‘I bet you Zachary won’t have told you about the Crow.’ His breath is hot and sour and his clothes stink of old cigarette smoke. She leans away, keeping her gaze on the dancers. Nana’s voice in her head:If anyone messes with you, you just kick him in the balls.
‘He did, actually.’
‘Well, let Derek tell you a bit more.’ He leans closer and she gets another blast of his fetid breath. ‘See, the Crow is old. She came from a people who are long gone now, a people who ruled Faerie before all the poncy earls and queens we see out there. And Crow is kind, like all her sisters out in the world. She brings souls from one world to another, makes sure they don’t get stuck in between. And Crow sees. She knows all your little sad and dirty and shameful thoughts. You can’t hide from her. Don’t even try.’
Derek smiles. ‘But a clever girl like you probably knows all about that, don’t you? It being All Souls’, and all.’
He’s staring at her, one side of his mouth curled in a sneering smile, and she is unable to look away even though the animals behind him are getting agitated, with little mews and growls, even though she has the feeling he is seeing a little too much of her, even though—
‘Everything okay?’ Zach’s voice is too loud, a little confrontational. Derek rises immediately and gives Zach a mocking salute. Zach glares at him, then turns to Lara as Derek slinks away, whistling quietly as he strolls through the wing and crosses the stage behind the safety backdrop. ‘You ready to get some dinner?’
Lara nods and stands quickly, wiping her damp palms over her thighs.
‘Was Derek being a dick?’
‘Kind of.’ She follows Zach into the corridor and past the noticeboard.
‘What did he say?’
‘He told me some stuff about the Crow.’ How can she explain that sense of unease he brought with him, the odd gleam in his eye, the menagerie of souls?
Zach holds the stage door open for her and a blast of cold air hits her face.
Zach grimaces. ‘I’m sorry. He’s so weird. I try to avoid him as much as I can. You can report him to Belinda, you know.’
‘I bet Belinda’s got a whole drawerful of complaints.’ Lara looks down at their boots as they trot along the avenue between the mausoleums, footsteps out of sync with Zach’slong stride. There is a gravity between their bodies now, something charged between them. She is hyper-aware of the presence of his living, breathing body and the absence of any ghosts trailing him. The relief she felt as Zach appeared behind Derek, the repressed fury on his face, the way the sheer bulk of him shoved Derek away.
Don’t get involved with a man who has ghosts, girl, Auntie Doreen had told her.You wantsomeone clean, someone unencumbered by their dead. Only invite the living into your bed, take it from me.
She looks up at Zach. ‘Have you ever met the Crow?’
He looks surprised. ‘Not really. I mean, I’ve seen it from a distance and heard it and stuff. I tend to think if it wants me, then it knows where to find me.’
Lara watches the pale shapes flitting around the graves as they come closer to the Grub.A clever girl like you, she thinks. Oh dear. She will have to watch out for Derek.
***
Taking her foot off the sewing machine pedal, Milly drags her chair over to the tannoy and climbs on it. She turns the dial on the speaker right down so that Cecile’s voice becomes nothing more than a faint mutter, her tuneless, toneless counting just too quiet to hear. She drags her chair back to the machine, brushes the dust from the soles of her trainers off the seat and positions herself over the seam again. She lets her foot hover over the pedal and adjusts the white tulle. The needle starts toclick click clackclackand she guides the pinned seam through the needle, her expert fingers smoothing the tulle to keep it straight. She likes the sound of the machine, its busy humming and whirring, the sounds of making something out of nothing, the music of the tiny twisted threads binding themselves together into beauty.
A wave of burning nausea swells up her chest and she takes her foot off the pedal, shuts her eyes and rubs the heels of her hands into her cheeks. She turns away from the half-made costume in case she vomits on it and leans right forwards, her hair dangling into her face.Fuck, she thinks.Fuck fuck fuck.
Since this began – sixteen days ago and counting – the only thing she’s found that works to stop herself from throwing up is to lie flat on the floor. She lays on her back and stares at the speckled ceiling. The grey linoleum is cool and smells of the fabric sprays they spritz onto the Suitor’s costumes that can’t go in the washing machine. Surprisingly, the scent eases her stomach so she turns her cheek to the cold surface and takes a long sniff.
She reaches up to the table with the sewing machine to get her phone and rolls onto her side. She calls up the calendar with her thumb, scrolls up to September, counts the weeks, and the days. It’s still the same as it was half an hour ago when she last checked.
She has to tell Danny. And she will, as soon as she’s decided what to tell him.
But, realistically, what else can she say?Big news, but Ithink it’ll be okay, we’re having a baby!And he’ll be shocked and he’ll stare at her with his green eyes wide and she’ll have to grab his hand to stop him from floating away into the sky the way men do when you say these things to them. Especially without a ring on your finger and a piece of paper with his name on it tucked away.
And he’ll say,But we were so careful!And she’ll say,Well yes, we were a little bit careful but let’s be honest we didn’t do all that we could, and he’ll frown a little and she might joke – depending on the vibe –Well, you know what they call a couple who pull out!
And his frown will deepen, a little reproachfully, and he’ll say something like,Just give me a minute, I’m still getting used to this. And she will squeeze his hand a little harder, to tether him, to anchor the sturdy ship of him here with her, in the port, not out there on the high seas where any rough, rogue wind can blow him off course, and she’ll say,It’s okay my love, we’ll be okay. You know what they say, the show must go on.
They’ll go to Belinda’s office after the show to tell her, and she’ll sigh and look at them over her spectacles.Will you leave at the end of your pledges or are you asking for me to arrange parental leave?And she’ll probably have to hold him again, to steady him.We’ll leave at the end of our pledges, thank you.And Belinda will nod.You’ll always have references and our good will here.
They’ll go to stay with her parents in Leeds while they find a place of their own and Danny gets a job. Near enough to his parents in Doncaster, too. And she’ll set up a roomin their house as a sewing room, get her machine out of her parents’ loft and put some of her savings towards some silk to make some outfits on spec to show off what she can do. Wedding dresses and curtains, maybe set herself up with an Etsy shop. And the show won’t go on, not exactly, but something will and that will be the point, that will be the whole story of it. It’ll be a good little life. No shows, no magic, no glamour. But a good life nonetheless.
The nausea starts to recede so she gets up, goes to the door where she keeps her bag and rummages for the sandwich she tucked away earlier. She tears off a dry crust and chews it. It helps, for a minute or so. On the tannoy she can hear Cecile’s faint voice dismissing the dancers from rehearsal with that same perpetual note of disappointment. Milly feels sorry for the dancers really, not because of Cecile exactly but because nothing they do can ever be enough. When she makes a costume, she knows she can make it perfectly. It doesn’t always come out perfect, but she can unpick and redo it. The dancers never get that chance. The show goes on whether they are perfect or not and they know it. The knowledge of it gnaws at them, fucks them up. They stand in front of the mirror in fittings, gazing miserably at their lithe, muscled bodies, frowning at the bits they say Milly’s made look fat. Or short, or long, or whatever. She remembers Alina glancing at her and rolling her eyes as they dressed one of the corps de ballet girls on Milly’s first day.Can you imagine looking like that and being so fucking miserable about it all the time?
