‘It’s Kate’s,’ Glori said. ‘She’s done it before. She’ll be fine –’
‘You said that about Cari!’ Miss Minter snapped. ‘Cari can take care of herself. Cari can run fast! you said.’ Miss Minter slopped wine from her glass. ‘Looking at Hettie’s miserable, lumpy face makes me sick! Sick!’ she snapped. ‘She’ll have to go if she doesn’t wipe that expression off her face. I don’t blub when a girl leaves; why should she?’
‘Cari was her sister. Hettie thinks she’s abandoned her,’ Glori said.
‘Well, she has. Who wouldn’t leave that snivelling little brat behind? I would. If I had a sister I’d have a brave one … No sisters for me. No family. Gone … ’ she trailed off. ‘Get me another drink.’
‘Kate knows she has to do it,’ Glori said cheerily, pouring out the wine. ‘She knows there’s a bit of risk. We all like risk.’
‘Do you? I do. I do.’ Miss Minter sighed and drained her glass quickly. ‘Well, it’s just as well, isn’t it? I must go to my room. Light me down, Gloriana.’
Glori took two big candles and led Miss Minter down a half flight of stairs to her small bedroom. It was a ritual they went through every night because Miss Minter did not like to make the journey on her own. Glori put one candle down on the bedside table and turned down the bed.
‘Can I do anything else for you, Miss Minter?’
‘I’m feeling brittle tonight, Glori. Like I might snap. Why?’
‘I don’t know, miss.’
Moonlight came suddenly streaming in through the window and for a moment they were both lit up in its silvery rays. ‘Look at us!’ Miss Minter cried. ‘See, I shine! I’m a body of gold, all iridescent and silver! Do I look younger? Am I lovely? I feel it … but fragile.’
Glori held up her own pale, shimmering, thin arm. ‘And I’m phosphorus white,’ Glori said.
‘Are you complaining?’ Miss Minter’s voice was suddenly spiky.
‘No, no, only it is bad, Miss Minter, my poor teeth, the phosphorus –’
‘You are complaining. I hate it when you complain. I won’t hear it. After all I’ve done for you! Go to bed, Gloriana. I will draw my own curtains. And I’ll have that candle, thank you,’ she added, snatching it from Glori. ‘Go.’
‘Yes, Miss Minter.’
Glori closed the door softly and tiptoed back up to the nest in the dark, feeling her way up the stairs and so to her little bed.
16
Sewing
The days passed by pleasantly enough and Sparrow did not think about leaving again, even though Scaramouch would not spend the day inside with her – he only came in at night.
One rainy evening Connie came across the key to the old trunk by the window – it had been missing for ages – and she and Dolly opened it. It was stuffed full of old clothes.
‘Where did all these come from?’ Dolly cried, twirling around the room in a long black cape with a silver trim.
‘It were here when we came,’ Glori said. ‘Everything were. We brought nothing with us.’
‘So you and Miss Minter discovered this place together?’ Sparrow asked her. ‘You were the first?’
‘Yes. We’d been sleeping in doorways and horrible little sheds and then we found the door to this place open and no one was here. First thing we did was bolt that front door so no one else could get in. Then we made our nest up here. It were like a tree,’ Glori went on. ‘I felt as if I was at the top of a great big elmmow tree and sometimes I thought the wind swayed the whole building. I remember. Long time ago.’ She smiled. ‘It was good. Anything we found here worth a penny or two we sold, straight off.’
Sparrow lowered her voice to a whisper and nodded towards Miss Minter. ‘So where did she come from?’ she asked.
Glori whispered back. ‘Dunno. Same as all of us I suppose; nowhere.’
‘And her father? The cousin she talks of?’
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Miss Minter called.
‘Nothing!’ Sparrow said, grinning at Glori and leaning further into the big trunk to hide her face.
The clothes smelled musty. She picked up a purple velvet jacket and shook it out. ‘Glori, this would really suit you,’ she said. ‘Go on, try it on.’
‘Oh, that’s a bit grand for me,’ Glori said, grinning shyly so Sparrow could tell she liked it.
‘No it isn’t!’ Sparrow held it up against her. ‘There, it’s lovely. Do try it on.’
‘It’s too big,’ Glori said, slipping her arms into it. ‘Sparrow, it’s huge! I’ll drown in purple velvet!’
‘Take it, Gloriana,’ Miss Minter said. It seemed to Sparrow that Miss Minter heard and saw everything, despite never moving from her place beside the fire.
‘I’ll make it fit you,’ Sparrow said.
‘Do you think you could?’ Glori looked so hopeful that Sparrow determined she’d make it the best jacket in the world.
‘I did lots of sewing at the Home. I helped all my friends with their clothes ’cos miserable Miss Knip wouldn’t buy us any stuff.’
‘Honest, could you?’ Glori asked. ‘Would you?’
‘Course I will!’
While Sparrow sat by the window sewing, Miss Minter and Glori watched her from the other side of the room.
‘She can sew, that girl, it’s true,’ Glori said. ‘You should see how neat she is. Amazing!’
‘There’s something peculiar about that cat,’ Miss Minter said, ignoring her. She nodded towards the window. ‘Why doesn’t he come inside out of the cold? Look at him out there by the chimneys. Sitting on hard tiles. Perching on gable ends. Prowling about like a wild thing.’
‘He comes in and sleeps on her bed at night,’ Glori told her. ‘I’ve seen him come in so quiet. He walks along the furniture, over the chest and he never touches the ground – like he’s playing, or trying to be an acrobat!’
Miss Minter’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why would he want to be out there when he could be inside in the warmth, drinking cream from a saucer?’ she said. ‘Have you seen how they look at each other, the girl and the cat? As if they’re talking? What’s it got to say? A cat?’
Glori said nothing.
‘Watch that cat,’ Miss Minter said. ‘Watch him. I’m warning you, he’s odd!’
Scaramouch was curled up between two tall chimney pots but he woke suddenly, as if he sensed they were talking about him, and stared back over his shoulder at Miss Minter. His eyes glowed golden-yellow. Glori thought they looked like the eyes of a wild beast, a tiger or a lion … not that she’d ever seen one for real, but his eyes held such passion it was quite scary. Miss Minter was right; he was an extraordinary cat.
‘Every time I look at him he looks back at me, the way a real person might,’ Miss Minter complained. ‘His eyes are marbles. I wonder if he’s real. I know he’s real,’ she contradicted herself. ‘He is a cat. Cats are very self-possessed, aren’t they? Loners. There are cats in the circus doing all sorts of clever things.’
Sparrow looked up from her sewing. ‘Is Scaramouch all right?’ she asked.
‘Scare-a-mouse is fine, Birdie!’ Glori said. ‘How’s my lovely new jacket coming along?’
‘Nearly done.’
Glori went over to her. ‘You’re so neat and clever at it,’ she said to her. ‘Is it hard to do?’
‘Not really – just takes years of practice.’
‘I’m glad you’re here, Sparrow,’ Glori said, sitting beside her. ‘Not just for this jacket,’ she added, ‘course not. But I … ’ She faltered. It was so hard to explain but even after such a short time Glori couldn’t imagine Sparrow not being here. She’d become a real friend and somehow had made Glori feel differently towards Miss Minter. That was weird; she couldn’t say anything about that to anyone. And nothing, nothing, could ever make her leave Miss Minter, but Sparrow … She was really kind, kind without wanting anything back. There was something fresh and new and enthusiastic about everything she did and she was funny and bright and straightforward … No
t at all like Miss Minter. ‘It’s just that you … ’ she trailed off.
‘Go on,’ Sparrow said. ‘Tell me how brilliant I am!’
They both laughed.
‘Quieten down, you two,’ Violet called. She had slipped into Glori’s place quickly and had begun painting the nails on Miss Minter’s right hand. Dolly took up another pot of polish and started on the nails on her left.
Kate began brushing out Miss Minter’s long blonde hair and counting each stroke laboriously. Hettie sat and watched them wistfully.
‘Gently, gently,’ Miss Minter told Kate. ‘I’m delicate, you know.’
‘Sorry, Miss Minter.’
‘Always remember, remember I’m special,’ Miss Minter said. ‘You must never forget that, my darlings. I’m a lady.’
Glori put on the purple jacket. It fitted her perfectly, hugging her tiny waist and flaring out over her hips. Sparrow had found seven gold buttons in the trunk – not matching exactly, but almost – and sewn them on.
‘I love it!’ Glori cried, twirling round. ‘Thank you so much, Birdie.’
‘Can’t I come with you?’ Sparrow asked her, as Glori got ready that evening. ‘I’d love to go out for once.’
‘She’s meeting a friend,’ Miss Minter said sharply. ‘You can’t. I hope you have a delightful evening, Gloriana,’ she added, not taking her eyes from the newspaper she was reading. ‘I see here that the Academy is in the headlines again; they are thinking of starting up a breeding programme to get more flying horses. They’ll have to be careful they don’t lose any more spitfyres, won’t they? They lost one only last month – how could that happen … ? Did I give you permission to go out, Gloriana?’
‘You did, Miss Minter, you must have forgotten,’ Glori said, going suddenly pale and very still.
‘I did, yes, I did.’ Miss Minter pouted. ‘But I’ll miss you. I don’t like it when you leave me.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘Off you go, then.’
‘Good night, everyone!’ Glori called, and she flew out of the door.
Glori went down the stairs whistling. She reached the ground floor, swung round the big wooden newel at the bottom of the stairs, hopped over the black and white floor and unlocked the front door. She was the only girl, apart from Miss Minter, who was allowed a key so she could – sometimes – come and go on her own.
She slipped quietly out into the night.
The rain meant she had to cover up with a big black waterproof and no one would see her lovely, smart, purple velvet jacket. A shame. The rain pattered down noisily on her hood. She quickly rolled up the legs of her yellow and orange trousers and splashed down the lane. The dogs barked and one brutish man shouted at her but she ignored them. She licked the wet off her lips and hurried on; she mustn’t be late.
At last she reached Abbey Street and there was the blue lantern swinging above the tavern. The wind was rocking the wooden sign backwards and forwards, making it squeak and groan like a weary phantom. She got her breath on the doorstep, pushed the hood off her dark hair, wiped the rain from her face and opened the door just as the clock struck nine.
‘What kept you?’ Tapper said.
17
Turquoise Delight
Tapper was standing alone, slouching against the wall, a glass of bark-beer in his hand. As usual he had gathered space around him like other people gathered friends; even furniture seemed to inch away from him when he was in a room.
‘You’re late,’ Tapper said.
‘It’s only just nine,’ Glori said, glancing at the clock. ‘Don’t be cross with me. Be pleased to see me, Tapper, can’t you? It’s raining out.’ She took off her waterproof carefully and flicked a drop of water from her velvet sleeve and waited.
Tapper looked her over. Up and down. He grinned at her. ‘I won’t be cross with you; you look a picture,’ he said, smoothing his hair and grinning. ‘Nice stuff.’
She smiled and stroked the velvet. ‘Thanks. It’s lovely in’it?’
Then he grabbed her arm roughly. ‘You got money I don’t know about?’
She shook him off. ‘Silly. A present from Miss Minter, that’s all. No worries. It were too big but it were fixed.’
‘All right then.’ He let her go. ‘But, see, I got you something too. In’t only Miss Minter as can buy things, so.’
He was put out because his present might not be so grand, Glori thought. ‘Oh what is it? Do show me,’ Glori begged him. Whatever it was she would pretend it was amazing.
Tapper handed her a box of sweets. She unwrapped it quickly. ‘Oh my favourites,’ she crooned. ‘I love Turquoise Delight!’ She let him take a chunk first then popped a small blue square into her own mouth. ‘Delicious,’ she said. ‘You are thoughtful, Tapper.’
‘So. Good,’ Tapper said. ‘What d’you want to drink? I’ve got money tonight.’
‘I’ll have a glass of pop-pear fizz please, if you’re sure.’
‘Nothing’s too good for you!’
Tapper called out to a passing lad and soon Glori had a glass of warm, yellow, sparkling liquid in her hand.
They sat at a little round table in a corner.
‘I got the letter you left for me at the wood shop,’ she told him. ‘Well, course I did, or how would I be here?’ She smiled. ‘So what’s this business you’re on?’ she asked him. ‘This mysterious “thing” you’re looking for?’
Tapper picked up his drink and Glori saw how his hand shook. A pulse beat unsteadily in his temple. He was grinning like a mad thing.
‘Can’t you say?’ Glori asked gently. ‘Go on. You’ve got a job, a mission. Sounds like you’re some sort of spy or something.’ She made it sound like she was impressed; flattery always worked on him and she liked him best when he was pleased with the world.
Tapper leaned back and grinned widely. ‘A spy? That sounds grand! I am a sort of spy, you know. I’ve got a job to do for a certain Miss Knip … Oh Glori, you can have as many glasses of pop-pear fizz as you wish, my girl, because we’re going to be rich.’
‘We are?’ Glori yelped. ‘What a lark!’
‘Shh!’ he hissed, leaning closer. ‘We are! So! What am I looking for? I’m after finding a girl from the Knip and Pynch Home. She didn’t run away, before you ask. It was her leaving time, but just as she’d upped and gone, Miss Knip finds out something about her and wants her back. So I’ve to find her. That’s where you come in, Glori. You can help me, because if anyone’s going to find me a fresh orphan girl in the streets of Sto’back, it’s you.’
It was Sparrow he wanted.
Glori felt as if someone had poured ice water through her veins. She turned away; fearing she could hide nothing from him. Her lip quivered.
It had to be Sparrow. Sparrow came from the Knip and Pynch Home … It had to be her. Oh what bad luck, what very bad luck that Miss Knip wanted her!
‘What’s up? Look at your face!’ Tapper said, his voice full of suspicion. ‘You know something?’
Glori smiled quickly, pushing down the fear that was bubbling up, the coldness gripping her heart.
‘Nothing. Nothing. What’s the name of this home?’ she said vaguely. ‘What did you call it?’
Tapper eyed her slyly. ‘It’s called Knip and Pynch,’ he said slowly. ‘Ever heard of it?’
Glori shook her head.
‘It’s the other side of the swamp. She came through the krackodyles.’
‘Brave … ’ Glori said. ‘Why d’you say this Miss Knip wants her? Has she done something wrong?’
‘She might have,’ Tapper said. He took hold of her hand with his own. ‘You’re all a tremble,’ he said. ‘Why you quaking in your boots if you got nothing to hide?’ He squeezed her hand very hard so her bones scrunched against each other.
‘I’m cold. It’s cold,’ Glori said, smiling, pretending he wasn’t hurting her.
Tapper nodded towards the blazing fire nearby. ‘Really?’ He let go of her hand and leaned back in his seat. ‘So you don’t know nothing about a missi
ng girl? Not seen no new waifs and strays wandering the streets of Sto’back? I need her, Glori, she’s our ticket out of here … But I know you’ll find her for me, so. I’m not worried. My Glori sees everything.’
The door blew open suddenly and a cold blast of wind shot through the room. They both turned towards it.
‘Miss Minter!’ Glori cried, leaping up.
Miss Minter paused, smiled round at the other drinkers and then pranced over to them on her high heels. She slipped out of her fur coat and drew up a chair at their table and sat down. ‘Hello, Gloriana,’ she said. ‘Forgive me for interrupting you so rudely but … well, I was curious to see your young man.’ She looked pointedly at Tapper. ‘Good evening,’ she said.
‘This is my Miss Minter,’ Glori said weakly. ‘Miss Minter, this is Tapper.’
Miss Minter pulled her chair a little closer to Tapper – that’s a first, Glori thought, raising her eyebrows. She’d never seen anyone else getting close to him. What was that about? she wondered.
‘Let me get you a drink, Miss Minter,’ Tapper said. His face was blazing red. ‘Pop-pear fizz? A double?’
He sloped off to the bar.
‘It’s lovely to see you, Miss Minter, of course … but how did you know where I’d be?’ Glori asked her. There was only one possible way, she thought: Miss Minter had read Tapper’s letter to her. Why hadn’t she hidden his note more carefully?
‘I don’t know.’ Miss Minter shrugged. ‘An inspired guess, perhaps? What have you been discussing? Love talk?’
Glori shook her head. ‘Of course not.’
Suddenly Glori understood. Miss Minter hadn’t come to see Tapper, she wasn’t at all interested in his face or his prospects; she’d come because of the money mentioned in the note, that was it.
‘So, Miss Minter,’ Tapper said, setting the fizzing drink in front of her, ‘Gloriana here was just telling me about the new girl in the nest. The one from the Home … What’s her name?’
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