by the creak of wheels and the crunch of ice as the carriage began to move. But Lucy knew the alleyways and backstreets to dart down, all of them so narrow the vehicle would never squeeze through, so it didn’t take her long to shake off her pursuer.
Lucy told no one about the card, not even her parents. It took her a lot of practice to work out how to use it. And even when she did, it was a long time before she plucked up the courage to gamble with it. But when she eventually did, her nightmare life of poverty, hunger and cold soon ended. Her parents quickly began to let her take charge of things, never questioning her about her newfound skill. Although Lucy earned enough to make the Goodlys’ lives comfortable and carefree, she wasn’t greedy or reckless. She made sure she lost a few games to avoid suspicion. And she never played opponents who were as poor as she once was.
Lucy was also careful never to visit dens where she’d seen Lady Red. She always feared the woman would find her somehow. But she never did, except in Lucy’s dreams, when she would open the door of Lucy’s bedroom, eyes burning in that unnatural way.
“Give it back. Give it back!” she’d shout.
For a while, Lucy couldn’t sleep for fear of Lady Red making an appearance. But as she was a sensible girl who always tried to find a solution to her problems, she soon trained herself to get out of bed in her dreams and slam the door in Lady Red’s face. Eventually the nightmares went away.
“Something wrong?” said Vonk.
Lucy blinked herself back into the present. “No. You’re right, it is a lovely painting. Lady Grave’s got a very kind face.”
“Yes. Lady Tabitha was one of the best. She loved animals, couldn’t bear to see them mistreated. She persuaded his Lordship to bring Bathsheba home. She rescued the elephants from a circus. And so on. Now, back to your work, girls.” Vonk turned and strode out of the room, the ring of his shoes on the tiled hallway gradually fading into the distance.
“You’ve gone a funny colour,” said Becky.
“Have I?”
“Urgh, have you got some revolting disease? Maybe it’s that nose-rotting one. I read all about it. Your nose goes mouldy and then drops off. Be an improvement in your case.”
Wearing a full suit of armour in the middle of summer really was no fun, but it was better than being eaten alive by a panther or squashed to death by an elephant. Lucy tried to comfort herself with this thought as she opened the gate set into the spiked iron fence that separated Grave Hall from his Lordship’s wildlife park. She was pushing a wheelbarrow of straw.
Lucy’s second day at Grave Hall was turning out to be even worse than her first. Lord Grave had ordered that one of her new duties was to feed Bathsheba and clean out the wooden hut the giant cat slept in at night.
Lucy closed the gate behind her. Bathsheba, who’d been snoozing in the afternoon sun, leaped to her paws when she spotted the bucket of raw meat that was hooked over one handle of the wheelbarrow.
“Keep back!” Lucy said. She slung the bucket’s contents on to the ground. Bathsheba pounced on it, growling her appreciation. For such an elegant animal, the panther had deplorable table manners. She chomped her meat so loudly she scared off some of Lord Grave’s parrots who were roosting in a nearby tree.
Lucy reluctantly set about cleaning the hut, which was almost as big as Leafy Ridge. She picked up gnawed bones from Bathsheba’s previous meals and changed the dirty straw for the fresh. The armour made her movements stiff and awkward. The white feather plume on the top of Lucy’s helmet bobbed up and down annoyingly and she grew hotter and hotter inside her metal second skin.
When she’d finally finished her work, and Bathsheba had torn and swallowed the last of the meat, Lucy returned to the Grave Hall side of the fence. She took off her helmet, put it on top of the smelly contents of her wheelbarrow and began toiling back to the house.
If she hadn’t been slowly cooking inside her armour, it might have been pleasant wandering along in the warm sun with the elephants trumpeting to each other in the distance. Homesickness washed over Lucy. On days like this at home, she and her parents would sit outside after supper and watch Phoebe chasing dragonflies.
Why did Lord Grave want to keep her here against her will? Was it just because it meant he had a boot girl he didn’t need to pay? Or could there be some other more sinister reason? It was all very worrying. The urge to run away was so strong it made her stomach hurt. She’d spent most of last night trying to think of a getaway plan. But Lucy’s usual resourcefulness seemed to have taken a holiday. Every solution she came up with had a fatal flaw, such as wild animals mauling her or the police dragging her off to prison for cheating at cards.
I’m trapped here.
The thought made her feel panicky and very alone. If only her parents were more reliable. Shouldn’t they be coming up with a plan to rescue her? But then again, even if they came up with one, it probably wouldn’t work.
A rumbling noise interrupted Lucy’s musings. She looked up. The sky was an innocent blue, with not a single cloud in sight.
The rumbling rumbled more loudly.
It seemed to be coming from the front of the house. Lucy abandoned her wheelbarrow and clattered round to the main entrance to see what was going on. When she got there, everything looked as it usually did – the stone pillars at either side of the huge front door with its gleaming lion’s head knocker looked solid and upright. The gravel drive was neat and weed-free.The bushes that lined it were expertly trimmed into the shape of Lord Grave’s favourite animals, all thanks to Vonk.
The rumbling rumbled some more.
Then a slash appeared a few feet above the drive. It was as though someone had painted a bright ragged line in mid-air.
Lucy flung herself behind a rhinoceros-shaped topiary. Of course, she soon discovered that flinging oneself while wearing armour is a not very sensible course of action. She ended up lying in a tangled metal heap behind the rhino. Once she’d struggled into a crouching position, Lucy could see that the slash hanging above the drive had widened. Now it was more of a hole than a slash. Lucy could feel the rumbling coming from it. Her armour rattled.
Then, as the rumbling reached a crescendo, four horses pulling a black carriage galloped out of the hole. Their manes and tails were soft and fluffy, more like thistledown than horsehair. And there was something odd growing out of their shoulders. Lucy gawped as she realised they were wings – elegant, transparent wings, which reflected tiny beads of colour where the sunlight touched them.
Lucy cowered further behind the rhinoceros, her metal-gloved hand over her mouth.
Water
