck with your new life.’
Maisie wants to ask more questions, glean as much information as she can from this all-knowing woman, but Madame Rose has already drifted into the crowd, like flotsam taken away by the tide.
It quickly becomes apparent that no one has seen Hugo since yesterday evening.
People are panicking, and there are worried faces.
She can hear Mrs Ferretti wailing. Betsy the Money Girl is sobbing on the shoulder of one of the pirates from the Smugglers’ Saloon.
‘I’ve lost everything,’ someone says, and there’s a chorus of agreement.
Their distress is distressing to Maisie.
The noise dies down to a murmur as Maisie is noticed. Mr Parry nudges Mr Melville. Arnold and Mr Levander exchange thankful looks. There’s now a little hope in the eyes of the workforce. Evidently, they all trust Maisie to get this right. Hesitating, she catches Lucky Nate’s eye. He nods.
‘All right, listen up, everyone. Here’s what we’re going to do.’