The Midnight Carnival (12 page)

‘Got something!’ Rachel said, half-buried at the bottom of the wardrobe.

She pulled out a bundle of grey cloth, carefully tied with string. Grace held her breath as Rachel pulled open the bow and unwrapped the cloth. Inside was an ornament of deep red wood, carved with such intricate figures Grace barely thought it was possible. It was about the size of her fist, but had ten or more delicate engravings – people cooking fish over an open fire, hiking up a mountain trail, sitting on an outcrop by the sea.

‘That’s gorgeous,’ she breathed.

‘But you couldn’t call it a doll,’ said Rachel.

‘No. Maybe he didn’t give the doll to Agata after all.’

Grace caught the sudden scent of cigar smoke and sprang
upright. The trailer door stood a few inches ajar, but she couldn’t see outside. She silently urged Rachel to re-wrap the ornament and tuck it back into the wardrobe, then crept to the door with her finger on her lips.

‘Good evening, little witches.’

Grace froze. The voice came from right outside. In the silence that followed she could see dust settling in the shaft of evening light that filled the narrow gap in the doorway. The voice sounded again.

‘Let’s not pretend we’re not aware of each other, shall we?’

There was a slow creak and the door swung outwards.

His eyes were shaded by the large brim of his hat and his dark trench coat made him seem taller up close. One hand brought a skinny cigar to his mouth. He exhaled slowly, smiling with immaculate, white teeth.

‘Poor Agata,’ he said. ‘Little does she know, as she works so hard in the ring, that her belongings are being picked over and scrutinised.’

In spite of her fear, Grace blushed in shame.

‘Steel your nerves, witch,’ the man said. ‘I’ll keep your dirty, little secret.’

He took one more puff of his cigar, smiled, and walked away.

‘How did he know we’re witches?’ Una gasped.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Grace. ‘But I think Justine was right. We shouldn’t have crossed the doctor.’

Grace, shoulders hunched, strode down Brooke Road. She was on the way to see Ms Lemon, and she hoped she was doing the right thing.

The teacher lived in a small, quiet apartment. Grace held the door for an old woman shuffling through with a little grocery cart, then bounded up the stairs. Ms Lemon did not look surprised to see Grace on her doorstep.

‘Come in,’ she said, and went off to boil the kettle.

Grace had been in the apartment once before; it was very small, but prettily decorated, and had a lovely view of the river from the sitting room. Now she stood against the arm of the sofa; she was too anxious to sit. She declined the offered cup of tea but, before she could speak, Ms Lemon did.

‘I know what this is about. Vera called me. Poor Jenny must be very upset.’

‘She is,’ replied Grace. ‘We all are. We’re a group, we stick together. So how could she expel one of us from the class? Mrs Quinlan’s being totally unreasonable.’

‘Not totally,’ Ms Lemon sighed. ‘Jenny can be very disruptive.’

‘She speaks her mind, Miss.’

‘It’s more than that. She’s disobedient.’

Grace looked at the teacher in surprise.

‘You agree with Mrs Quinlan. About keeping Jenny out.’

‘Not entirely, no. But… it is Vera’s class. It’s her decision.’

‘Okay, but Jenny can still come to
your
lessons.’

Ms Lemon put down her teacup and clasped her hands.

‘Grace, the lessons complement each other. You need both lots of instruction or it could lead to dangerous gaps in your skill and knowledge.’

‘So
we’ll
teach Jenny what we learn in Mrs Quinlan’s class. And she can still come to yours.’

‘That’s not good enough, you haven’t the experience–’

‘Then how can Jenny stay in the group?’

The teacher avoided her gaze.

‘Are you expelling her?’ said Grace.

‘It’s not up to me–’

‘It
is
up to you. You’re our teacher too! Are you going to let Jenny into your class, or not?’

Ms Lemon looked up, her hazel eyes pleading.

‘Vera won’t. So I can’t.’

Grace felt a lump in her throat and a disappointment like she had never felt before. Bethany Lemon was the person Grace most looked up to in the world. She was always fair, always just; like a sensible knight in shining armour. But now Grace could see a blemish on that armour. Ms Lemon could be bullied – was being bullied – by Mrs Quinlan. Grace looked down at Ms Lemon on the sofa, with her hands clasped and her expression worried, and she suddenly saw the little girl inside the woman. All at once, Grace felt a crushing pressure.
She
was going to have to be the adult.

‘That is not fair, Ms Lemon. And you know it. I’ll see myself out.’

As she walked from Brooke Road, tears stinging her eyes, Grace realised she hadn’t told Ms Lemon about the doctor and the missing straw doll. But, she thought, what was the point? Telling an adult didn’t seem to be the cure-all anymore. She didn’t feel she could depend on Ms Lemon now.

It was a truth she felt she had always known, but didn’t want to admit; adults are human too. And now that she was just months away from turning fifteen, Grace realised she would become one soon, and others would depend on
her
to be sensible and fair and to know everything.

She stopped on the bridge to watch the river flow beneath her, and just let herself cry. She wasn’t ready.

She wasn’t ready to be the grown-up.

11

All aboard the Caterpillar

The next day after school, Grace waited for Jenny at the school gates. They hadn’t had a moment alone during the day, and she didn’t wanted to embarrass her friend by announcing her permanent expulsion in front of the rest of the group.

Finally the tall girl appeared, sauntering towards her like she hadn’t a care in the world.

‘Jenny, I need to talk to you. It’s about the witchcraft lessons.’

‘I’m out of both, I know. Ms Lemon called me.’

‘Oh. I didn’t think she’d… I’m really sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘We can all go on strike. Refuse to do our lessons, tell
them we won’t guard the well. We ignored Mrs Quinlan last night, it drove her bonkers and she kicked us all out.’

‘Don’t do that. What’s the point? That old hag would expel you all, you know she would. Don’t let her ruin it for the rest of you.’

They walked on in silence until they reached the playground at the bottom of the hill. Without saying anything they both sat down on the swings and swayed absentmindedly. Grace was a little unnerved. Jenny had a glint in her eye that she couldn’t ignore.

‘What is it?’

‘What’s what?’ Jenny said, turning away too late to hide a smile.

‘You were miserable yesterday. What’s changed?’

‘Things are looking up.’

‘What things?’

Jenny shook her head, but she was jiggling one leg and Grace got the impression she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

‘I’ve made a decision,’ the tall girl said. She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘When the carnival leaves, I’m going with them.’

‘What?’

‘Just that. I’m going with them. I’m going to be a strongwoman, like Agata.’

Jenny was smiling like it was excellent news; and like it was definite.

‘No, you’re not,’ said Grace. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘I am. And it doesn’t matter what you say, Grace, you won’t talk me out of it.’

‘I won’t even try, but you’re not going.’

‘Yes, I am.’

Jenny wasn’t jiggling her leg anymore. She looked calm. She looked sure of herself.

‘This isn’t happening, Jenny, so get it out of your head.’

‘Get it
into
your head, Brennan. I’m going. If that Cat Hag won’t let me learn magic anymore I’m not sticking around to watch you lot become witches. I wouldn’t miss school, I wouldn’t even miss home, do you know that? If I’m not washing dishes, I’m babysitting Sarah. It’s boring as hell, and I need a change.’

‘Stop talking rubbish. You know you’d never leave home.’

‘I would, and I am. And don’t talk to me like I’m a child!’

Grace tried to keep her voice level, like this was just a silly notion that wasn’t worth getting upset about, but something in her friend’s face made her worry. It was as if Jenny was forcing Grace to play a part she didn’t want to play. When Grace finally spoke, she was almost shouting.

‘Listen to me, you’re not running away to join the circus, and that’s the end of it. It’s ridiculous!’

‘It’s not a circus, it’s a carnival.’

‘I was being
ironic
.’

‘I don’t know what that
means
.’

‘It means I didn’t actually mean what I said, I… Look, it doesn’t matter. The point is you’re not running away.’

Jenny stuck out her chin.

‘And how are you gonna stop me?’

‘I’ll tell your mum. You wouldn’t get a mile out of town.’

The sudden drop in Jenny’s expression told Grace that she hadn’t thought that part through.

‘You’d snitch?’

‘Gladly.’

There was a moment’s pause, then Jenny stamped her foot hard enough to throw up a cloud of sand.

‘Why do you always have to be such a goody two-shoes?!’

‘Because a hothead like you needs a goody two-shoes like me to stop you doing stupid things like running away from home. That’s why.’

‘Yeah? Well goody two-shoes like you need hotheads like me to make you do fun stuff, or you’d spend your whole life safe in your room doing homework and you’d never do anything interesting ever, ever,
ever
.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Fine, then.’

‘Fine.’

‘
Fine
.’

They both stood in awkward silence, Jenny kicking at the small mound of dirt her stamping foot had caused. Finally,
she gave an awkward nod in Grace’s direction but didn’t look at her.

‘See you tomorrow, then.’

‘See you tomorrow.’

Adie was ditching her second magic lesson in two days. It irked her that the girls would be learning something new without her (if they managed to get through an entire class without being kicked out, that is), but this was important. When the final bell rang, she had gone straight out the back entrance of the school and into the woods. Finding Bob’s hut took longer than she’d expected – she had run into him by accident last time – and she made several wrong turns before she finally saw the pale line of smoke from a campfire.

‘Hi, Bob.’

He was cooking fish this time, and the smell made her tummy rumble. She sat on the stool opposite him and tried not to stare at the spit over the fire. When it was ready, Bob scraped chunks of charred fish into a bowl and handed it to her.

‘What are we going to try today?’ she asked, tucking in.

He gave her a quizzical look.

‘How are we going to catch the faery?’ she said. ‘Or the not-faery. Whatever it is.’

‘We’re not catching that any time soon,’ Bob replied.

‘But we have to. We have to send it back quickly, before anybody finds out. What if it starts messing with people in town?’

‘It probably will.’

‘Then we have to stop it!’

‘Do you know how?’

Adie gripped the bowl in her hands.

‘No.’

‘Me neither.’

‘So you’re just giving up?’ Adie didn’t want to be on her own again. It was too much.

‘No. But it’ll take time to work this thing out. And then, I’m sure, it’ll take time to catch it. There’s no rushing this.’

‘We have to rush it!’

‘That’s not possible.’

‘Then I’ll do it without you!’

Adie dumped her bowl on the ground, stood up and stormed off. She stamped her feet as she went, getting slower and slower, waiting for Bob to call her back. But he called her bluff instead. She looked behind and saw him hunched over the spit, scraping more meat from the fish. She could go back, apologise, and humbly ask how she could help discover what the creature was. But her chest was tight with worry now. Ms Lemon and Mrs Quinlan were going to find out. If the creature started playing games in plain sight, she would have to tell them where it had come from, that the whole
thing was all her fault.

Unable to bear the feeling, Adie decided Bob had to be wrong – and she would prove it. She’d get help elsewhere, and catch this thing before anyone saw so much as a hair on its twiggy head.

‘Right, girls.’ Ms Lemon seemed a little unsettled. ‘Mind-hopping. That’s what we’re in the woods for today.’

She was clearly waiting for some reaction – an exclamation of delight, or a question from Una – but she got none. The lesson had been strangely formal ever since the girls had met their teacher. Delilah kept her gaze low, as if being Mrs Quinlan’s charge somehow made her complicit in Jenny’s expulsion; Rachel was polite, but distant; Una kept one eyebrow raised, her mouth pursed, so Ms Lemon would know she was not impressed with what had gone on; and Grace, still a little heartbroken, maintained a chilly silence.

‘Can anyone tell me what mind-hopping is?’ When no-one responded, Ms Lemon picked the small girl. ‘Delilah, you know, surely. I think you’ve read more about witchcraft than I have.’

The teacher’s forced chuckle was painfully out of place, and earned her no warm response from the girls.

‘It is piggybacking on the mind of someone or something else,’ Delilah said quickly.

‘Excellent! Very concise. Yes, it means hopping aboard the mind of another creature, so that you can see and hear and smell what it sees and hears and smells. You cannot direct the animal’s behaviour in any way, however, you become an observer only. Delilah was absolutely right in saying it’s merely a piggyback ride. Are there any questions before we start?’

Grace had about twenty, but she kept her mouth shut.

‘Right,’ the teacher said, shaking out her arms, ‘let’s begin, then. The first thing you have to do is find an animal. Something small and slow is easiest. Nothing worse than trying to mind-hop a little rabbit that sprints away before you’ve even started!’

The attempts at humour were starting to make Grace feel a little pity, but she squished the feeling and reminded herself that Jenny was not learning to mind-hop with the rest of them.

Grace spotted a bright green caterpillar on a leaf and chose it. While focussing on the tiny, hairy thing, she felt delight in the way it moved in a wave, as if a bubble of energy had erupted at its tail and was zooming along the body, shunting the whole animal forward.

‘
Mens mea, mens tua, mens nostra
,’ said Ms Lemon. ‘That’s the phrase you say. Now, when you’re ready, I want you to shrug your shoulders a few times – it might take quite a few your first time round – until you feel the tiniest tingle
in your neck. Hold on to that by keeping the shoulders up, then I want you to say the phrase as you exhale and relax your shoulders at the same time. Never lose concentration on your animal. Remember, that’s where you’re going.’

The rhyme came out as little more than a breath when Grace finally let go, dropping her shoulders and feeling her head swoon. The sounds around her boomed and shrank and then, for a few seconds, she felt like she was underwater, suspended by something she couldn’t feel.

‘It didn’t work, Miss,’ she could hear Una complaining. ‘It just gave me a headache.’

‘Try again, Una. It takes time–’

There was a piercing pain, right through the middle of Grace’s skull. Everything went quiet and then… she was there, on the leaf.

She couldn’t see it – she couldn’t really see anything – but she knew she was now in the mind of the caterpillar. There was no sound, but an onslaught of other sensations. There were changes in light as leaves swayed above her, she could differentiate parts of the leaf by smell, but the most extraordinary thing was the vibration. She could feel the world around her. She could
feel
the breeze and the minuscule hairs on the leaf, but it wasn’t like anything she had felt before. There were minute differences in the direction and strength of the wind, the shape and movement of the leaf, and she could sense it all. It was too much information at once, and she had
an almost unbearable tickling sensation all over.

I shouldn’t have picked a caterpillar
, she thought, suddenly remembering her biology lessons.

Caterpillars rely on smell, taste and touch. They can barely see, and cannot hear, but the hairs that cover their bodies allow them to sense tiny vibrations all around them. That must be what was tickling. It was nearly too much.

Grace squirmed against it, trying not to laugh but unable to make the caterpillar’s body do anything. It crawled along the leaf, oblivious to her, as she jerked and squirmed and tried to get away from the wriggly feeling that was driving her crazy.