When I don’t say anything, he checks his nails nonchalantly. ‘Well, it’s been a pleasure, as they say. You shall miss me, no doubt. But don’t worry – I have a feeling our paths will cross again one day.’ He bows, waving his arm with a flourish, and then vanishes.
I stare into space, my muscles tense and my nerves taut, not daring to believe he’s really gone. Long seconds pass and I brace myself for him to return but he doesn’t.
Relief comes over me, slowly at first and then all at once until I am weak with it. I look at the actors and their eyes are normal. Karl and Ulva hurry along the line, pulling off masks and throwing them on the fire. The faces of gods and animals appear in a swirl of green smoke. One by one the performers stare around, blinking like sleepwalkers waking from a nightmare.
29
I GO WITH HIM
W
hen we get back to the main site, paramedics and firefighters are there along with the police. The walkways are covered with soot and littered with debris: broken glass, scraps of burnt canvas and people’s dropped belongings. The night air reeks of smoke and is thick with falling ash, so that it looks as if it’s snowing. Two of the smaller tents have completely burned down and the front of the hall of mirrors is charred black. Firefighters jog past, dragging lengths of hose, and first-aiders help the last few tearful visitors, some seemingly suffering from burns and twisted ankles and others with smoke inhalation and shock.
Karl speaks to a paramedic, who calls for assistance and then hurries down to the field. Some of the actors were able to walk up with us, but most of them are too badly injured. A lady attempts to check me over but I pull away, determined to keep walking even though I don’t know where I’m going. I just know I have to find Stig.
Performers and visitors shuffle along the path, all with the same dazed look in their eyes. Like them, I stumble and stare around in bewilderment. My heart beats fast with worry but my mind is numb, my thoughts too slow to comprehend the speed of the destruction. An hour or so ago the circus was filled with expectant faces and laughter, and now it’s reduced to a wasteland. I tell myself I should be happy it’s over, but how can I feel joy surrounded by such devastation? And for what? For some twisted game of the gods.
I can’t ignore the fact that Odin was a part of this. He got me here and then left me to fend for myself. Loki has appeared to me many times, so why couldn’t he? All I had was a brief encounter in a vision. Loki’s departing words replay in my head and I tell myself that it can’t be true. Odin wouldn’t have done all this just to trick me into entering into some kind of bargain with him. But then why isn’t he explaining things? Is he even pleased that I won the wager? I don’t expect gratitude, though it would be nice, but surely I deserve an explanation.
I head towards the entrance, hoping Stig will be there. Ahead of me, Oskar is standing outside the big top, talking to a policeman. He points towards the field and says something then pushes his glasses onto his head and rubs the bridge of his nose. His eyes look red and sore as if he hasn’t slept for days. He shakes his head and his expression says what everyone is thinking: how could this have happened?
I turn the corner and circus workers wander by in a daze. Two men in crew jackets talk, their eyes wet with tears, and a group of Valkyries stand in a circle, singing softly with their arms wrapped around one another.
‘Martha!’ Ruth rushes towards me, her makeup smeared and her auburn hair covered with ash. ‘Have you seen Karl?’
‘Yes, he’s OK. He’s gone back to the field with the paramedics.’
‘Are there many hurt down there?’
I bite my lip, not wanting to tell her.
Ruth sees my face and stifles a sob. ‘I can’t understand it. They say the fire giant deliberately set fire to performers and people in the crowd. I’ve known him for years, he was a lovely guy, it doesn’t make sense. And Sandrine. She was such a happy person. Why would she do that to herself?’
I stare at the walkway, not trusting myself to speak. Maybe if I’d done things differently, if I’d figured out Loki’s trickery sooner, no one would have got hurt.
Ruth puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head. ‘You’re OK though?’
I nod. ‘I’m sorry about Sandrine. And I’m sorry for what I said about you in the canteen tent.’
She sniffs. ‘It’s OK. I’ve been meaning to go back to Ireland for years, and I’ve got nothing to stay here for now.’ She embraces me and her shawl is sodden with anguish. But despite her fear, I can tell she’s excited about seeing her daughter again.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she presses me. ‘I was worried about you . . . That business with Stig?’
I shake my head. ‘I was wrong about him.’
He wasn’t the only one I was wrong about. Ruth felt uneasy about the binding spell she’d done, but it had nothing to do with Nina’s death. I feel bad for suspecting her and think about apologising, but decide some things are best left unsaid.
Ruth smiles. ‘I need to check on the others, but I’ll see you soon, yes?’ I nod and she hugs me again and whispers, ‘I’m glad you’re OK.’
She strides away and I turn and look around. Maybe Stig went with the police to give a statement, or perhaps he was injured in the crush. A hot, stifling feeling comes over me, despite the cold. After everything we’ve been through, I have to see him. I need to know he’s OK. I need to hug him and tell him again that I’m sorry.
I’m heading for the exit of the circus, hoping to find someone to ask, when he rounds the corner, walking as if in a daze. Then he notices me and his eyes glisten. We stand a few paces from one another as ash drifts around us like snowflakes. He holds out his arms and I step into them, and his coat is heavy with fear and love. He’s been wandering the site looking for me, afraid I’d been hurt or worse.
He holds me tight, then pulls away and gazes at me. A smile spreads across his face and I have a sudden urge to tell him how upset I was when he left and how much I’ve missed him. I think about all the people I read for in the psychic tent. It took courage for them to be vulnerable, to drop their masks and show their true feelings.
He lowers his head towards mine and our bodies press close. His coat tells me how much he wants me, how he wants to spend days and nights wrapped up with me and never let me go. More impressions surface in my mind, a rush of emotions and flashes of childhood memories, and I have the feeling he wants to give himself to me. He doesn’t want to hold anything back; he wants me to know everything there is to know about him. I’m familiar with the emotion – it’s how I felt at the cabin.
We kiss for a few wonderful moments, and then I pull away. ‘I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you, Stig.’
He shakes his head as if it’s forgotten. ‘We all make mistakes. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your messages. If I could change things, I would.’ He strokes my hair and whispers, ‘Maybe I could come to the island with you.’
‘I thought you were afraid to go back to the cabin.’
‘I am, but I want to be with you, Martha.’
He holds my hand and his glove reveals it’s true. Despite the horror of what happened to Sandrine and seeing the dead at the cabin, he wants to be with me. Something flickers in my chest, but it’s not a buzz of elation. Stig has so much goodness in him, but now I can use my gift properly I can see other things about him too. He runs from his problems, going from one person and place to the next. That’s why he’s so upset with his mum for selling the house he grew up in – he doesn’t feel that he belongs anywhere now. Inside he’s lonely and lost and he thinks the best way to avoid feeling that way is to move on, like his dad always did. And like his dad, he has a romantic notion of riding off into the sunset. The idea of staying put and working things out isn’t quite so appealing.