Brightling

by Rebecca Lisle

  Around her lay a sea of fog, from which terracotta-tiled roofs, turrets, chimney stacks and pointed gables emerged like the masts of ghostly ships. Rooftops were spread out for miles around. Sparrow looked about, suddenly fearful.

  Just exactly where were they?

  43

  Chase

  Hettie, who had been hiding by the trunk, jumped up with a shout and pointed through the window.

  ‘Sparrow!’ she cried, her face breaking into a grin. ‘Sparrow’s come back for me!’

  Tapper and Miss Minter spun round in amazement.

  ‘What’s Hettie doing here?’ Miss Minter said.

  Tapper leaped up, already on the move. He saw the cat and Sparrow on the roof and had the roof door open immediately and was rushing towards them. Hettie dashed out too, but Miss Minter was right behind her and swiftly scooped her up and held her arms tightly behind her back.

  ‘Not you!’

  Sparrow tried to run. Scaramouch bounded up onto a high wall.

  ‘Go away!’ Sparrow yelled as Tapper advanced, his arms reaching out for her. ‘Leave me alone!’ She darted this way and that; but there was nowhere to go. She ran to the roof’s parapet, looked over at the nearest building, saw the terrible drop and veered away.

  ‘The gap’s huge,’ Tapper said behind her. ‘You’d never make it.’

  She glanced again at the lower roof. Could she? Dare she?

  ‘I wouldn’t. You’d be strawberry jam on the pavement,’ Tapper said, grinning. ‘You can’t get away,’ he added. ‘Might as well give in.’

  Miss Minter shouted, ‘Stay right there, Sparrow! Don’t try anything. If you do, Hettie’s dead!’

  She was dragging Hettie to the edge of the roof and Hettie was struggling for all she was worth, kicking and crying. Miss Minter tripped and tottered and wobbled on her high heels. Her hair was falling down and her eyes were wild.

  ‘Watch out, Miss Minter! Take care,’ Tapper called.

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ Sparrow cried. ‘Please. That’s little Hettie! You couldn’t!’

  ‘I would!’ Miss Minter screeched. ‘You know I would. I would. I could. I might. I will … ’ She shook Hettie as if she were a doll. ‘Watch me!’

  Hettie burst into tears. ‘Miss Minter! Don’t!’ she sobbed. ‘It’s me, Hettie. Don’t be scary. Sparrow! Help me!’

  Miss Minter took a shaky, high-heeled step right to the rim of the roof, flinging Hettie down so she lay half over the parapet, her legs dangling over the edge.

  Hettie clutched wildly at her. ‘Miss Minter!’ she screamed.

  Suddenly Scaramouch let out a blood-curdling cry. He flew across the roof like a rocket and leaped on Tapper. Tapper screamed as the cat launched at him, claws out. He was thrown onto the roof tiles, yelling in pain as Scaramouch raked his face with his claws.

  Tapper fought and lashed out at him, trying to push him off, but Scaramouch was like a crazy, wild beast, scratching and biting.

  Miss Minter abandoned Hettie and ran to Tapper. She grabbed Scaramouch by his tail and hauled him off.

  ‘Got you, you horrible monster!’ she cried.

  The cat’s claws ripped through Tapper’s jacket as he was pulled off. Miss Minter stood, holding the cat by his tail, laughing. Scaramouch twisted and turned, yowling and spitting.

  Sparrow ran to them.

  ‘Stay back!’ Miss Minter warned. Then, laughing, she began to whirl Scaramouch round and round, leaning back as she gathered momentum, so the cat became nothing more than a blur of fur whizzing through the air.

  She let him go.

  She flung him away. The cat sailed past Tapper and right off the roof into nothingness.

  ‘Scaramouch!’ Sparrow ran. ‘No! No!’

  Tapper got up and wiped the blood from his cheek. He was laughing hysterically. ‘Flying cats!’ he said. ‘Well done, Miss Minter. Flying horses, flying cats … ’

  Sparrow knelt at the edge of the roof, hardly daring to look down.

  Scaramouch had landed on a tiny window ledge. He was shaking his head, dizzy and confused. He wobbled uncertainly on his legs.

  ‘Are you all right? I’ll get you, don’t worry, I’ll get you!’ Sparrow called to him. ‘Don’t worry, Scaramouch! I’ll –’

  ‘Shut up!’ snapped Tapper, yanking her upright. ‘That cat’s dead meat!’

  Sparrow pulled away from him and ran to Hettie, who was sobbing. She put her arm round her. ‘You’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll all be fine – you, me and Scaramouch.’

  ‘I never have been much to look at,’ Tapper said, mopping his bloody, scratched cheek. ‘Now … ’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Miss Minter said. ‘We must take her and go. De Whitt … ’

  But even as she spoke they both became aware of a strange noise overhead. They stared up into the misty sky where grey fog swirled above them – thick, and then thin.

  WHOOSH, WHOOSH!

  Now the grey fog was lit by orangey yellow, as if on fire. Showers of sparks cut through the murkiness and lit up the sky in a rainbow of amazing colours.

  ‘Dragon’s teeth! It’s spitfyres!’ Tapper cried.

  Miss Minter was frozen to the spot. She stared up at the two advancing spitfyres. She seemed unable to move as she watched them circling above.

  They were preparing to land.

  They were coming …

  Tapper turned and ran.

  He raced over the roof, leaped onto the parapet and, with a mighty roar, jumped across the gap onto the next roof. He landed flat on the slanting, icy tiles and straight away began to glide down towards the narrow gutter, his feet slipping and slithering as he tried to get a hold.

  At last he found a foothold and began to haul himself up, dragging himself to the ridge of the rooftop. He stood there for a moment, wiping the streaming blood from his face, smoothing back his hair. He glanced back at the circling spitfyres with a smile. They wouldn’t get him!

  Then he was up and off again.

  But it was slow going and hard work.

  He crawled along the rooftop and made his way around a large chimney stack, clinging to it with both hands, then climbed over a garret window and onto a flat square of roof. The fog was patchy and now and then a ray of pale sunshine broke through, bouncing off the windowpanes and sparkling on the frosted tiles.

  Suddenly he heard something. He stopped. Someone was creeping along behind him. His heart missed a beat. There it was again. He glanced back, peering into the mist.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he called.

  Dragon’s teeth, he cursed. Someone was always following him.

  Now his heart was pounding and his hands slick with sweat. The lock of hair dangled over his eyes and each time he swept it back it fell forward again, blinding him.

  He struggled on. Across a skylight, over a low railing and then jumping down to a lower roof, flanked by walls. He must reach somewhere soon …

  Another noise.

  He stopped and looked round, teetering on the edge of a parapet. A beam of light cut through the fog and he saw … Glori!

  Glori was coming after him.

  He felt his whole body go rigid. He nearly lost his footing.

  Glori!

  Sweat broke out all over his body. Glori! He set off again, faster, twisting now and then to look back over his shoulder. The fog lifted, and then fell, swirling around his face, so he was surprised when a spiked turret or a garret window suddenly appeared. He could hear Glori’s little footsteps and her breathing now too, getting closer and closer.

  He turned back. He wanted to tell her to leave him be. Leave me alone!

  The fog swirled and settled, then parted, as if someone was drawing back curtains, and in the clearing he saw Glori advancing with her arms outstretched, reaching for him. Her face was white and her lips were blue. Her long, lovely hair was plastered wetly around her face and she was smiling at him. Smiling and smiling, and coming nearer and still smiling.

  He turned and scram
bled over a sea of tiles, clung to a length of railing, swung from that onto another low wall. Every scrap of roof seemed identical. Each corner brought another wall, another roof, and another blank, shuttered window.

  He inched along a gully until he could clasp the black drainpipe at the end. He stopped: he’d come to a dead end. He looked up and there were more steep walls and, above, more pointed, impossibly high roofs. He’d have to jump, but it was too foggy to see where to jump. He’d have to wait, wait for a puff of wind to clear the fog. He was shivering and yet his hands were wet with sweat, they couldn’t grip the drainpipe, and his feet were slipping on the tiles. He turned back briefly and saw Glori, still coming towards him, crawling on all fours along the gutter, balancing like an acrobat as she inched nearer and nearer.

  Her saucer eyes glowed yellow in the mist.

  ‘Go away!’ he shrieked. ‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’

  The fog was swirling thicker and denser than ever but he had to move. He stared through the fog, thought he saw the edge of a flat roof below.

  ‘Keep back, Glori!’

  He looked again and she was still coming; using her tail to balance as she tiptoed towards him. ‘Meow!’

  He let go of the drainpipe and launched himself into the void, hands outstretched. He flew through the air, arms windmilling and legs running …

  There was no flat roof below.

  Scaramouch turned and padded back, silently, along the rooftops.

  44

  The End

  ‘Where has he gone?’ Miss Minter said, staring at where Tapper had been. ‘Everybody leaves me. He was a nuisance. You are a nuisance,’ she said, glaring at Sparrow. ‘You are just money. You are a walking gold mine. And an interfering nuisance.’

  Sparrow ignored her rambling. She was staring up into the sky. She patted little Hettie, whose arms were so tightly wrapped around her that she couldn’t move. ‘Don’t listen to her, Hettie. Look at the lovely spitfyres,’ Sparrow said, as the flying horses came swooping closer and closer. The riders on their backs waved and Sparrow waved back. ‘Look, Hettie, they’re coming to save us. Aren’t they wonderful?’

  The two spitfyres landed gently on the roof with a mild clatter of hooves and a rush of warm air and sparks. ‘That’s Kopernicus and Seraphina,’ she told Hettie. Her heart lifted and swelled with happiness. ‘They’ve come back! They’ll save us!’

  The sky-riders immediately dismounted, threw off their goggles and ran towards them. It was Maud and Stormy from the Academy. They were both dressed in soft, dark, tight-fitting costumes with long boots.

  Maud shook out her hair. She ran to Sparrow and anxiously gathered her and Hettie into her arms.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she asked Sparrow, then turned to Hettie. ‘And the little one?’

  Sparrow nodded. ‘We’re fine. Fine.’ She had never been so glad to see someone, ever. ‘It’s her, you need to get her!’ She pointed to Miss Minter.

  Miss Minter had made no effort to escape. She was tottering backwards and forwards as if she were drunk.

  ‘My name is Miss Minter,’ she said. Her eyes flashed dangerously. ‘Where is de Whitt? We had a meeting. All arranged. Out to sea we go! My name is Miss Minter. I am a lady!’

  Stormy advanced on Miss Minter.

  ‘De Whitt has sailed,’ Stormy told her. He winked at Sparrow. ‘He’s gone. Bruno saw him off. Your plan to sell Sparrow to him is done with,’ he went on. ‘De Whitt is lucky he didn’t end up in prison.’

  Sparrow was confused. Who would want to buy her? But then, she thought, if Bruno had seen this de Whitt character off, then Bruno knew what was going on. The Butterworths had helped and there was every chance she’d see them again. That was good. Very good. She squeezed Hettie gently. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ she said.

  ‘Meow!’

  They turned as Scaramouch appeared and bounded over the roof to them.

  ‘There he is!’ Hettie cried. ‘He’s all right!’

  Sparrow scooped him up in her arms and hugged him.

  ‘What a clever cat!’ she crooned to him. ‘You made it back all on your own!’

  Meanwhile, the spitfyres were walking in tight, menacing circles around Miss Minter, puffing and blowing out hot, ashy blue smoke.

  Miss Minter swayed on her high heels and watched the flying horses warily.

  ‘They don’t like you, Miss Minter,’ Stormy said. He was very close to her, ready to grab her if she tried to run. ‘I wonder why?’

  ‘She locked them up, that’s why,’ Sparrow said. ‘She stole their Brightling.’

  Miss Minter laughed. She turned to the Director. ‘You’re so stupid, Stormy, you don’t even realise what riches you’re sitting on up there at the Academy. You have all that Brightling, and you don’t take any yourself. You could. It’s worth a fortune.’

  Stormy was looking puzzled. ‘Who are you?’ he asked her. ‘I think I know you. Do I know you?’

  Miss Minter cackled. ‘Make these animals leave me alone. I hate animals. I hate spitfyres and cats. Loathsome. Why are they looking at me like that? I don’t like it.’

  ‘They know what you did to them,’ Maud said. ‘They don’t trust you.’

  ‘You don’t know who I am either, do you? You pasty-faced little maid-of-all-work, Cousin Maud!’

  Cousin Maud?

  Sparrow saw recognition dawning in Stormy and Mauds’ faces; they couldn’t believe what they thought they saw. She’d never seen such expressions of amazement and … horror!

  ‘Oh my … it’s you!’ Maud said quietly, looking intently at Miss Minter. ‘You’ve dyed your hair. It has to be ten years since we last saw you … ’

  ‘Araminta!’ Stormy said. ‘It’s Araminta! The Director’s daughter,’ he added, for Sparrow’s sake. ‘When he went to prison she disappeared – along with a couple of the Academy spitfyres.’

  Miss Minter shrieked with laughter. ‘That’s right. Took all their Brightling too! Lovely stuff. Stormy was a stupid, interfering boy. And you, Maud!’ she added, pointing a finger at Maud. ‘How dare you even look at me! You are my maid! My underling. I wipe my feet on the likes of you!’ She laughed again and her laugh turned into a shiver so violent that it rocked her from side to side so she nearly fell over. ‘I never had a cousin called Maud. Never!’

  ‘You’ve taken Brightling, haven’t you?’ Stormy said. ‘How much? It’s dangerous, it –’

  ‘Ha!’ Miss Minter interrupted. ‘You would say that. Lies. Lies. Lies.’

  ‘It destroys,’ Maud said. ‘That’s why we came to the circus, to try and warn people. It affects the brain. The tears of one sad creature can only cause tears in another … ’

  Miss Minter quickly took a bottle of Brightling from her pocket. She held it up to the spitfyres defiantly. ‘I love it!’ she said and before Stormy could reach her, she had drained the bottle dry.

  ‘Don’t look!’ Maud cried and swung Hettie round so she couldn’t see the horrible effects of such a large dose of Brightling. Sparrow knew she should turn away too, but could not.

  Miss Minter’s hand remained poised with the small bottle at her lips. Now, slowly, her arm dropped and hung loosely at her side. Nothing happened for a whole minute, and then the top of her head began to smoke. Her blonde hair snapped off her head as if it were made of glass. It splintered at her feet.

  Miss Minter yelped and put her hands to her throat as orange fire burst out of her mouth. She roared and spat out more flames and clouds of smoke. She began to twist and turn, faster and faster until, like a Catherine wheel, she was just a blaze of sparkling lights and brilliant flashes of colour.

  When she stopped she had gone. There was nothing left but a heap of grey ash.

  That night, Sparrow lay again in her rose-patterned bedroom at the Butterworths’ house, feeling secure and happy. Her left hand lay gently on Scaramouch’s warm back.

  Now she knew who it was in the portrait that she loved so much: it was Mayra, her mother. She could stare and
stare at her to her heart’s content. She knew too that Cosmo, the circus owner, had been her father. Otto had given her an old circus pamphlet with a picture of the Great Cosmo in it that she would always treasure.

  Sleep didn’t come easily that night.

  Miss Minter had died a terrible death … How would she ever get rid of that awful image? She would try very hard to wipe it out of her mind but it would be hard.

  No one knew exactly what had happened to Tapper but a body had been found on the street – a man who’d fallen a great height, and Bruno said it sounded as if it were him.

  Where was Glori? Had she run away, like the other match-girls? She had heard how Glori had gone to Hilda and done all she could to rescue Sparrow, and she wanted to thank her. Sweet Glori. She hoped she was happy, wherever she was.

  It turned out that as soon as Bruno heard the details of Miss Minter’s plan he’d gone with the guards and challenged de Whitt. De Whitt was a coward, and had escaped onboard a ship and sailed away.

  Scaramouch was snoring – so was Hettie, who was sleeping peacefully in the spare bedroom. Everything was settled. Well, almost … because she still felt unfinished. Even knowing about her family, that she was Sparrow Butterworth, hadn’t brought the total happiness she’d hoped for. Actually, she supposed she was Sparrow de Whitt – Cosmo’s name. But since he’d never married her mother, she would happily stick to Butterworth.

  Stormy had told her that he was an orphan too. ‘I used to think that when I found my parents,’ he’d said, ‘if I ever found out who my parents were, I’d be happy because then I’d know exactly who I was and what I was.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Me too,’ Sparrow had replied.

  ‘But, d’you know,’ Stormy had said, grinning, ‘it wasn’t like that at all. I never did find them. I haven’t a clue who my real family is, but I’ve found Maud and the spitfyres and I love the Academy. All those things make me who I am. I am Stormy, without knowing all that other stuff.’

  ‘That’s enough?’ Sparrow had asked him, amazed.

  ‘Yes, it really is. Listen, Sparrow, you are a strong and brave person. You saved my spitfyres – they would certainly have died if you hadn’t set them free. You survived the Knip and Pynch Home. You don’t need a family to make you into a whole person. You never needed to know who your parents were to be you. You are whole. A whole Sparrow!’