Hyacinth held out the ice cream. “The shop was out of vanilla, so I bought peach.”
Maud cupped her hands around the bowl. The china was beaded with cold water, and the ice cream was pure and sugary, with shreds of peach that rasped against her tongue. “Mmmn.”
Hyacinth sat down on the bed. “The rain’s stopped.”
“What time is it?”
“About nine thirty.” Hyacinth leaned forward, skimming her spoon over the mountain of cream. “The shop was closed, but I hammered on the window — I was determined you should have a treat. Maud, you were perfect! The glockenspiel was a masterstroke. You should have heard it — the chimes against the rain — the effect was beyond everything! I felt my own skin prickle, and I knew it was you. You couldn’t have done better if we’d rehearsed for hours.”
“Was the singing all right?”
“The singing was exquisite,” said Hyacinth approvingly. “Neither too loud nor too soft. Eleanor Lambert went white as a sheet — Judith thought she was going to faint.”
“Did she?”
“No. She ran to the window — she stood there with her cheek against the glass — crying and crying. And then she rushed for the door, and Judith and I tried to stop her — while you, my nimble darling, vanished into thin air! Oh, it was perfection! She was certain it was Caroline. Though” — Hyacinth’s eyes crinkled with amusement — “she did say as how Caroline generally sang a little flat. Now, you, pettikins, were absolutely on pitch.”
“I can’t help that,” Maud protested. “You never told me to sing flat.”
“My precious child, I didn’t know! Luckily, it took no time at all to persuade Eleanor that everyone sings on key in heaven — if they didn’t, how dreadful for poor God! Yes, it was an absolute triumph.”
Maud prompted her, “So I was good?”
“My darling child, you were better than good — didn’t I say so? I never thought we should find a child who could improvise so brilliantly.” Hyacinth put down her spoon and pushed the bowl closer to Maud. “There. Finish that.”
Maud spooned up an enormous lump of ice cream and put it in her mouth. She was almost too happy to speak. The circle of candlelight seemed to contain everything she desired. She had done well; Hyacinth was sitting at the foot of her bed; they were eating ice cream in the middle of the night.
“What’ll we do next?”
Hyacinth frowned a little. “I’m not sure. Judith and I disagree. She wants you to materialize soon, so that we’re sure of the money. For myself, I think it better to proceed slowly. Caroline died on August the fifteenth. It would be poetical to have you materialize on the anniversary. Perhaps, between now and then, we’ll have another séance using the map closet. You can speak, but you won’t materialize.”
“What happens when I materialize?” asked Maud. “Won’t she be able to see I’m not a ghost?”
“It’s a problem,” agreed Hyacinth. “We haven’t done much with apparitions — there are tricks with mirrors I’d like to try — but I think Eleanor wants to hold you in her arms. You must be prepared for her to clutch you and kiss you and cry.” She gave a little shudder. “I detest that sort of thing, don’t you?”
“Um,” said Maud. One of her knees was touching Hyacinth’s side. Stealthily she drew it back. “I wish they wouldn’t cry.”
“Dear Maud, they all cry.” Hyacinth threw up her hands in comic despair. “We go to such trouble to make them happy, but they always cry. One simply has to get used to it. It’s their money, after all. If Eleanor Lambert’s willing to pay five thousand dollars to cry all over you, who are we to judge?”
Maud took another spoonful of ice cream, dribbling it down her front. “Five thousand dollars is a lot of money.”
Hyacinth gave a low laugh. “Dear Maud! Did Victoria get at you before she left?”
Maud hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do. She told you we were wrong to take the money, didn’t she?”
Maud risked a glance at Hyacinth and saw that her eyes were dancing. “She said something like that.”
“Of course she did. Now, listen to me.” Hyacinth leaned forward and touched Maud’s cheek, guaranteeing her attention. “If Eleanor Lambert wanted to know that her daughter was dead, who would tell her so?”
“Most anybody, I guess.”
“Exactly so. The doctor. The undertaker. Anyone. She could have the truth for free. But Eleanor Lambert isn’t in the market for truth, and she’s not in the market for religion, either. Any minister worth his salt would tell her she would see her daughter in heaven. But Eleanor Lambert doesn’t want to see her daughter in heaven. She wants her now. Do you follow me, Maud?”
Maud nodded.
“In short, she wants to resurrect the dead — which is impossible. And the impossible is bound to be expensive. Why, look at the money we’ve spent! Your white dress, the glockenspiel, the Ouija board, the wig — not to mention the amount of time we’ve spent working to perfect the illusions. Do you really think, Maud, that we could afford to do all this for nothing?”
“No.” Maud had a sense that Hyacinth’s reasoning was faulty in some way, but she had no further desire to argue. “When she pays us, may I have a new book?” She was frightened to hear herself say the words, but Hyacinth rewarded her with the sweetest of smiles.
“You shall have a dozen new books,” she assured Maud, “and a new dress — and enough ice cream to sink a ship. There! Are you satisfied?”
“Yes,” Maud said, happily, guiltily.
“Then kiss me good night.” Hyacinth lowered her cheek. “And finish your ice cream and go to sleep. You’ve done a good night’s work.”
The following night, Maud stole from the house to play on the shore. The ocean was rough after the storm. Even Maud, who had seen it only twice before, could see the change. The foam from the shallow breakers splashed her to the waist. Maud rejoiced. An evening of freedom stretched before her. Hyacinth and Judith were dining out — Muffet had gone off with her spade and her basket — Maud had escaped. The only flaw in her happiness was that she had little hope of riding the merry-go-round. Last night’s thunderstorm had cooled the air, and tourists thronged the boardwalk, enjoying the breeze and the sunset. The amusement park would be crowded.
Still, there was the ocean. For the first hour, Maud played tag with the waves. Then she settled down to make a sand castle. A large shell served as a spade, and she scooped and patted until she had achieved three mounds of diminishing size, one on top of the other. She clawed a circular moat around this structure and was charmed when the water welled up beneath her fingernails. She had not known there was water under the sand. A vision dazzled her: a complex city of castles and canals. On her hands and knees, she dug for it, not looking up till the air was dim.
Night was falling. Maud sighed and rose to her feet, brushing her dress. A moist crust of sand coated everything — dress, fingers, toes, and knees. The sand had even infiltrated her underclothing. When she reached up to scratch her ear, she found it gritty. Stiff-legged, fingers splayed, she headed for the waves to rinse herself clean.
The chill of the ocean was a shock. Maud squealed as the water climbed to her waist. She ducked so that it came up to her shoulders and fanned out her skirts. All at once the next wave was upon her, curling like the top of a question mark. Maud hopped upward, trying to catch the surge. Her timing was wrong. The wave slapped her face, knocking her headlong into the water.