“Out with it,” she says.
“We … ” Poppet starts. “We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Celia asks, moving piles of books so they can sit on the violet benches but the twins both remain where they are.
“I think something that was supposed to happen didn’t happen,” Poppet says.
“And what might that be?” Celia asks.
“Our friend Bailey was supposed to come with us.”
“Ah yes, Widget mentioned something about that,” Celia says. “I take it he did not?”
“No,” Poppet says. “We waited for him but he didn’t come, but I don’t know if that’s because he didn’t want to or because we left early.”
“I see,” Celia says. “It seems a very big decision to me, deciding whether or not to run away and join the circus. Perhaps he did not have enough time to properly consider it.”
“But he was supposed to come,” Poppet says. “I know he was supposed to come.”
“Did you see something?” Celia asks.
“Sort of.”
“How does one sort of see something?”
“It’s not as clear as it was before,” Poppet says. “I can’t see anything as clearly as I used to. It’s all bits and pieces that don’t make sense. Nothing here has made any sense for a year and you know it.”
“I think that is an exaggeration, but I understand how it can seem that way,” Celia says.
“It is not an exaggeration,” Poppet says, raising her voice.
The chandeliers begin to shudder and Celia closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and waiting for them to return to a gentle sway before she speaks.
“Poppet, there is no one here who is more upset by what happened last year than I am. And I have told you before it is not your fault, and there is nothing that could have been done to prevent it. Not by you, not by me, not by anyone else. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” Poppet says. “But what’s the use in seeing the future if I can’t do anything to stop it?”
“You cannot stop things,” Celia says. “You can only be prepared for them to happen.”
“You could stop them,” Poppet mumbles, looking around at the multitude of books. Celia puts a finger under Poppet’s chin and turns her head to look her in the eye.
“Only a handful of people on this train have any idea how integral I am to the running of the circus,” she says. “And as much as you two are amongst them and you are both extremely clever, you do not comprehend the scope of what goes on here and you wouldn’t particularly like it if you did. Now, tell me what you
Poppet closes her eyes, trying to concentrate. “I don’t know,” she says. “It was bright, everything was on fire, and Bailey was there.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Celia says.
“I can’t,” Poppet says. “I haven’t seen anything clearly since before—”
“And that’s likely because you don’t want to see anything clearly after that, and I can’t say I blame you. But if you want me to do something to prevent whatever this is, I am going to need more information.”
She unclasps the long silver chain that hangs around her neck, checking the time on the pocket watch that hangs from it before she holds it up in front of Poppet’s eyes.
“Please, Poppet,” Celia says. “You don’t need the stars for this. Just focus. Even if you don’t want to.”
Poppet frowns, then turns her attention to the dangling silver watch as it sways in the warm light.
Her eyes narrow, focusing on the reflections in the curve of the watch, and then they soften, looking at something beyond the watch, beyond the train.
She starts to sway as her eyes flutter closed, and she falls backward. Widget leaps forward to catch her before she hits the floor.
Celia helps him move Poppet to one of the velvet benches by the table, while on a nearby shelf a cup of tea pours itself, steaming and brewing instantly in a flowered china cup.
Poppet blinks, looking up at the chandeliers as though seeing them for the first time, before turning back to Celia to accept the cup of tea.
“That hurt,” Poppet says.
“I’m sorry, dearest,” Celia says. “I think your sight is getting stronger, which makes it even more troublesome for you to be suppressing it.”
Poppet nods, rubbing her temples.
“Tell me everything you saw,” Celia says. “Everything. I don’t care if it doesn’t make any sense. Try to describe it.”
Poppet looks into her tea before she starts.
“There’s a fire,” she says. “It starts with the bonfire but … bigger and there’s nothing containing it. Like the whole courtyard is on fire, there’s a loud noise and this heat and … ” Poppet pauses, closing her eyes as she attempts to concentrate on the images in her head. She opens her eyes and looks back at Celia. “You’re there. You’re with someone else and I think it’s raining, and then you’re not there anymore but you still are, I can’t explain it. And then Bailey is there, not during the fire but after it, I think.”
“What did the someone else look like?” Celia asks.
“A man. He was tall. In a suit, with a bowler hat, I think. It was hard to tell.”
Celia rests her head in her hands for a moment before she speaks.
“If that is who I think it is, I know for a fact he is in London at the moment, so perhaps this is not as immediate as you think.”
“But it is, I’m sure of it,” Poppet protests.
“Timing has never been your strong point. You said yourself that this friend of yours is also present for this incident, and your first complaint was that he is not here. This might not happen for weeks or months or years, ’Pet.”
“But we have to
“I will do what I can to prevent the circus from going up in smoke. I shall fireproof it as much as possible. Is that enough for now?”
After a moment, Poppet nods.
“Good,” Celia says. “We’ll be off the train in a matter of hours, we can discuss this more later.”
“Wait,” Widget says. He has been sitting on the back of one of the velvet benches, staying out of the conversation. Now he turns to Celia. “I have a question before you shoo us away.”
“What is it?” she asks.
“You said we don’t comprehend the scope of what goes on here,” he says.
“That was likely not the best choice of words.”
“It’s a game, isn’t it?” Widget asks.
Celia looks at him, a slow, sad smile tugging at her lips.
“It took you sixteen years to figure that one out,” she says. “I expected more from you, Widge.”
“I’d guessed as much for a while,” he says. “It’s not easy to see things you don’t want me to know, but I’ve been picking up bits of it lately. You haven’t been as guarded as usual.”
“A game?” Poppet asks, looking back and forth between her brother and Celia.
“Like a chess game,” Widget says. “The circus is the board.”
“Not exactly,” Celia says. “It’s not as straightforward as chess.”
“We’re all playing a game?” Poppet asks.
“Not us,” Widget says. “Her and someone else. The rest of us are, what, extra pieces?”
“It’s not like that,” Celia says.
“Then what is it like?” Widget asks.
In response, Celia only looks at him, staring directly into his eyes without wavering.
Widget returns her gaze silently for some time while Poppet watches them curiously. Eventually, Widget blinks, the surprise evident on his face. Then he looks down at his shoes.
