The Midnight Carnival Read Online Free PDF Page A

Justine and the ringmaster, but softer, and his voice was low and warm. It was friendly too, but Grace’s heart was pounding with shock.
    ‘Are you from the carnival?’ she stammered.
    It was a bit abrupt, but her fright was still wearing off.
    ‘Heading out from there, yeah. Is this the way out of town?’
    ‘There’s just a little village in that direction. Where are you going?’
    ‘Anywhere.’
    That wasn’t much help. After thinking, Grace told him how to get to the bus station.
    ‘Don’t need no bus. I’ll walk it.’
    ‘Well… that road to the left leads out of town. It eventually takes you to one of the motorways, towards Dublin. But it’sreally far. You couldn’t walk it.’
    ‘I’ll try it out and see how I go.’
    ‘You really should take the bus. Or the train. It’d take days walking.’
    ‘Nah, I’m good. I don’t mind the walking. Thanks for the help. Much appreciated.’
    He turned and walked away, and Grace felt a pang of guilt. Despite his unusual skin, she could tell he was no older than she was; he shouldn’t be walking to Dublin on his own at all, let alone at night. She looked anxiously towards the carnival. Should she tell someone? Maybe she’d get him in trouble if she did. Maybe she should get him in trouble. But the confidence with which he’d moved made her think it was none of her business and she would be prying to get involved.
    In the end, she turned back towards her house and said nothing to anyone, unconsciously gritting her teeth against the notion that she had done something wrong.

    As the bulbs of the ferris wheel flickered and went out, a tall man with a wide-brimmed hat and dark coat entered the ballerina’s tent and took a seat on the cot bed. The ballerina stopped rolling her hair into curls and glared at the man in her dressing table mirror.
    ‘What do you want, doctor?’
    ‘You’re making friends,’ he said.
    ‘What’s it to you?’
    The man lit a skinny cigar and smoked it slowly.
    ‘I don’t like it.’
    ‘It ain’t none of your business.’
    ‘Oh, but it is, Justine. We both know that.’
    ‘I like ’em, that’s all. I’m allowed to have friends.’
    The man made a hissing sound, a strange kind of laugh. He stood, loomed over Justine and stubbed his cigar out on her dressing table, scraping scorched black across the white paint.
    ‘We’ll see about that.’

    Adie had suggested a movie. She had suggested practising spells in the woods. She had even suggested browsing the shops and trying on every single make-up and perfume tester in town, thinking that Rachel at least would go for that one. But no such luck. In the carnival, the others had found something to amuse them for days, and they weren’t going to miss a minute of it. Except Jenny. It was 10.30 a.m. but she wouldn’t get up before noon unless her bed was on fire.
    After getting chapter and verse of the visit to the bearded ballerina’s tent, Adie and Delilah broke off from the others. Delilah liked to wander in amongst the tightly packed trailers away from the carnival stalls, where B-brr could safelypeek out from beneath her collar.
    ‘I can tell he likes it,’ the small girl said, ‘he keeps wriggling his toes. He usually only does that when he smells apple pie in the oven.’
    ‘Mrs Quinlan bakes?’
    ‘No, she buys those frozen ones. I tried making muffins once from scratch, but Mephistopheles doesn’t like ingredients.’
    ‘Doesn’t like ingredients?’
    ‘Flour and sugar and things. I think they make him angry. Anyway, he pushed them off the counter and made a huge mess. Vera threw him outside and banned all baking in the house. Now we get the frozen stuff.’
    Mephistopheles was one of Vera Quinlan’s cats. Adie found him temperamental and obnoxious – he hissed at the girls whenever they were in the house – and it seemed fitting that he was Old Cat Lady’s favourite.
    The girls passed by a grey trailer, with its door swinging open in the breeze. There were