Sparrow Falling (7 page)

But
trap
wasn’t quite right. Something was off, yes – something was odd about this room and the strange mix of stuff here there and everywhere.

Following some not quite acknowledged instinct, Evvie ducked down, shining the light along the floor. A scatter of grains that looked like salt, tiny gleaming crystals. And poking out from under a heavy carved chest, a little girl’s shoe, battered and holed and flattened, a shoe that had had a hard life, and if she was any judge had covered more than one little foot in its bruised history, a miserable barely-worth-it hand-me-down of a shoe. A foundling’s shoe, the very sort of footwear she’d lived in for several years, when she had shoes at all.

She thought of her sister Charlotte – who had got wet feet one dreadful cold winter’s night, from being taken out in her indoor shoes – and straightened up abruptly, almost hitting her head on the table.

Never mind what such a thing was doing there. Suddenly she loathed this room and wanted to get out.

And there, on the shelves behind the table, was a long slender wooden box about the length of her forearm, carved with leaves and little winged creatures that twined and danced in the green light. It seemed to leap out at her, though surely she’d passed that very shelf before. There was no dust on it, or about it. Recently used, then.

She flipped the catch and eased the lid up carefully – it didn’t seem the right shape for a music box, but one never knew, and she didn’t want it suddenly singing her presence through the building.

No, not a music box – the case for a wooden whistle, of some wood the colour of honey with darker streaks swirling through it. It was shiny about the mouthpiece with use, and something about it gave Eveline the sense that it was old. It didn’t seem the kind of thing that should be in an office either, but perhaps Mr Stug liked to play a jolly tune when he needed a break from bullying his secretary. The image of the bulldog-jowled Mr Stug cross-legged on his desk, piping away, lifted her mouth in a grin and eased her nerves a trifle.

It was the work of a moment to slip the case into her bag. She paused a little longer, staring around, and then thought,
All right, Ma, I can hear you, I’m going.

She forced herself not to hurry too much on the stairs. Hopping home with a sprained ankle – or being found by Stug, at the bottom of the stairs with a broken leg – that would put a right spoke in the wheels.

As she got out into the open air, she eased back her shoulders and breathed in the familiar smoke and sewage stench of London, with a sense of relief. Neat as ninepence, it seemed she hadn’t lost her touch after all. She strolled off down the street, her appearance now projecting
respectable factory-girl on her way to work
with every stride.

All the same, she paused on the corner, feeling a little itch between her shoulder blades, the faint weight of eyes. Was that a man-shaped shadow, drawing back into the other shadows?

But a peeler would blow his whistle and raise the alarm. Nerves, that was all.

“W
ELL, WELL,
”
THE
man in the bowler hat said, though only to himself. “Evvie Duchen, as I live and breathe. Up to your old tricks, Evvie? There’s me thinking you’d gone respectable. Now, here you are sticking a bust. And that says to me, Bartholomew, it says, maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye, and maybe where Evvie Duchen is, Ma Pether is too.” He wouldn’t mind seeing Ma Pether banged up – she’d got in his way a few times too often, being as she didn’t approve of various of his business interests. But Ma had been formidable, and maybe still was, and if there was one thing Bartholomew Simms didn’t care to risk, it was his own skin.

But there might be other advantages to be gained. Yes, indeed there might. He tilted his bowler to a more impudent angle and walked off into the night, at home among its stinks and shadows, softly singing a music-hall song.

She was as beautiful as a butterfly and proud as a Queen

Was pretty little Polly Perkins of Paddington Green..
.

The Sparrow School

W
HEN
E
VVIE ARRIVED
home, Liu was waiting for her, seated on the step, his feet neatly together, his head cocked. She felt a little jump of relief and pleasure in her chest but determined not to show it. “You’re back then.”

“Either myself or my ghost, yes.”

“You look solid enough to me.”

“But ghosts can be deceptive. Why, I have seen ghosts that could quite be mistaken for a living person.”

“Hah. Well, whether or not you’re a ghost you got your business done, then.”

“As did you. Are you going to tell me what it was, Lady Sparrow? Or is this a secret?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me where you’ve been, all dressed up and coming back looking like a week of wet Wednesdays.”

Liu’s mouth, which had been drooping in a way quite unlike him, turned up. “Oh, that is a most charming expression. But then, wet weather is very good for growing rice, you know.”

“Not much good here, then. So, what’s got you so mumped?”

“I am not mumped. I am concerned. You have been up to no good, and without me, which is the part that concerns me.”

“You weren’t here, were you? ’Sides, I can still do some things without your help, you know.”

“I do, I was merely hoping for the chance to admire you at work.”

“Well thank you, Lord Blarney.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“But you do. What is in that bag, do I dare to ask you?”

“Well you already have dared, haven’t you? Budge up, and I’ll tell you.”

Liu obligingly shuffled along the step, and Evvie sat next to him. The sun was rising through the smoke over London, and casting long tree-shadows across the lawn.

“S’nice,” she said.

“It is the best time of day. Apart from the dusk. And the night. Afternoons, too, have their moments. And mid-morning is the best time for tea. But then, any time is a good time for tea.”

“Not the way you drink it.”

“Putting milk in tea is a barbaric and disgusting habit.”

“D’you want to see what’s in my bag or do you want to chatter about nonsense?”

“Show me.”

“You gotta hear the story first. You know I been looking for something, well, all right, respectable to do?”

“This involved sneaking out in the middle of the night? It does not
sound
respectable.”

“You want to hear this or not?”

He grinned and waved her to go on.

“Well, I found out this fella Stug’s been asking around about making his offices more secure, see. Seems like he’s everso worried about someone breaking in and making off with his rent. He’s a landlord, right?”

“So far I am able to follow.”

“So I went and told him we could do what he wanted, get the place all tightened up. Didn’t tell him
how,
mind. But I gotta put the girls to use, haven’t I? And this uses what they got and makes it all respectable, poachers turned gamekeepers, see? You know what a poacher is?”

“Someone who cooks eggs?”

“
Liu...
”

“A poacher is someone who takes without permission animals that someone else believes belong to them simply because they have taken title to the land. I am a poacher, by nature. Land is not owned, and nor are the wild beasts. They are simply claimed.”

“Right. So a gamekeeper’s the bloke what’s supposed to make sure all the animals are nice and fat and ready when his Lordship wants to go hunting, and ain’t no-one making off with a few rabbits stuck in their pocket. All right?”

“I see.”

“So if a poacher turns gamekeeper...”

“I believe I follow the metaphor. You plan to be a thief turned policeman, in effect.”

“They say it takes one to catch one. Only I don’t plan to catch none, just show folk how to keep ’em
out.
”

“I see.”

“Liu? Something up?”

“Not at all. Please go on.”

“Right. So I goes and tells this Stug fella, only he isn’t having any due to me being a mere female and probably no more brains than a hen. So I decide I’ll show him I know what’s what, and go back and nick something from his offices, so tomorrow – today I mean – I’ll turn up and say, ‘Guess what, look what I got, now, d’you want me to make sure it don’t happen again or what?’”

Liu stared at her for a few moments.

“You intend to go to this person and
confess
to stealing?”

“Not at all. I’ll confess to having ‘operatives’ – good word, innit, ‘operatives’ – that can get in his offices. And it in’t stealing if you give it back, is it? And then he’ll know it’s easy for someone to get in, and that if my ‘operatives’ know how to get in we’ll know how to stop anyone
else
getting in.”

“Are you feeling quite well? What is to stop him from summoning a policeman?”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, I can talk me way out of that.”

“I should be intrigued to hear
how.
”

“A girl gotta have some secrets,” Evvie said, grinning, though it was more than a little bravado. Usually she was a good planner, but now, sitting here with Liu, she realised that maybe she should have thought a bit harder about what exactly she planned to say to Mr Stug when she presented him with evidence of her own breaking, entering, and theft. Would he believe in her ‘operatives,’ who were, as it stood, a bunch of eager, half-wild girls?

But no. Improvisation was her
other
strong point. One of them. And she was good. She hadn’t lost her touch, she hadn’t been caught, and she’d be right as rain.

“I hope this object you absconded with was worth the trouble,” Liu said. “If you are to be arrested it should at least be for something of value.”

“Don’t be daft – I wasn’t going to nick something
valuable,
was I? What if I’d been caught?”

“I see that you have indeed been most careful,” Liu said.

“Are you being ironical?”

“Actually, I believe I was being sarcastical.” She made to hit him, and he ducked away, grinning. “Show me?”

Evvie took the case out of her bag and opened it. “S’a whistle,” she said, helpfully, when Liu only stared in silence.

“May I see it more closely?” Liu’s voice was odd, distant, as though he were thinking of something else, but his eyes fixed on the whistle. “It is, in fact, a flute – or a whistle, if you wish.”

“Yes, I said.”

“It is made of elder wood.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know.”

“No, I do not suppose that you would. Eveline...”

“What? It’s just a
whistle,
Liu. Why’re you looking so green?”

He put the whistle back in its case and snapped the lid shut, not looking at her. “Eveline – my Lady Sparrow, I don’t think you should do this.”

“Do what?”

“Become involved with this man, this Stug. What an unpleasant name. Definitely a name of ill-fortune. I am convinced he will bring you bad luck, you know. I know about these things.” He gave her his charming, foxy grin, but she sensed an effort in it; it did not quite reach his eyes.

“What are you on about? After all the trouble I went to, I’m not giving up because he’s got a funny
name.
”

“Please, will you take my advice on this?”

“No! Liu, what’s got into you? Is it because I’m going to turn respectable? It is, isn’t it.” Evvie felt a weight all over her, like a heavy gown. “Liu, you think I
like
it? I
like
being me, Evvie Sparrow, I was
good.
I was one of the best, and I was learning, and getting better. But I can’t
risk
it any more.”

“It isn’t that.”

“What is it then?”

“Tell me, when you found this flute, was it dusty? Tucked away in some hidden corner?”

“No, what would be the point of that? I wanted something he’d use – and miss. It was on a shelf.”

“Eveline, a flute of elder wood is used to summon the Folk.”

“What?”

“Yes. It is one thing they must obey, at least, the lesser Folk. They do not like it – in fact, it makes them angry. No-one wants to be summoned, and least of all the Folk. He is summoning them, he is using a discourteous method and he is getting on their bad side, and that is not a good idea.”

“Oh.” Eveline tucked her feet up under her skirts and wrapped her arms around her knees, and rested her chin on them. “Now why would someone like Mr Stug be summoning the Folk?”

“Do you understand me, Lady Sparrow?”

“Yes, yes, he’s calling ’em up and he’s hacking ’em off, that, I get. What’s it to do with me?”

“What it is to do with you is that the anger of the Folk is something that may spread beyond its immediate object. People may become caught up. Even possessing the flute...”

“I’m not
keeping
it.”

“Eveline, please allow me to guide you in this. You could give me that thing – I will dispose of it – no-one saw you, did they? No-one knows you were there. Stug did not wish to employ you – you can forget about him, and deal with something less troublesome. There is so much you don’t
know,
” he said, turning to look at her. “I tell you and tell you how dangerous they are – and who should know better than I? But you do not listen.”

“You’re still alive, and you’ve tricked ’em more’n once. So’s Charlotte – leastways she was...” Evvie’s voice tailed off.

“I am alive because I know how to play their games. And I keep track. Do you know the dances of the court, Eveline? Do you know who is up and down? Even being polite to the wrong person can change one’s status, dangerously. When the Queen is in one of her more fractious moods, all one needs to do is wear the wrong colour and the punishments could be more horrible than you can imagine.”

“Liu, I spent years scrabbling a pauper’s living since I was no more’n a kinchin mort. I had to eat things and do things and live through things that
you
never had to. So don’t tell me I can’t imagine horrible. I bin through horrible. ’Sides, I got no plans to cross the stream of blood, thanks very much.”

“But you might not have a choice. If you only stay out of their way and out of their notice, you may be safe.”