The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow (27 page)

To Billy’s relief, at that moment the door opened and the maid came in, followed by Miss Atwood with Lucky, Mr Sinclair’s pug, on a lead. She looked weary, but there was a triumphant gleam in her eyes.

‘Oh good, you’re all still here,’ she began, and then continued more formally, ‘Good evening. Er – Mr Sinclair has asked me to convey to you his sincere thanks for your efforts tonight. He deeply regrets he cannot pass them on in person, but he is busy entertaining some of his most important guests to a late supper at The Ritz, since the party had to finish so . . .
abruptly
. However, he has asked me to convey some messages to you.’

McDermott nodded and gestured to a chair. Miss Atwood sat down rather rigidly, waving away the offer of a cup of tea. ‘With the exception of Parker here and a few other senior employees who must, by necessity, know, Mr Sinclair has asked me to request that you keep the full details of what happened this evening to yourselves. We have, of course, had to give a brief explanation to the staff and party guests, to make clear why the store had to be evacuated, but we would prefer it if the – er – full extent of the situation remained confidential. We do not, after all, wish to create a sense of public
panic
,’ she said, glancing over at McDermott as she spoke.

‘But – there was such a commotion,’ said Lil, screwing up her face in disbelief. ‘Running – and shouting – and all the goings-on with the clock. Surely people will have questions about all that?’

McDermott shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how unquestioning people can be, Miss Rose. And I think that, for once, this is the kind of publicity that Mr Sinclair will feel his store could do without – is that right, Miss Atwood?’

Miss Atwood nodded, looking a little uncomfortable, and swiftly went on: ‘Mr Sinclair is also delighted to hear that his jewels are being returned to him, and he has asked me to tell you that he considers the reward for finding them belongs to the four of you . . . young persons. He has also asked me to make some recommendations about your futures.’

‘Our futures?’ repeated Billy, confused and a little anxious. Surely Mr Sinclair wasn’t going to turn round and give them the sack now, after everything – was he?

Miss Atwood turned to Uncle Sid and made a small bow. ‘Mr Sinclair feels that your nephew does not have the best opportunity to perform to his full potential in his current position.’

‘Eh?’ asked Uncle Sid, looking even more confused than Billy himself.

‘I think what Miss Atwood is trying to tell you is that after what young Billy here has done tonight and over the last few days, he’s proved he’s well qualified to be more than an apprentice porter,’ explained McDermott crisply.

‘He would like to propose to you that Master Parker transfers his apprenticeship to work in the office,’ said Miss Atwood, looking as if the idea pained her slightly. ‘We are in need of a – er – bright young man, to train up. We would arrange full tuition in typing, shorthand, accounting and so forth. You would be reporting directly to me, Master Parker. It is a demanding position, but Mr Sinclair appears to have a great deal of faith in you.’

Billy’s eyes were round with astonishment. He looked from Miss Atwood to Uncle Sid to McDermott to Sophie, and back to Miss Atwood again. ‘The Captain wants me to work in the office?’ he repeated, in disbelief. ‘Do you mean it?’

Miss Atwood did her best, but was unable to entirely restrain a smile. ‘Yes, I do,’ she said.

‘Well –
gosh
!’ said Billy in amazement. Uncle Sid clapped him on the shoulder, himself apparently struck dumb that a nephew of his should be deemed worthy of such an honour – and by the Captain himself, too.

‘Mr Sinclair also wishes to extend an offer of some suitable employment to you,’ Miss Atwood went on, turning swiftly to Joe, who had been sitting nervously throughout the conversation, gently smoothing the silky ears of Lucky the pug, who had immediately gravitated to his side. Now he looked up quickly, anxious and uncertain what the private secretary could be driving at.

Lil however, grasped her meaning at once: ‘Oh, jolly good! You could work in the stables!’ she exclaimed excitedly, turning to Miss Atwood. ‘He’s awfully good with animals – especially horses,’ she explained.

‘I’m sure Sinclair’s could always use another groom, eh Miss Atwood?’ said McDermott with a grin. He added to Joe: ‘It could be a fresh start for you, young man – and you’ll have somewhere better to sleep than the store basement, too.’

Billy’s mouth fell open. ‘You
knew
about that?’ he demanded incredulously.

McDermott laughed, but Joe barely heard him. A decent, honest job working in a real stable . . . it was everything he had ever dreamed of. And he’d be able to stay at Sinclair’s, with Lil and the rest! He sat back in his chair, trying to take it in.

Miss Atwood had turned to Sophie, who was only half-listening to the conversation going on around her. She was gazing at the secret papers spread out on the table, her eyes gleaming. Impossible as it had seemed in those last few desperate moments, they had actually done it. Between them, they had saved Sinclair’s and stopped the Baron carrying out his plan. They had stopped British secrets falling into enemy hands.

Suddenly she felt so tired that she thought she could almost have laid her head down on the desk and fallen asleep amongst the blotting paper. But Miss Atwood was speaking to her directly now:

‘Mr Sinclair is particularly keen for me to speak with you, Miss Taylor,’ she said. ‘He has asked me to give you his gravest personal apologies for your dismissal. He asks respectfully if you would be willing to return to Sinclair’s.’ Miss Atwood gave a small, slightly embarrassed cough. ‘In fact, he asked me to tell you that there is no one he would rather have on his staff.’

Sophie’s face flushed as she realised that the others were all staring at her. She thought of all that going back to Sinclair’s would mean: of the hustle and bustle of the corridors, of Uncle Sid sweeping the great doors open on to an excited crowd. She thought of the elevators surging up and down, of Claudine creating her lavish window displays while the porters swung by with their trolleys loaded with immaculate blue-and-gold boxes. Then she thought of the Millinery Department, the long hours on her feet, Mrs Milton’s scolding, Edith with her nasty remarks, and of herself, standing up in the window, looking down at the street below. She thought of all the people at Sinclair’s who had been so quick to believe she was guilty – and then she thought of the alternatives available to her.

Finally, she looked around at the others: Joe, watchful and quiet; Billy, with an anxious look in his eyes; even Uncle Sid, watching her earnestly, awaiting her response. And last of all there was Lil, who could barely keep still in her seat, she was so desperate for Sophie’s reply. ‘Oh
do
say you will!’ she burst out at last. ‘Sinclair’s isn’t half as much fun without you.’

Sophie grinned at Lil and then turned to Miss Atwood. ‘All right,’ she said at last, nodding slowly. ‘I’ll come back.’

A few hours later, Sophie was sitting in a motor taxi, gazing out of the window as it drove her through empty streets towards the lodging house. Soon, the sun would be rising; an edge of fiery pink was already becoming visible around the dark, cutout shapes of the buildings.

Piccadilly was deserted now, but on Monday morning, these streets would be thronged once more with cars and motor buses, with business men and typewriter girls, with beggars and flower sellers, bootblacks and newsboys. The shoppers would be there as well, of course, surging in and out of the great doors of Sinclair’s. Quite soon she would be back there too, going about her business in the Millinery Department just as if everything was exactly the same as before. But, she reminded herself, it would not be quite the same. For one thing, she didn’t think she would have to worry about the other girls calling her ‘Your Ladyship’ or ‘Sour-milk Sophie’ any more.

She yawned and leaned her head against the window, thinking dimly how extraordinary it was to be driving through the streets of the city at five o’clock in the morning. But even that wasn’t nearly so extraordinary as what Mr McDermott had said to her and to Lil, as he showed them out to the motor taxis that Miss Atwood had insisted on providing to take them all back to their homes. Behind them, they could see Uncle Sid clapping Billy on the shoulder as the two of them clambered into another cab, and Joe, waving from the doorway. Instead of the basement of Sinclair’s, he would be spending the night in the comfort of Mr McDermott’s guest bedroom.

‘The two of you make rather a resourceful pair, you know,’ Mr McDermott had said to them, as he opened the door to Sophie’s cab and helped her inside. ‘Mr Sinclair is inclined to see young ladies such as yourselves as . . . shall we say,
decorative
, first and foremost? But I am different. I know intelligence and courage when I see it. You have first-rate instincts Miss Taylor – and with Miss Rose here to help you act on them, I suspect you would be a formidable team. If you ever find yourselves tired of Sinclair’s, come and find me. I think there could be quite a different sort of career out there for a couple of young ladies like you.’

She looked now at the card he had handed her: simple and smart, dark blue print on a plain white ground. In neat lettering it read
Anthony McDermott, Private Detective
. Even reading it brought a smile to her lips. Herself – a detective! Whatever would Papa have made of that? She grinned to herself as she gazed out of the window, across the empty streets of London, where the first rays of the sun were turning the rooftops to gold and silver, and another day was about to begin.

Sinclair’s department store is fictional, but this book was partly inspired by the real history of London’s department stores. In particular, it owes much to the story of Selfridges, which was opened by Harry Gordon Selfridge in 1909, but it also takes inspiration from Liberty, Harrods, Fortnum & Mason, and many other famous stores that you can still visit in London today. You will not find a department store at Piccadilly Circus, where Sinclair’s is supposed to be situated, but imagine it roughly in the position of Waterstones Piccadilly, which itself was once home to the department store Simpson’s.

I am so grateful to Ali Dougal, Hannah Sandford, and everyone at Egmont for giving
The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow
such a fantastic home, including Benjamin Hughes for the beautiful design and Júlia Sardà for her gorgeous artwork. Enormous thanks to my wonderful friend and agent Louise Lamont, and to all those who supported and encouraged me in writing this book, including Nikesh Shukla and Anna McKerrow for advice, motivation and keeping me going; the Booktrust gang, especially Hannah Davies, Claire Shanahan and Katie Webber for all their enthusiasm; and my dear friends Leah Cox, Amy Merrick and Hazel Wigginton, who were excited about this book from the start.

Most of all, special thanks to my parents for all their love and support, and to Duncan for everything, especially the many hours spent walking London’s streets with me, helping to imagine the world of
The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow
into life.