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Authors: Rebecca Lisle

BOOK: Brightling
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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 missing 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?'

‘Sparrow,' Miss Minter said.

Glori sagged. She was done for.

‘That's the one.' He grabbed Glori's elbow in what looked like an affectionate squeeze, but was painfully hard. ‘Go on, describe her again, the new one you've got. Oh what a poor memory you have, Glori, my pet.' His long lick of hair dropped between his eyes and he let it stay there, giving Glori a black, mean look through its strands.

There was something untamed about him, out of control, Glori thought, and suddenly she didn't like him at all.

‘Sparrow, yes. She's got green eyes,' Glori said, staring at the tabletop. ‘Light hair – lots of it. Jolly. Brave. And a cat. I was going to tell you, in a bit  … '

Tapper's face split into a grin. ‘Cat? Got her!' He slapped the table with his hand. ‘Got her safe! Knips will be jumping out of her boots when she hears this! I wonder what next, now I've found our bird?'

‘Excuse me,' Miss Minter said, coolly.

‘What?'

‘You haven't got her,' Miss Minter said with a big, radiant smile. ‘
I've
got her.'

Tapper's face fell.

‘But why do you want her, Tapper?' Glori asked. ‘You and Miss Knip? Why's there money in finding little Sparrow?'

‘Oh, never you mind about that,' Tapper said, rolling his eyes. ‘We shan't hurt her, not a hair on her dear little head, if that's your worry. We need her fit and well.' He paused while he thought things through. He turned back to Miss Minter. ‘I see, I see what you're saying  …  Knips is out of the scheme now? You want  …  I see  … ' He offered his hand to Miss Minter. ‘Partners, so?'

Miss Minter shook her head and ignored his hand. ‘I'm in charge. I'm always in charge. You can work for me.'

‘Oh I don't care,' Tapper said, downing his beer. ‘Just so long as me and Glori get rich  …  Funny you didn't remember her name, in't it?' he added to Glori.

Glori shrugged. ‘You know my memory's not so good.'

Tapper raised his empty glass and clinked it against Miss Minter's. ‘Here's to us!' he said.

18

Cari

Two days later, Sparrow was perched on the wonky old trunk by the window watching Scaramouch on the roof outside. He sat with his back to her. He was cleaning the white patch on his chest, licking himself earnestly, as if it was the dirtiest bit of fur he'd ever come across in his whole life. ‘Scaramouch, dear, come in and talk to me,' Sparrow begged him quietly. ‘Scaramouch, please.'

The cat swivelled round to fix his golden eyes on her and meowed silently, showing the perfect inside of his pink mouth and his sharp white teeth.

‘I know. I know. You want to go, and we will go,' Sparrow whispered, very aware that the other girls in the room behind her might be listening. ‘We will, but not just yet. We can't. What don't you like? The food?'

He yawned and started to wash his immaculately clean whiskers with his paws.

‘All right. If it's not the food, what else?'

He got up and walked to the tip of the roof point. He padded to the very edge and stopped, glancing back over his shoulder at her, and then down to the streets below.

‘You want to explore? You want to go somewhere else?'

He sat down again and fixed his big eyes on her.

‘That's it, isn't it? You're waiting for me? Well, I will  …  I promise, I just –'

‘Who are you talking to, angel?'

‘Oh! Miss Minter!' Sparrow spun round. ‘Just Scaramouch.'

‘Don't you have enough to do with your matchbox making? Or are you lonely? I hate it when the girls are sick,' Miss Minter said, glancing over to the beds where Beattie, Connie, Dolly and Violet all lay, brought down by a bug. ‘I'm glad you're not sick,' she went on. She put her hands on her hips and stared through the rain-spattered glass at Scaramouch. ‘I don't think he's a normal cat. Do you see how he's looking at me? Do you see how glassy his eyes are? What's he thinking? Cats don't think, do they? Does he want to know my secrets?'

‘He's just a commonplace cat,' Sparrow said, though she didn't believe it for one moment. She stared at him longingly then got up, determined not to let Miss Minter know just how important he was to her.

‘Now, angel,' Miss Minter said, putting her arm around Sparrow's shoulders and drawing her to her side. ‘Glori tells me you are happy here. That's good. I want my girls to be happy. You are beginning to make some beautiful matchboxes, Sparrow, very pretty.'

‘Thank you.' Sparrow did not enjoy being hugged by Miss Minter.

‘I like pretty things.' Miss Minter looked wistfully around the attic at the cracked and flaking plaster, the peeling paint and cobwebs, the line of sick girls. ‘This is not a beautiful place. I had fine things once; a big house and people who did what I told them to do. Immediately. I was free then.' She looked out towards the mountains. ‘A long time ago.'

The sunlight suddenly cut through the heavy clouds and settled on Miss Minter's blonde hair and her whole head seemed to burst alight, shining brilliantly like the halo around the people in church windows. Miss Minter looked like a saint. Then she moved and the light went.

Sparrow suddenly found Miss Minter's glacial stare on her.

‘Your hair is very beautiful,' Sparrow said sweetly. ‘I wish mine was so blonde and shiny.'

Miss Minter's expression changed; she broke into a pleased smile and smoothed her hair around her neat ears. ‘My hair
is
very beautiful,' she agreed. She wandered back to the fireplace and poured herself a drink from a small bottle of pop-pear juice. ‘Sparrow?'

Sparrow went over to her. ‘Yes, miss?'

‘Sparrow, you haven't been out of this place since you came, have you? Out in the fresh air? I know you'd like to. I think you should go out selling matches tomorrow, with Gloriana.' She sat down on her pink couch. ‘It's market day. We can't afford to miss it, even if the others are ill  …  Aren't we lucky to have work and be able to earn a living in these hard times, eh? How would you like to go out selling?'

‘I'd love it!' Sparrow cried. She longed for the outside and here was a chance to look for Sampson's. She'd almost forgotten about her shawl. At last! She could try to find the shop.

‘Good, that's settled then,' Miss Minter said. ‘I think you're going to be a real asset to us, Sparrow. Stay with the other girls at all times; imitate what they do and you'll do splendidly.'

That night, when everyone was in their bed, Scaramouch crept back into the attic, leaping silently onto a bookcase, tiptoeing around the potted plants, then jumping right over three sleeping girls before landing softly on the bottom of Sparrow's bed. He crept up to her pillow, purring softly, until his head settled beneath her chin. Immediately Sparrow felt happy. It wasn't that she'd been sad, but now she felt content and complete. She rubbed Scaramouch's nose and round his ears. He lay down alongside her, the engine in his throat rolling and rattling noisily. He turned blissfully on his back, his paws floppy and relaxed, and Sparrow rubbed the soft fur of his tummy. ‘I'm going out selling matches tomorrow,' Sparrow whispered. ‘I won't leave you for long, I promise. Will you watch me from the rooftop? I'm going searching for our family, Scaramouch. You'll be all right without me for just one day, won't you?'

Scaramouch stopped purring. The silence was massive. He rolled over and stood up, facing the moonlit window. Each hair on his back gleamed in the silvery light.

Sparrow sighed.

‘But how can we go?
Where
can we go?' Sparrow whispered to him.

And Scaramouch had no answer to that.

Because of the illness that had brought the other girls down, only Sparrow, Glori, Kate and Agnes were going out to sell matches the next day.

Sparrow was nervous; she'd never done anything like selling matches before. And what if she found Sampson's? What would she do then?

Each girl carried a tray in front of them, supported by a strap around their necks. As they filed out of the attic room, Scaramouch bounded lightly over and slipped through their legs to join them.

‘Oh here's Scaramouch!' Sparrow bent down to stroke him. ‘I think he wants to come out too. Can he? Please?'

Glori glanced back nervously to Miss Minter, who seemed absorbed in her newspaper.

‘I – I suppose so,' Glori said.

Sparrow grinned. ‘I'll sell ever so many matches with Scaramouch to help me.'

Sparrow hadn't been further than the matchmaking room since she'd arrived, and there were more floors and many rooms below. They passed closed doors, twisting, narrow passages and even other staircases disappearing into the shadows. Sparrow wondered what secrets the house held.

A shaft of sun through the window above the door illuminated the big hallway on the ground floor; dust motes danced in the light. The floor was littered with dry leaves. Dust and lumps of plaster had fallen from the walls onto the floor. There were three doors and a long corridor leading off into darkness.

‘All right, Sparrow?' Agnes asked her.

‘Just dreaming,' she replied. If she wanted, she was thinking, she could try and run away. If she had to, she could; one of these doors must lead somewhere. Scaramouch slinked around her ankles and mewled as if he were thinking the same.

‘Put the cover on the tray to protect the matches,' Glori told Sparrow as they paused by the wide street door. ‘Here.' She rearranged the wide, green strap around Sparrow's neck so it was comfortable. ‘You can check all your boxes are neat when we get there. Got your purse?'

Sparrow nodded. ‘Yes.' She patted it where it rested at her waist. She glanced at Kate; the strap of her tray seemed to be cutting into her thin, white neck. ‘Yours looks lots heavier,' she pointed out to her. ‘How come? Have you got heavier matches?'

Kate looked back at her blankly then laughed loudly. ‘Yeah, made of lead!' she said and lifted her tray up easily. ‘Daftie! The matches are just the same as yours.'

Just then there was the clatter of footsteps on the stairs and Violet and Hettie exploded into the hall. ‘Came to say good luck! Wish I was going out,' Violet cried, then doubled over in a violent fit of coughing. ‘Oh, I'm so ill!' Then she scooped Scaramouch up in her arms and handed him, struggling, to Hettie. ‘There you are, Hettie,' she said.

‘
What –?
' Sparrow began.

Violet gave Sparrow a reassuring smile. ‘Hettie
so
wanted him to herself while you go out, and Miss Minter said she could. Miss Minter said you wouldn't mind.'

‘Please, Sparrow!' Hettie said.

Scaramouch began to struggle more forcefully.

‘But –'

Agnes unlocked the door. ‘Come on,' she called. ‘All clear! Quick, Sparrow!'

Someone pulled Sparrow to the doorstep.

‘Scaramouch!' she cried.

Scaramouch yowled.

‘Off we go!' Glori propelled Sparrow outside, saying, ‘I know, I know, but honestly, Sparrow, he would have held us up. Come on, little Birdie, he'll be fine.'

Agnes took her arm. ‘Hettie will look after him. Don't worry. Miss Minter will give you some ribbon to tie round his neck if we do well.'

Sparrow shivered. The idea of Miss Minter tying ribbon round her dear cat's neck sent a shiver up her spine. ‘But I wanted him to come! Couldn't we  …  I just  … '

Sparrow was sure she could hear Scaramouch crying, even when the big door shut behind them; the sound made her go cold. ‘I wanted him to come with me,' she said quietly.

‘I know, I know,' Glori said, slipping her arm through Sparrow's. ‘Oh Birdie  …  Mmm, smell that fresh air. Lovely!' she added, breathing in deeply and loudly. ‘Great to be out.'

‘I suppose  … '

‘Oh it's bliss away from that phosphorus isn't it?' Agnes said.

It was, but still, Sparrow couldn't enjoy it now.

‘Scaramouch is better off inside,' Kate said. ‘Truly. Let's be off!'

They went single file down the ginnel. Halfway along, Glori called for them to stand aside; a man was coming down the narrow alleyway towards them.

He was tall and rake-thin, with long, sparse hair that reached to his shoulders. There was a bag slung across his back and two more in his hands. He seemed to recognise the girls and grinned at them.

‘Morning, girls,' he said with a nod. He indicated his bulging bags. ‘Just off to feed the old nags.'

‘Hello, Brittel,' Agnes said, and at the same time she tilted her head towards Sparrow, as if to warn him she was there, Sparrow thought.

Brittel gave Sparrow a hard, measuring look. She didn't like the way he looked at her or his face; it was sneaky and rat-like and he seemed to be sizing her up as he stared at her before squeezing past them and on down the alley.

‘Who was that?' she asked Glori.

‘Brittel. He does odd jobs for Miss Minter,' Glori explained. ‘I think she knew him a long time ago.'

Sparrow looked behind her, wondering where the horses were that he was going to feed, but he'd already disappeared round a bend in the ginnel.

Soon the girls were spilling out into a cobbled lane where tall, gabled houses lined the road. They walked for half an hour through dark and shabby streets of boarded-up houses and falling-down warehouses. Scruffy dogs watched them from where they sat on top of doorsteps or curled on heaps of old clothes.

As they turned onto a wider street they came to a crowd of people that blocked their way. They had gathered to watch something passing by in the road and were cheering and shaking their fists at something. The match-girls stopped too.

‘What is it?' Sparrow asked, bobbing up and down, trying to see over the heads of the people.

They pushed their way nearer.

A procession was going by slowly. At the front were four guards, mounted on horses pulling open wagons. The wagons held wooden cages and were followed by yet more stern-looking guards.

The cages held people, all of them chained to the wooden bars of their cage.

‘What's happening?' Sparrow cried. ‘Why are they in those cages? Why are they chained?'

‘They're from Stollenback prison,' Kate said. ‘Oh, they must be freezing in those rags.'

‘The chains must hurt,' Glori said.

‘They don't even have shoes. And see how dirty they are!' Agnes said. ‘Poor things.'

The prisoners' eyes were downcast. Their heads drooped.

‘They're crims,' Glori said. ‘But still, you can't help feeling sorry for them, eh?'

‘But children too, look!' Sparrow said. ‘Boys, and a girl just like us. Look at her! That one. She looks so ill and thin!' She pointed.

Glori saw the girl she meant and tensed. She nudged Kate, who sucked in air loudly and grabbed Agnes. ‘It's
her!
' Kate hissed.

‘Who?' Sparrow asked. ‘Do you know her?' She looked again at the poor girl. Her head hung from a neck so pale and thin it didn't look strong enough to hold up her head of long, tangled, ginger-coloured hair.

‘That's Cari. It's Hettie's sister,' Glori said. She took Sparrow's arm and began to pull her away.

‘
What?
Hettie's Cari? Can't we do something to help?' Sparrow cried. ‘Are we just going to leave her there? Does Miss Minter know?'

The match-girls dragged her back behind the crowd and they huddled by a tree.

‘No, no we can't do nothing,' Glori said, keeping her voice low and turning her back on the wagons. ‘She's going out. Sent off to the wastelands.'

Kate's expression was fierce as she squeezed Sparrow's arm. ‘You're not to say a word. Not a word to Hettie,' she urged her.

‘But –'

‘No buts; Hettie's too little, she wouldn't understand.'

‘But can't we do anything for her?' Sparrow said again. ‘Why's she locked up? Did she do something wrong?'

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