Like me, Mr Bishop was already packed. So we simply stepped out the back door and walked until evening.

We stayed in a little inn in Halmesberry. Over breakfast in the morning, I blurted it out.

“I want to go back to Jonton to go to the university there.” I felt awkward and exposed.

Mr Bishop paused, mid bite, “What?”

“I’m going back to Jonton. I’m going to apply to study at the university.”

Mr Bishop took a big breath, fork hovering mid-air. He was carefully trying to formulate his words. This caused him anguish, as he envisioned me as his apprentice for life. He thought of me not as a regular apprentice, or even a friend, but as an object that would always be around. I had become a necessary security blanket. It was as if he thought his crimes and anxiety were caused by me, or at least partly by me, so we were on the run together. He calmly put his fork down, and told me to go upstairs. He followed me up the stairs, and directed me into my room. He closed the door, and very calmly spoke to me.

“Arcadia, we are in the dark arts. We have worked with too many people to be talking about what we do. We have crossed too many lines for anyone to find out about anything we have done before yesterday. I cannot believe you breached my confidence by going to the university. I cannot believe you breached my confidence by applying to study. Never again, Arcadia. As of this moment you must not go out beyond our accommodation. You must not speak to anyone about anything we have done or are doing beyond our next shows. Stay here. I will go shopping and bring some meals back for you. We will leave here tomorrow.”

Mr Bishop’s eyes told me how afraid he was. He was afraid of people finding out about his past. He was afraid of me, his only confidante and support, leaving. He was afraid of losing control of his life, of me, of everything he had built. He was afraid he would not be able to maintain his facade for the rest of his life. More than afraid, he was absolutely terrified.

He locked my door on his way out, and I felt as despondent as a young woman in a red dress could be.

I looked out my window, which faced the street. Below I saw Mr Bishop leave the inn and head towards Halmesberry town centre. I sighed the most despondent sigh a young woman in a red dress could, and sat down in the chair at the desk with my notebook.

Options:

Stay – run the show / continue as is.

Leave – run my own show.

Leave – U.

The big U was calling my name, no matter what else I did.

U - mathematics / alchemy / sculpture?

Mathematics – quantum / magical

The magic that lies between the numbers. Quantum mathematics.

It really was my only option. The only university I knew of was the one in Jonton. I had a connection there. Josh could help me get set up there. He could help me learn the ropes to a stable life. He was my connection to Jonton, and Jonton was my lifeline.

The only thing left was to figure out how to leave Mr Bishop. Now I was locked up, effectively a prisoner, it would be very difficult to leave without being noticed. We would either be travelling together, or I would be under very close watch. It would be near impossible to leave, but not quite impossible. I knew it would happen when it could, so I decided I would simply wait for the opportunity to present itself. Meanwhile, I would keep my bag packed and ready to go at all times.

I was tired. Exhausted would be a better word. Exhausted from being on the run. Exhausted from all the travel. People think being a traveling performer is an exciting life. I suppose it could be, but I didn’t feel like a traveling performer. I felt like a criminal on the run. It was not exciting. It was exhausting. Working for Mr Bishop was exhausting. My life had become too exhausting to bear. I slipped my notebook and pencil into my backpack, and lay on my back in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling until I fell asleep.

I heard a knock, and footsteps walking towards my desk.

“Arca,” he whispered, “there’s a meal on your desk. We’ll leave before sunrise. Meet me early out the front then.”

I grunted in acknowledgement before I heard him leave and lock the door behind him.

I lay in bed listening to the sounds outside. Conversations coming and going. Footsteps. New guests arriving. A child laughing. A dog barking. Its owner calming it. I recalled some of Josh’s piano music. I would find my way back to that cafe. It would probably happen in the next few days.

I opened my eyes and realised it was late afternoon. I had always been good at keeping my own company, but now that it was forced upon me, I felt trapped, and the weight of the world pressed down on me.