‘Very unlikely,’ Gerta put in.
‘Is it?’ Sparrow asked, glancing anxiously from one to the other.
‘No, of course it isn’t,’ Hilda said. ‘Don’t you look so worried. It’s a lovely name.’
‘I’m sorry my dear, how rude of me,’ Bruno said. ‘You can have any name you want,’ he added, giving his sister-in-law a stern look. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’
‘Let me help you sit up,’ Hilda said, plumping up the pillows.
Sitting up, Sparrow could see a pale blue cover on the wooden bed, a dresser with a mirror, all polished so it shone, two chairs beside the fire, a rug on bees-waxed boards; it was homely and comforting. She reached down the bed to the empty space where her cat should have been.
A moan escaped from her.
‘Does your head hurt?’ Hilda asked softly.
Sparrow nodded – her head did hurt; it wasn’t a complete lie. ‘What happened to me?’ she asked. ‘Tell me again … ’
‘Oh you poor dear, don’t you remember? Well,’ Hilda brought her chair up close to the bed. ‘There were some match-girls in the square and –’
‘– And this lot weren’t just selling matches, that’s for sure,’ Gerta said.
‘What were they selling?’ Sparrow knew Kate had been up to something. She fixed a blank expression on her face.
‘Bri—’Bruno began, but his wife stopped him.
‘Oh no dear, don’t. Not now. I don’t want to upset Sparrow. Something they shouldn’t, that’s all, dearie, something unkind.’
Bruno patted Sparrow’s hand. ‘See you later, my dear,’ he said and headed downstairs.
Gerta folded her arms over her chest and stared at Sparrow. ‘An orphan, eh? Lost your memory? Very convenient.’ She winked meaningfully at Sparrow.
‘You’ve all been so kind to me,’ Sparrow said, ignoring her. ‘Thank you very much.’
‘It’s nothing, nothing,’ Hilda said. ‘You are our guest. It was Bruno’s fat tummy that caused the accident, so we must look after you. You will stay with us, dearie, until you’re quite better, won’t you? I mean, if you have no home and everything, where else would you go?’
Gerta shot her sister a worried look. ‘Well, she can stay until her head doesn’t hurt,’ she put in. ‘Then –’
‘I think I can make decisions in my own home, thank you, sister,’ Hilda said firmly without looking at her.
‘I do want to stay,’ Sparrow said.
‘I’m sure you do,’ Gerta said grimly, under her breath.
‘Only,’ went on Sparrow, ‘only I had a cat, a big beautiful cat, like a Siamese but he isn’t, he’s bigger. Grander. Furrier. He has almost invisible stripes of golden honey and dark tips to his ears and … I’ve never been without him before. And now … ’
‘An orphan with a big cat? What next?’ Gerta said, rolling her eyes.
‘Bruno and I didn’t see a cat, dearie.’ Concern and worry showed in Hilda’s broad face. ‘We’ll keep our eyes open, I promise you. They’re funny creatures, cats are, and yours may well find you here. I’ve heard of things like that, haven’t you? They have different senses from us – more ways of seeing – and they can always find their way home.’
‘I hope he’ll find me,’ Sparrow said, glancing towards the window. ‘I’m sure he would come and find me if he could. At the orphanage he just seemed to appear, as if he came through the mouse holes or under the door; he could always find me there.’
‘I don’t care for cats,’ Gerta said.
‘You’d like this one,’ Sparrow said. ‘He’s wonderful. Everyone loves him.’
‘I’m not everyone,’ Gerta said. ‘And I’m quite content to be the odd one out, thank you.’
Sparrow suddenly noticed a small painting by the window, a portrait of a young woman with green eyes. ‘Who’s in the picture?’ she asked. The woman looked a little wild and not at all like the portly and solid figures of Hilda and Gerta. She seemed out of place, and yet there was a look of Bruno there, Sparrow thought, in the bright eyes. ‘Is she family? I do like her face.’
Hilda’s eyes dimmed and her smile died away. ‘That’s Bruno’s sister. I’m afraid she was a rather foolish young woman and –’
‘– Ran away from home,’ Gerta said, shortly. ‘She had an accident and died.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Sparrow said. After a pause, she added, ‘She looks sparky.’ And she was thinking too that the young woman was very like her to look at. She felt an immediate connection, as if, even though the other eyes were painted, they were meeting and linking with her own.
Hilda smiled and patted her arm. ‘She was sparky. It was a terrible accident; a dreadful waste. She was lovely. We all adored little Mayra; it broke our hearts when she went.’
Sparrow nodded, understanding. She could not take her eyes from the portrait. She felt bewitched.
Hilda and Gerta tiptoed down the narrow stairs to the parlour at the front of the house. Bruno looked up from the newspaper as they came in.
‘Well, well,’ Bruno said, grinning broadly. ‘What a sweet girl! She’ll stay, won’t she, until she’s quite better?’
Hilda nodded happily. ‘Of course. I want her to, anyway.’
‘I can’t imagine why,’ Gerta said. ‘We know nothing about her. What was she doing in Middle Square in the first place? Is she really from an orphanage?’
‘Oh Gerta … ’ Hilda turned to Bruno. ‘Don’t you think she’s telling the truth? Please say you do, dear.’
‘She wasn’t even wearing orphanage clothes,’ Gerta put in.
‘Sparrow wouldn’t lie, I’m sure,’ Hilda said. ‘You can see she’s just not that sort.’
‘I shall ask around,’ Bruno said. ‘It wouldn’t do any harm, would it? To check if an orphanage did have a child called Sparrow – there can’t be many of that name; if that really is her name. I feel she is honest, personally.’
‘Me too,’ Hilda said. ‘I feel it in my bones.’
‘Your bones are probably made of liquorice laces,’ Gerta said. ‘You’re far too sweet and soft. Personally, I doubt it,’ Gerta went on. ‘And all that nonsense about the picture!’
They told him how Sparrow had been enthralled by his sister’s portrait. Bruno looked puzzled. He rubbed his big nose and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. He smoothed his thinning hair and finally said, ‘Now that is strange, because I did think Sparrow looked a little like Mayra. The hair? The green eyes? Or is it that I see Mayra’s face everywhere, even in a little orphan girl from the streets?’
Hilda bit her lip. She looked troubled. ‘My love, I fear that is the truth,’ she said.
‘Of course there isn’t any resemblance!’ Gerta said. ‘How could there be? That girl is just trying it on. It’s comfortable here and she wants to stay. Then you’ll turn your back and she’ll be gone and all the silver with her too!’
‘Oh now, Gerta, for shame!’ Bruno said.
‘I feel confused,’ Hilda said. ‘I’m so ready to love something … I know it’s a fault, I know it, but after, after the Swamp Fever took our little Emma and Matilda from us, I’ve been so ready and willing and then here comes this little angel out of the blue and I’m so inclined to ask her to stay … ’
‘No one could ever replace our girls, dearest.’
‘Of course not. Never, but I have room in my heart for someone, Bruno. But what if Gerta’s right and Sparrow’s going to leave me too? I couldn’t bear it.’
‘There, there,’ Bruno said. ‘You always get upset talking about the darling girls. Dry your eyes. I think that’s Sparrow coming now. We mustn’t show her teary faces. We must find out a little more about her, my dear,’ he added quietly. ‘We’ll care for her and help her and find out all we can. And we’ll get my brother down here too. If he thinks she looks like Mayra, then she does.’
‘You’ll be lucky if you can get Otto out of the Academy kitchens for one second!’ Gerta said. ‘He’ll say his sponge will collapse or his pancak
es flip or something.’
Bruno grinned. ‘He’ll come,’ he said. ‘For this.’
22
Tapper
Dear Nips,
It’s been wot you might call a disaster up here in Sto’back as we’ve lost our BIRD. She didn’t flap off so much as got hurt. Couldn’t fly, if you see what I mean. I don’t know where she is exactly at this precise moment in time but I am on the job, I am. My personal ackom-pliss is also on the lookout for her, also a certain Miss Minter who is influenshall in these parts. We are searching the streets even as I, myself, write this letter. So. We will find her soon, no worries in that department. Where can she go? Where can she hide?
She’ll be back for her cat, won’t she, so?
In the meantime whiles I need more money for my ongoing professional work.
As much as you can afford, by return.
Ta.
Tapper
Tapper was grinning as he slipped the letter into the envelope. A very fine bit of writing; to the point and well written, he thought.
‘You shan’t get her now, Knips, no matter what you do,’ he said to the envelope. ‘When I find her she’s going back to Miss Minter.’ Miss Minter was better looking than old Knip and much smarter. And Miss Minter had come up with a new plan that meant more money.
Cedric de Whitt. Tapper rolled the name around in his head. Cedric de Whitt. It was a fine name, a gentleman’s name. The name of the gentleman who would pay a lot more for Sparrow than nasty old Knips, that’s what Miss Minter had told him. He’d no idea how Miss Minter had discovered this Cedric de Whitt, but then that was none of his business. His business was simply to find and bring back Sparrow. Meanwhile he’d milk Knips for every penny he could.
I should have held on to Sparrow more tightly, when I had her at Ma’s, he thought. Missed a chance there, didn’t you, Tapper? he told himself. It was Ma’s fault. Now Sparrow’d slipped out of his clutches again – Glori’s fault. Women!
Glori now had bruises on her wrists where he’d held her as tight as he could, wanting, just for a moment, to snap her stupid little arms. But he’d got over his first blind rage.
Gently, gently, he told himself. Just get Sparrow back!
Tapper,
May I remind you that it is Knip with a K, as in ‘know’ and ‘knot’ and ‘knave’.
I certainly shall not be sending you any money. What are you thinking of, letting the girl out of your sight? I’ve heard of that Miss Minter in Stollenback. She’s up to no good. Don’t imagine that she likes you, Tapper, there is no one she likes. No one! Don’t believe what she says. It’s all lies. And if you think that the pair of you can take what is mine, you are wrong. I have the locket and the locket is the proof. You won’t get away with it. The reward will be mine because I am the only person with the evidence.
Find that girl. Keep her safe – away from Miss M – and then we’ll talk.
My Pynch is threatening to come up to Stollenback himself to sort you out.
Miss Knip
‘Oooh, I am so frightened,’ Tapper said to his empty room. He laughed. ‘Pynch is as fierce and scary as a custard tart.’ He threw down Miss Knip’s letter in disgust. ‘What do I care, Knip? Me and Miss Minter’re cleverer than you. So.’ And who needs lockets, he thought. We’ll get the girl and then we’ll sell her to the highest bidder and it won’t be you. So.
That evening he met Glori in the Old Blue Bear Tavern and passed her Miss Knip’s letter to read. ‘See, she wouldn’t send no money,’ he told Glori. ‘That’s why you’re drinking limewater tonight. And you know what? It’s all your fault, for losing that girl.’
‘Isn’t Miss Minter paying you?’ Glori asked him, ignoring his dig at her.
‘Maybe,’ Tapper said. ‘Knips don’t know that, though. Knips is just a stingy old crow.’
Glori sipped her limewater. Limewater tasted of nothing.
‘Now, how’s the search going? Got any clues?’ Tapper said. ‘She can’t have disappeared into thin air, can she, so?’
Glori was pale. She hadn’t slept properly since Sparrow had gone.
‘We asked around and looked everywhere … Phew, it was a close one though. Kate was doing really good, she’d sold some tonic to some fat gent and then another geezer come up and he said he was going to arrest her. She legged it.’
‘You told me.’
‘Yes, I told you. I keep going over it, I’m sorry. We’ll have to be more careful now.’ She lowered her voice. ‘The authorities know it’s the match-girls what are selling it. And Agnes said she was followed for miles yesterday, and only just lost them. Selling Brightling’s getting real dodgy. I wish we didn’t –’
‘Miss Minter knows what she’s doing. She’s a proper lady, in’t she?’ Tapper interrupted her, leaning over the back of his chair and crossing his legs, slicking back his hair. ‘How come you ain’t picked up any of her airs and graces, so?’
Glori felt herself sag. She gulped down another mouthful of hateful limewater. ‘I don’t know.’
‘No, I don’t either.’ He turned away from her, as if even the dirty floor was better to look at than her.
Glori glanced at Miss Knip’s letter again. ‘What’s she on about with this locket? How’s it proof, Tapper?’
Tapper shrugged. ‘Dunno. Well, best get on,’ he said. ‘You’re sure Sparrow don’t know her way back to the old school, aren’t you?’
Glori nodded sadly.
‘What’s the matter? Don’t look so glum, your face in’t pretty when you’re glum. You know I only like you pretty.’
‘Oh Tapper, can’t we just leave her and forget about her?’ Glori said.
‘So, that’s your game?’ Tapper said, leaning over the table and getting close up to her. ‘This is what’s going on in that little head, is it? Leave her be?’ His voice had sunk low and harsh.
‘No. No, not really.’ She shrank back from him. He frightened her. He had a sort of unsteadiness about him, so she never knew what he’d do next and now he was so angry about Sparrow. When he suddenly burst out like this, it scared her; scared her rigid. She shivered and moved away from him, rubbing at her sore wrists.
‘Glori, don’t you want her to be reunited with her family? Don’t you want her safe in the bosom of her own flesh and blood?’ Tapper sneered.
Glori nodded. ‘So there is a family?’
‘I never said that.’ Tapper smiled. ‘Miss Minter is so smart. She can worm things out of folk. You should have seen her with that man de Whitt.’ He flicked his fingers as if they’d been burnt. ‘She can bargain. Phew! Hot stuff!’
‘What man de Whitt?’ Glori said.
Tapper went very still. ‘I didn’t say it,’ he said. ‘Did I say … ? Forget you heard that name, Glori!’ he hissed, grabbing her fingers and bending them backwards and all the while smiling at her. ‘Forget it!’
‘I’ve forgotten it! I never heard nothing!’ Glori whispered desperately. ‘Please, Tapper! Ow!’
He let her go.
Oh if only Miss Minter hadn’t got her claws into him … What a combination: both so greedy, both as explosive as the phosphorus. Both could make her so happy and so miserable.
She wished he were only hers, like he used to be; he’d been kinder then too.
‘And when we’ve found Sparrow and got some money we’re going to set up house together, aren’t we, like you said?’ She touched his sleeve tentatively.
‘Maybe,’ he said, shaking her off. ‘We’ll see.’
And he was gone.
23
Sampson’s
Every morning when Sparrow woke she reached out for Scaramouch. Then she listened for the sounds of someone else breathing. Nothing. She was alone. Still. She missed the noise and the silly jokes and sharing things with the girls. Now it was just her and three grown-ups – two who were jolly and loving, at least, but … it wasn’t the same. It didn’t feel quite right. As the days went by she thought often of Mary and Little Jean and her other frien
ds at the Knip and Pynch Home, wondering what they were doing. It made her feel guilty having all this luxury to herself. She missed Hettie too, and worried Glori had got in trouble for losing her. Did the match-girls miss her as well? But it was good to feel so safe; it was like being wrapped up in tissue paper, living here. And she didn’t have to work; all she did was read and sew and help in the kitchen. She knew that her friends would love to be in her shoes.
‘Don’t get a cold sitting by that draughty window, will you?’ Hilda said gently, as Sparrow sat staring out into the garden one day. ‘What are you looking at, anyway? See anything interesting, dearie?’
Sparrow shook her head. ‘Nothing. I was watching Bruno feeding the birds and looking out for Scaramouch,’ she said. ‘I thought I heard a cat.’ It was terrible not having him – like someone had cut off her leg.
‘It’ll be that white tom from next door,’ Gerta said. ‘Dirty old thing, he is.’
‘Probably,’ Hilda said. ‘But it could be your cat, Sparrow, dearie, so go and look if you want.’
Sparrow shook her head. She’d already seen the white cat strolling up the path, as if he lived here. He had a fat, flat face and torn ears; nothing like Scaramouch. ‘That’s all right, thank you, Hilda.’
She imagined she saw Scaramouch everywhere: in the garden shadows, creeping along the wall, lying on a branch in a tree. A squashed, velvet bag, lying on an armchair, looked so like him that she ran to pick it up and then almost wept when it wasn’t. In the night she had to get out of bed time and time again to go to the window, thinking he was meowing outside or scratching at the windowpane to come in.
She even dreamed about him and sometimes the dreams were awful because they turned into nightmares where Scaramouch was locked up and was trying to reach her, but couldn’t.
Where is he? Why hasn’t he found me? she wondered for the hundredth time.
Sparrow stared hard at the privet hedge but without noticing the little glossy leaves and dark twigs; all she saw was the attic-nest and the girls gathered around the fire, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands and … Scaramouch. Scaramouch wearing a pink collar, sitting on Hettie’s lap with the girls feeding him cheese and cream, and he was so fat and happy that he could hardly get up. He’d given up waiting for Sparrow. Hettie was his new special friend. He was sleeping on her bed now. He turned his big yellow eyes to look up into Sparrow’s face.
Brightling Page 12