‘I’d better get ready for work, I guess.’
Stig smiles as if he’s got a secret. ‘A tree came down in the storm and the road won’t be cleared until later. If it snows again they might not be able to move it until tomorrow.’ When I don’t say anything he adds, ‘No one can get into the circus. You’ve got the day off.’
‘Oh. Thanks for telling me.’
I glance at the pale swollen sky and shiver. If no one can get in, that means no one can get out either. I start to shut the door, but Stig steps closer. ‘I wondered if you wanted to go for a walk. There’s a frozen lake on the other side of the forest. Or we could watch the rehearsal? Oskar is getting everyone to practise for the show, assuming it goes ahead tomorrow.’
A group of performers walk by wearing tattered rags and horned headdresses. The top parts of their faces and the ends of their fingers are painted black, their mouths and jaws white. Each of them carries a pole decorated with feathers and topped with a ram’s skull. It reminds me of the drawings Mum did before I left. On the back of the paper was a girl with strings attached to her arms and legs. Thinking about it, she had short dark hair, just like Nina.
Something seemed different about her last night, and then I realise. Her eyes were always black and empty before, but this time there was real emotion behind them. She was afraid. Did she know the dead were waiting for me in the big top? Was she warning me, because she knew what the jester was doing? Is she afraid of him too?
The jester left me the puppet, and if Mum drew Nina with strings, then perhaps the two of them are connected somehow. I still don’t know if I can trust Stig, but going for a walk with him has to be better than mulling it over on my own, and maybe there’s something he can tell me.
‘OK, I’ll come. I just need to get ready.’
‘I’ll wait here for you, Miss Martha.’
I close the door, stung by the casual affection of his words. He used to call me that in the cabin. At the time it made me feel special, as if he really cared for me. A tiny thread of hope pulls at my heart. How does he do that – yank on my strings and make me feel things I don’t want to feel?
I throw on some clothes then clean my teeth and brush my hair. It needs washing, but I can have a shower when I get back. I go out and Stig smiles to see me, no doubt relieved that I didn’t keep him waiting for long.
We turn right, away from the caravans, and head towards the edge of the clearing. The site is bustling with activity. Workers hurry about carrying wood and calling to one another, and men with spades clear the walkways while others hammer and pull on ropes. Oskar stands in the centre of it all, waving his arms and shouting.
Stig notices me looking. ‘They’re doing Ragnarok for the closing night. There are posters for it everywhere in town. I’ve never seen them do a fire show before. It should be amazing.’
I nod, remembering how the seamstress said she had to make new costumes. Whatever Oskar has planned, something tells me that Karl won’t be happy about it.
Stig leads us away from the circus and it’s a relief to turn my back on it. The treetops are thick with ravens, calling to one another with caws and gurgling croaks. The sound sends a chill through me and I scan the trees nervously. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many birds in one place. It feels like an omen.
He points into the forest. ‘The trail starts over there.’ I follow in his footsteps, my feet sinking into each ice-crusted crater like it was made for me. Watching him trudge through the trees, his hair hanging over his shoulders, reminds me of another time. We didn’t exactly have fun at the cabin, but I’m glad he was there to help me, to hold me when I was scared. Sadness tightens my throat. I could really use a friend right now. I wish things were how they were before, when I still trusted him.
Stig turns and smiles awkwardly. ‘The path will open up soon.’ He seems apologetic about us having to walk in single file, but I’m relieved we can’t talk for a while. It gives me a chance to organise my thoughts. The last few days have felt so unreal, I don’t know how to begin to tell him about any of it, or even if I should. He was freaked out by Nina, so how will he react if I tell him about the masks and the horde of dead and the jester?
Just thinking about the dead in the big top makes me shudder. The shadowy figures looked like the souls I abandoned at the tree. Whoever or whatever the jester is, he knew about me dropping the rope. He left the card because he wanted me to find them. But why?
I walk faster and a hideous thought creeps up and taps me on the shoulder. Now the dead know I’m here, what if they come after me again? I remind myself that they only manifest at night or in dim light. I need to stay focused on finding out about Nina – and this is my chance to ask Stig about her.
We climb higher, the path falling away beneath us. The forest feels ancient compared to the one on the island. Here the trees are taller and the ground uneven, great hollows and dips in the earth making it look primeval. Among the pines are thicker tree trunks and patches of green moss peeking through the snow.
After five minutes or so the trail widens and we walk side by side. Stig glances at me then coughs and looks away. Silence grows between us with each step, taking on a shape of its own like a third person on the path. Eventually the trees thin and I see a flash of sparkling white. He pushes away a snowy branch and my breath catches.
The lake is much bigger than I expected. It looks more than a mile wide. Beyond the expanse of glittering ice is a huge steep-sided valley, covered by an army of fir trees. Fog hangs over the hillside, obscuring the tops of the trees in a swirling shroud of white. It is breathtaking, but there is savagery in its beauty.
‘Wow. I had no idea this was here.’
Stig grins. ‘I knew you’d love it. We can walk on it if you like.’
I nod and follow him to the shore, my boots sliding on snowy gravel. He steps onto the lake and offers me his hand. I don’t take it, but then my foot slips and I grab his arm.
The impressions from his coat are sketchy, I guess because he hasn’t worn it very much yet. Even if I tried to read it, I doubt it would hold many memories. All I can sense are passing emotions. Right now, there’s a faint buzz of anxiety mixed with happiness. The idea of seeing Nina again scares him, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take to spend time with me. I pull away, surprised by the tenderness of his emotion, then look at the hard ice and remind myself that he could have something to hide. I don’t want to get hurt again.
‘We need skates,’ I mutter.
‘What, you didn’t bring any?’ he laughs.
I smile and keep walking. The lake appeared smooth from a distance but peering down I see the pale and bumpy ice is pockmarked with blue-grey bubbles and scored with lines. We venture further out, both of us treading carefully. Stig’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket then blows out an angry sigh.
‘Your mum?’ I ask.
‘She won’t leave me alone. When are you coming back, you can’t keep running from your problems, we need to talk . . .’
‘What does she want to talk about?’ I ask.
‘She’s selling the house I grew up in and moving to the suburbs with my stepfather. She wants me to live with them and take a job in his factory. Erik is dependable and hardworking, he eats herring on Tuesday and tacos on a Friday –’