The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow (5 page)

‘What a bore,’ said Lil, leading Sophie towards a couple of empty chairs in the corner, leaving a babble of chatter in their wake. ‘You’ve simply got to put fellows like that in their place.’

Sophie pulled a face, feeling embarrassed. She could well imagine that Lil was used to dealing with all kinds of suitors, but Sophie herself was hardly accustomed to strange young men inviting her to walk out with them.

Lil was staring down at her plate in undisguised disappointment. ‘Mutton,’ she said with a sigh. ‘How dreary. Could you only imagine if it had been roast beef? I’m simply ravenous.’

But Sophie wasn’t thinking about stew. ‘Edith is going to be even more browned off with me than ever now.’

‘Who’s Edith?’ asked Lil, tucking in. ‘Oh, she has a fancy for him, does she? Well, that’s hard luck, but it wasn’t your fault. Actually it was rather funny. I wish you could have seen your face. And Billy’s! He looked like he was about to challenge that Bert fellow to a duel, or goodness knows what!’

Sophie laughed. ‘You found a jacket then?’ she asked, relieved to change the subject.

‘Of course! Though we had a bit of a narrow squeak when we nearly bumped into someone wandering around down in the basement. Billy looked jolly worried.’

‘I think he’s frightened of getting into trouble with Mr Cooper.’

‘I can’t think why everyone’s so terrified about that,’ said Lil. ‘Cooper is such an old stick. That stern manner of his is just an act.’

‘Doesn’t anyone intimidate you?’ Sophie asked, shaking her head in astonishment.

‘Lord, yes!’ exclaimed Lil. ‘Miss Pinker, the headmistress of my old school. Frightful creature. And I have to say, I was rather terrified when I did my audition for the show. I had to get up and sing in front of the director, Gilbert Lloyd. He’s simply the tops when it comes to musical comedy – and dreadfully handsome too. I was absolutely quaking in my boots! Anyway, I can’t have been that awful because I got the part. Of course I’m only in the chorus. I’m about the least important person there is in the whole place, to tell the truth. But it might be my chance – a real chance to be an actress!’

Behind them, the girls at Edith’s table had their heads close together whispering and were casting curious glances over at Lil. Sophie felt a sudden wave of relief sweep over her. When she had arrived at the store that morning she had felt entirely alone here, but at last she seemed to have found a friend. She smiled across the table at Lil, feeling almost light-hearted for the first time in many weeks.

‘It sounds marvellous,’ she said. ‘Tell me all about it.’

A
s the final day of preparations went on, the pace began to accelerate. Men in white gloves were busy in the Exhibition Hall, unpacking crates with mechanical precision. In the Entrance Hall, Mr Cooper and Sidney Parker were engaged in an intense discussion about the best deployment of porters, lift-operators and doormen. In the Ladies’ Lounge, bunches of perfect roses were being arranged in crystal vases, and in the Marble Court Restaurant, the waiters smoothed out snowy white linen tablecloths and laid out silverware, the restaurant manager following behind them with a tape measure to ensure that each setting was perfect.

Up in the Millinery Department, the main activities were dusting, sweeping and polishing. Unused to such physical work, Sophie soon found herself weary and aching, but she went on working grimly, determined not to let Edith see that she was tired. All the same, as the afternoon drew on, she was pleased to see Lil appear, giving her a welcome excuse to get up from her polishing.

‘So this is where you work?’ said Lil, looking around her with interest. ‘Gosh, it’s all rather splendid, isn’t it? They sent me up to collect some more hats for the dress show rehearsal.’

Sophie nodded. ‘They’re through in the storeroom,’ she said, leading the way. ‘I’ll show you.’

Once the storeroom door had closed behind them, they grinned at each other conspiratorially.

‘I was simply bursting for a change of scenery,’ said Lil. ‘They wanted to send for a porter – Captain’s Girls aren’t supposed to be running about the store with boxes, and all that, but I insisted on coming myself. Honestly, I can’t tell you how fearfully boring it is, just practising walking up and down in different frocks.’

‘It sounds an awful lot better than polishing,’ said Sophie with a laugh, as she handed Lil the hat-boxes she needed.

‘Well, yes, I suppose you’re probably right there,’ said Lil, grinning ruefully. ‘I really oughtn’t grumble. And at least tomorrow morning I’ll be off to the theatre for rehearsals. We don’t have to come in until after luncheon now, you see, because the dress shows will only be in the afternoons, so it’s all worked out splendidly.’ She paused, and then heaved a sigh. ‘Well, I suppose I should go. They’ll be waiting for me.’

‘And I ought to get on with that polishing,’ Sophie agreed, stretching and stifling a yawn. ‘Mrs Milton really has our noses to the grindstone.’

They both went towards the door – but when Sophie tried the handle, it wouldn’t budge.

‘Is it stuck? Here, let me try.’

But it wasn’t stuck. No matter how much either of them jiggled at the door handle, it would not open.

‘I think it’s locked,’ said Lil in astonishment.

‘This is Edith’s doing,’ said Sophie, with a slow groan of realisation. ‘She must have seen us come in here and then locked the door.’

‘But why would she do that?’

‘To get us both into trouble, of course,’ said Sophie. ‘To stop me from finishing my work, and make Mrs Milton angry, and to pay us back for that business in the refectory earlier.’

‘Oh I say!’ cried Lil indignantly.

Sophie felt her own temper flare. If she didn’t finish the tasks she had been set, she could say goodbye to any chance of becoming Mrs Milton’s assistant. And now Lil would be in trouble too, and none of this was in the least bit her fault!

But there was no sense in losing her head, she reminded herself. ‘Maybe one of the others will let us out. Let’s see if we can get their attention before anyone notices we’re missing.’

They rattled the door, and called out, but no one came.

‘They probably can’t hear us if they’re on the other side of the shop floor,’ said Sophie. ‘And I daresay Edith’s out there laughing at us right now.’

‘What a beast,’ said Lil crossly. ‘We
are
in a scrape.’ Then, in a sudden burst of cheerfulness: ‘I suppose at least you get a break from all that polishing, anyway.’

‘Oh
bother
her,’ said Sophie, folding her arms. ‘Well, I suppose if we’re stuck in here, we may as well do something useful. Let’s bring that ladder over and we can put all those boxes away. We can get the storeroom tidied, at any rate.’

Lil readily agreed, feeling that going up and down ladders and putting away boxes would certainly be no worse than clambering in and out of evening dresses. While they worked, they talked. Lil told Sophie about all the plays she had seen recently, including the plot of a most exciting thriller in which a dashing detective (‘So handsome! Simply divine!’) had managed to escape from a locked room and foil a dastardly gang of spies, and that of a heart-rending romance in which the young heroine experienced all sorts of trials before finally being reunited with her true love. They ended up sitting on the floor, talking about books that they had read, and laughing about their old governesses. Lil told Sophie all about her parents and how irritating it was that her older brother could do exactly what he wanted (‘just because he’s a
boy
!’); and how she didn’t think she would much like being a mannequin (‘Imagine all those beastly old ladies looking you up and down’), but she wanted to be independent and couldn’t get by on her meagre earnings as a chorus girl alone.

‘But what about you? How did you come to be working here?’ Lil asked Sophie at last.

Sophie was quiet for a moment, rubbing at a smudge of dust on her cheek. ‘My papa died just before Christmas,’ she explained slowly. ‘He was a major in the army and he was killed out in South Africa in an accident. There was only Papa and me, you see? My mama died when I was very small. I can hardly even remember her – at least, only little bits. And Papa used to tell me lots of stories about her, of course.’

She broke off for a moment and sighed, thinking that there was so much about her mother that she would probably now never know. ‘Anyway, there was a problem with Papa’s will. He hadn’t left any provision for me – no instructions about a guardian, no money. It was strange because, you see, he was always a very methodical sort of person. But it left me with almost nothing. The house was sold, they sent my governess away, and I had to find work at once – so I came to Sinclair’s.’

Sophie didn’t dare say more. Somehow, of everything, it was that last day at Orchard House, with the carpets up and dear old Miss Pennyfeather weeping uncontrollably as she got into the cab, that she could not risk thinking about; it was almost the worst memory of all. She gave a small shrug and fell silent.

Sophie might not have said much, but Lil had been able to see the emotions flickering across her new friend’s face as she talked: confusion, frustration, sadness. ‘Gosh,’ Lil murmured quietly, feeling suddenly very conscious of just how flimsy her own troubles sounded by comparison. She felt an unexpected surge of fondness for the family home in Twickenham, with its green lawns mowed to bowling-green smoothness, and Mother entertaining callers to tea in the drawing room. She opened her mouth to speak, wanting to say or do something to comfort Sophie, but all at once she felt unsure of her words.

In the silence that had fallen, they heard a rattling sound, and they both looked up. Then the door burst open and Violet almost fell through into the storeroom. ‘The – the door was locked,’ she said, confused.

Sophie jumped to her feet at once. ‘Quickly – before Mrs Milton sees you!’ she urged. Understanding at once, Lil grabbed the hat-boxes she had come for and darted swiftly past Violet, through the door and away, just as Edith’s high-pitched voice could be heard approaching.

‘I just don’t know where Sophie is I’m afraid, Mrs Milton. She didn’t finish that polishing and I haven’t seen her for ages. I suppose she’s wandered off somewhere. Some people think they’re too good to do a proper day’s work like the rest of us.’

‘Did you want me, Mrs Milton?’ called Sophie swiftly.

Mrs Milton came into the doorway and looked around approvingly. ‘Oh there you are, Sophie. I knew you couldn’t be far away. Well, well, and look at this! You’ve got the whole delivery tidied away and the storeroom looking perfect. You have worked hard!’

Sophie smiled and said nothing, but heaved an inward sigh of relief as she whisked past Edith’s angry face and out of the room.

A few hours later, Mr Sinclair’s walk around the store had been completed to everyone’s satisfaction, and the clock downstairs in the Entrance Hall was chiming six slow chimes. Sophie’s feet ached, her shoulders ached, and she was prickly all over with tiredness. And tomorrow she would have to come back here again to work another long day – and the next day, and the next day, and the day after that . . .

‘Well, girls, you’ve done a fine job,’ said Mrs Milton, looking flushed with pleasure. Mr Sinclair had been satisfied with the department and Mr Cooper had given her a few very rare words of praise. ‘Mr Cooper has given me a shilling extra for each of you because of all your hard work. Now off you go, and mind you are looking your very smartest and not a moment late in the morning.’

The girls were almost too tired to say goodnight to each other in the cloakroom as they pulled on their coats and hats, and hurried out towards home. Sophie dawdled for a moment, knowing that Edith and Minnie would also be going back to the lodging house, and not feeling at all eager to walk with them.

She thought, with a feeling of great satisfaction, of the extra shilling in her pocket. Not so long ago, a shilling had meant almost nothing to her, but now it spoke to her of all kinds of possibilities: a ribbon, perhaps, to trim her hat; or maybe she could save it and put it towards a new pair of gloves because her old ones were getting so very worn. At any rate, she could treat herself to some buns for tea, she thought.

As she went out on to the street, she caught sight of a rather dirty young man – scarcely more than a boy, really – sitting on a step by the staff entrance. His head was down, and she noticed that his arm was in a rough sort of sling. Vagrants weren’t supposed to hang around the store, but it was the end of the day, and he looked ill and exhausted – much more exhausted than she felt herself, she thought, with a stab of sympathy for him.

She considered the shilling in her pocket. In the past, she would have given a shilling to a poor young man like that without even thinking about it. But now, she found herself wrestling with her conscience. Of course she ought to give it to him, she told herself sternly. But a whole shilling! She had worked so hard all day – she had
earned
that money. She made up her mind to walk on, but even as she began to move forward, she turned back again. Papa would never have forgiven her.

Rather reluctantly, she went up to the young man and handed him the shilling. Looking surprised, he took it.

‘Thank you, miss,’ he said, doffing his cap.

Sophie nodded awkwardly, and went on her way.

It would have been nice to have a new ribbon for her hat, she reflected as she walked down Piccadilly, but she supposed she could do without one for now. Although she still regretted the loss of the buns, she felt she was, after all, walking a little more lightly as she went towards her lodgings.

It had turned into an unexpectedly pleasant evening. The air was still damp, but the last strains of light were soft and warm, the kind of pinkish-grey colour that in the fashion papers they called
ashes of roses
. The street was bustling with people like her, spilling out of shops and offices and making their way home.

She joined the tide, but before she had gone very far, she stopped abruptly, realising that she had forgotten to bring home Billy’s jacket. She turned back at once: there was nothing for it but to return to the shop. She couldn’t risk leaving it there for Mr Cooper or Mrs Milton – or worse, Edith – to discover tomorrow morning. Wishing her feet didn’t hurt quite so much, she made herself hurry back down the street in the direction of Sinclair’s. If she were quick, she would easily get back before the long process of locking up for the night was completed.