The Monsters of Rookhaven, стр. 24

for years. When she’d got sick the Allisons had simply let her go. They never sent her anything. They never asked after her. When she died only Tom and Jem were at her funeral. Afterwards they would see old Mr Allison with his finely coiffured silver hair being driven around town by his chauffeur, nose in the air and with the look of a man who didn’t have to deal with the paltry things in life.

His car had been burned out months later. No one knew who did it, apart from Jem, and she never spoke to Tom about it.

‘Think of it, Jem,’ Tom said now, nodding furiously as if that alone might persuade her. ‘Think of all the stuff they have here.’

‘They have nothing,’ said Jem. ‘And even if they did we’re their guests.’

Tom wheeled away from her in disgust. He leaned against the table and started cramming grapes into his mouth.

‘They have plenty,’ he said sulkily. ‘Look at this. They don’t even have to worry about rationing. They’ve got all this food. More than they need.’

‘Whatever else they have, we have no right to take it.’

Tom looked at her. ‘You weren’t saying that when we robbed that butcher’s in Fulham a few months back.’

Jem felt the heat as her cheeks became pink.

‘Or that time when we snaffled those pies from that shop on Denmark Street.’

‘This is different.’

‘How?’

Because I have a friend now, thought Jem. I have a real friend. Someone strange, but someone nice. Someone who trusts me, and I trust her.

She thought these things, but didn’t say them. To say them might invite derision from Tom, and even thinking them made her feel exposed, yet also stronger than she’d felt in a long time. It was a jumble of emotions she just couldn’t tease out. She decided the best thing was to explain nothing.

‘It just is,’ said Jem, feeling slightly foolish. She hated feeling like that, as if Tom somehow was in the right and she wasn’t.

Tom coughed again.

‘You need to get back into bed,’ said Jem.

Tom scowled at her, but he didn’t resist when she took him by the elbow and led him over to the bed. She spotted the medicine bottle on his bedside locker.

‘Have you been taking your medicine?’

‘Yes,’ he said, his tone surly.

He clambered into bed.

‘You should take some more,’ said Jem, unscrewing the bottle and pouring out a spoonful.

‘It makes me drowsy,’ Tom complained.

Jem held the spoon towards him. Tom rolled his eyes, but he let her put the spoon in his mouth.

‘Do you want me to fluff up your pillow?’ she said.

Tom scowled again, but she could see him trying to fight a smile. He settled back and closed his eyes.

Jem was ravenous. She sat at the table and had some food while Tom drifted off. She ate a peach and some grapes, and then followed that with a bacon sandwich and some ginger ale. She’d never tasted food like it. Years of rationing and being fed scraps by her uncle meant she’d never had anything this delicious before. It was heavenly. She was just finishing up when her attention was drawn to the door. She thought she heard something. A sound like someone whispering outside.

For a moment she couldn’t move. Her heart started to pound, but she took some deep breaths to calm herself and then went towards the door.

She reached out and turned the handle slowly.

The door opened. It was dark in the hallway, but it was also empty. Jem let out a sigh of relief.

You shouldn’t be out here, said a voice on the air.

Jem flinched.

It’s not safe. You should stay in your room.

Jem could barely move. Her heart thudded again, beating faster and faster.

She somehow found the strength to edge back into the room and slam the door shut behind her.

She lay against it for a moment, panting and trembling, trying to calm herself. She almost hopped out of her skin when she heard another voice.

‘Something nice and tasteful. That’s all I’m asking.’

She looked at the bed where Tom lay with his eyes closed and a half-smile on his face. He was clasping the candlestick gently against his chest.

‘Just something nice . . .’ he murmured.

His features slackened as he fell into a deeper sleep. Jem exhaled again.

She was still trembling slightly when she climbed under the blanket a few moments later to go to sleep. She was thinking about that voice she’d heard outside the room. Although she hadn’t heard it exactly. Instead it had felt as if the voice had somehow invaded her mind. But there had been no one in the hallway. Only a solitary spider hanging from the ceiling just above her head.

Though she could have sworn it was looking right at her.

Mirabelle

‘I showed her around,’ said Mirabelle.

She was standing in Uncle Enoch’s study with her arms folded. Enoch was sitting behind his desk perusing some papers covered in arcane symbols and runes. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.

‘Really? How very kind of you, Mirabelle.’

Mirabelle stuck her chin out defiantly.

‘I showed her everywhere. I showed her the Room of Lights. I took her to feed the flowers. I even showed her the Room of Knives. I told her all about the Family.’

Enoch sighed. ‘Mirabelle, I have quite a bit of work to do concerning the Glamour, and this—’

‘They’re not from the village, but that doesn’t mean we should turn our backs on them. We shouldn’t turn our backs on anybody who needs our help. And nobody should have to put up with the likes of Daisy.’

She stopped talking because Enoch was staring at her now, a curious expression on his face.

He stood up slowly and went to the window and looked out with his hands clasped behind his back. A moment passed. Mirabelle could feel the tension and silence begin to swell, until finally Enoch spoke.

‘You’re right, you know; we shouldn’t turn