Free The Zig Zag Girl by Elly Griffiths

imagine Max in the army.’
    ‘He was exactly the same then as he is now.’
    People said that actors were chameleons, all things to all men, but what always struck Edgar was their ability to remain unchanged whatever the circumstances. Put Max or Diablo in the desert or the jungle or adrift on the open sea and they would always remain exactly themselves.
    ‘Are you walking that way?’ said Ruby. ‘I’ll go with you.’
    Edgar was surprised at the rush of pleasure that came over him at the thought of walking with Ruby. He hastened to fall in with this plan and was only slightly disappointed when, skipping along at his side, she proceeded to talk about Max.
    ‘Is it true that his father is a lord?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Edgar. He didn’t think that this could be a secret, it was common knowledge in the press after all (‘The Hon Max swaps stately home for a life on the boards’).
    ‘What does he think about Max being on the stage?’
    ‘I don’t think he’s too keen.’ Edgar had never met Max’s father, but from Max’s occasional comments he gathered that Lord Massingham was not a fan of showbusiness.
    ‘It’s funny,’ said Ruby, looking up at him in a way that made Edgar wish that they could change the subject. ‘Max isn’t what I expected. People in the business talk about him as if he’s some sort of dark genius, as if he’s Count Dracula or something. There are all these storiesgoing round. I was terrified at the thought of working with him. But he’s really nice, so polite and considerate.’
    Polite and considerate. At least it didn’t sound as if she were in love with him.
    ‘How long have you been on the stage?’ he asked. He hadn’t missed the self-conscious pause before ‘in the business’.
    Ruby laughed. ‘This is only my second job. I worked with a magician called The Great Raymondo before. He wasn’t that great, to be honest, but I’ve always been fascinated by magic. I used to do card tricks for my mum. I sent away for this conjuring set, exploding cigarettes, handkerchiefs tied together, that sort of thing. I’m sure I drove everyone mad.’
    She said this with the breezy confidence of one who has been adored all her life.
    ‘So you want to be a magician.’
    ‘Yes.’ A defiant tilt to the head. ‘You probably think it’s impossible for a girl to be a magician.’
    ‘No, I …’
    ‘There was this woman called Eusapia Palladino in Italy at the end of the last century. She was married to a magician, but she became famous in her own right. She could levitate tables and play instruments without touching them.’
    ‘Amazing,’ said Edgar politely. He imagined that evenings at Eusapia’s house were a riot.
    ‘But she did all this mediumistic stuff. I wouldn’t do that. I’d concentrate on pure magic.’
    Pure magic. It sounded both innocent and rather terrifying. Edgar imagined Ruby in the world described by Max; a different boarding house each week, changeover on Sunday, the endless round of dressing rooms and band calls.
    ‘It’s a tough life, being on stage,’ he said.
    ‘That’s what my mother says.’ Ruby was silent for a moment. She was so much smaller than him that he could look down on the top of her head. It made him feel protective.
    They had reached the Grand, where Edgar usually crossed the road. He hesitated, not wanting to end the walk, but Ruby said, ‘Are you crossing here? I’ll walk on a bit further.’
    ‘Goodbye then.’ Edgar went to raise his hat and realised that he wasn’t wearing one. ‘Good luck for the rest of the week.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Ruby. ‘It’s not easy, being stabbed to death every night.’
    Something in the way she said this made Edgar feel suddenly afraid. He wanted to tell her not to go back to the theatre, not to enter the cabinet and face the shining swords. But Ruby was smiling so he had to smile too, raise his non-existent hat and say that he hoped they’d meet again some day.
    It was only as he was nearly back