she been hoping for?
She stepped back from the gate and turned away. A tall, thin scarecrow of a man was leaning against the railings on the far side of the street, his eyes glinting in the shadows under his hat-brim. Something about the way he stood made Fever think he’d been there for a while, but when he saw her look at him he turned, pulled down his hat and walked away.
She shook herself. He had not been watching her. He had just been pausing there against the railings to admire the view down over all the moonlit rooftops to the harbour, that was all. She was letting her imagination play tricks on her.
She walked quickly along the street to the Southern Stair, forcing herself not to look back at the Thursday house.
Behind her, unheard, in the dark of the garden, something softly ticked.
The party was still going on when she reached the Lyceum. Fever climbed aboard the barge and went down to the children’s cabin to check on them. Fern and Ruan were asleep, and she felt guilty suddenly that she had not been there to say goodnight to them. But doubtless someone else had done so.
She climbed up on to the stage, thinking how tawdry and primitive the old barge looked; the ropes and cogs and mechanisms that lowered the backdrops were like things a caveman might have made. Even her electrical machines downstairs seemed crude and kludged together. It was hard to feel proud of what she had achieved here when she compared it with what Arlo Thursday was doing.
“Fever!” called AP, breaking free of a knot of friends and admirers to come and greet her. “We don’t often have the pleasure of your company at these little gatherings of ours. It’s good to see you…”
“AP,” she said, coming straight to the point as always, “I do not want to leave Mayda.”
“Eh?” The old actor was not used to people who came straight to the point. He blinked at her for a moment. “But we are setting out for Meriam in the morning…”
“I should like to stay here,” said Fever. “Ruan and Fergus are quite capable of working the electrics now, and I would only be absent for a week or two. I will come back aboard when you return.”
AP looked concerned. “Are you not happy with us, Fever?”
Fever hesitated. She knew it would upset him if she said “Yes,” but she hated telling lies.
“Ah!” said AP, starting to smile. “Say no more! There is a certain gentleman in Mayda, a scientific gentleman, and you would like to stay here and help him with his work!”
How does he know? Fever wondered. Then she realized that he was not talking about Arlo Thursday.
AP had drunk several glasses of fine Maydan wine, and it made him forget that Fever hated being touched. He put his hands on her thin shoulders and smiled his most fatherly smile. “I am sure Dr Teal will be very glad of such an able helper as he struggles to comprehend the mysteries of Mayda’s moving houses,” the actor went on. “And if anyone has earned a holiday, Fever, it is you, after all the tireless work you’ve done for us these two years past. I was only thinking during the performance tonight, ‘Miss Crumb is tired; she works too hard; she needs a break.’”
He was about to tell her that she must be careful, as a young person alone in such a large and colourful city, but he could not find the right way to phrase it. Fever was more sensible than anyone he had ever met. He might be old, but inside he knew he had not really changed since he was eleven or twelve. Fever, although she was just sixteen, was definitely a grown-up. It would be impertinent to lecture her.
So he just said, “We shall all miss you most fearfully, of course. Meriam will not be the same without you. But yes, you have earned your leave of absence, and I’m sure Ruan and Fergus can manage the machines. You shall remain in Mayda my dear, while we console ourselves with the knowledge that we shall see you again on our return…”
10
THE BLESSING OF THE SUMMER
She stepped back from the gate and turned away. A tall, thin scarecrow of a man was leaning against the railings on the far side of the street, his eyes glinting in the shadows under his hat-brim. Something about the way he stood made Fever think he’d been there for a while, but when he saw her look at him he turned, pulled down his hat and walked away.
She shook herself. He had not been watching her. He had just been pausing there against the railings to admire the view down over all the moonlit rooftops to the harbour, that was all. She was letting her imagination play tricks on her.
She walked quickly along the street to the Southern Stair, forcing herself not to look back at the Thursday house.
Behind her, unheard, in the dark of the garden, something softly ticked.
The party was still going on when she reached the Lyceum. Fever climbed aboard the barge and went down to the children’s cabin to check on them. Fern and Ruan were asleep, and she felt guilty suddenly that she had not been there to say goodnight to them. But doubtless someone else had done so.
She climbed up on to the stage, thinking how tawdry and primitive the old barge looked; the ropes and cogs and mechanisms that lowered the backdrops were like things a caveman might have made. Even her electrical machines downstairs seemed crude and kludged together. It was hard to feel proud of what she had achieved here when she compared it with what Arlo Thursday was doing.
“Fever!” called AP, breaking free of a knot of friends and admirers to come and greet her. “We don’t often have the pleasure of your company at these little gatherings of ours. It’s good to see you…”
“AP,” she said, coming straight to the point as always, “I do not want to leave Mayda.”
“Eh?” The old actor was not used to people who came straight to the point. He blinked at her for a moment. “But we are setting out for Meriam in the morning…”
“I should like to stay here,” said Fever. “Ruan and Fergus are quite capable of working the electrics now, and I would only be absent for a week or two. I will come back aboard when you return.”
AP looked concerned. “Are you not happy with us, Fever?”
Fever hesitated. She knew it would upset him if she said “Yes,” but she hated telling lies.
“Ah!” said AP, starting to smile. “Say no more! There is a certain gentleman in Mayda, a scientific gentleman, and you would like to stay here and help him with his work!”
How does he know? Fever wondered. Then she realized that he was not talking about Arlo Thursday.
AP had drunk several glasses of fine Maydan wine, and it made him forget that Fever hated being touched. He put his hands on her thin shoulders and smiled his most fatherly smile. “I am sure Dr Teal will be very glad of such an able helper as he struggles to comprehend the mysteries of Mayda’s moving houses,” the actor went on. “And if anyone has earned a holiday, Fever, it is you, after all the tireless work you’ve done for us these two years past. I was only thinking during the performance tonight, ‘Miss Crumb is tired; she works too hard; she needs a break.’”
He was about to tell her that she must be careful, as a young person alone in such a large and colourful city, but he could not find the right way to phrase it. Fever was more sensible than anyone he had ever met. He might be old, but inside he knew he had not really changed since he was eleven or twelve. Fever, although she was just sixteen, was definitely a grown-up. It would be impertinent to lecture her.
So he just said, “We shall all miss you most fearfully, of course. Meriam will not be the same without you. But yes, you have earned your leave of absence, and I’m sure Ruan and Fergus can manage the machines. You shall remain in Mayda my dear, while we console ourselves with the knowledge that we shall see you again on our return…”
10
THE BLESSING OF THE SUMMER
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