But all the same, as she looked out over the rooftops at the moon, she felt suddenly ablaze with the desire to do something . She thought of Mum in the back room, and how she had talked about sticking up for themselves; and then of Dad’s tired face; and of Mrs Wu weeping; and of the way that the Baron’s Boys were trying to take what did not belong to them, just as the Moonbeam Diamond had been taken from the temple where it belonged, all those years ago.
Imagine what they’d say if she could manage, all alone, to reclaim the diamond!
The first step was to find out where the young lady lived, she decided. If she knew how to find her, then she would be able to tell her about the diamond and the curse. Mei had taken to scouring the newspaper each day, sneaking it away after Dad had finished with it, and searching the society pages for any mention of Miss Whiteley. Perhaps then she could write to her – there would be nothing wrong in that.
Song might think she was a timid scaredy-cat, but she wasn’t. Perhaps she was not as naturally brave as he was, but that did not mean that she couldn’t be brave in her own way. Wasn’t she the descendant of the noble warrior who had righted a terrible wrong? And she also believed in standing up for what was right. This was her chance to prove that she too could be brave, she too could be plucky, she too could be certain.
She who dares, wins . It was something that Song himself had said to her once, trying to get up her courage for some playground ordeal. ‘If you don’t even dare to try, then you won’t get anywhere, will you?’ he had said. She gazed out over the night-time rooftops, and his words hummed to her now, like a refrain, like the moon herself was singing them to her. She who dares, wins.
CHAPTER TEN
‘Well, I’ll tell you one thing I’m quite sure of,’ said Lil, tucking into a thick slice of meat pie with enthusiasm. ‘Mary and Phyllis don’t care for Miss Whiteley very much.’
Sophie and Lil were sitting in the Sinclair’s refectory, eating their midday meal. Around them were a host of Sinclair’s staff – waitresses and salesgirls, doormen and delivery drivers – most of them talking excitedly about the summer fête, which was taking place the very next day. Snippets of conversation drifted around them about boat races and best hats and whether they might get up a lawn tennis tournament. But Sophie and Lil were not talking about the fête. Instead, Lil was relating to Sophie everything that had happened at Miss Whiteley’s tea party the day before.
Sophie pondered this for a moment as she buttered a slice of bread. ‘So do you think there’s anything in her theory that whoever has the brooch has taken it simply out of spite – or jealousy perhaps? To stir up trouble between Veronica and Lord Beaucastle, or even prevent them becoming engaged?’
Lil screwed up her nose. ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ she said slowly. ‘But I really don’t think they mind about it as much as all that. I don’t think Mary and Phyllis give a fig about whether Veronica and Lord Beaucastle become engaged, although he’s obviously quite the catch. They’re all just rather browned off about the way Veronica’s been behaving since she got his attention. As a matter of fact, none of them even mentioned Lord Beaucastle to speak of – they were a jolly sight more interested in talking about frocks and hairstyles and so on. Not that there’s anything wrong with talking about frocks,’ she added, reflectively. ‘I mean, I like a nice frock just as much as the next person. But they were mainly just talking about things like that – and gossiping about the latest society scandal, of course.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Oh, one of the other debutantes has apparently eloped with one of her family’s footmen. She was one of the names on our list, actually – Emily Montague. By all accounts they disappeared on Friday, leaving everything behind them, and haven’t been seen since. They’re supposed to have gone abroad together.’
‘Well, there’s something,’ said Sophie, promptly.
‘What do you mean?’
‘If they were about to run away together, they would need money, wouldn’t they?’
‘Oh I say – so she could be the one who stole the jewelled moth?’ Lil’s dark eyes widened in sudden excitement. ‘That’s a jolly good thought.’
‘Well, it’s one theory,’ said Sophie. ‘We need to talk to the butler and the lady’s maid, too, and see what else we can find out.’
‘It’s going to be a good deal more difficult to find a chance to talk to the two of them, though, isn’t it?’ said Lil. ‘Gosh, don’t you think it must be reams easier for Mr McDermott than it is for us? All he has to do is waltz up to the kitchen door, knock and explain he’s a private investigator and wants to ask the servants some questions. No one would take us seriously if we did that.’
‘And I doubt Veronica would thank us if we did,’ said Sophie, with a laugh. ‘After all, the whole point is that she doesn’t want Lord Beaucastle – or anyone else for that matter – to know that the brooch is missing. But there is a way we could just go up to the kitchen door, you know,’ she added, after a pause.
‘Do you want me to impersonate a housemaid?’ asked Lil, her eyes gleaming.
‘No, you donkey,’ said Sophie with a giggle. ‘I don’t think you’d be very convincing! I was thinking about something much more straightforward. Think of the other sorts of people who might go to a kitchen door, and talk to servants . . . Such as a delivery boy, for example?’
Lil seized her meaning at once, and as soon as they had finished their luncheon, the two went in search of Billy. They tracked him down at last in the Toy Department, where he’d been delivering a message. He was keen to hear about everything Lil had discovered at the tea party, and made several more enthusiastic scribbles in his notebook. But when they suggested their new idea to him, they found that he was not at all keen on reverting to his previous role – even if it was to help solve a mystery.
‘I work for Mr Sinclair himself now, you know,’ he said, rather grandly, as they followed him between a magnificent display of dolls’ houses and a train set that was chugging its way through a painted landscape of woods and fields. ‘I can’t just start taking out deliveries, willy-nilly. Miss Atwood wouldn’t like it.’
‘Oh bother Miss Atwood,’ muttered Lil.
‘Well, look here, couldn’t you at least find out if there is anything that’s due to be delivered to Lord Beaucastle’s house in the next day or two?’ Sophie asked.
‘Yes, and then Joe could take it,’ said Lil, promptly. ‘Perhaps he isn’t too busy to help,’ she added, under her breath.
Billy ignored her. ‘I should be able to find out. But I have to go now. I’m afraid I’ve got rather a lot to do before the summer fête tomorrow.’
And so saying he swept away towards the elevators, leaving the two girls to look at each other and burst out laughing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The day of the first annual Sinclair’s Staff Summer Fête had finally arrived. There had been much speculation in the store about whether the day would be fine. Mrs Milton had said sagely that such beautiful weather as they had been having could not possibly be expected to last, and Mr White from the Book Department had gone so far as forecasting a storm, so there was relief all round when the day dawned bright and fair, with a cloudless blue sky.
The journey out to Putney had gone without incident, and now here they all were, enjoying an afternoon’s amusements along the river. It was quite a lark to see them all like this, Joe thought, from where he was standing with Titch and Paddy and one or two of the other stable fellows, enjoying the spectacle. The shop girls were quite as fine as the ladies they served on the shop floor, all rigged out in their Sunday best, with their parasols and gloves and flowered hats. The salesmen too were immaculately turned out for the occasion in crisp white flannels and blazers. But it was the porters and doormen who looked the most unlike their usual selves, dressed in ordinary clothes instead of their uniforms.
The riverbank where they would be spending the day had been decked out for a celebration too. Iced lemonade and stra
wberries were being served from a striped tent adorned with strings of gaily-coloured bunting. There were games to play on the lawn – Joe could see Minnie, Dot and Edith from the Millinery Department attempting a round of croquet with Jim and a couple of the fellows from Sporting Goods. Billy’s Uncle Sid, smart as paint for the occasion, came strolling through the crowd with Mr Betteredge, pausing to laugh at a joke or clap a young porter on the shoulder. Monsieur Pascal was solicitously delivering a glass of lemonade to Claudine, the window-dresser, who was sitting in a striped deckchair, frowning rather suspiciously at the bright sunlight from under the shade of her parasol. Mr Sinclair himself was nowhere to be seen, but that hardly mattered, Joe thought. Had he been here, the staff might have felt they had to be on their best behaviour – as it was, they were all simply enjoying the day out.
It was really something to work for a place that treated its staff like this, Joe thought, as he savoured another mouthful of his strawberries and cream. This time last year he’d never even tasted a strawberry, and now look at him. Today more than ever, he felt as though he’d stepped through a sort of magic door, leaving the darkness of his old life behind him. He smiled at himself and his fanciful notions. That sounded much more like something Billy might have come up with than anything he might think himself.
Across the lawn, he could see Billy talking earnestly to Lil and Sophie. They were probably discussing some development in the case, but he felt no need to rush over and hear it. They’d tell him in good time. Instead, he stood enjoying the sensation of the sun on his back and wondering whether he might pluck up the courage to ask Lil for a dance later on.
Sid Parker came striding over, jacket off and shirtsleeves already rolled up in preparation for the boat race. ‘Right then, lads,’ he announced. ‘Almost time to start. Let’s show those fellows from Sporting Goods what we’re made of !’
Down by the river’s edge, Sophie, Lil and Billy had not yet noticed that the boat race was about to begin.
‘I’ve checked the records, just like you asked, but there isn’t anything due to be delivered to Lord Beaucastle’s address. So I’m afraid that’s that,’ Billy was saying.
‘Well, not necessarily,’ said Lil, promptly. She turned to Sophie. ‘Maybe we don’t even need a real delivery. We could deliver something to Lord Beaucastle’s house by mistake . That would offer the perfect opportunity for a conversation with the butler!’
Billy looked thoroughly alarmed at this idea, and launched into a long discourse about the importance of protecting Sinclair’s hard-won reputation for efficiency – which Miss Atwood said was of paramount importance – and the painstaking care that must be taken with each and every delivery. Sophie and Lil couldn’t help feeling rather relieved when Sid Parker called Billy over to him.
‘Oh look, it’s starting,’ said Lil. ‘You’d better hurry.’
Billy grinned, excited. ‘Wish us luck!’ he said, and rushed away.
Lil sighed after him. ‘I don’t know why he’s being such a goody-goody at the moment. I thought he wanted to be a proper detective! I’ll bet that Montgomery Baxter that he’s always reading about wouldn’t let all these idiotic rules stand in his way.’
‘It’s the new job, that’s all,’ said Sophie, with a grin. ‘He wants to prove himself. He’ll calm down soon enough.’
She spoke rather absently. They were walking slowly after Billy, towards the wooden jetty where the rowers were clambering into their boats. Mr Betteredge was directing operations, looking very enthusiastic and rather hot, and the rest of the staff who were not taking part in the race had gathered to watch the fun. It was gloriously cool by the river – a light breeze rippled the surface of the water, and a family of swans sailed past. Suddenly Sophie felt tired of Miss Whiteley and the jewelled moth, and even of being detectives. She would be quite happy to forget about it all, and simply enjoy being here, on the riverbank, for a little while.
The boats were lining up for the start now. From where they stood, Sophie could see Uncle Sid’s boat, with Joe just about visible amongst the rowers, and Billy’s fair head at the back. Lil waved her handkerchief excitedly. ‘Good luck!’ she cried, although there was not much chance that Joe and Billy would have been able to hear anything above the music from the band and the noise of the other staff cheering and clapping.
‘Oh look! They’re ready!’ squealed Minnie, from somewhere a little behind Lil and Sophie.
All at once, Mr Betteredge fired the starting pistol, and then the boats were off. Uncle Sid’s boat pulled out in front to a roar of cheers, but then another boat, captained by Jim from Sporting Goods, began to gain on them.
‘Come on! Hoe in! Go to it!’ shrieked Lil, hopping from one foot to another, very much excited, having apparently forgotten how annoyed she had been to have to merely stand by and spectate.
‘Go for it, Jim!’ came another voice from behind them.
‘Show ’em how it’s done, Sid!’ called someone else.
The two boats were neck and neck now: the rowers’ arms moved like pistons, and on the riverbank, the spectators grew more and more excited.
‘Go on, Alf !’ shrieked someone.
‘He’s going to take the lead!’
‘I say, whatever’s happening?’ exclaimed Lil, suddenly.
Out on the river, Jim’s boat was racing ahead, everyone rowing as hard as they could, focused on reaching the finish line. But behind them, Sophie saw to her astonishment, Uncle Sid’s boat had come to a standstill.
‘What’s happened, Sid? Lost your bottle?’ yelled someone rudely from behind them, but Uncle Sid was paying no attention. He was pointing and shouting something they could not hear. Sophie saw that Billy had his hand clapped over his mouth, whilst two of the rowers seemed to be struggling with something in the water that was caught up in their oars. As Sophie watched, the next boat drew up behind them to help instead of racing ahead towards the finish line. The watchers on the riverbank quietened, murmuring, confused, as together, the rowers began to wrestle something out of the water.
‘Oh goodness,’ said Lil in a shocked voice. ‘It’s a . . . body !’
Sophie said nothing: she couldn’t speak. By now, the rowers had managed to haul the object aboard the boat, and it was quite plain to see that it was the body of a girl dressed in white, her fall of long hair dark with water. Sid bent over the figure, but even from where they were standing on the riverbank, it was obvious that she was dead.
The first boat had crossed the finish line, but no one was clapping or cheering now – the riverbank was full of whispers and startled exclamations. Sid was waving his hands and saying something to the rowers, and a moment later, they began moving again, coming straight towards the jetty with its bright strings of bunting, towards where Sophie and Lil were standing.
As they reached the riverbank, Sid took charge. The rowers climbed out of the boat, silent and pale. Joe and two others were instructed to carry the body on to the shore. The watchers on the riverbank pressed closer, intrigued and horrified, but Sid was having none of that.
‘Here, you – Titch, isn’t it? Run for the constable and look sharp about it,’ he barked, pointing at the smallest stable boy. ‘You two,’ he instructed Joe and Billy, ‘you stand guard here. The rest of you stop gawping. The race is over now. Go straight through to the tent and get your tea. Where the devil is Betteredge?’
He charged off, leaving Joe and Billy standing awkwardly in front of the body. With many curious glances at the shape beyond them on the ground, the staff of Sinclair’s department store peeled away towards the tea tent: Sid Parker was not a man to be defied.
As they went, they muttered to each other in low, shocked voices.
‘What a thing to happen!’
‘It’s a tragedy, that’s what.’
‘Poor thing!’
‘Only a young lady, too.’
‘What could have happened to her? You don’t think she could have –?’
Lil and Sophie stayed wh
ere they were as the others drifted away.
‘How ghastly,’ said Lil at last. ‘How perfectly ghastly. I say, are you all right?’ she added, looking anxiously at Billy, who was very green and looked as if he was going to be sick.
Billy shook his head as if he didn’t really trust himself to say anything yet.
Joe didn’t speak either. He was still breathless and sweating from the race. His heart was pounding. He’d seen dead bodies before – more than he had ever wanted to, back on the streets of the East End. But he’d never expected to see one here, not like this. He looked away, feeling all over again the sodden weight of her as they had lifted her out of the boat. The sour river smell of decay seemed to have crept over him, obliterating all the scents of summer and strawberries. As Joe wiped the clammy perspiration from his forehead, his dream of being an ordinary, respectable fellow suddenly seemed a mere fantasy. He would never be able to escape what he had been.
Sophie looked down at the body on the grass. She was just a girl, not much older than herself. She wore no hat, but was dressed in what at first appeared to be a smart, stylish costume. But as Sophie studied her further, she saw that the girl’s frock was not so new and expensive as she had first thought. The lace trimming on her skirt had been neatly mended – there was a discreet darn on one elbow – and the heels of her dainty little boots looked worn. Who was she, and why was she floating in the river? Was she the victim of some terrible accident – or had something more sinister happened to her? The very thought made Sophie’s skin prickle.
The Mystery of the Jewelled Moth Page 8