‘He’s cooped up,’ said Dot. ‘I’d be sad too.’
‘He’s not sad,’ said Theodora, ‘he’s exploiting us. He’s living in my house for free while I’m so overworked I feel like I might drop dead at any moment.’
‘You don’t even pay him,’ said Rupert.
‘Which I think is illegal, honestly,’ said Dot.
‘Look at the two of you,’ said Theodora, wrapping her coat more firmly around herself. ‘Did you plan this attack? Why is it so bloody freezing out here? It’s the start of autumn, not the middle of winter for Saints’ sake. Regardless, I need Lio out of my house. He’s getting twitchier.’
They came up to the public telephone box, which was located beside the Collins Street police station. Black baubles once again dogged Dot’s vision, and she took hold of a nearby fence to stop herself from fainting. Rupert pulled open the door.
‘Coppers?’ Rupert asked, and Theodora handed him her purse.
‘You have to be careful,’ said Dot, concentrating very specifically on her shoes and noton the feeling offaintness. ‘They only recently had the phone put in and my mother was tricked by a man selling striped paint, so if it’s her who picks up, she’ll be distrusting.You’re a colleague of my Grandad, and you have to be vague.I don’t want her guessing this is me.’
‘You think his friends call him “Archie”?’ asked Rupert.
‘What else would they call him?’ asked Dot. ‘He’s only Archibald on his birth certificate.’
‘This’ll fall apart if he has some other nickname you don’t know about. Arch. Regie. Ray, you know.’
‘Just dial the number, Rupert,’ said Theodora, glaring at the telephone.
‘I hope it’s Celia who picks up,’ said the boy.
‘Oh,that’swhy you volunteered,’ said Dot, groaning. ‘I should never have told you about Celia.’
Theodora placed one finger to Rupert’s throat. A gentle flash of light came, and the scent of magic rose around them. Rupert coughed, and they heard his voice transposed into that of an old man, seventy instead of not yet seventeen.
‘I dare say, I sound rather dapper,’ said Rupert. The corners of Theodora’s mouth twitched. Rupert stuck his finger in the dial and turned it, and as he did Dot crouched, her back supported against the wooden box, looking down the street of gnarled, autumnal oak trees. Theodora stood with her hands on her hips, ignoring the telephone as if it were an old friend who had betrayed her. A newspaper blew before them and Dot spotted a title and byline.
SERIAL MURDERS ON THE RISE. FIVE FOUND DEAD IN ALLIASTER.
Dot was about to reach for the paper when Rupert exclaimed: ‘Hello! I’m calling to speak to Archie Walcott. Is he available? No? Oh, Celia is it?’ He flushed red. ‘Well, ah, l-lovely to make your verbal acquaintance, my dear. Oh – has he not returned? Do you know where he might soon be? No. No. I see. Are – are you quite sure?Well,hegave me this telephone number. No, Idoknow him. What do you mean, Celia?Everyoneknows how to use a telephone, including Archie, I am sure. My, you’re an inquisitive young lady – No? I know of no one by the name of Dorothy—’
Theodora took the phone from him and hung it up. She clicked her fingers, and Rupert’s voice was his own again.
‘She sounds pretty,’ he sighed.
‘What about Grandad?’ asked Dot as Theodora helped her up.
‘Out on the trawler,’ said Rupert. ‘Celia said that he sent thema letter a couple of months ago, telling them he’d be gone until perhaps the end of winter.’
The witch put her face in her hands.
Dot looked at her, suddenly remembering the overheard conversation in the kitchen.There is one other creature you could ask,Belchamber had said.
‘Theodora,’ said Dot, carefully. ‘I am sorry that I overheard you and Belchamber speaking that time, but didn’t he say that you knew another who could help?’
The witch glared up at the sky for one long moment.
Then, she groaned loudly.
‘I suppose there is truly nothing for it then,’ said Theodora. ‘I’ve contacted every scholar I know. I’ve scoured the university library. I’ve enquired with the spirits of the Ollianne Shrine. There is no one else, I fear, who may possess even the vaguest understanding of what is going on with your magic.’ Theodora put her hands on her hips. Bitterly, she said, ‘Fine. We’ll go to Hemmington’s.’
‘No,’ said Rupert, horrified. ‘Surely not tohim?’
‘To whom?’ asked Dot.
