2

It’s not until I reach the river that I risk a glance behind me. The streets are dark, empty, like they always are this time of night. Once I’m sure no one’s followed me I slow to a walk and unwrap the scarf from my face. The papers crackle inside my frock. I think I’ve done all right, but I’m suddenly hit by a bad dose of the doubts. Madame Delacroix wanted the box, didn’t she? I’ve only managed to bring her what was inside. And even then, I didn’t get all of the papers.

My mood sinks fast. I’m tired and hungry. I want this job to be finished so I can claim my coins and walk away. If she doesn’t give me all five, four would do. Or, if she twisted my arm I suppose I’d take three. Even that’s more than I’ve ever earned before.

The plan is to meet her just past the turnpike. On the left there’s a little lane that runs up the valley. At the top of the lane is a gate. That’s where Madame Delacroix will be when the clock strikes four. Though I’ve plenty of time, I’m twitchy to get there because it’s where I’ve left Coco, wrapped in my jacket under a hedge. I don’t want the foxes finding him first.

The moon is up, casting shadows as I head out of town. Knowing the sky’s above me, clear and bright, I relax a little. A few yards past the turnpike, I take the left turning. It’s then I notice footprints in the dirt. One person’s. Large. With a delicate, narrow heel.

My shoulders tense. She’s early.

The footprints carry on all the way up the lane. It’s proper countryside up here with hedges that loom high over your head and the moon is so bright that everything looks silver. Finally, the lane comes to a dead end at a gate. Leaning against it is the outline of a tall, wide-shouldered person, wearing a cape that folds about them like dark wings. Madame Delacroix is waiting for me; it’s meant to be the other way round. The change of plan makes me wary as I approach.

‘You said four o’clock,’ I tell her.

‘I’ve an impatient nature,’ she replies, which makes me hope more than ever she’s not disappointed with what I’ve got stuffed down my frock. I notice then she’s holding something at arm’s length like it’s poisonous or vicious.

I stare in horror.

It’s Coco. He’s still wrapped in my jacket, but scrabbling to get free.

‘Don’t hurt him!’ I cry.

‘We’ve just been getting acquainted, that’s all,’ she says coolly.

I lick my lips, try to calm down. But my heart’s going twenty to the dozen, and I can’t keep back. As I go to grab Coco, she twists away, holding him out of reach.

‘Now now, it’s rude to snatch,’ she chides. It’s pretty clear she’s not going to hand him over, not until I give her what she wants from me. And she can have it, frankly. I’m fed up of the papers prickling my skin.

‘Here.’ From inside my frock I pull out a fistful. ‘Take ’em.’

In one quick movement I seize the bundle of Coco and my jacket and thrust the papers into her hand. It takes her by surprise. She lets go, then looks down at the papers. ‘What the deuce are these?’

‘The box was too awkward.’ I try to explain. ‘I couldn’t keep hold of it. And it was risky. At the house, people were still awake.’

She narrows his eyes at me. ‘Who, exactly?’

I think of the boy and his duck at the back door, the woman with the candle coming down the passage. Decent folk who I don’t want to dwell on. ‘I don’t know who—’

She interrupts. ‘I sent you to take a valuables box from a house. It was quite simple. You said you could do it. You’re supposed to be the best.’

I start to get angry. ‘Now look here, lady, I did what I could. The box of was full of these papers. I thought you wanted them.’ I pull out the rest from my frock, but she slaps my hand away and it all flutters to the ground.

‘What have I ever wanted with papers?’ she cries.

‘But they—’

‘That family you’ve just visited,’ she talks over me, ‘own the big paper mill on the outskirts of town. Paper, for them, is like air, so don’t pretend you’ve brought me something of worth.’

‘But these ones were locked away,’ I insist. ‘Mightn’t that mean they’re valuable?’

This gets her attention. With an irritable sigh, she picks up a handful of papers from the ground and starts to shuffle through them. I watch her. At first, she looks almost bored. My heart sinks. I stroke Coco’s head to steady myself.

Then she does another sigh, this one’s a sharp breath in. She sounds startled. Excited, even. A slow smile creeps over her face.

‘Well, well,’ she murmurs, reaching for more papers. ‘Someone’s been rather busy.’

I don’t know what she means. I keep watching, though. She’s frowning now, chewing on the inside of her cheek, thinking fast. And I’ll admit I’m a tiny bit pleased. Such a fuss and she’s found something valuable, after all. I did right to grab the papers.

As she carries on reading, I reach under the hedge for Coco’s sling-bag; it’s still there where I left it earlier. I slip him inside. It’s time we were gone.

‘Did you get all the papers?’ she asks suddenly.

‘Most of them.’ Giving my hand a quick wipe on my skirt, I hold it out. ‘You going pay me, then?’

There’s a beat when she looks down at the papers again. Then she lunges at me. It catches me off guard.

‘Hey! What’re you—’

She’s got me by the throat, squeezing, pushing. The leathery creak of her gloves. Long fingers like vines slither right round my neck. I can’t breathe.

‘Money?’ she hisses. ‘You’ve got a nerve! The job’s not finished, not by a long shot.’

I try to speak but she’s holding me too tight. I’m furious at being caught out. Number one rule of the streets: what you lack in muscle, you make up for in speed. I can run like a greyhound, but I’m no match for a well-fed, full-grown woman, though I scratch and kick all the same.

‘I’d kill you if I thought someone might actually miss you,’ she tells me.

I’m panicking. I think she’s going to kill me anyway. My head’s ringing. Everything starts to look gold and powdery. Across my chest, I feel Coco scrabbling to get free of the sling.

‘Arggh!’ Madame Delacroix cries. ‘That wretched bird’s bitten me!’

Just like that, she lets go of my throat, shoving me so hard I trip over my own feet. I land on the ground with a thud. There’s not enough air to breathe even though I’m gulping it down. When I look up, eyes streaming, she’s there, standing over me. There’s blood on her face. Wrapping my arms round Coco, I try to soothe him. I’m as scared as I’ve ever been.

‘You listen to me, you worthless little scrap,’ she spits. ‘This job isn’t finished until I’ve got that box.’

My mouth drops: oh blimey, she wants me to go back in to the house.

She must see my shock because she leans right in till she’s way too close. ‘We’ll talk again, Magpie.’

Then she steps over me like I’m horse dung in the road. I don’t call out. Don’t move. I listen to the swish of her skirts through the grass. The sound gets fainter, until it’s gone – she’s gone. Once I’m sure, I roll onto my side, coughing till I’m sick.

I do sit up eventually. The warmth of Coco’s little body makes me feel a bit better.

‘You saw her off, didn’t you boy?’ I tell him. ‘You fought better than me.’ Though I’ve no idea what I’m going to do next because Madame Delacroix will be back, I know she will.

Scattered across the grass lie the not-good-enough papers. The damp’s already got to them, making them limp like cloth. Half-heartedly, I prod at a couple of pieces with my foot.

All right, so I didn’t get the box she wanted. But she was intrigued by these papers, wasn’t she? And didn’t she ask if there were any more?

I’m confused. Tired. My neck hurts where she grabbed me. But still I crawl over to the papers for a better look. The moon’s bright enough to see the funny whiskery writing on them, and pictures. Lots of pictures.

The writing makes no sense to me, but the pictures do. There’s the sky, a group of trees, some hills. Then another of rooftops and church spires. Another one is all stars.

I like them. Really like them, I mean. They’re messy, like someone’s drawn them in a hurry, their ideas coming so fast they can hardly keep up. In each picture is a shape – a sort of oblong. It might be the way I’m looking at it, but it’s as if it’s hanging in the sky. It can’t be though. Only birds and dreamers get to fly.