It took her a lot of looking. She did it at night. Ramsay was away, and Zoe knew why. But at least she knew where he was.
She needed to find something. In the library. Something that would let them put on a party; something that could get the children ready. For school; for the normal life waiting out there for them.
She discarded books not in the almanac such as ancient encyclopaedias that didn’t know what atoms were made of and beautiful golden treasuries of the lives of the saints that only the most hideous sadist could ever have bought for a child. She needed something good. Something she could sell right away.
Up on the mezzanine level, beneath a pile of church hymnals, she finally found the kind of thing she was looking for. And whistled.
The pale grey cover of the rooftops of London; the two little boys scampering down the side of St Paul’s Cathedral. She checked the date on the inside cover. It was a second edition, not the first, but still worth an absolute fortune: an early edition of Up on the Rooftops.
She let the children see it, rather reluctantly, and explained that they were selling it.
‘But that’s the book we’re reading! And we haven’t finished it!’ groaned Patrick. ‘We don’t even know if Delphine is on the Queen of the Nethers’ galleon! The Corsairs took her!’
‘I have it,’ said Zoe. ‘I have it on my Kindle. Don’t worry. You can have lots of copies of one book.’
‘But! I do worry!’ said Patrick, blinking.
‘I know,’ said Zoe. ‘But trust me. It’s going to be worth it. We’re going to have a Halloween party!’
The boys gasped.
‘Are . . . can girls come?’ said Shackleton.
‘Everyone can come,’ said Zoe.
Mary looked at her. The meds made her sleepy, slow to respond to things.
‘What kind of party? Like the Samhain?’
‘No,’ said Zoe emphatically. That had got right out of hand, that one. ‘A children’s party. I thought we could do up the house nicely and get lots of spooky things and do bobbing for apples and so on.’
‘And have absolutely lots of sweets?’ said Patrick.
‘And absolutely ginger,’ added Hari.
‘Ginger what?’ said Zoe.
‘He means fizzy drinks,’ explained Patrick.
‘Oh. Okay,’ said Zoe. ‘Well. Yes. All of that. I thought we’d invite people you were going to go to school with.’
‘OOH!’ said Patrick.
‘They’re horrible,’ said Mary. Shackleton was watching now too from the fire.
‘Well,’ said Zoe confidingly. ‘I thought what we’d do is get you the most amazing costume and invite everyone and make the house look absolutely brilliant and have the best party ever and then everyone would realise you were super-cool and the girl who you bit . . .’
‘Stephanie,’ snarled Mary. ‘She said my mum was crazy.’
Zoe had been about to suggest conciliation. But now she decided to go the other way.
‘Stephanie. Well, we could snub her.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Mary, looking interested.
‘Well, obviously normally we try to be nice to everyone.’
‘Mary doesn’t,’ said Patrick. Mary was about to scowl, but let it pass as if it didn’t matter to her. This was lost on no one.
‘. . . but in this case I think we could be super-nice to everyone else, and then when she comes . . .’
‘She might not come,’ said Mary.
‘Everyone will want to come,’ said Zoe. ‘Trust me. So you are really pleased to see everyone, but then when she comes you can just be like, “Oh hey.” And I could be like, “Oh, you’re Stephanie,” but in, like, a really mean way.’ She did it again. ‘“Oh, so you’re Stephanie.” I mean, I know that is very nasty and horrible . . .’
‘She told me my mum was a loony.’
‘Exactly. Extenuating circumstances.’
‘And I could bite her!’ said Patrick.
‘No,’ said Zoe. ‘This is my point. We don’t bite anyone any more.’
‘Stenuating circumstances,’ said Patrick.
‘Still, no.’
‘What costume could I have?’ asked Mary shyly.
‘Whatever you like! Zombie princess? Terrifying witch?’
‘And we’re going to get money from a book?’ said Shackleton.
* * *
They gathered round as she took photographs and listed it on eBay. The bids came in thick and fast and it was extremely exciting to watch. By the time it was bedtime, there was enough for a very jolly party. By the time Ramsay got home, there was enough for . . .
‘Well, goodness,’ said Ramsay, staring at the screen. ‘Goodness me.’
‘Thank you,’ said Zoe, who had texted him earlier and asked if she could list it. ‘You’re good to let us spend it.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t have known it was there if it wasn’t for you.’
Zoe stood up, standing shyly away from him. He was grimly aware she was doing this and frowned.
‘I’m . . . I’m sorry about the other evening,’ he muttered.
‘No . . . I am,’ said Zoe before she could think about it. Then: ‘Sorry. I mean. That’s fine. Forget it.’
He nodded sadly.
‘Well?’ said Zoe gently. ‘How was tonight?’
He took a deep breath and they moved away from the children. This was new, being able to talk about it.
‘There’s some . . . Well. Good news, I suppose. Hard to know. I heard from the police. They let me lift the restraining order.’
He shook his head. ‘She’s . . . she’s no longer a threat apparently.’
‘Good,’ said Zoe. ‘Is that good?’
‘It means the children can . . .’
He shook his head, staring at the four heads laughing around the computer.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh. Those fucking drugs. The price she paid.’ He tried to stop himself crying. ‘I’m so sorry, I’m being ridiculous.’
‘You are not,’ snorted Zoe. ‘You could all have done with a bit more of this a long time ago.’
She handed him some kitchen roll and he thanked her.
‘Are you going to take them?’ she said.
Ramsay sighed.
‘Shackleton absolutely refuses. He . . . he remembers. He saw her at her absolute worst, and she let him down again and again. And Patrick doesn’t know her at all. He’s never had a mummy.’
‘Mary?’
‘Yes. Yes. Perhaps I’ll take Mary.’
He ran his hand through his hair.
‘It’ll be a big shock to her.’
Zoe thought of the placid woman with the long stare who had been quite happy to sit and stroke her hand.
‘You never know,’ said Zoe. ‘It might be enough . . . just to be near her.’
‘Do you think?’
‘No,’ said Zoe. ‘But I think in this life sometimes you have to take what you can get.’