Brightling (6 page)

‘Some ladies are just kind 'cos they're kind,' Gloriana said, reading her thoughts. ‘You're angry, in't you? I can see that, but you don't need to be worried about Miss Minter.' She licked her little tongue over her teeth again, probing into a molar, and wincing. ‘What would you rather do? Stay out on the streets and get caught by the codgers or by
real
kidnappers, or come back with me safe and sound where you can at least sleep the night in a proper bed, eh? It's tough out here, you know – times is hard in Sto'back.'

‘I don't know  … '

‘They call me Glori,' the girl added. ‘Gloriana's a right mouthful.'

‘I'm Sparrow,' Sparrow said.

‘Well, Sparrow, little bird, let's get going, shall we?'

Glori knew every back street and turning. She never hesitated as she went down Cottage Road, Meanwood Lane, Spittle Street, even There And Back Again Lane, which was short and led to a stile they had to climb over, then into a narrow, cobbled square. Sparrow was soon confused. Stollenback was a wild maze of houses and streets, she would never remember her way about. She kept her eyes peeled for Sampson's. She even thought about asking Glori where it was, but didn't, because she didn't want anyone to know about that – at least not yet.

The roads grew narrower and narrower and more and more dirty. Piles of rubbish were heaped up beside the doorways, and lines of washing were strung between the windows above their heads. Dirty, ragged children watched them from their dens and dark corners.

‘Nearly there,' Glori said as they turned down yet another lane, a grim, narrow place with dangerous-looking dogs who barked at them. Scaramouch hissed at the dogs, his fur up in a fluff. Sparrow squeezed him comfortingly.

‘Here we go.' Glori turned down an almost invisible gap into a tiny, cobbled alley; so narrow that only one person could shuffle down it. ‘Old walkway,' Glori told her. ‘The city's full of them.
Ginnels
, we call 'em.' Tall, bleak old buildings around it blocked out the light, making the narrow space gloomy and damp. ‘I was found in a ginnel when I was a kid. Can't remember how I got there. Think I had a dad once, a dad with big wide hands and a grizzly chin. Maybe he left me there.'

‘Oh Glori, that's so cruel!' Sparrow said.

‘Least I weren't tossed into the river like some unwanted offspring are, eh?' she chuckled. ‘Else I'd be proper dead.'

Sparrow felt her heart beginning to thump harder and harder as they squeezed their way along the ginnel. No one could live down here, she thought. It was a trap!

She got ready to run.

Glori turned round and grinned a toothy grin at her. ‘What's your problem? Don't worry. It's nothing bad, I promise.' They went a little way further along the passageway and then Glori stopped suddenly beside a door and whistled. Planks of wood had been roughly nailed over the door and it was daubed with paint and old posters advertising long-ago circuses and fairs; it didn't look as if it had been used in a long, long time. Glori followed her whistle with three loud knocks on the door.

A window was hauled open way above them and a girl looked down at them.

‘It's Glori!' the girl shouted. ‘And she's got someone with her.'

A mighty key on a length of pink ribbon sailed down towards them. Glori caught it deftly and fitted it into the lock.

‘Welcome to our home,' she said, unlocking the door.

9

Miss Knip rarely left the Knip and Pynch Home for Waifs and Strays. It wasn't the dangerous, swampy krackodyles that lurked in the south, or the trolls in the north that kept her at the Home; she just liked to stay put. She enjoyed her job. She thrived on seeing children quake as she walked past them, and any time spent away from the Knip and Pynch Home meant less time causing misery. But now she had to go on a short journey. The prospect of getting her hands on a fortune – a
fortune!
– was too good to miss.

She set out the next morning. She had Barton take her in the horse and cart; her seat high up behind the gatekeeper was safe even from the largest, bravest krackodyle, he assured her.

Her journey didn't take long. Miss Knip arrived at her destination a little dusty and a little tired. She wiped down her black dress and adjusted her bonnet around her mean, narrow face before knocking on the cottage door. ‘You wait there, Barton,' she commanded. ‘I shan't be long.'

‘Yes, ma'am.'

She turned back, hearing the door open.

‘Miss Knip!' cried the woman. ‘What a surprise!'

‘I should imagine it is, Betty Nash,' Miss Knip said, going towards her. ‘You can be sure it's something important that's made me leave the Home.'

Mrs Nash grinned. ‘Do come inside, Miss Knip, won't you?'

‘Don't mind if I do.' Miss Knip trod carefully, making sure she squashed the daisies growing on the doorstep before she followed Betty Nash inside.

‘Sit down, Miss Knip, please,' Betty said. ‘How can I help?'

‘Have you got a girl here?' Miss Knip asked. ‘I'm looking for an eleven-leaver, and I thought you might have got her  … ' she fought to hide the eager anticipation showing in her face. She was already looking for signs of the girl in the room. ‘I'm sure she came this way.'

‘Ah, now, Miss Knip, a great many of your young castoffs come this way, as you know, and we take them in and nurture them, just as you'd wish us to do,' Betty Nash said with a horrible, leering grin. ‘But  … '

‘This one had a cat.'

‘Oh, the one with the cat! That stringy little girl?' she said. ‘Blondish hair? Such a fine needle-woman she was.' Betty Nash shook her head. ‘I wish we did have her, Miss Knip, only she's gone, the little minx.'

Miss Knip bit back a cry of displeasure. ‘That's a shame; I thought she might be here. I was hoping  …  Well, I've got a proposition to put to your young Tapper,' she went on. ‘Is
he
here?'

Tapper slipped out of the scullery as if he'd been hiding there, listening – which he probably had, Miss Knip thought.

‘Where else would I be?' he said, taking up a position propped against the wall, like a length of wood. ‘So, how's things at the orphanage, Knips?' he added. ‘Beaten anyone this morning?'

‘Less of your cheek,' Miss Knip said haughtily. ‘And it's
Miss
Knip to you.'

‘That cat didn't come inside,' Betty Nash interrupted. ‘Biggest cat I've ever seen. Tapper would've trapped it, only he couldn't get close. Shame, 'cos it would've made a beautiful fur cape.'

‘And the two of them made a mighty hole in our thatch,' Tapper said. ‘She owes us, she does.'

‘All the more reason for you to help me then, Tapper. Because I want to find her too,' Miss Knip said, locking her eyes with his. ‘I think she went to Stollenback – in fact, I'm sure she did; if she came this way where else would she go? I want you to find her. I want you to find out where she is hiding and keep an eye on her for me. Don't let her know what you're doing. I don't want to alarm her. I just want to know her whereabouts. I want her watched. It's imperative that she doesn't get wind of us, do you understand?'

‘Yeah, yeah  …  I can do that, but what's in it for me?' Tapper was picking at his teeth with a sliver of wood as if he was hardly concentrating. ‘I can't leave me old ma all alone unless there's a very good reason for it.'

‘Money,' Miss Knip said. ‘Money to pay for the roof and a whole lot more.'

Tapper flicked the toothpick into the fire. ‘How much?' he said, leaning over the chair beside her. ‘You got to make it worth my while, Knips.'

‘A fortune,' Miss Knip said.

Tapper and his mother exchanged a greedy, happy smile. ‘I'm your man,' Tapper said.

10

‘Don't look so worried, Birdie,' Glori said, grinning at Sparrow. ‘I'm not going to hurt you.'

She pushed open the shabby door.

This was the moment for Sparrow to run if she was going to. But she couldn't. Her legs were too tired and Glori didn't seem like a bad person, not really. And Scaramouch was not jumping out of her arms and running away either, so it had to be all right. He was awake and looking around – but maybe he was too exhausted to give her a sign?

She followed Glori into a hallway paved with large black and white tiles – most of which were broken – and bare walls where the plaster had cracked and fallen off, exposing old red bricks and dust. A steep wooden staircase went up to the floor above. A girl's grinning face peered down at them, her long hair dangling over the banisters. Her clothes seemed to glow with a pale light as she stood there in the dark, so for a second or two Sparrow imagined she was looking at a ghost.

‘Who's that with you, Glori?' the ghost, who was not a ghost, called down.

‘Wait and see!' Glori called back.

She pulled Sparrow up the wide staircase and then up another flight and another. ‘Don't worry!' Glori said, grinning at her. ‘It's fine.'

Sparrow tried to smile. Why would they need a hideout, unless they were doing something against the law? Why did I come? Why did I trust her? she thought. But still she followed Glori up the stairs, because the idea of being alone out there in the town was too bleak to contemplate. Glori was kind; she was the only person she knew; she was her only hope.

A strong smell of sulphur, a burning sharpness, caught in her throat as she went up the final flight of stairs, then it was gone. Scaramouch winced at the smell and turned his head this way and that, sniffing the air.

‘Here they are!' the ghostly girl with the long hair yelled from the doorway.

Glori led Sparrow into a large attic room that stretched right across the top of the old building. Massive beams joined overhead in a lattice pattern and formed wooden pillars supporting the roof. It was a vast space – hot and smelly, noisy and bright.

The noise was made by girls – about ten of them, Sparrow guessed as she looked around – but not like the girls in the Home who had to remain silent most of the time. These girls were giggling and chatting as they lounged around on their beds and chairs. They wore red, orange, pink and green, not orphanage grey. The Home had always been cold, but here a massive fire burned in the ornate fireplace and it was cosy. And there were mirrors everywhere – none were allowed at the Home except one small one in the bathroom, and that had been cracked – probably by Miss Knip looking in it. Pots of flowers and greenery filled every free shelf. Two giant windows, one at either end of the room, looked out on the surrounding rooftops: all sloping terracotta tiles and tall, black chimneystacks.

The other girls left what they were doing to come and gawp at Sparrow. Glori led her to the fireplace, where a slender woman sat perched on a pink chaise longue, flicking through a magazine. She was in her mid-twenties, Sparrow guessed, and was wearing a bright yellow dress that fitted her tightly. She wore shiny black boots with high heels; Sparrow had never seen anything like them. Rows of silver and gold chains glittered around her neck. Her hair was very blonde – almost white – and with a high gloss, like polished metal. She wore it neatly folded and pinned at the back of her head. She had dangling earrings and her lips were full and glistening, like wet murgberries.

Sparrow fixed on her and stared open-mouthed.

‘Who is this? Whom have you brought to see us, Gloriana?' the woman in yellow said, smiling vacantly. ‘What delightful creature is this in our midst?' She looked at Sparrow with mild interest, frowning as she took in her grubby clothes, her big old boots, the huge cat. ‘A girl? Is it a new girl?'

There was something odd about her. Her manner was offhand and she spoke without seeming to connect to what she said, Sparrow thought.

‘Is that what it is, Gloriana?' she went on.

‘This is Sparrow, Miss Minter,' Glori said. ‘She's an orphan,' she added with a wink, ‘and that's her rat catcher, Scare-a-mouse.'

‘
Scaramouch
,' Sparrow said, squeezing him gently. She moved him onto her other arm. ‘We've walked a lot,' she explained, with a yawn. ‘We're both really tired.'

‘Come and sit by me, my angel,' Miss Minter said. ‘You look all-in. Billie Blue-eyes, darling, will you get her something to drink. Kate, bring some food.'

Two girls jumped up to do her bidding. There was some sort of kitchen off the main room and Sparrow heard pans clattering and dishes being banged against each other as they busied themselves.

Sparrow sat down beside Miss Minter on the hard, velvet chaise longue. Her head was spinning and her legs were weak after all the walking. Her feet were stinging from pounding the roads. She sighed and crumpled on the sofa, overcome with exhaustion.

Miss Minter smelled of flowers. She smiled brightly. ‘What a wonderful cat,' she said, her voice clear, each syllable pronounced. ‘I like cats. Some cats  …  I
hate
some cats.'

Sparrow was confused. ‘Sorry, miss, what did you say? I'm so tired  … '

‘I said I love your cat,' Miss Minter said, reaching out a delicate white hand to stroke him, but Scaramouch flinched.

‘He's shy,' Sparrow said. ‘Nervous. The pie man said he wasn't very well.'

‘He'll get better here,' Miss Minter said. ‘With us.'

Glori was leaning over the back of a tall chair and was resting her chin in her hands, watching them. ‘Yeah, he'll get better here, he will,' she said. ‘In the nest. Hey, Sparrow's the first real bird our nest's ever had!'

The other girls giggled.

‘
Nest?
' Sparrow looked from one face to the other.

‘This is our nest,' the girl called Billie said. ‘Used to be the Crow's Nest like at the top of a ship's mast, now it's just the
nest
. Home.'

‘What about you, my angel, are you really a bird?' Miss Minter went on. She stoked Sparrow's cheek, just as she had stroked the cat. ‘You're not shy, are you?'

‘No. Not at all.' Sparrow met Miss Minter's penetrating gaze. ‘I've been brought up tough. Not shy.'

‘We need to be strong, we girls,' Miss Minter said, gently. ‘We stick together and help each other. Let me introduce you to everyone. This is Agnes and that is gorgeous, red-haired Kate and this is Billie with the blue, blue eyes. Here we have dear little Hettie. Violet is the dark one – oh, darling Violet, don't scowl at me! And Beattie is the blonde. Connie and Dolly are twins; I've no idea which is which. Is that everyone? Oh dear, I forgot my Gloriana. And now there's you, Sparrow, to make a round ten.'

Sparrow said hello to them and immediately forgot their names.

They sat at the big wooden table and shared bread and cheese and drank hot chocolate. The other girls watched Sparrow with interest. They all wanted to ask her questions.

‘Where are you from, then?'

‘Got a family?'

‘Have you run away from home, is it?'

Sparrow said nothing.

‘Don't ask her so many questions. Don't stare at her so,' Miss Minter said calmly. ‘Show some decorum and leave her alone, please. She is our visitor, our guest. We must be gentle with her.'

‘What's decorum?' someone muttered, but the girls backed away and went to their beds, which were tucked in below the low ceiling and between the wooden beams. They began whispering and giggling. Only Glori stayed behind, as if, being the oldest, she had some special rights. Miss Minter picked up a newspaper and started to read it. ‘You can relax now, Sparrow, you are amongst friends here,' she murmured, scanning the pages of her paper. ‘Goodness, there are some terrible people around in the city  …  two children murdered in Stollenback  …  dreadful. It's such a dangerous place these days, I can't imagine what's to become of us all.'

Sparrow drained her hot chocolate and looked around, wondering what they wanted from her.

‘I do hope you will stay with us, Sparrow, angel,' Miss Minter said, smoothing her dress over her elegant knees and thighs. ‘I look after all these girls, you see, and we work together. We are one big happy family, aren't we, Gloriana?'

‘Yes we are, miss!' Glori said. ‘Only family I've got, anyways. We all help each other.'

‘We most certainly do,' Miss Minter said. ‘And your lovely cat can stay too of course, Sparrow, and catch our revolting, dirty rodents. We have mice. We have rats too.' Miss Minter took a lipstick from her bag and ran the murgberry-red over her plump lips. ‘We tried eating the rats one horrible winter, we were so desperately hungry, but they don't taste very good. They
look
quite pleasant, furry and cuddly – well, all except the tail – but they taste like –'

‘Rancid cheese!' Glori said. ‘They were disgusting!'

‘But those were in the bad old days,' Miss Minter went on. ‘Now we have work and we make money and we are doing very well, thank you.'

‘You're so clever, Miss Minter,' Glori said. ‘And good.'

‘Yes. You are right, I am.' She took one of Sparrow's hands in her own and turned it over, examining her fingers. She tested the tension in her thumb, stretching it back gently against her wrist. ‘Lovely hands, angel. I bet you can do all sorts of very clever things with those.'

‘I can sew.'

‘I'm sure you can. I'm sure those fingers can make such pretty things.'

The very smallest girl left her bedside to come and sit beside Sparrow. She stroked Scaramouch's head. ‘He's a lovely pussycat,' the girl said. ‘He's striped like a tiger, only you can hardly see the stripes. They're very pale, they're hiding. Did you know?'

‘Yes, I knew. I'm glad you noticed,' Sparrow said, smoothing Scaramouch's fur. ‘Not everyone sees those lovely stripes. He's like a cup of creamy pale coffee not all stirred in, isn't he?'

‘I love cats,' the little girl said. ‘We do want you to stay,' she added, slipping her tiny hand into Sparrow's. ‘You're nice. Will you be my big sister?'

‘What's your name?' Sparrow asked her.

‘Hettie. I'm seven and a half  …  I think.' She snuggled beside her, squashing herself under Sparrow's arm like a puppy might do.

‘My big sister went –'

‘Hettie!' Miss Minter said sweetly. ‘Don't crowd our new guest will you, darling?'

Hettie slipped her arm back from where it had crept around Sparrow's waist and folded her hands neatly in her lap. She looked up at Sparrow with huge, dark eyes. ‘You look like my sister,' she said.

‘I'd like to stay,' Sparrow said, ‘but I –'

‘Good, that's settled,' Miss Minter said, without taking her eyes from her newspaper. ‘You can relax, Sparrow – no more wandering the streets for you now. Miss Minter and her girls will look after you.'

Glori took Sparrow's hand. ‘Come on, I'll show you round. There's not much to see.' She took her to the kitchen and then the bathroom. It was tiled in white and had eight cast-iron baths and eight square basins. There were eight cubicles behind. ‘It used to be a school in the olden days,' Glori told her. ‘Aren't we lucky, eh? Almost a whole bath each!'

‘Oh, Mary would like that – my friend at the Home. She always wanted a hot bath  …  So this isn't a school any longer?' Sparrow asked her.

‘No, hasn't been for yonks. No one knows we're here. It's behind everything, you see, hidden, and we've been forgotten. Miss Minter's helper, he keeps up a furnace somewhere that makes the hot water. Will you need a toothbrush?' She waved one in front of Sparrow. ‘We've got some spare.'

Sparrow shook her head. She brought her toothbrush out from her bag. Glori felt the bristles.

‘That must be like brushing your teeth with a yard broom!' she cried. ‘Blimey, Sparrow, it's even got your name scratched on it.'

‘We only got one toothbrush every two years,' Sparrow told her, ‘so you can imagine  … '

‘Poor you!' Hettie said, creeping up beside her again. ‘We have everything we want here. Miss Minter gives us all we need.'

‘She's a dear, is Miss Minter,' Glori said. ‘A bit contrary, but a dear.'

‘There's an empty bed for you,' Hettie told her, ‘next to mine. It was –'

‘Leave her, Hettie. She's tired.' Glori turned back to Sparrow. ‘Bet you sleep good tonight.'

Sparrow yawned. Just the mention of the word ‘bed' made her legs go weak.

‘You can have a bath. I'll give you clothes. It's all sorted now, Sparrow. You'll see.'

She was shown to a narrow bed next to Hettie. Sparrow put Scaramouch down on it and he turned round three or four times, kneading the bedding, then curled up and closed his eyes again.

‘There,
he
thinks it's comfortable and quite perfect for the night,' Sparrow said, which made Hettie giggle.

The sheets were grubby and there even seemed to be the impression of someone's small head left on the pillow, but Sparrow lay down on it gratefully. After hedges and haystacks, this was bliss.

It's just for one night, she told herself. I'll be off tomorrow. I'll find Sampson's  … 

Through the massive window, past the gable ends, pointed roofs and tiny attic windows, she could just make out the silhouette of the castle on Dragon Mountain, the spitfyre Academy. She was thrilled thinking such lovely creatures were so near. She hoped she would see one come swooping down over the rooftops.

Her final wish as she drifted off to sleep was that Scaramouch, who all evening had been so flat and quiet, would be better tomorrow. His nose was hot and his breathing loud and grumbly; he seemed exhausted.