Her mother.
After the curtains had closed, Ava stood there for a moment, one hand resting against the fraying blue velvet. She could still hear the applause in her ears, roaring like the winter’swind that surely howled outside. Normally that sound filled her with relief: for it meant that she had done something right, that people had liked the show, liked her, but not tonight. Tonight it sounded like a drumbeat, like a war cry, and she let it settle beneath her skin, let it fill her as she turned and marched from the stage, towards the wings where Lillian stood, cane tucked beneath her armpit, clapping.
‘That was good, Miss Adams,’ said Bertie, tipping her hat towards her. ‘A good show.’
‘Good?’ said Lillian. ‘It was fantastic. And the trick with your father? Ingenious! Everyone loves a love story, but the sickness! Thesadness! Using your family house as the way back into his memories – attaching each one to a room so that whenever he is home he thinks of her? Oh, Ava. I knew you had talent but this – just think ofthe papers! And yes, yes – we cannot do the same in the next show – not word for word, people would grow suspicious – but perhaps it can be a theme? Death? Memories of lost loved ones? There’s money in that. Money in spiritualism—’
‘People die every day,’ Bertie agreed, nodding. ‘And your father put on one heck of a show.’
‘It wasn’t a show,’ said Ava in a calm, measured voice. ‘It wasn’t planned. It was real.’
Something lit in Lillian’s eyes – bright, and hungry. ‘All the better,’ she said. ‘That’s what made it feel so authentic! And of course therapport. The embrace at the end was a nice touch. We must find a way to cheat that.’
‘Pre-interviewing audience members, perhaps,’ said Bertie.
‘Or asking more questions before you work your magic upon them,’ said Lillian, nodding.
‘Lillian,’ said Ava. ‘I fulfilled our agreement. I trained Miss Fairchild, I stepped in for opening night. And now we are done.’
Lillian hesitated, her mouth still half open. ‘We … what?’
‘We’re done,’ Ava repeated. ‘I kept my end of the agreement – and now you shall keep yours.’
Lillian’s expression hardened. ‘Did you not see the audience out there? Did you not hear them? Theylovedyou!’
‘I heard them,’ said Ava. But she didn’t need it, anymore. Didn’t need their approval. Didn’t need their applause. Not like she’d used to.
‘With a show like this, we could outsell the Royal,’ Lillian said hurriedly. ‘We could even take it on tour! Do you really think I’d agree to you quitting now?’
‘I don’t suggest you remove the act,’ said Ava. ‘Just the performer.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Lillian. ‘And who would replace you as my star, hmm? Bertie?’
‘Miss Fairchild can be your star,’ said Ava. ‘She’sgood, Lillian – if you’ll just let her make a name for herself. If you don’t try and force her into my mother’s shoes, like you did me.’
‘She’s not you,’ said Lillian, shrugging as if to say:And that is that. ‘I need you. I need this act.’
‘That wasn’t the deal,’ said Ava firmly.
‘Well, the deal has changed.’ Lillian folded her arms over her chest. ‘Because if you haven’t forgotten, I still have your brother’s secret. And if you do not do this, then it won’t be a secret any longer. And then we shall see how quickly you want to come back to the theatre, when the police are knocking at your door.’
Ava’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘You won’t do that, Lillian.’
‘And why not?’
‘Because you loved her, too. My mother. She was your friend, just as you were hers, and you wouldn’t hurt her like this. You couldn’t hurt her like this.’
Lillian’s expression faltered – just briefly, like a candle guttering in a draught. She looked away for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice held none of its usual sharpness. ‘Do you know, Ava,’ she said. ‘The story of how I got my limp?’
Ava’s brow furrowed. She’d neverasked, but of course she’d heard the whispers. Miss Lillian had been a performer, too.
And she’d performed the high wire.
‘Only rumours,’ Ava murmured. ‘That’s all.’
‘Then you heard I made the choice to remove the net? To stand up there with nothing to catch me?’
Ava nodded. She’d always found she could believe it, too. Could picture Lillian, so assured of her own brilliance, standing up there.
