Circus of the Unseen Read Free Page A

and flowers. Daisy and I used to do this every Easter, but doing it now without her, after all this time, made me realise how much things had changed now she was older. I missed her. We used to know everything about each other. We used to share secrets.
    Once the eggs had dried, Granny told me to close my eyes while she hid them. I’d hardly had a chance to close them when I heard her banging around the room. She was rummaging through a cabinet, all frantic about the necklace again. I could see her breath in the air. I suggested we go back to the house. ‘I’ll check every room,’ I promised. ‘Let’s go – it’s freezing in here.’
    She shook her head. ‘I’ll light a fire. It’s time for a fire. I can’t wait any longer.’
    She knelt in the hearth. There were two nests of Russian dolls there – four round-bellied sisters, laid out in a row. There should have been six, but the smallest of each set had been missing for as long as I can remember. Daisy and I used to play house with them, pretend to feed them tea and cake. Each doll had the words
For DR, for our girls
carved into its base. The ‘DR’ were Granny’s initials – for Dorothy Rose, the same name as mine. Daisy had been named after Dad’s mum, and me after Granny, although I’d always been called Rosie. Granny sealed the dolls back inside each other and handed both sets to me, saying one was for me and one was for Daisy, and that we should keep them safe because they’d looked after her, and now they’d look after us, like Vasilisa’s doll looked after her in the story.
    â€˜What story?’ I asked.
    â€˜You don’t remember it?’ She sounded offended. I really didn’t remember it, which made me feel guilty, but she’d told me so many.
    â€˜What’s it about?’ I asked.
    â€˜You should read it again for yourself,’ she said. ‘It’s one of the best. As I always say, all tales have truths, Rosie, but especially that one.’
    With help from a pair of bellows, Granny got the fire going really quickly and we knelt in front of it, rubbing our hands and leaning in far too close to warm our cheeks. After a while, she patted my knee and said I should take some eggs to Josephine. Then she looked at me with these big, wide eyes.
    â€˜I love you, my darling,’ she said. ‘You’ll be just fine, you know. And you really shouldn’t be afraid of that audition,’ she added. ‘It’s wrong to let fear stop you doing what you need to do. That won’t get you anywhere. Always stay strong. Always stay true to who you are, Greta. Always stay true to what you want.’
    â€˜I’m Rosie.’
    â€˜What?’ She looked confused and lost, all twitchy and fidgeting with her fingers.
    â€˜I’m Rosie. You called me Greta.’
    â€˜I know who you are,’ she snapped again. ‘Take these eggs.’ She handed me three.
    â€˜Isn’t it too late?’ I asked. ‘Can’t it wait until the morning?’
    â€˜It’s not even seven yet. Off you go, and don’t forget your dolls.’
    â€˜I won’t be long. I can leave the dolls here.’
    I put the eggs in my pocket and left quickly, blinking back tears. I didn’t want her to see she’d upset me, and I didn’t want to upset her any further. I shouldn’t have picked her up on saying the wrong name.
    The air was sharp and made my eyes sting. It smelled like snow was coming, and the moon looked different now. It was a grubby lemon colour, with pinky-grey patches smudged across it. Everything felt smudged. I knew saying the wrong name didn’t
have
to mean anything bad. It’s easy to get people’s names muddled up, isn’t it? Mum often called me Daisy by mistake. But that wasn’t all, that wasn’t everything. I was also worried by the way she was being so snippy with me, and angry with