A Drowned Maiden's Hair_ A Melodrama - Laura Amy Schlitz [63]
Maud spoke. “You have a green smear on your skirt.”
Caroline didn’t answer. She rolled her stockings up in a ball and threw them into the air. She had a good arm: the balled-up stockings landed in the mouth of the boot she had just discarded.
“Maud,” whispered Hyacinth, “are you asleep?”
Maud dragged herself out of her dream. The memory faded as she sat up in bed. For the second time that night Hyacinth stood before her. This time she carried a candle and a bowl of ice cream. A whole pint of ice cream, with two spoons stuck in it. Maud blinked in astonishment. “I’m not asleep,” she assured Hyacinth.
“Good!” Hyacinth set the candle before the mirror. The faint light doubled. By the light of glass and candle, Hyacinth appeared supernaturally young. She was wearing what Maud thought of as a “negleyjay,” lavishly embroidered and foamy with lace. Maud feasted her eyes upon it. Someday, perhaps, she would have a “negleyjay.”
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.