Her white-blonde hair loose now, flowing over her shoulders like a river of moonlight.
Is that what scares you?she said, in that lilting accent of hers, as soft and musical as the wind.That you will remember, and it will not bring you peace?
She held out her hand to him, her fist clenched around something, streaking her knuckles white.
‘What if you have been wrong, all these years?’
She loosened each finger, one by one, revealing a slimy trail of weeds tangled in her palm, and he felt himself lurch, felt as though he were falling.
There was a voice at his ear, then – arealone – and a real hand upon his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to see a man in a black cap, a pipe clamped between his teeth.
‘Get away from me,’ said Damien, reaching to shove the man away, but finding nothing but air.
‘Easy,easy,’ said the figure – not a man at all, but a woman, her scratching voice quiet, her cropped black hair slicked back beneath a fraying flat cap. ‘I just wanna talk.’
Damien hauled himself to his feet, placing a steadying hand against the cool brick beside him. A headache had begun to simmer behind his eyes, and his jaw was throbbing in time with his thundering heart. He reached up to thread a finger along the graze there, wincing a little.
‘Well I don’t,’ he said. ‘So why don’t you wander back where you came from.’
The woman frowned at him, digging in her pockets for something. He heard the fizzle-flare of a match, smelled the sharp scent of tobacco as it filled the air. ‘You don’t sound like you’re from ‘ere.’
‘Neither do you,’ murmured Damien. ‘Let me guess … London?’
The woman nodded, blowing a thin thread of smoke between her teeth. ‘You went to see that woman, dint ya? The one from the posters?’
Damien’s gaze slid to her, his eyebrows furrowing. ‘You followed me?’
‘Iobserved,’ the woman corrected, puffing a ring of smoke towards his face. ‘Followingsuggests some connotations I’d rather not entertain. But observing? Now, that’s perfectly legal. Above board. And as I happened to bewalking down Park Lane, Iobservedyou waiting outside her door.’
‘How very timely,’ said Damien, pushing himself away from the brick, and stepping onto the street. It was early enough that only the milkman was out, a single horse-drawn cart rattling down the road, the metal pails of milk clanging together. ‘What else did you observe?’
‘Some conversing, between the two of you,’ said the woman. ‘Then she went back inside, and you walked towards the docks.’
Damien cursed his own foolishness under his breath. He should have noticed if someone had followed him. He should have been more careful – but he’d been distracted.
And thatwasdangerous.
‘Why don’t we forgo the semantics,’ Damien said, his voice cold now. ‘And cut straight to the part where you tell me why you’ve been following me?’
The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘’Cause I know someone who’d like to give you a job. You interested?’
Damien’s dark eyebrows lifted. ‘What kind of job?’
‘That’s for Miss Lillian to say,’ said the woman, tucking her hands back into her pockets, and turning on her heel. ‘Come on. It’ll be decent coin.’
Damien frowned, puzzled.
And then he followed.
The woman led Damien to Williamson Square, and into one of the white-stone buildings that flanked it. The sign above readThe Penny Farthing Theatre, though the paint had begun to chip from some of the words, so that Damien’s mind had first read it asThe Enny Thing Theatre, and wondered what devilish kinds of shows would be on display here.
‘Don’t mention Miss Lillian’s cane,’ the woman muttered, pulling him up the few stone steps and through the creakingoak door. ‘Don’t ask why she has it, don’t ask if it hurts – in fact, best to pretend you don’t even see it.’
‘Splendid,’ said Damien. ‘Now all I shall want to do is ask.’
‘Let’s see if you feel that way once you meet the one carrying it,’ said the woman, beckoning Damien through a doorway at the far end of the lobby, down twisting corridors and up two flights of stairs until they reached the very top floor of the theatre.
Morning light filtered through the high windows in neat circles, and Damien counted each one as they walked. ‘Wait here,’ the woman said, pushing open the door at the far end, and pointing to the rather uncomfortable-looking wooden chair on one side of the desk. ‘Miss Lillian will be up in just a moment.’
