‘Excuse me, ladies,’ I said, stepping between two women prattling on about hats. Miss Always had turned left at the end of the street and was no longer in view.
‘What’s the hurry?’ said one of the women.
‘Chasing a villain, dear,’ I called out, not looking back. ‘All very dangerous.’
I broke into a sprint, tearing along the busy footpath. At the corner I stopped. Looked to my left. Miss Always had made great headway – she was already a good thirty feet ahead, a grim figure in her long coat. The last time I chased after someone, it had turned out to be a perfectly innocent dwarf, but this time there was no doubt. It was most definitely Miss Always. I would know that face anywhere.
A large posse of Bible-carrying vicars, talking eagerly, fanned out before me. Zigzagging with breathtaking skill, I was soon upon my target again. Miss Always slowed. Turned her head slightly.
Instinctively, I threw myself against the wall. Kept utterly still. Which was no trouble for me – having all the natural instincts of a lamp post. I held my breath. Prayed that Miss Always would not turn fully and see me. She didn’t and quickly took off again.
About halfway along the avenue, Miss Always took a sharp right into a narrow lane. I got there just as she crossed the tiny street and disappeared inside a dull red building. Rather grimy. Windows darkened by soot and neglect. I had two options – follow after the dastardly hag or wait outside until she emerged again.
Having a mind that would be the envy of a Scotland Yard detective, I swiftly determined that the building probably had a back entrance. And that Miss Always may use it to make an escape. In a display of eye-popping courage, I hurried after her, pushed open the door and stepped inside the building.
But I did not get far. For I collided with someone rushing out. We bumped shoulders and both gave a startled yelp. The hall was especially dim and I could barely see in front of my face.
‘Heavens,’ said the woman.
Which is when I pounced, seizing the villain by the arm. She cried out in distress. Tried to pull away. But my grip was vice-like.
‘The game is up, Miss Always!’ I hollered, dragging her through the front door and out on to the street. ‘What have your hideous hooded henchmen done with Rebecca? Where is she?’
When the sun hit our faces I was able to look my captive in the eye. And it was rather a shock. For standing before me in a dull brown dress, looking thoroughly shaken, was Miss Carnage. She was touching her substantial nose a great deal and seemed awfully startled. I let go of her instantly.
‘Ivy, what on earth are you doing?’ she said, her voice quivering.
‘I could ask you the same question,’ was my reply. I looked past her, through the open door. ‘Did you pass a woman wearing a grey coat?’
‘I saw no one,’ said Miss Carnage. ‘Ivy, why did you attack me? What is going on?’
‘But you must have seen her,’ I said firmly. ‘She came into the building not a minute ago.’
‘Well … perhaps she went out through a back door.’
I hurried into the building again, past the staircase, to the very rear. Sure enough, there was a back door. And it was wide open. When I came back outside, Miss Carnage was still in a most agitated state.
‘Well, Ivy,’ she said, brushing down her dress, ‘what have you to say for yourself? I’m stunned and shocked by your behaviour.’
I looked back at the building. Above the front door was a faded sign, which read: Buzzby’s Stage Emporium – For All Your Theatrical Needs. Something did not feel right.
‘Miss Carnage, what business have you in this place? They provide costumes and make-up for the theatre, do they not?’
‘I would not know – my dentist has an office on the top floor.’ She touched the side of her right cheek. ‘I have been in tremendous pain since last night.’
I could see no signage on the building indicating a dentist’s surgery. But before I could ask, Miss Carnage said, ‘Doctor Moonstone has only just moved here from Waterloo and I was relieved that he would see me without an appointment.’ She flinched. ‘He said my molars are in a shocking state.’
Which made perfect sense. Except for …
‘Your voice,’ I said. ‘When we were in the hall and I could not see your face – I was so certain it was Miss Always who spoke.’
‘The writer?’ The anxiety faded from her face and she burst into a fit of laughter. ‘A great many people sound alike, Ivy.’ Then she put her hands gently on my shoulders. ‘Do I look like Miss Always?’
‘Not a bit, dear. Miss Always is plain but unremarkable. You on the other hand have that magnificent nose, a chin of staggering proportions, a plump belly and the sort of teeth that would make a donkey blush.’
Miss Carnage’s hands dropped from my shoulders. ‘Yes … well …’
‘But I cannot imagine what Miss Always was doing here,’ I said, looking back at the grim building. ‘I think I will visit Buzzby’s Stage Emporium and see what I can discover.’
Without asking, the librarian turned me around, linked her arm in mine, and began walking with me away from the building.
‘It worries me greatly that you are wandering the streets, following this woman,’ said Miss Carnage gravely. ‘How is it that you know Miss Always?’
‘We met on a ship and became bosom friends,’ I heard myself say. ‘If we were better acquainted, I would tell you that Miss Always is a bloodthirsty gatekeeper with a talent for plunging daggers into hearts. Instead, I will simply tell you that Miss Always is a danger to society.’
Miss Carnage was dazzled by my discretion. ‘Very wise, Ivy.’
Lovely creature!
We turned the corner and headed back up the long avenue. Pausing at the Admiralty Bank, Miss Carnage explained that she had an appointment there.
‘Ivy, promise me you will be more careful,’ she said firmly. ‘I will be a hive of nerves if I think you are roaming London chasing this dangerous writer.’
From behind me I heard a screech so unpleasant it could only come from one place.
‘I do believe that strange woman just called out your name,’ said Miss Carnage.
I turned and wasn’t utterly surprised to see Mother Snagsby stomping towards me with a look of thunder upon her face.
‘That is Mother Snagsby. She frets terribly when I wander away.’
‘Do take care, Ivy. I must dash.’
Miss Carnage headed off briskly in the opposite direction. She seemed in a frightful rush, whizzing past the bank (which was odd) and disappearing around the corner – just as Mother Snagsby was within striking distance.
She was huffing and puffing with all the enthusiasm of a steam train. Expressed her delight in finding me by cursing like a pirate. Then seized me by the arm and dragged me lovingly back to the dressmaker.
There was no supper that night. Even Mrs Dickens was forbidden from visiting me with a merciful plate of pumpkin and cabbage. Mother Snagsby was appalled by my conduct. She said running from the dressmaker’s shop like a bank robber was not the conduct of a gentleman’s daughter. All the way home in the carriage she had quizzed me about why I had run off.
I felt it was best to make no mention of Miss Always.
Adding to my troubles was the fact that Mother Snagsby had inspected the viewing parlour and now knew that I had not dusted it. I had never seen her so angry. Her nostrils flared. Her magnificent mole twitched up a storm. For my crimes I was sent immediately to bed. The door locked behind me.
Not even slightly tired, I lit a candle to ward off the darkness. This was not done because I felt spooked about seeing Miss Always. Or because I was troubled about what devious scheme she was brewing. Not a bit!
‘Ivy …’
The voice was faint. But clear.
I jumped from the bed and hurried to the door. ‘Mrs Dickens?’
Silence.
‘Perhaps you do not wish to unlock the door lest Mother Snagsby box your ears,’ I went on. ‘Perfectly understandable. But if there is any way you could slide a few raw potatoes under the door I would be very –’
‘Ivy …’
No, the voice was not coming from out in the hallway. It sounded nearby and far away all at once. I hurried across the room, drew back the curtains and looked down on Thackeray Street. Gas lamps lined the street, their honey-coloured light arresting the darkness. A carriage rolled by. Followed by a night constable in no great hurry.
‘Ivy …’
It was maddening! Where was it coming from? A ghost, perhaps? So busy was I trying to solve this mystery that I had not noticed the warmth upon my skin. Nor the throbbing against my chest. Or the way the pulsing beats of the stone began to quicken.
The candle blew out without warning. The room was entombed in a drapery of shadows.
But it did not last. For a glorious silvery light bloomed from under my nightdress. In the short time it took me to retrieve the necklace, the Clock Diamond’s glow filled the bedroom, hitting the walls like a winter sun.
I dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and stared into it. As the light started to dim inside the stone, I found her. Huddled in the corner of a bare room. Ghastly yellow walls. White floor. Her blonde hair limp and stuck to her face.
‘Ivy, don’t come,’ whispered Rebecca Butterfield.
I wanted to cry out. No, I just wanted to cry.
‘Rebecca,’ I whispered. ‘Rebecca, can you hear me?’
The girl seemed to be looking straight through the stone, right at me. Her skin gave off the faintest of glows. ‘Forget what you saw.’ Her breaths were shallow, her eyes vacant. She looked dreadfully tired. ‘Don’t come for me, Ivy, they will be waiting.’
‘Who will be waiting, dear?’ My voice was hoarse and wretched. ‘Rebecca, where are you? Tell me where you are!’
‘You wore the stone, Ivy, you wore the stone and lived.’
Rebecca’s gaze shifted suddenly.
‘Tell me where they are keeping you,’ I cried, as loud as I dared.
Her head dropped. Her eyes closed.
‘Don’t come for me.’
Then the yellow of her room was swallowed by a hungry black mist. It churned and swirled, and when it parted, the Clock Diamond offered the night sky with a blanket of stars high above London.
She was gone.