The Quick by Lauren Owen

Author:Lauren Owen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9780679645054
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-06-17T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

There were patches of memory from before that day—a small cold room, something sparkling on a wooden floor, a man shouting—but this was the first thing Adeline remembered clearly: a thundery summer afternoon, dark-blue clouds heavy over the Thames. It was no day for the experiment, someone said. What if it starts to rain? Someone else, laughing, said, Well, she’s got the river to break her fall. Everybody was in a cheerful mood. There were hundreds of people there, all pushing for space around Cremorne Pier. This was when the Cremorne Gardens were still open in Chelsea, when people still came down in boats or carriages for an afternoon’s amusement or an evening’s pleasure. Adeline remembered the coloured lanterns shining in the trees, music coming from far away. There was a man selling coffee, the smell mingled with the stench of the water.

High above the river they had strung a wire, supported by four narrow wooden ledges. About halfway across, just past the second ledge, a woman stood, holding a slender balance pole. She ought to have fallen, but Adeline had known from the way she moved—so light and easy, as if she were walking a steady pavement—that she would not. She had been advertised in the newspapers as the FEMALE BLONDIN, and a huge crowd had come to see her.

There was a breath of wind, and the wire swayed—the crowd murmured, but the woman showed no sign of dismay. Her dress was light white stuff, like a ballet girl’s, and she wore a little red jacket that stood out brightly against the darkening sky. Adeline had never seen anyone who looked so free.

“That’s your mama,” someone said. This was Mr. Congreave, Mama’s agent. Sometimes Adeline liked to pretend that he was her father.

People looked at her and muttered admiringly after Mr. Congreave spoke. Adeline had been abashed at so much attention; she had stared down at her feet—at the pretty blue boots that were too large for her, which had been bought second-hand, like her frock and jacket and her tiny blue velvet hat with the white feather. There was a spot of grease on the hem of her dress, and it was a bit gone under the arms, but the jacket hid that. It was a splendid jacket, white velvet with a round collar and black silk piping. She had wanted to run and twirl about, to show everyone how fine she was in her new things—only Mr. Congreave’s stern warning that she was to be good (for Mama’s sake) had kept her standing still. It was Mama’s London début, and they had wanted to make a good impression.

Adeline was still looking down, wiggling her toes in her boots, which were beginning to let the damp in, when there was a noise from the crowd—a sigh and a groan. Afterwards, she was told that the rope was too loose, and it had begun to sway back and forth. The guy lines supporting the wire had been cut; a man had been trying to steal the lead weights which secured them.

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