The Crooked Sixpence (31 page)

‘Most know me by that name, yes.' His blue-green eyes twinkled. Ivy now knew why they seemed so familiar.

‘I've met you before . . . You gave me that invisibility candle in the arrivals chamber . . . and helped us escape from the underguard coach. That was you both times, wasn't it?' There had indeed been something a bit too convenient about their lucky escape. ‘Why do you look different every time I see you?'

Mr Punch leaned back against the counter. ‘I'm a hob, Ivy,' he said. ‘One of the rarest races of the dead. Hobs are made from more than one soul, and our appearance can change.' His face blurred and shifted – first he was Mr Punch, then the shop assistant, the bony man and the old candle trader. ‘Not everyone is able to see us changing, however. Only whisperers.'

Ivy blushed, realizing that Mr Punch must know her secret. ‘You've been helping me all along,' she said. ‘Why?'

His turquoise eyes looked at her kindly. ‘I've been watching over you and your family for a long time, Ivy Sparrow. Your granma came to me on Twelfth Night 1969 asking for help; asking for something to keep her and the Great Uncommon Good safe. I had been fighting the Dirge for years; I was aware that if they got hold of the object, the consequences would be unthinkable. It was I who gave your granma the uncommon bracelet. I understood that if she ever reappeared, it meant that the bracelet had come off.'

Ivy realized then why people called Mr Punch the Guardian of Lundinor. She wondered in how many other ways he had protected people from the Dirge. ‘Do you know where my granma hid the Great Uncommon Good? Did she tell you?'

Mr Punch's face changed once more. His nose got bigger, his skin blanched and his hair grew ginger and curly. A black top hat appeared on his head. ‘Your granma made sure that only she knew where the object was hidden. That way, it was only her memory that had to be erased.'

Ivy couldn't imagine how Granma Sylvie had made such a decision. She wondered where she'd have hidden something as dangerous as one of the Great Uncommon Good. Her granma must have felt so much pressure to get it right. She might even have been heading for the hiding place when she had her car accident.

Ivy shivered.
The accident in the snow.
Granma Sylvie had never meant for that to happen; it wasn't part of the plan. It must have been caused by her memory loss – maybe it all started while she was driving, throwing her off course . . .

Which meant she wouldn't have had time to hide the Great Uncommon Good.

Which meant she must have kept it with her all this time, not knowing what it was . . .

Ivy remembered Cartimore telling Selena that the object was an old sack, easy to miss.

Oh . . . my . . .

Ivy went very still.

Mr Punch's white beard returned. He nodded towards the door. ‘It is time to leave now, I think.'

Ivy wandered over to the door in a trance.
It had been there the whole time . . . The whole time!

‘I'll see you again next trading season,' Mr Punch said as he held the door open for her. ‘You'll enjoy Lundinor in the spring. It's very . . . different.'

Ivy skidded to a halt in front of the Great Gates. Valian and Seb were waiting for her beneath the stone feet of Sir Clement.

‘Well?' Seb asked. ‘What did Mr Punch want?'

Ivy shook her head, too out of breath to speak. Still panting, she held up her newly gloved hands.

‘You took the glove?' Seb realized. ‘Cool. Do you think they'll let me do that? Next time, maybe.'

Ivy was glad that he wanted to visit Lundinor again, like she did.

Valian nudged her shoulder. ‘Well done, kid. Welcome to the family. And look – they've made it official.' He slid a copy of the
Barrow Post
in front of her. ‘This was printed this morning.'

Ivy scanned the headlines:

NEW YEAR'S EVE CLOSES WITH A BANG!
SON OF OCTAVIUS WRENCH DISCOVERED POSING AS MAILMASTER FOR OVER FORTY YEARS

She followed Valian's finger down to the small paragraph at the bottom of the page.

Lundinor welcomes to the Trade the great-grandchildren of Octavius Wrench, fourteen-year-old Sebastian and eleven-year-old Ivy Sparrow, who have lived their whole lives as commoners. Their bloodline will be of some concern to many traders in Lundinor and around the world, especially in light of the dramatic revelations of New Year's Eve. Mr Punch himself, however, has vouched for their innocence; it seems they knew nothing of the Trade. It has been revealed that their grandmother, Sylvie Sparrow (formerly Wrench), has been living the past four decades as a victim of an uncommon memory-loss bracelet. The International Uncommon Council has decreed that all former charges against her be dropped, following her cooperation and assistance in the arrest of her brother, Cartimore. Ms Sparrow arrives in Lundinor with a considerable uncommon inheritance, as the sole owner of the Wrench estate. Underguards of the First Cohort have confirmed that her two grandchildren were in fact arrested for engineering a wraithmoth attack on 31 December, but have since been cleared. Officer Smokehart, who made the arrest, was unavailable for comment. After solving part of the Twelfth Night mystery, he will no doubt be in line for promotion in time for the reopening of Lundinor in the spring.

Ivy felt Seb's hand on her shoulder. ‘Uh, Ivy, when you've finished reading that, do you wanna tell me why you made me get this dirty old thing from Granma Sylvie's back garden? I didn't really understand your featherlight.'

Ivy looked up from the newspaper. ‘Did you bring it?'

Seb eyed her strangely and passed across the tattered old hessian sack that Granma Sylvie grew potatoes in. Ivy removed her gloves and held out her hands. As soon as her fingers brushed the rough material, fire shot through them, into her hand and then along her forearm. She heard a voice mumbling incoherently. Ivy's stomach turned over, and she dropped the sack immediately.

‘Ivy?' Seb asked. ‘What's wrong?'

She blinked back tears of pain as her body returned to normal. She straightened up again. ‘I remember tripping over this before,' she croaked. ‘Only I didn't touch it. Actually I've
never
touched it.'

Seb nodded. ‘Yeah, so what . . . ?' His voice died in his throat.

Valian stared down at the bag in shock. ‘No. Way.'

Ivy put her gloves back on, reached down and picked up the bag. ‘It's the most powerful uncommon bag in existence,' she said simply. ‘One of the Great Uncommon Good. Who knows where it could transport you?'

Valian gawped at it, while Seb peered around, checking that there was no one close by.

Ivy looked at Valian. She thought of his tiny room and wondered what his life was like in the common world. His sole concern was finding Rosie – Ivy knew that. She imagined what it would be like to lose Seb.

‘I'm giving it to you,' she told Valian decisively. ‘I don't want it.' She had no desire to use one of the Great Uncommon Good. Why did she need that much power? And anyway, the bag might be able to help Valian find his sister.

Very slowly he took the bag and said, ‘You know, my deal with Ethel is over. I don't have to be your bodyguard any more.'

Ivy smiled sadly and nodded. She would miss him. She'd fought alongside him; he'd put everything on the line to help save her and Seb and their parents. They were now friends for life.

‘I've been looking for Rosie on my own for ever,' Valian added. ‘I thought that working with other people would slow me down, but over the last few days I've realized that I could use a whisperer and an uncommon drummer.'

Ivy smiled. ‘We could use a scout too.'

‘I can't promise it won't be dangerous,' Valian warned.

Seb shrugged. ‘Danger isn't my issue. I'm more concerned about this . . .' He fished around in the pocket of his hoodie and brought out a USB stick. ‘No decent drummer would be seen dead with someone who doesn't listen to The Ripz. This has their first two albums on it.' He handed the memory stick over to Valian. ‘It's my only condition.'

‘If you insist.' Valian smiled. ‘Actually that reminds me: Ethel told me to give you this, Ivy.' He pulled a familiar tarnished silver bell out of his pocket and handed it over.

‘Scratch!' Ivy cried, taking him gratefully.

Scratch whirred. ‘Ivy! Asked Scratch Ethel if staying with you and didn't Ethel no say.'

Ivy saw that there was a note attached and turned him over to read it:

Just remember: he's on loan. If you want to pay for him, he's four and a half grade. Non-negotiable.

She laughed. Valian cocked his head, reading the note over her shoulder. ‘Typical. She never bargains.'

The street bell swayed. ‘
The departure caverns are located on the other side of the main arrivals chamber
,' it said in a stiff voice. ‘
Third tunnel on the left.
'

Ivy let go of the clanger. ‘This way home,' she told Seb.

Together they plodded across the chamber. The last time Ivy had been there it had been throbbing with noise and activity, but now it was strangely empty. Abandoned trunks and suitcases lined the walls and the stalactites loomed overhead, casting spiky fingers of shadow across the floor.

In the distance Ivy spied a figure with a large bag emerging from one of the tunnels.

Seb nudged her shoulder. ‘Is that who I think it is?'

She squinted into the distance. The traveller had a head of long pale hair that appeared to glow in the yellow light. ‘
Granma Sylvie . . . ?
'

Ivy dashed towards her, but Seb, as always, got there first.

‘Granma!' he called, his arms wide as he reached her side. Ivy laughed as Granma Sylvie's face turned crimson.

‘Nice to see you too,' she said, her voice muffled by Seb's embrace. She pushed him away and straightened up. ‘You look older,' she told him. ‘And stronger. I heard you managed to keep up your drum practice while you were away . . .'

Seb shrugged, smiling. ‘Needs must, Granma.'

‘What are you doing here?' Ivy asked, her arms round Granma Sylvie. ‘Mum said you wouldn't be discharged from hospital till tomorrow.'

Her granma smiled mischievously. ‘The doctors let me out early. Your parents have invited me up to London for a few days to rest. I think they want to look after me, poor things. Of course, I only accepted so that I could spend some time with you two. You're meant to be at the shops right now, according to them.'

Ivy's mouth opened and closed as she stepped back. They'd had to tell a little white lie in order to return to Lundinor.

‘Don't worry – I covered for you,' Granma Sylvie reassured them. ‘But dinner will be on the table in thirty minutes, so we'd better get out of here.'

Ivy wondered how Granma Sylvie felt about being back in Lundinor after all this time. The events of the past few days . . . it wasn't the kind of thing you could get over quickly. It was going to take a long time. There were still lots of questions, and not all of them would be answered.

‘How are you?' Ivy asked. ‘I mean,
really
.'

Granma Sylvie ran a hand through Ivy's thick curls. ‘All the better for seeing you,' she admitted. ‘I just can't believe who was behind all this.'

Ivy shivered.
Cartimore . . .
She wondered what her granma thought about him being imprisoned in a ghoul hole.

‘I know he's my brother,' Granma Sylvie said, ‘but it doesn't feel like it. I have no memories of us growing up together and we certainly don't share the same values now.'

‘What's that thing people say about the black sheep of the family?' Seb asked. ‘There's always one?'

‘In the case of my family, it appears there was
more
than one. Still, Cartimore's gone now; he can't hurt any of us again.' Granma Sylvie smiled. ‘And anyway, I've gained more than I've lost. Ethel never gave up on me all these years; our friendship is a gift I'm going to treasure.'

Ivy held Granma Sylvie's hand as they set off. ‘Does any of it seem familiar yet?' she asked. She'd been dying to discuss it all – to tell her granma about all the amazing things she'd seen, and see if Granma Sylvie remembered any of them.

Granma Sylvie's eyes grew misty as she looked at the Great Gates in the distance. ‘It's strange, but all I really remember is the smell of this place: like leather and boot polish and hot chestnuts. It smells like . . . home.' Her voice cracked as she finished. ‘I've spoken to Mr Punch. He gave me these . . .'

She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a long glove. It was made of old yellowed silk, with an elasticated frilled cuff. ‘When I put them on, it's like wearing a uniform. I can feel that they're special, only I can't remember the job I'm meant to do with them.' She sighed. ‘It might be a long time before my memory recovers, if it ever does.'

‘Well then,' Seb said cheerily, patting her on the shoulder, ‘you'll just have to learn about everything with us.'

Ivy squeezed Granma Sylvie's hand. ‘That's right. We'll do it together.'

As they made their way back to the departures chamber, Ivy's thoughts turned to home, to London. ‘Do you think Mum and Dad are going to be all right?' she asked. ‘Do you think they'll get over it?'

‘Get over the flu, you mean?' Seb reminded her. After the underguards had wiped their parents' memories with uncommon whistles, false memories had been implanted of contracting a virus and being bedridden for the whole of New Year. Ivy would have to be careful not to slip up and reveal the truth.

‘I think they'll be OK,' Granma Sylvie said. ‘Let's just keep an eye on them.'

‘
OK?
' Seb retorted. ‘Dad looks better than ever after those buttons Violet used on him! Have you
seen
his hair? And Mum looks about ten years younger as well – she thinks it's that face cream I got her for Christmas.'