9
The giants returned. Kay had no idea how long she had been in the dormant state but was startled to be aware of them in the middle of the day. Judging by the slant of light coming through the edges of the covered windows, it was perhaps four in the afternoon. Something had happened to the order of things, and though she could not move, Kay was attuned to the changing nature of the world. Beyond the curtain, the giants were moving about. She could tell by their heavy footfalls and agitated voices reaching her ears. The bells on the front door ringing like mad with people going in and out of the shop. They spent hours in the Front Room, and not just the Quatre Mains and the Deux Mains as expected, but others as well, new and different voices, swearing in French and English, the smell of cigarettes, bottles banging on the counters, the tromp of boots and the packing of boxes. Kay hoped for night to come, then midnight, so that the puppets might be awake and someone could peek around the edge, but they must have started early in the day to have been working for so many hours. Frustrated that she could not see what was happening, she let out a deep and loud sigh. Behind her came a whisper: “Shush!”
“Who is that?” Kay asked.
“It’s the Good Fairy. You shouldn’t be talking.”
“What’s going on out there?”
From the four corners of the Back Room came warnings to be quiet. She resisted the urge to speak again and instead listened carefully, trying to calm her fears by falling into the hum of conversation and the random bangs and bumps. In a while, the noises slowed down. Men at the front door were saying adieu.
“No,” the Deux Mains said. “We can do the back room ourselves. Nothing but odds and ends. Merci.”
The lintel bells chimed one last time. A key went into the lock, and then silence once more. Kay waited a long time before daring to speak.
“Does anybody know what is happening?”
The Queen issued an edict. “You are not to speak until you are spoken to. Everyone keep still. A move is afoot.”
Kay did not like to be chided by the Queen, but she respected her wishes. In the privacy of her own contemplation, she conjured a number of scenarios. The men were cleaning out the front of the shop to make room for the puppets languishing in the back. She pictured herself and her comrades taking the place of those old toys in the display window next to her favorite. Or, possibly, the men were with the police who had been looking all this time and finally found her and would be returning in the night and bring her back to her husband, who had not forgotten her after all. The thought quickened inside like a pulse that made her feel nearly human again.
Without warning, the beads rattled and the curtains parted. Backlit, the giants stood in the opening, two shadows great as mountains. The puppets stirred with excitement, barely contained exhalations rising softly from where each one lay.
“Good evening, my beauties,” the Deux Mains said. “We are off on our next adventure.”
Mad with curiosity, Kay turned her head to face them, breaking a cardinal rule. She gasped when she saw the Quatre Mains hand over the primitive wooden puppet to the Deux Mains, who laid it carefully in a bespoke leather case which she sealed and locked with a clasp. Together, they put the bell jar in a separate container lined with cedar shavings. From there they began loading tools into milk crates, gathering the spare parts, and throwing them into bins. One or the other crossed her line of vision frequently, but they were little more than a blur in their haste. The puppets held their tongues and stiffened, and the giants only spoke out of necessity.
“Shall we take them all?” the Quatre Mains asked.
She wondered what was meant by his question, whether some would go and some would stay, whether it was a temporary measure as when the Judges and the Old Hag had departed or more permanent, for it surely seemed as though they were packing to leave for good.