The Magnificent Lizzie Brown and the Mysterious Phantom

by Vicki Lockwood

  It looked like her vision was about to come true. She had to tell someone. But if she left her post, Aurora would have her fired for sure. She’d be risking everything.

  Lizzie made her mind up. She sprinted off to find Malachy and Nora. “It’s him,” she gasped when she found them. “The gent with the watch! When he goes in that tent, she’s going to nick it off him!”

  “I knew you had second sight!” Nora said. “Didn’t I say?”

  Lizzie’s palms were clammy. She hopped up and down on the spot. “But I dunno what to do!”

  “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” said Malachy. “We’re going to catch her red-handed. Come on!”

  When they arrived at the tent, the line had shrunk even more. The gentleman with the watch was at the very front.

  Malachy took up position outside the tent while Lizzie slipped inside. Aurora was in the middle of a reading. The pudding-faced old woman across from her was nodding at her every word. Aurora caught Lizzie’s eye, and the look she gave her was pure poison. Lizzie gulped and threw a fistful of incense on the hot coals. Billowing clouds of smoke filled the tent.

  “I see many grandchildren in your future,” Aurora went on. Behind her, the tent fabric twitched. Lizzie held her breath.

  Nora came crawling in under the edge of the tent. The thick curtain of smoke almost hid her completely. Neither Aurora nor her client seemed to have noticed, and Lizzie watched with her heart in her mouth as Nora quickly ducked behind the cabinet holding Aurora’s mystic props. When she was out of sight, Lizzie let out the breath she’d been holding.

  The old woman stood up to go, thanking Aurora again and again. Impatiently, Aurora ushered her out and beckoned the gentleman from Lizzie’s vision in. He sat down opposite her. “I’ve never consulted a fortune-teller before,” he said anxiously.

  “You have chosen wisely,” Madame Aurora said in a husky voice. “The spirits have a special message for you.”

  “They . . . they do?” the man stuttered.

  “Roxanna!” Aurora clapped her hands. “Bring me the crystal!”

  Lizzie’s hands shook as she went to lift the heavy crystal ball from its place in the mystic cabinet.

  Nora’s face peeped out from her hiding place, and she mouthed the words, Is this him?

  Lizzie gave a quick nod and turned away. The crystal ball began to slip through her sweaty hands. She hastily set it on the table.

  “I must enter a state of mystic trance,” Madame Aurora proclaimed.

  “Gosh,” said the young man. “Right-o. Jolly good.”

  Madame Aurora began to rock back and forth. She gave a long, low groan like a sick horse, then rolled her eyes back into her head so that only the whites were showing. “Spirits! I call to you! Come forth from your shadow realm!”

  The gentleman sat stiffly in his seat, watching in amazement.

  “Give some sign of your presence!” Aurora said through bared teeth.

  Lizzie wasn’t the least bit impressed. She had seen this routine a dozen times before.

  Madame Aurora groaned louder. “Spirits! Do not delay!”

  Suddenly, Lizzie remembered she was supposed to flicker the lamp at this bit. The gentleman almost jumped out of his seat when the light dimmed. “Good lord,” he murmured.

  “The spirits bid you welcome, son of a noble line.” That was one of Aurora’s old favorite phrases to use. If the customer was high-born, they were flattered; if they were common, they were amazed to think their ancestors might have been blue bloods. Either way, it was a winner.

  The gentleman looked helplessly to Lizzie. “What do I say?” he whispered.

  “Lean forward,” Aurora boomed before Lizzie could speak. “Gaze deep into the crystal. Only then can the message be given!”

  He did as he was told, excitement all over his face. And the moment his waistcoat pocket came close enough, Aurora’s hand moved like a striking snake. She wrapped her fingers around the watch, pulled it out, and tucked it into her own pocket.

  “Malachy!” Lizzie yelled at the top of her voice. “Now!”

  The poor gentleman jumped out of his chair with shock as Malachy pulled the tent flap back, letting in brilliant sunshine. A man was standing there in silhouette, arms folded. It was Fitzy himself!

  “What’s going on?” the customer cried, shielding his eyes.

  “I’m afraid we’re going to have to stop the reading,” Fitzy said.

  “But . . . but . . . the spirits . . .” the young man stuttered in total confusion.

  “Never mind the spirits, my good sir,” said Fitzy, taking his arm. “If you’d care to wait over here — all the way over here — that’s it, so sorry for the inconvenience. I do hope you’ll accept these free tickets for tomorrow’s performance.” He quickly ushered the man out of the fortune-teller’s tent and away through the circus, talking all the while.

  Madame Aurora was on her feet, but Malachy stepped into the doorway, blocking her path. “You’re not going anywhere,” he warned.

  “What’s this all about, Malachy my love?” she asked with a sickly smile.

  Fitzy returned. “I’m hoping it’s nothing,” he said. “Well, Lizzie?”

  “She stole his watch,” Lizzie said boldly. “It’s in her pocket. I saw the whole thing!”

  “You’re a rotten little liar,” Aurora snapped. “You didn’t see nothing!”

  Right then, Nora sprang out from behind the cabinet, and Madame Aurora gave a satisfying yelp of total surprise. Lizzie grinned at her friend’s perfect sense of showmanship.

  “I saw it too, Fitzy,” Nora said. “Lizzie’s telling the truth.”

  With a weary sigh, Fitzy held out his hand. “Come on, Aurora. Let’s have it.”

  Trembling, Aurora drew the watch out of her pocket. “I couldn’t help myself,” she said. “It was the spirits — they drove me to do it.”

  “The only spirit driving you is gin,” Fitzy said angrily. “Nora, run and give the gentleman his watch back.”

  “Right you are!” Nora said.

  “Tell him you found it on the ground and he must have dropped it. Enough of the public think we’re thieves without us making it worse.”

  Aurora fell on her knees and clutched at Fitzy’s trousers. “Don’t call the police, Fitz,” she begged. “I can’t go to prison, not at my age.”

  “Save it, Aurora,” Fitzy said. “Malachy, go fetch Joey and Bungo.”

  “Yes, Pop!” With a smart salute, Malachy darted off.

  Aurora wailed and beat her fists on the dusty ground. “Please! You don’t have to do this. I’ve been with you so long!”

  Fitzy stood, hands on hips. “So give me another option.”

  “Let me go. I’ll leave the circus and never come back, I swear!”

  Fitzy pondered this. “All right. But no second chances this time, Aurora. You’re out for good.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Aurora struggled to her feet, tugged her mystic robes off, and flung them on the ground. “I’ll just pop to my caravan, fetch a few things, then I’ll be on my way —”

  “You will leave now,” Fitzy commanded in a tone that made Lizzie shiver.

  Malachy arrived, followed by two huge circus hands. One was bald with a walrus mustache, the other shaggy and bearded like a mountain man.

  Fitzy nodded to Aurora and jerked his head toward the exit. Bungo and Joey instantly understood. They reached for Aurora, but she was already backing away from them, retreating toward the main gate like a vampire being driven into its crypt. Ignoring her shrieks, they grabbed her by the arms and began to drag her off.

  “You did this to me!” Aurora screamed at the top of her voice. “You! Lizzie Brown!” And she let fly a string of language so foul that Nora came up behind Lizzie and covered her ears.

  “Get her off my site,”
Fitzy said in disgust.

  “You better sleep with one eye open, Lizzie Brown!” Aurora screamed as she was dragged away. “You’ll never be safe in London again! I’ll get you! I got connections! I’m somebody!”

  “She’s just a drunken old witch,” Nora said firmly.

  But Lizzie’s heart still thumped hard in her chest with every angry scream.

  “You’re dead meat!” came the fading cries. “Dead meat!”

  Fitzy tucked his thumbs through his braces and gave Lizzie a broad smile, as if nothing unusual had happened at all. “Word travels fast in a circus,” he said. “I’ve heard you’ve turned out to be a genuine psychic.”

  “That’s right,” Lizzie said. No sense in denying it now, was there?

  Fitzy bent his knees, dropping down to Lizzie’s level. “I seem to find myself in need of a fortune-teller. I don’t suppose, by any chance, you’d be interested in filling the position?”

  Lizzie gaped at him. “Who, me? I mean . . . yes! Yes, I would!”

  “That’s that, then.” Fitzy smacked dust off his hands and peered up at the signage on the tent, gold letters on a midnight blue background. “Oh, dear. This won’t do at all. ‘Madame Aurora’ is out of date now.”

  “I’ll get Dawson to paint it up fresh, Pop,” Malachy said.

  Fitzy nodded. “I want it done by noon today. Now, what to write . . .” With his finger Fitzy traced the arch the new words would follow, speaking his thoughts aloud. “‘The Magnificent Lizzie Brown,’” he declared. “There. How’s that sound to you, Lizzie?”

  “Fantastic,” Lizzie said. “Absolutely blooming fantastic.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Lizzie hadn’t realized taking Madame Aurora’s job would mean taking her caravan too.

  Pa Sullivan had pointed that out to her over tea. “Now we don’t mind having you bunk down with us in here,” he added, “but that trailer’s yours by right, and you need to lay your claim to it before some other fella does.”

  So Lizzie, Erin, Nora, and Dru had gone racing over to the black, peeling caravan sitting in the far corner of the field. Someone had once painted mystic symbols on the outside — a star, a moon, and a cross-eyed cat — but the paint had almost completely flaked off. It smelled musty, like an old, unopened room.

  “It’s enormous!” Lizzie said, climbing inside.

  “It’s ancient, is what it is.” Nora looked around. “Ugh. Look at the mess Aurora’s left it in. Even the spider webs are covered with dust!”

  “I love it,” Lizzie said firmly. “It’s mine now. I’m going to look after it.”

  Nora spat on her palms and rubbed them together. “Well, you’ll not be sleeping in it in this state! Let’s make a home of it.”

  They made a bonfire of Aurora’s old pillows and bedding, emptied out the cupboards and drawers, and borrowed a broom to sweep the dust out. Dru made a face when he found a grimy, old petticoat under the mattress. It went straight on the fire.

  By the time the sun set, the caravan was an empty shell, smoked out with incense from the fortune-telling tent. A quick ask-around netted them enough fresh blankets and pillows to make it comfortable, just in time for the circus to break down the camp.

  For the rest of the evening, there was nonstop work. Tents had to be taken down, canvas folded away, poles dismantled, stalls packed up — and all of it had to be done the right way, with no carelessness or corner-cutting. There was no room for someone who didn’t help in Fitzy’s circus. Lizzie found plenty to do, carrying stacked-up stakes and looping up ropes into neat piles. It was exhausting, but it felt good to be pitching in.

  Now the stars were out, and the circus was on the move, heading across the sleeping city toward Tower Hamlets for their next stop. The long convoy of caravans and trailers moved slowly, with most of the circus folk sleeping while the drivers steered them through the night.

  Lizzie, Erin, Nora, and Dru sprawled happily in Lizzie’s jolting caravan, bone-weary but still too excited for sleep. The sound of Big Ben tolling rang out across the river and the rooftops.

  “One in the morning!” Nora yawned. “Even the owls have gone to bed.”

  “Please, Lizzie,” Dru begged, holding his palm out, “I want to know my future!”

  Nora laughed. “Are you still pestering her?”

  “Please!” Dru said again.

  “Not a chance,” Lizzie said, smirking.

  “Give it up, Dru,” said Erin.

  Dru pouted. “So unfair. All day she reads the palms of les étrangers! But I ask her to read mine, as un ami, and she says no!”

  “It’s a lady’s right to refuse,” Lizzie said primly.

  “Perhaps you are afraid of what you may see.” Dru unbuttoned his shirt and leaned back on the pillows, as if he was trying to play the part of an Arab sheikh. “‘What if he does not love me like I love him?’ you are thinking. ‘I would die.’” Dru put his hand theatrically to his forehead.

  “You must have hit your head when you fell off that high wire,” Lizzie said, doubling over with laughter.

  Nora came to her rescue. “Never mind him. Let’s climb up onto the roof. It’s a grand night to watch shooting stars.”

  “But the trailer’s still movin’!” Lizzie protested.

  “So?” Nora grinned impishly, then got up and opened the door. “Afraid to fall?”

  “Yes!” Lizze exclaimed.

  Nora softened. “I’ll give you a hand up.”

  Lizzie watched in amazement as Nora hoisted herself up and out of sight in a few quick moves. She was so strong! Nora reached an arm down from the roof to take Lizzie’s hand, and she gripped Nora’s hand tight. Below the caravan’s single wooden step, the London street was rolling past faster than she liked. Then Nora pulled without warning, and Lizzie was lifted clean off her feet. She managed a sort of flailing scramble up the rear of the caravan, scuffing even more of the paint off as she went.

  “See?” Nora said. “Easy.”

  “Blimey,” said Lizzie, settling down on the gently swaying roof. “Good view from up here.”

  The vast, open arch of the sky was thick with stars, like a daisy meadow. As they watched, a faint streak of light slid silently down the darkness.

  “Make a wish,” Nora and Lizzie both said instantly. They looked at one another and burst out laughing.

  The horse-drawn trailers creaked their slow, steady way through central London. In the streets, the night people were at large. A staggering man, his arm around his friend’s shoulders, paused from belting out a song to cheer the passing caravans. A chestnut-seller, tapping the gas from a lamp to roast his wares, called out to anyone who might be listening, “Nuts-oh, pipin’ hot! Lovely nuts!”

  It was like being in the audience of her very own circus, Lizzie thought from her perch on the trailer. All of London was putting on a show, and she got to watch it.

  “We better get back inside, Lizzie,” Nora said.

  “In a minute,” Lizzie told her happily. But then, to her horror, she saw a figure she knew. He staggered a few steps, stopped to prop himself against a lamppost and stare down at his feet, then staggered on. It was Pa, drunker than she’d ever seen him.

  “Get down!” Lizzie shoved her friend down flat on the trailer roof.

  “Eh?” Nora said.

  “He ain’t seen us yet,” Lizzie whispered.

  But he had!

  Pa looked up. His eyes went wide, then narrow. “LIZZIE!” he roared.

  “Don’t look at him!” Lizzie told Nora urgently. “You mustn’t look him in the eye. It sets him off!”

  “You get down ’ere now, girl, do you hear me?” Pa bellowed.

  The trailer was passing right by him now. Lizzie didn’t want to look down into that horrible twisted face.

  “That’s your old man?” Nora whispered.

 
Lizzie nodded.

  The trailer shook as Pa’s fist slammed the side of it.

  “Hey, knock it off!” the driver at the front told him.

  Pa sneered. “Who you talkin’ to, ya dirty gypsy scoundrel? Eh? C’mon an’ take a swing at meh.” He hiccupped, and a wave of froth washed out from his mouth and spattered on the pavement.

  “Don’t look at him,” Lizzie pleaded.

  Pa began to jog alongside the trailer. “Lizzie!” he howled, as if she’d hurt him. “You’ve let me down. Me own flesh and blood!”

  People were starting to take an interest now, nudging one another and pointing. Lizzie wanted the ground to swallow her up — Pa was shouting even louder than the chestnut-seller was. “I need yeh back! Come home!”

  Nora’s arm was around Lizzie, hugging her tight. “He’ll not take you. Not while I’m here.”

  Pa stopped, panting heavily, and the trailer began to leave him behind. “I got nuffin’ without you, girl! I’m penniless!” He spat the word out, and a lot of spit came with it. “I got debts! I’ll end up in the work’ouse . . . all cozza yoo . . .”

  Then fresh, ugly determination came over Pa’s face. His self-pity wasn’t working. Anger took its place, and he came charging at Lizzie, his boots pounding the cobblestones. “You selfish little wretch! I’ll pull you down, I’ll drag you ’ome, I will! By your hair!”

  Lizzie clung tightly to Nora, who glared down at Pa. “You will not!” Nora yelled down at him. “Get out of here, you old devil!”

  Pa spread his arms out wide as he ran. “I’m taking you home . . .”

  The next second, he went flying through the air like an acrobat, tripped by a loose stone. His huge chin smashed down on the stones and metallic objects shook out from his pockets and rolled free. He lay with his face in the gutter, groaning, brown mud spattered over his eyes and mouth.

  Lizzie stared in disbelief at what had been in Pa’s pockets. Gold chains, watches, and coins lay in the dirt. Passing street people descended on the treasures, and Pa was hidden behind a crowd.

  “Your da’s a thief?” Nora said.