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Ann and the factory girls take over the altar. She tells them about Macbeth. She makes it sound like a ghost story, which I suppose it is.
“I ain’t never been to no real theater,” Mae Sutter says when Ann finishes.
“We shall have our own here,” Pippa promises. She settles into the throne as if born to it.
Felicity finds an old drape. Under her touch it becomes a cape just like the one she’s given Pip. It’s lovely, but when she settles beside Pip, the illusion shows. It cannot compare to the real one. “Our Ann is to have an audience with Lily Trimble.”
“Go on!” Mae laughs.
“I am,” Ann says. “In the West End.”
“Back there,” Mercy says with a mixture of admiration and jealousy. “Remember them chips we could get on Wednesdays, Wendy?”
“Aye. Greasy.”
“Drippin’ with grease and pipin’ hot!” Mercy’s smile fades. “I miss it.”
“Oi, not me.” Bessie Timmons jumps up from her spot by the fire and pushes to the front. “Nuttin’ but misery. Work from dark to dark. And nuttin’ waitin’ for yer at home, neither, ’cept yer mum with too many moufs to feed and no’ enuf to go round.”
Mercy keeps her eyes on her boots. “Wasn’t all bad. M’sister Gracie was right sweet. And I ’ad grand dreams.” Tears come, and she sniffles, wiping her nose.
Bessie crouches low and brings her snarl to the girl’s face. “A bellyache and stiff fingers from the cold is wot you ’ad, Mercy Paxton. Don’t go cryin’ fer it.”
Mae steps in. “We’ve got ever’thin’ here, Mercy. Don’t you see?”
“Mercy, come to me,” Pippa commands. The girl struggles up from the floor and walks shyly to her. Pippa cups the girl’s face in her palm, smiling at her. “Mercy, that’s all done now, so let’s dry our tears. We’re here, and it shall be everything we ever dreamed it could be. You’ll see.”
The girl rubs her nose on her sleeve, and with that one movement, her youth shows. She’s no more than thirteen. It’s terrible to think of her working in that factory from sunup till sundown.
“Who wants to go on a merry adventure, then?” Pippa asks.
The girls erupt in enthusiastic cries. Even Mercy manages a smile.
“What sort of adventure?” Ann asks.
Pippa giggles. “You’ll have to trust me. Now, close your eyes and follow me. There shall be no peeking!”
With Pip at the lead, we’re pulled along holding hands, a paper chain of girls. We’re out of the castle. I can feel the cool of the Borderlands on my skin.
“Open!” Pip commands.
Before us is an enormous hedge, well over eight feet tall. At one end I spy an entrance.
Ann breaks into a grin. “It’s a maze!”
“Yes,” Pip says, clapping. “Isn’t it splendid? Who’s game?”
“I am,” Bessie Timmons says. She runs around the corner, disappearing into the maze’s belly.
“And me.” Mae runs after her.
“I love a good hide-and-seek. Find me, Fee!” With that, Pippa pulls up her skirts, and Felicity, giggling, gives chase. I’m the last in. I don’t know how the others could have gotten away from me so fast. I turn corner after corner, but all I see is a maddening flutter of color and then nothing. The hedge walls are the most unusual I’ve ever seen, made of tightly woven clover and small black flowers, and I swear they shift so that when I look behind me, the passage has changed. The isolation sends my mind into strange corners, and I quicken my steps.
“Ann!” I cry.
“Over here!” she shouts back. The sound comes from everywhere at once, so I cannot be at all certain where to go next. I hear whispering. Is it coming from up ahead?
When I go round the edge, there are Felicity and Pippa standing close, foreheads touching, hands clasped. They murmur in private conference, and I can hear only a word here, a phrase there.
