The Monsters of Rookhaven, стр. 13
Mirabelle was heading towards the front door when she saw the girl.
‘Hello,’ said Jem, looking a little lost and nervous.
‘Hello, Jem,’ said Mirabelle brightly.
Jem gestured around her with a finger. ‘I was just walking . . . I didn’t . . .’
Mirabelle nodded. ‘That’s okay. We can’t expect you to be cooped up in your room all day.’
Both girls looked at each other across the hallway. There was an awkward silence.
‘How’s your brother? How’s Tom?’ asked Mirabelle. ‘Sleeping.’
Mirabelle nodded. ‘Good.’
Mirabelle was pleased to see Jem smile a little at that. It was a shy smile, but a smile all the same.
‘It’s delivery day. Come and meet Freddie,’ said Mirabelle.
‘Yes, come and meet Freddie,’ said Daisy, her transparent head suddenly sliding out from the wall to Jem’s left.
Jem recoiled and shrieked, almost tripping over her own feet in fright.
Daisy stepped out from the wall, became fully corporeal and pouted at Jem.
‘Aw, diddums, aw we afwaid?’
Mirabelle clenched her fists and hissed, ‘Stop that, Daisy. She’s a guest.’
Daisy raised an eyebrow as she looked at Mirabelle.
‘Our guest? She’s no better than an intruder. Intruders shouldn’t be welcomed. They should be punished.’
Mirabelle saw the fear on Jem’s face.
Mirabelle advanced on Daisy. ‘You leave her alone. If you don’t, I’ll throw you in with Piglet.’
Mirabelle felt a warm twinge of pleasure as she saw Daisy’s mouth twitch.
‘You wouldn’t.’
Now it was Mirabelle’s turn to raise an eyebrow.
Daisy pointed at Mirabelle for Jem’s benefit. ‘She can’t sleep. She can’t eat. And this is her only aspect. She can’t even turn into something interesting, or do anything useful like walk through walls. She’s worse than your kind. She’s so boring.’
Jem looked completely confused by all this.
Everything Daisy said was true, but that didn’t make the sting of the words any less harsh to Mirabelle. The rest of the Family each had at least one discernible talent, whether it was turning into a bear like Uncle Bertram, or Odd’s ability to travel wherever he wanted to in the blink of an eye. The others also had at least two aspects to their appearance. Eliza could take human form, while at rest she was a swarm of spiders. Even the twins could change their appearance. Mirabelle had nothing. She’d looked the same ever since she’d emerged from the Ether.
Mirabelle took a deep breath, and was about to say something to Daisy, but was interrupted as a panting Dotty stepped out of the opposite wall.
‘Found you!’ she shouted, pointing at Daisy.
Mirabelle brushed past Daisy and took Jem by the elbow.
‘We’re coming with you,’ Daisy called after her.
‘No, you’re not,’ said Mirabelle. ‘It’s daytime – you should be sleeping. Besides, you don’t have your pendant.’
‘But we wanted to see the visitor,’ she whined. ‘We couldn’t help it. We wanted to see.’
‘We smelled her,’ said Dotty, exchanging a sly grin with Daisy.
Mirabelle flashed them both a warning look and turned away with Jem.
‘How can they do that? How they can they move through walls?’ whispered Jem. She still looked a little shaken.
‘It’s their talent,’ said Mirabelle.
‘A talent?’ she said, looking back warily over her shoulder.
‘Yes, we all . . . well, most everyone in the house has a talent. I’ll explain later. Let me introduce you to Freddie.’
She tried to put Daisy’s earlier words about her lack of any special gifts to the back of her mind as she gently urged Jem towards the main door.
The sun was shining outside, and there was a cream-coloured van parked close to the door. The van had the name ‘Fletcher’s’ painted on it, although the brown lettering had faded in some places. The van belonged to Mr Fletcher, the local butcher. Along with Dr Ellenby, Mr Fletcher and his son were the main points of contact between Mirabelle’s family and the human village.
Uncle Enoch was deep in conversation with Mr Fletcher himself. Fletcher was a bald, bull-necked, barrel-chested man, shorter than Enoch, but no less intimidating. To Mirabelle he looked like a volcano perpetually on the brink of eruption, rubbing his thumbs against his fingers, twitching as though he suspected someone might be making a casual slight against him. He hadn’t always been like this. Mirabelle remembered him before the war. He’d been different then.
Freddie was at the back of the van loading cardboard boxes onto a hand trolley. He was thirteen years old, lean and wiry. He tended to keep his head down and his shoulders hunched, as if always expecting a blow.
‘That’s Freddie,’ said Mirabelle to Jem.
‘Fweddie Weddie,’ said Daisy, suddenly sashaying balletically in front of Mirabelle, waggling her own stone pendant in Mirabelle’s face.
Mirabelle wrinkled her nose. ‘Behave, Daisy.’
She noticed Mr Fletcher suddenly turn to look at Jem, before he and Enoch continued their discussion.
‘They’re talking about me,’ said Jem, fiddling with her cuff again.
Mirabelle thought about lying to her to make her feel better, but decided against it.
‘Yes, they are,’ said Mirabelle, ‘but they’re also talking about the Glamour.’
Jem looked confused.
‘The Glamour is the magical barrier that protects our home from the outside world. Only Dr Ellenby has the key. He gives it to Mr Fletcher every delivery day. That way he can enter. You and Tom came in through a tear in the Glamour’s fabric located right at the spot where Mr Fletcher usually unlocks the way in. Uncle Enoch thinks the magic there has become worn, like the handle of an old door that’s been open and shut over too many years,’ said Mirabelle.
‘Magic?’ said Jem, looking a little stunned.
‘Yes,’ said Mirabelle, realizing the enormity of what this meant for Jem.
‘Magic, I never would have imagined . . . it just seems so . . .’
She was interrupted by Dotty who came over and cupped a hand to Mirabelle’s ear and whispered something.
The three girls looked at Jem’s feet and her tattered brown shoes. Mirabelle felt guilty when she saw the look of embarrassment on Jem’s face.
‘You’re standing on Great-uncle Cornelius.’
It was clear that Jem had