Goodly and Grave in a Bad Case of Kidnap

by Justine Windsor

  Kathleen was the last of the bottled children to go home. After watching her being collected by her ecstatic parents, Lucy wandered down to the kitchen. Bathsheba’s suppertime was near.

  “Are you all right?” Mrs Crawley asked Lucy as she filled Bathsheba’s bucket with the usual raw, dripping meat.

  Lucy nodded, avoiding Mrs Crawley’s eyes.

  “I’m sure they’ll be in touch soon,” Mrs Crawley said.

  Lucy had written to Mr and Mrs Goodly a few days ago to let them know that Lord Grave was letting her go home. But she had heard nothing back from them yet, so she didn’t know if her letter had even reached them. What if something had happened to them both? Without her around, they could have ended up in all sorts of trouble.

  Lucy knew that if Mrs Crawley saw she was upset, she’d try to be kind. Lucy wouldn’t be able to bear that. So she kept her head down, grabbed the bucket and began lugging it towards the wildlife enclosure. Unfortunately, she encountered Becky in the kitchen garden, who was pulling up vegetables for Mrs Crawley.

  “No more cosy breakfasts with his Lordship, then? Back to being a boot girl? Is that why you’re so down in the mouth, Goodly?” Becky said gleefully, jabbing Lucy’s arm with a carrot.

  Lucy ignored her and carried on walking. At least she was only feeding Bathsheba this evening and not cleaning out her hut, so there was no need to put on her armour and go into the wildlife park. When Lucy reached the iron fence, she dejectedly climbed a ladder that leaned against it. When she reached the top of the ladder, Lucy tipped the meat out of the bucket over into the animals’ side. The smell of food soon brought Bathsheba bounding up. As the panther tore hungrily at her grisly meal, Lucy stayed on the ladder and looked out across the grounds of Grave Hall. The sun was beginning to set. Down by the lake, the elephants were playing an evening water game. Lord Grave had told her one of the elephants was due to have a baby soon. Lucy wondered if she would still be here then?

  As she sat there, trying to tell herself everything would be fine in the end, she saw two people walking slowly up the long drive towards the house. One of the figures looked like it had three legs.

  Lucy frowned. How puzzling. Maybe it was a trick of the light?

  No, not three legs.

  Two legs and a walking stick!

  Lucy stood up on the top rung of the ladder, waved and shouted and nearly toppled into Bathsheba’s enclosure. Bathsheba roared in surprise at Lucy’s antics and jumped up at the fence. But, unlike the excited panther, the two figures didn’t hear Lucy. They kept making their slow, steady way towards Grave Hall.

  Lucy scrambled down the ladder and began to run faster than she’d ever run before. The gravel crunched beneath her boots as she flew down the drive, half laughing, half sobbing.

  And then there they were in front of her, shadowy in the last of the sun’s red rays, arms outstretched. She hurled herself into their hugs and kisses, her mother sobbing and her father burying his face in her hair, saying over and over again, “My girl, my girl, oh my dear, dear girl.”

  Lucy closed her eyes, so very thankful to be reunited with her family at last. She hugged them and hugged them, then hugged them some more. But after a while she became aware of a very strange smell. She looked around. It couldn’t be Smell smelling as there was no sign of him. And anyway, the smell didn’t smell like Smell. It was more of a smoky aroma, as though someone was burning wood.

  Lucy gave her parents a last squeeze and then stood back, with her hands on her hips. Her mother’s hair was all frazzled at the ends and her cheek was smeared with soot.

  “What happened?” Lucy asked.

  “Oh dear,” said Mrs Goodly, her voice trembling.

  “So unfortunate,” said Mr Goodly, shaking his head.

  “Meow,” said the basket Mrs Goodly was clutching.

  “Is Phoebe in that basket? Why have you brought her here? Why isn’t she at Leafy Ridge? You haven’t gambled our house away, have you?” Lucy said, her voice getting louder.

  “Certainly not!” said Mr Goodly, looking most offended.

  “We went into the village for a quick game of bridge. They have a club, you know,” Mrs Goodly began. “Your father had a pigeon pie in the oven for tea. We were only meant to be gone an hour. But we hit a winning streak. A brief one. Lost track of time. The pigeon pie caught fire.”

  “You burned down Leafy Ridge?” Lucy was whispering now because all the shout had gone out of her. “What are we going to do? Where will we live?”

  Mr and Mrs Goodly hung their heads and didn’t reply.

  “Ah, Mr and Mrs Goodly! How wonderful to see you again!” Lord Grave boomed from behind Lucy. He and Bertie were striding down the drive towards them.

  “I hear you’ve had a slight mishap,” Lord Grave said when he reached them. He puffed on the cigar he was smoking. “Not to worry, not to worry. Lots of room here at Grave Hall, for tonight at least. Do come inside. Mrs Crawley will no doubt be able to conjure up some supper.”

  Mrs Goodly said, “Oh, no, thank you. Now you’ve kindly given us our Lucy back again, we can get going and work on rebuilding our fortune.”

  “I see. As long as it’s what Lucy wants too?”

  “Are you really going to leave us, Lucy?” Bertie said, sounding very disappointed.

  “Y-yes, I want to be with my family,” Lucy said, hesitating as she said it. Up until a few minutes ago, this had been what she wanted. She loved her parents, useless as they were. And they needed her. She still had the magical playing card hidden in her bedside table, so she would be able to rebuild the Goodly fortune, staying up all night, working the gambling dens, sleeping all day …

  Suddenly it didn’t sound so appealing. And she’d miss Grave Hall and everyone in it. Most of all, she suddenly realised how desperate she was to learn more about her magical abilities and the magical world. Wasn’t that why Lord Grave had taken her from her parents in the first place? Maybe he’d lost interest in teaching her because she’d been so troublesome.

  She looked over at Lord Grave, who was eyeing her intently. “I have a proposition,” he said.

  Lucy’s heart gave a little leap of hope.

  “Lucy is a very good boot girl. The best I have had the pleasure to employ. If you could spare her for a little longer, I would be most grateful.”

  Lord Grave spread his arms and touched both the Goodlys on the shoulder. Sparks fizzled under his fingers. Lucy saw them, but her parents didn’t. They both smiled at Lord Grave as though he’d given them a sure-fire racing tip.

  “Well, that seems reasonable,” said Mr Goodly cheerfully.

  “But only for a few weeks,” said Mrs Goodly.

  “Of course. I feel sure in the meantime Lady Luck will be kind to you,” said Lord Grave, winking at Lucy.

  And so, Mr and Mrs Goodly left Grave Hall to rebuild their fortune. Lucy stood at the front door with Lord Grave, waving them off.

  “They don’t mean to be so useless. It’s just how they are,” she said as her parents ambled away. “Will Lady Luck really be kind to them?”

  Lord Grave cleared his throat. “Let’s just say, if I was a gambling man myself, I’d put a bet on it. You don’t need to worry about them.”

  “Am I really the best boot girl you’ve ever employed?”

  “No. You’re absolutely the worst ever. Rude. Rebellious. And you never quite get all the mud out of the seams of my shoes.”

  Lucy decided not to be offended at Lord Grave’s lack of faith in her boot girl skills. “So why do you want me to stay?”

  “MAAM has been trying to persuade me back for a long time. I’ve finally agreed to take up the reins again. And I’d like to have you at my side.”

  “Me?” said Lucy, eyes growing wide.

  “Of course. You need help to hone and control your powers, of course, but you have great potential. We could be quite a team. Goodly and Grave. Has quite a ring to it, don’t you think?” Lord Grave said.

  “I could help too!�
�� Bertie piped up.

  “I thought you said you didn’t believe in magic?” Lucy replied.

  “I don’t. I still think it can all be explained by science.” Bertie cast an anxious look at his father. “But I could provide practical advice to you both.”

  Lord Grave smiled and ruffled Bertie’s hair. “Why not? Let’s call it an advisory role.”

  The three of them turned and made their way inside. Vonk and Mrs Crawley were in the entrance hall, waiting to meet them.

  “Very glad you’ve decided to stay, Lucy,” said Vonk. “Any chance of having my shears back?”

  “Oh, I think I might have left them behind at the Tower. Sorry,” Lucy said, feeling rather guilty.

  Vonk winked. “Only joking. Good to have you back, Lucy.”

  “Come along, everyone. I’m going to serve you all a very special celebration dinner. A new recipe in Lucy’s honour!” Mrs Crawley declared.

  Lucy stifled a groan. “That’ll be lovely, thanks very much.”

  “You’re very welcome. By the way, what’s in that basket?”

  “Oh, poor Phoebe! They forgot to take her with them!” Lucy said and ran back down the drive to fetch the basket, which had been sitting there all this time. She opened it up and Phoebe leaped out with an indignant meow before trotting into the entrance hall where she gave Lord Grave and the rest of the household a quick sniff each. Then she padded curiously over to the grand, sweeping staircase. She stopped, one paw on the bottom step. Her tail bristled. The next moment, Smell came bounding down the stairs towards her. His orange eye was even rounder and bulgier than ever.

  “Well, hello!” he said. “Things are certainly looking up round ’ere!”

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Huge thanks to …

  My agent, Kate Shaw. I couldn’t have done this without you, Kate! My wonderful editors Ruth Alltimes and Harriet Wilson for their patient and brilliant advice and the rest of the fantastic team at HarperCollins Children’s Books. Becka Moor for her fabulous illustrations. Nikki for being so supportive and enthusiastic, and Rhod, too, for encouraging me. Ann and Tony Ward for being such great friends. All my writer friends, especially those from the Writing Asylum.

  Finally, the biggest thanks of all go to my husband for always believing in me.

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