The Incredible Talking Machine

by Jenni Spangler

  Tig’s cheeks flushed red.

  ‘I… well…’ Mr Snell was clearly shocked. His expression flickered from embarrassment to discomfort to anger. He was obviously frustrated by Faber’s unusual behaviour.

  Snell frowned and looked from Faber to Tig and back again. ‘Miss Rabbit,’ he said quietly. ‘Please wait outside while the adults are talking.’

  Tig walked out of the room, fuming. Mr Snell followed behind her and closed the door firmly. She listened with her ear to the door, but the wood was thick and the voices were muffled so she gave up and flopped down onto the bottom step, head in hands.

  Was this what Annie had been trying to tell her that morning? That she was about to be fired?

  No, that didn’t make sense. It was something to do with the machine, that much was clear. Was she warning her to listen to the predictions or…

  A spark flickered.

  Cold Annie and Euphonia weren’t two different mysteries at all. They were one and the same.

  Raised voices spilled out from the office but Tig barely noticed. How had she missed this?

  Faber said that Euphonia had never spoken on her own before. The very first time was the night he arrived at the Royale, after Tig had met Cold Annie in the flies and damaged the talking machine. Annie had led her to the red coat with the glass eye in the pocket, and given her the idea to fix it.

  A shiver swept through her, toe to scalp. Cold Annie was making the machine talk!

  The stalls door opened, startling Tig from her thoughts. Nelson came through carrying a broom and humming to himself. He really ought to be home and resting, but Tig had never been more pleased to see him.

  ‘Nelson!’ She ran across the tiles to meet him. ‘I’ve worked it out. The machine isn’t talking at all. It’s Cold Annie. She’s making it talk. She’s using it, somehow, to give us messages.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Annie made me drop the light-stick and break Euphonia’s eye. Annie showed us where the new eye was. And once her eye was in the machine, it could speak by itself! It all makes sense!’

  Nelson looked doubtful. ‘Sort of, I suppose.’ He rested his elbow on top of his broom and frowned.

  ‘But it still doesn’t explain how she knows the future.’

  ‘Maybe it does,’ said Nelson. ‘Remember? My cousin said when Annie was alive she could always predict when a performance was going to go wrong.’

  ‘Yes!’ Tig hugged him, hard. The broom clattered to the floor. ‘I was right then. Cold Annie, Euphonia – they’re both trying to help us. To warn us of bad things happening at the theatre.’

  ‘Have you told the professor?’

  ‘He’s…’ Everything came back with a crash. ‘It’s too late, Nelson. Snell is firing me.’

  Right on cue the office door opened. Tig put her shoulders back and gritted her teeth. She would look Snell in the eye, and not give him the pleasure of seeing her upset.

  ‘Miss Rabbit,’ said Snell. ‘It seems Mr Faber feels very strongly that your work is invaluable to him.’

  ‘Professor Faber,’ said Tig under her breath.

  Snell glared, his nostrils flaring. ‘And as he is our valued guest, I will allow you to remain in your position. You will be docked three days’ wages for the trouble you have caused. And make no mistake, there will be no more chances. We are all in agreement.’ He leaned in, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel his hot, damp breath. ‘Faber and Eliza can’t protect you for ever, you irritating little girl. I’ll be rid of you the first chance I get.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Snell,’ said Tig. She even added a little curtsey. That had been close. Too close.

  ‘What are you standing about for, boy?!’ Snell directed his frustration at Nelson. ‘Get back to work, idle creature!’

  ‘Come along, Miss Rabbit,’ said Faber.

  Foreshadowing

  ‘What did you say to change his mind?’ Tig demanded, as soon as she and Professor Faber were out of Snell’s earshot.

  ‘I said either you stay, or I go.’ He brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve. ‘It was Eliza who agreed, in the end. She said the Royale couldn’t afford to lose me, now we were making good sales.’

  But, Tig reminded herself, Faber was only due to be at the Royale for a month at most. Soon he would be gone, and then who would stop Snell from firing her?

  ‘Thank you,’ said Tig.

  Faber nodded. They entered the Green Room, and he took up his usual seat next to his notebook and pens.

  ‘I want you to promise me that next time the machine makes a prediction—’

  ‘It’s not the machine!’ Tig blurted out. ‘I figured it out. It’s our theatre ghost, she’s making it talk.’

  Breathlessly she explained her theory and everything they knew about Cold Annie and her habit of predicting misfortune. Faber’s face showed first confusion, then concern, and then relief. It settled, in the end, on disappointment. He closed his notebook with a decisive snap.

  Tig stopped talking. She’d been so excited to finally have some clue about what was happening, she’d been sure the professor would be as pleased as she was. Now she saw that it meant something else to him. He had hoped that he had somehow built a miracle machine. By some accidental genius he had invented a device that spoke the future, something beyond imagination. Tig’s revelation had taken that away.

  ‘Do you believe me?’ she said gently.

  ‘I believe in science. Logic. Facts.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘It seems none of those have any meaning in this place.’

  For once, Tig couldn’t think of anything to say.

  ‘Whatever the cause,’ said Faber at last. ‘If she makes another prediction you will not try to fix it or prevent it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No. We have seen that we cannot stop the predictions coming true. Your attempts have only made things worse. I don’t want anyone else hurt. And I’m not certain I can keep Mr Snell from dismissing you if there’s any more trouble.’

  Tig suddenly felt a lump in her throat and exhaustion washed over her. It felt like she was adrift at sea, the waves lifting her high one moment, then crashing through her the next, threatening to drag her under. The theatre was safe for now, but everything else was getting worse. Next time, someone could be killed. ‘Well then… if we can’t stop it ourselves, we need to tell someone. We need help.’

  ‘Absolutely not. If people find out they will want her, take her away. I can’t allow that to happen.’ He patted his pockets down until he found his box of health pills.

  ‘Professor… I can’t listen to her predicting horrible things and not try and stop them. I just can’t. I won’t.’

  Faber sighed and swallowed a handful of pills.

  ‘Whatever is happening here, I’m right in the middle of it,’ Tig continued. ‘You can’t expect me to pretend nothing is happening.’

  ‘I can tell Mr Snell to find me a new assistant!’

  Tig folded her arms and stamped her foot. Why were adults always so difficult? ‘You’ve just fought to stop me from being fired.’

  That deflated him. ‘Of course I’m not going to. Even though, truth be told, you are the most troublesome child.’

  Tig rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Sometimes making trouble was the only way to get things done.

  ‘Euphonia said I can trust you, and she’s been right about everything else so far.’ Faber paced from one end of the room to the other, taking big, energetic strides. ‘I find myself restless. There’s no air in this place.’

  ‘Why don’t you go for a walk outside? It’s nice weather. You’ve plenty of time before the show.’

  ‘I can’t leave the machine. Someone might interfere with her. Or she might speak again, and someone will overhear.’

  ‘I’ll stay with her,’ offered Tig. ‘I’ll sit in the theatre and make sure no one touches her.’

  Faber tilted his head to the side.

  ‘Well… I suppose a short stroll, not too far. If you’r
e sure you’ll stay with her.’

  ‘I’d much rather stay in here, out of the way of Snell and Gus.’

  ‘Very well.’ He puffed out his chest as if bracing himself to do something dangerous and scary. ‘I will go for a walk.’

  ‘Good for you!’

  ‘And you will…’ He nodded towards the machine.

  ‘I’ll protect her with my life. I promise.’

  * * *

  Tig broke the promise four minutes later.

  She really, really didn’t mean to. For the first three minutes she lay on the stage, staring up at the beams overhead, daydreaming about all the reporters that would come if they knew about Euphonia’s magic, and how the Royale would be the most famous theatre in the country. Snell would be thwarted once and for all.

  But then Euphonia started to speak.

  ‘So much fuel to burn. The sudden spark. The black smoke. Your friend must run.’

  The machine fell silent, the final note lingering in the empty theatre like dust. Tig’s fingers were shaking as she scrabbled for her pencil and paper to write down Euphonia’s words.

  She wasn’t going to act on them. She mustn’t.

  But this sounded awful.

  Follow the rabbit through the flames – that’s what the machine had said the first night. And now she was talking about fire again. The two must be connected – perhaps she, Tig, was destined to stop a fire!

  Who was the friend? Surely not Nelson again? He was sweeping in the foyer – no risk of fire there. And Gus certainly wasn’t her friend. They’d never said a friendly word to each other and he’d been trying to get her into trouble for days. Faber was out. Eliza didn’t seem so friendly towards her any more.

  The only other person she could almost call a friend was… Matilde.

  The chemist shop.

  The signs Mr Becker had put outside were advertising fireworks. He was making fireworks, himself, inside.

  They used gunpowder for that – the same stuff that fired cannons. It was horribly explosive. Matilde had said that the tiniest spark—

  Tig had to warn them!

  She’d promised Faber that she’d stay with the machine, but this was more important. Surely even he would agree? she thought, sprinting up the aisle.

  ‘What’s the hurry, dear?’ said Eliza as Tig barrelled past her in the foyer. But there was no time to explain.

  On the pavement she hopped from foot to foot waiting for a break in the traffic. Last time she had been too hasty, leaving before the clock struck three. If she took her time, and made absolutely certain, she could make sure it would be different.

  Darting between two wagons she raced across the road and shoved the chemist’s door open. The bell above it jangled.

  Matilde looked up from the ledger she was writing in and smiled. ‘Tig!’ She came out from behind the counter and headed over towards her.

  ‘Fireworks!’ panted Tig. ‘Is Mr Becker making fireworks today?’

  ‘No, why?’

  ‘I can’t really explain.’ Tig leaned against the shelves to catch her breath. ‘But you mustn’t.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If you make fireworks today, there’s going to be a fire.’

  Matilde knitted her brows together. ‘Papa’s been making fireworks for years. We’ve never had an accident yet.’

  ‘I know,’ said Tig. ‘But please trust me. Whatever happens, you mustn’t let anyone make fireworks today, or else something awful will happen.’

  ‘You needn’t worry,’ said Matilde. ‘We’re not working on them today. Mama and I are balancing the books and Papa is making—’

  Right on cue, Mr Becker bustled out from the back room. ‘Here you are again, Miss Rabbit, distracting my daughter when she is meant to be working, and no doubt so are you.’ He began ushering her towards the door.

  ‘No,’ said Tig. ‘I needed to give you an important message.’

  ‘Oh?’ said the chemist, but before Tig could explain they were interrupted by a thick column of black smoke from the back room.

  Mr Becker let out an alarmed grunt and ran towards the source of the smoke.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Tig. ‘You said you weren’t making fireworks today.’

  ‘He’s making matches,’ said Matilde.

  ‘The sand buckets!’ shouted Mr Becker from within. Matilde ran for the big metal bucket full of damp sand that had been placed by the door, and Tig followed with a second from the end of the counter. They passed them in turn to Mr Becker who dumped out the sand onto the smouldering work bench. Dirty black scorch marks had already appeared on the wall above, but the fire was out.

  ‘What happened, Papa?’ asked Matilde, as she brought out the dustpan and broom from the cupboard.

  ‘I was distracted from my work by you two wastrels.’ He pointed at Tig. ‘You! Out! I’ve had enough of you causing trouble round here.’

  ‘I was trying—’

  ‘Out!’

  She’d failed. Again. Four predictions. Three accidents caused by her interference and one – the carriage – by their inaction.

  This time there might have been no accident at all if Tig hadn’t run into the chemist and distracted Mr Becker.

  Faber was right. Perhaps she should have ignored Euphonia, and so the accidents wouldn’t have happened. But then why would Euphonia predict them in the first place?

  Tig’s thoughts were taking her round and round in circles and with each loop she got more confused and uncomfortable. She sat on the steps outside the milliner’s and took a few deep breaths. Going back into the theatre, to possibly hear more words in that unearthly voice, filled her with dread. For the first time ever, she wanted to be anywhere else but the Royale.

  She watched the people mill back and forth on their way to and from work, stopping to buy baked potatoes or talk to a friend in the street. It was a sea of grey, despite the sunshine. The roads were grey and filthy with horsemuck. The buildings were grey with soot from the factories. Even the people were grey in their dull, practical cloaks and shawls. Men strode by in their identical top hats…

  Faber!

  The professor was coming round the corner.

  Back already. Tig jumped up and pushed her way through the stream of people, running back to the theatre. If the professor realized she had left his precious machine unattended the very first time he had trusted her with it, he’d be furious.

  She raced up the stairs, ran across the foyer, and burst panting into the auditorium.

  Euphonia was there, exactly as she had been left. Of course.

  Although – was it Tig’s imagination? – it seemed like Euphonia was at a slightly different angle to before, and out of the corner of her eye she was sure she saw the backdrop cloth swaying slightly as though somebody had brushed against it.

  She listened carefully for footsteps, but heard nothing. Quickly she got herself into position, sitting on the stage, and fought to get her breath back so Faber would never know she had been running. Less than a minute later, Faber entered. She was just in time.

  ‘Back already?’ she asked with a smile.

  ‘The air in this city doesn’t agree with me,’ he said, striding across the stage and removing his hat. ‘I need my throat tonic from my room.’

  Tig lay back on the boards of the stage, staring up into the flies above, and thought about Matilde. They’d never be proper friends, now.

  ‘Ahhh!’ A sudden loud yell, almost a scream, came from Faber’s room. Tig hurtled in to find Faber standing in the opposite doorway, horror painted across his features.

  The room had been ransacked.

  The Green Room

  The drawers of the dressing table were open, the chairs had been pulled out and left at odd angles and the professor’s clothes were dumped in a pile in the middle of the room. His carpet bag had been tipped out, leaving combs and pencils and boot polish in a careless pile. The doorway to Faber’s bedroom was wide open; blankets were strewn across the floor and his mattress had
been flipped over.

  In the midst of the wreckage stood Faber, paler than Cold Annie.

  ‘What happened?’ he stammered.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tig.

  ‘Euphonia, is she—’

  ‘She’s fine.’

  He crossed the room in four steps and pushed past her to see for himself.

  Tig followed him. How could this have happened? They had only been gone for a few minutes, at the most.

  A moment later Snell’s sweaty face appeared. ‘I heard shouting. What’s the matter?’

  Faber threw his hands up. ‘What do you think is the matter?’ He pointed Snell towards the Green Room.

  ‘Oh my. Oh my, my.’ Snell held onto the doorframe.

  ‘Who did this?’ Faber demanded. ‘Has one of your boys been in here?’

  ‘I assure you I can vouch for all of my men,’ said Snell. ‘Everyone is hard at work aside from…’ He gestured towards Tig.

  ‘I only stepped out for a moment,’ said Tig. ‘Have we been burgled?’ She hadn’t locked the doors behind her when she ran out to the chemist, but it’d take a bold thief to walk right in from the street. ‘The takings! Did they get—’

  ‘Be quiet, Miss Rabbit,’ said Snell. ‘I was in the office the entire time. Nobody came through the lobby.’

  She felt a moment of relief – the Royale certainly couldn’t afford to lose a night’s takings – but it was followed immediately by worry. Who would come into the building, and go straight to Faber’s room to search it? Who, outside the theatre, would even know their way around backstage, or know that Faber lived in the Green Room?

  ‘Was anything stolen?’ asked Snell.

  ‘I don’t know yet.’ Faber picked up his jacket and patted it down. ‘My watch. My pocket watch is gone.’

  Tig’s heart was pounding so hard that it made her whole body quake.

  ‘I was only gone for a second,’ she said again. ‘I didn’t see anyone come out.’

  ‘What are you standing there for?’ said Faber to Snell. ‘Search the building. The thief may still be here!’

  ‘Of course. Gus!’ he yelled, bustling out of the room. ‘Search the building! Mr Faber’s been robbed!’ His voice echoed up the corridor as he retreated.