Brightling (19 page)

Seraphina let out an awful whinny and Sparrow had to clamp a hand over her mouth quickly to stop a cry from escaping.

‘Hush there. I know about spitfyres. What? You don't believe me?' Brittel said, stroking Seraphina's neck. ‘And why not, when I worked years in the Academy kitchens, making your food, eh?' He unravelled a very fine tube from a roll of cloth and fitted it to a small bottle. ‘I know about spitfyres. I know
all
about spitfyres, even if the bosses never let me near them at the Academy. Not once did I get invited up to the Academy proper. Not even for a cup of tea. There. Now, keep still. It won't take a minute, you know, and it doesn't hurt.'

Sparrow's heart began to thump and thump, the hammering seemed to fill her head and pound around her temples. She felt sick and useless. She leaned out from her hiding place and saw how Brittel held the tube up to the spitfyre's glistening eye. He placed the end in the tiny pool of liquid and captured the golden tears; tears of liquid sunshine.

Brightling.

35

Through a crack in the half-open cupboard door, Glori had seen Sparrow leaping down the stairs. It was hard to let her go by like that, but Glori knew if she followed her she'd miss her chance to track the others. Not long after Sparrow, Tapper and Miss Minter set out together.

Glori slipped out of her hiding place and followed them out of the front door. To her surprise, Tapper and Miss Minter turned away from the centre of Stollenback and headed for the river and the poorer part of town.

It was icy cold and Tapper hunched himself up inside his thick coat and dug his hands into his coat pockets. Miss Minter wore a big fur coat and hat, and pink, sequined gloves. The cold was keeping most people off the streets, though they did pass several groups of uniformed guards.

Miss Minter and Tapper were too confident, Glori thought. They never once looked back. If they had, they'd have seen her little figure wrapped in a long cloak, darting along in their wake, nipping in and out of gardens and crouching behind walls.

Tapper tried taking Miss Minter's arm but she shook him off.

‘I don't like going out in the daylight,' Miss Minter said as they passed some guards. ‘I like staying inside. I like my nest.' She looked around nervously. ‘I used to enjoy going out. Before. But not now. Perhaps I will not go?' She stopped suddenly.

‘Come on, Miss Minter,' Tapper urged her. ‘De Whitt would rather we meet in the night too,' he said. ‘I understand, Miss Minter, I do.' He kicked aside a mound of snow in his path. ‘This de Whitt's a busy man. He sails soon, off to some sunny clime, lucky dog. This was the only time he could see us. That's what he said. Oh to go to the sunshine, eh? Tropical beaches, sand and turquoise seas and –'

‘People look at me in the light,' Miss Minter said, pulling her hat lower over her forehead. ‘And I do not like being hurried.' She put on sunglasses. ‘I do not like being told what to do. I hate being  … ' She stopped suddenly. ‘Look at that!'

Then the poster gave the Butterworths' address. Tapper chuckled. ‘They want her back bad, don't they?' he said. ‘And look, “
uncle
”. Well, if de Whitt won't pay for her, we can go back to our first plan and give her to them, them
Butterfingers!
' he laughed. ‘See, Miss Minter,
Butterfingers
– 'cos they had her first and lost her. How big's a “generous” reward d'you reckon?'

Miss Minter was not smiling. ‘But how do they
know
she's their niece, Tapper?' she said in a strangled voice. ‘How, when it was our secret?'

Tapper rubbed his head. ‘I never said to no one  …  there were only Miss Knip could've known.'

‘Then
she
told them,' Miss Minter said, fisting up her hands. ‘She went to them for money. I'm sure of it.' She laughed suddenly. ‘But by then Sparrow had flown. Sparrow is ours! Still, I wish they didn't know.'

‘What difference if they do?' Tapper asked.

‘Because now they
care
,' Miss Minter said. ‘And because they care, they're looking for her. Before, no one was looking. Safer, that's all.'

Tapper nodded. ‘I see. I understand,' he said, wondering if he did.

The Hotel Belvedere, where they were meeting de Whitt, was a bad choice, Tapper thought. It was dilapidated and ancient; a big wooden building, creaky and slipping slowly into the river behind it. Inside, every room was damp and the wallpaper was mouldy and peeling off the walls. It smelled of mud. He didn't like it.

They sat down by the fire in the panelled hotel parlour, rubbing their hands in front of the flames.

The two men who had been sitting near them in the cosy warmth of the fire, got up and moved to another seat in the corner, glancing at Tapper nervously.

Tapper was not usually bothered by his negative magnet effect; but this time he looked round nervously. Things felt wrong here. It was this old hotel, he thought. Spooky. Haunted. He felt as if someone were shadowing him. He looked all around the parlour, checking the faces of the men in case he recognised any, but he didn't. There was a picture on the wall with a gent in it who stared at him, but that didn't account for this bad feeling he had. He glanced over his shoulder, the coats hanging on the wall moved, as if filled with invisible bodies. Then the door blew shut with a bang and he jumped. Perhaps it had been the wind in the clothes? He shivered again and hunched miserably into his heavy coat.

‘Funny old place,' he said.

‘My fingers are so cold,' Miss Minter complained, taking her gloves and hat off. ‘I'm hot and cold. I'm up and down. You should have made him come to
me
, Tapper. I do not like being ordered to do things. Go and get me a hot pop-apple wine, a very large one. Why couldn't he come to me?'

He scowled at the bargirl and she backed away. This feeling of being watched vexed him. He didn't like it, not when he was doing secret business. Or was it just because he was up to secret business that he felt this way? He sat down again as soon as he had their drinks, hunching his shoulders.

‘Cheers!' He took a long swig of his bark-beer but even that didn't help. He shivered. ‘What did we have to pick this dump for?' he said.

A large, smartly dressed man with a fine, white moustache walked over to their table and, bending down, addressed them quietly.

‘Minter. There you are,' he said.

‘
Miss
Minter,' Miss Minter said sharply. ‘I will not do business with rude and ignorant people; let me say that immediately. Not even if they are likely to make me a fortune. Manners. Manners, please.'

‘Hush, hush,' the man said, glancing round anxiously. ‘There are ears everywhere. Good to see you again.' His skin was dark and had the texture of leather, as if it had been beaten and sundried. His hands were large and the nails perfectly manicured. He shook hands with Miss Minter and then Tapper, after which he wiped his palm down his trouser seat and sat down. ‘I'll have a small bark-beer, young man.'

Tapper glowered but went to buy him the drink, his eyes darting left and right as he went.

‘So, we meet again,' de Whitt said to Miss Minter. Then, glancing at Tapper's retreating back, he went on, ‘I don't like that young fellow, I told you. There's something quite wrong about him. Did you have to bring him?'

Miss Minter smiled. ‘He's all right,' she said. ‘He does what I tell him to do.'

De Whitt shrugged. ‘As you will.'

Tapper returned and handed de Whitt his drink.

‘So, you have found the girl again?' de Whitt said.

‘We've got her, all right,' Tapper said with a chuckle. ‘And she's safe.'

‘
Safe?
That is imperative. She must be held under lock and key, with no chance of escape,' de Whitt said.

‘She is watched over by my girls,' Miss Minter said. ‘There is no way she can get out.'

De Whitt breathed out deeply. ‘Good –'

‘Yes, well,' Tapper interrupted, wanting to get on and get home, away from this being-spied-on feeling. ‘What's the plan then?'

De Whitt looked serious. He leaned over the table and lowered his voice again. ‘You must keep the girl until I leave Stollenback,' de Whitt said.

‘And when will that be?' Tapper jumped in.

De Whitt gritted his teeth and addressed Miss Minter. ‘It will depend on the captain of the ship and the tides. I believe Thursday night. I suggest you tell her that she is going to be reunited with the Butterworth family, since they seem to be so keen to have her back, then she won't be suspicious.'

‘Cracking!' Tapper said. ‘You could keep her here a while. Get to know each other first.'

De Whitt ignored him. ‘The moment the captain says we sail, I will send a lad to you with the message. Then you must bring her. There will not be much time.'

‘Oh yes, and then what?' Tapper said. ‘Is the deck slippery?' he asked with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. ‘If it was
slippery
, and the sea was rough, she might fall overboard, so?'

De Whitt smiled and fingered the tips of his moustache, rolling them into points. ‘There is always the possibility of an accident at sea. Such a dangerous place, a sailing ship  …  You do not have to concern yourself with that. I will see that she never returns. Once she is out of the way  … ' He paused and smiled. ‘Cosmo's will leaves everything to this girl, Sparrow, his natural daughter. With no Sparrow, the fortune comes to me, his cousin and only remaining kin  … '

‘
And
to the person who has facilitated the operation,' Miss Minter said softly. ‘That, de Whitt, is me.'

‘And me!' Tapper added.

‘Tapper, leave this part of the business to me,' Miss Minter said sharply. ‘Mr de Whitt, we have gone to great lengths to get this girl for you and we have kept her safe. The cost has been extortionate. Without us you would have nothing, and now you will be very rich  … '

De Whitt looked down at the table and spoke in a low voice. The bargaining began.

Tapper sat and shivered and wondered what sort of dreadful, mournful ghosts lived in the Belvedere and what he'd done to make them haunt him so.

36

The trickling sound of liquid draining into the glass jar went on for several seconds while a glow, like dawn breaking, spread out around Seraphina's head.

‘You won't last long, Seraphina,' Brittel said. ‘You're too highly strung. Stormy's pet, eh? You'll pine away quite quick, you will. Those two old boys back there; they're nearly finished – drained dry of their tears, they are. They lasted well. Kopernicus will carry on a bit longer, she's strong, but Miss Minter'll have to be thinking about another source of Brightling soon, that's the truth.'

He finished what he was doing and Sparrow heard him pottering around, perhaps taking tears from the other spitfyres and tidying things. Then he was calling out, ‘See you all tomorrow!' as he crossed the yard. As soon as she heard the house door close, Sparrow jumped up and squeezed round to the front of the stable.

‘What did he do to you, Seraphina? Are you all right?'

She ran her hand gently over the spitfyre's beautiful neck and peered into her large eyes. They were dry; all their golden lustre had vanished. ‘They're taking your magic tears,' Sparrow whispered. ‘They're stealing Brightling from you. You poor, dear thing.'

The spitfyre rubbed her nose against Sparrow's shoulder. Sparrow stroked her dirty coat and stared into her dark, sad eyes. ‘I will stop this. I promise I will  …  somehow!' She laid her forehead against the spitfyre's neck. ‘Can't you burn him or kick down the door or something?' she whispered. ‘Isn't there anything you can do to fight back?'

Desperate to do something helpful, Sparrow found a bucket full of water and a cloth and, standing on another, upturned bucket, began to wash some of the brown colour away from around Seraphina's nose and mouth. She tried to comb out her mane. She did not know that Stormy had done these same kindnesses for this same spitfyre, years ago when he'd found her, filthy and neglected in a cave. But the spitfyre remembered, and she trembled at the gentle touch. Something inside her, a yearning for home and her master, grew stronger and stronger.

The spitfyre's fine purple, pink and blue coat gleamed out from under the brown. ‘I daren't do more,' Sparrow told her. ‘Brittel will notice. He'll know someone's been. But is that a little better?'

She thought suddenly, painfully, of Scaramouch. If Miss Minter could do this to the spitfyres – then what might she do to a cat? ‘I'll save you somehow. All of you,' Sparrow said to the spitfyres. ‘And I'll find Scaramouch too. Somehow, somehow! Try not to weep, try not to make any tears for Brittel. Be brave!'

She slipped out of the stable and bolted the door carefully behind her. She checked to see that she hadn't left any signs of being there and went out through the same door she'd come through, back up the stairs and all the way up the dark staircase to the match room.

Her mind was racing, but by the time she got there she had composed herself and opened the door, smiling.

‘Here she is!' Dolly cried.

‘You've been ages!' Hettie said. ‘Is Glori with you?'

‘No, I don't know where Glori is. Miss Minter kept me.' She went round the first table and stopped by Connie. ‘How's it going in the match-making department?' she asked, forcing herself to sound bright and pushing the images of the tortured spitfyres to the back of her mind. ‘You're on cutting today, are you?'

Connie nodded and pointed at the pile of neat matchsticks she'd made. The smell of newly-cut wood fought against the smell of phosphorus, but lost.

‘Come and sit by me,' Hettie called. ‘Help me make my boxes.'

‘I'm coming.'

‘It's nice to have you back,' Connie said. ‘You're always so cheery, Sparrow.'

‘Tell us more about the family you were with,' Agnes said, as Sparrow took her place at the table. ‘I want to know everything. Did the man, that Bruno, did he shout a lot?'

Sparrow laughed as she sat down. ‘Of course he didn't. He was very kind and sweet. They had a toyshop.'

‘Toyshop!' Hettie cried. ‘Oh I wish I could go there,' she said. ‘I'd do anything to have a toy. A real, pretend spitfyre made of velvet, that's what I want.'

‘Funnily enough, that's just what I have,' Sparrow said. ‘Bruno insisted I took one. I'll show you. It's upstairs in my coat pocket.'

‘Goody!' said Hettie.

‘You smell funny,' Violet said, sniffing Sparrow's jacket. ‘Where've you been?'

Sparrow shrugged, cross with herself for not remembering she might have picked up the scent of the spitfyres. ‘It must be that old bag that Tapper tipped up over me,' she said. ‘It was disgusting.'

‘Did you have your own bedroom then?' Billie asked her, leaving the dipping to come and join them. ‘I'd love my own bedroom – no offence, girls!'

‘Yes, I did. It had rose wallpaper and the mattress was so soft it was like sleeping on a cloud!'

‘Oh you lucky thing!' Beattie shrieked. ‘Tell us more! Tell us everything you ate and everything you drank!'

Sparrow did her best, describing the food, the rooms and what they had done each day.

‘Sounds boring to me,' Violet said, turning back to her work. ‘I'd've hated it.'

Sparrow was hardly concentrating on what she said; her thoughts were on the spitfyres she'd just found because – she realised suddenly – these girls must know about them. If Seraphina and Kopernicus had been kidnapped at the circus the same time as
she
had been kidnapped, they had probably helped. She hoped they didn't realise what a terrible thing it was that they helped Miss Minter to do.

‘Oh do go on,' Hettie urged her. ‘Tell me more.'

‘Sorry, what?' Sparrow said. Without noticing, she had come to a complete halt and they were staring at her. She went on quickly, ‘Hilda, the lady, she wanted to keep me,' she said, pushing all the bleak and upsetting thoughts of the spitfyres away. ‘She was lonely, you see, and she liked me.'

‘She could have
me
,' Hettie said, looking up at Sparrow with her big round eyes. ‘I'd be really good and help and do the cleaning and everything.'

‘Do you know, I think they'd love you,' Sparrow said truthfully. ‘You're just perfect for them, but  … '

‘You're Miss Minter's,' Violet put in.

‘For ever and ever,' Connie added.

‘Like Glori.'

‘That Tapper,' Sparrow said cautiously, ‘what does he have to do with Miss Minter?'

The girls shrugged and looked vague. No one was clear about it. ‘Don't know,' Billie said.

‘He's foul, worse than a black pit of despair,' Connie said, giggling. ‘That's what we call him, the
pit of despair
!'

‘Don't say that in front of Glori,' Agnes put in quickly. ‘Glori really, really likes him.'

‘He's her
boyfriend
,' Hettie said clearly.

‘Oh.' Sparrow stared round at the others. ‘Is he? Really?'

‘What can she see in the
pit of despair
?' Violet said wearily.

‘A way out,' Dolly said.

‘Freedom from phosphorus!' Beattie added, banging the lid down on the jar.

‘She thinks she can change him,' Connie added. ‘She thinks she can turn him into a good person; like my ma used to think she could change my pa and stop him drinking  …  Uh uh. No way!'