Goodly and Grave in a Case of Bad Magic. Justine Windsor
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All the ghosties will be asleep,” she told him.
The two girls picked their way between the gravestones. Some were very old and spotted with lichen, their inscriptions faded. Violet pointed to a particularly decrepit one, which leaned over at an angle.
“Look, Lucy. When a gravestone’s all lopsided like that it means the person buried under it’s been trying to get out,” she said in a hushed voice, her eyes wide.
“Who told you that?” Lucy asked.
“Becky.”
Lucy sighed. Becky loved to tease and scare Violet. “That’s a load of rubbish! Don’t believe anything she says.”
They left the graveyard behind, and headed through the church gate out into Grave Village high street. It was a bustling place. People hurried to and fro across the cobbled pavements, and horses and carts rumbled along the road. There were plenty of shops to visit. There was a draper’s, where Violet’s mother worked as a seamstress; a candle-maker; a butcher’s and a greengrocer’s. There was also a shop called Busby’s Buns that sold confectionary and cakes. Violet immediately dragged Lucy to the window of this shop where all sorts of delicious indulgences were on display. There were buns oozing cream, tarts with glossy jewel-coloured fruit fillings, as well as chocolate-covered gingerbread men – Lucy’s favourite. Her mouth watered as she imagined the spicy-sweet taste of them.
“Shall we go in and spend our threepenny bits?” Violet asked. Mrs Crawley had generously given each of them one of the silver coins to buy themselves a treat.
“Let’s wait until we’ve done the shopping,” Lucy replied. “Where is it we have to go?”
“Surprising Supplies. The owner is Mrs Crawley’s cousin twice removed, isn’t she, Caruthers?”
Lucy wondered if Mrs Crawley’s cousin twice removed was a magician, but of course she couldn’t ask Violet this. “I’m guessing that means it’s an unusual sort of shop?”
“Ooh, yes. It sells some very odd things, like powdered worms and ants soaked in brandy,” Violet said, wrinkling her nose. “We have to go down that alleyway to get to it.”
Violet pointed to a narrow alley, which ran between the butcher’s shop and The Grave’s End, the village pub. There was a tall blonde girl, aged about sixteen, standing near the entrance to the alleyway. She was holding a violin, and a large, shaggy brown-and-white dog sat at her heels, panting. Its breath steamed in the cold air. The girl tucked her violin under her chin and began to play it as Lucy and Violet approached. The tune was a very popular one about a man deceived by his sweetheart. Violet began softly singing some of the words that accompanied it. “The mask she wore, the mask she wore, to hide herself from me …”
Lucy was about to enter the alleyway when Violet suddenly stopped singing and grabbed her sleeve, pulling her back.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Caruthers. He’s scared. It’s too dark down there.”
Lucy peered into the alleyway. It was rather narrow and gloomy. “What about all the times you’ve been here before? Caruthers wasn’t scared then, was he?”
Violet shook her head. “No, but that’s because Mrs Crawley was with us. She’s tall and strong. He felt safe with her.”
“We can hold hands if you’re scared, Violet.”
“I’m not scared,” Violet insisted. “It’s Caruthers. He doesn’t think I’m big enough to defend him from robbers.”
Lucy sighed. “What about if I look after Caruthers?”
“That’s a good idea. And we could hold hands, I suppose, to make him feel extra safe.”
Violet handed Caruthers to Lucy, who stuck the little knitted frog down the front of her cloak, so that only his button-eyed head peeped out. Then she took Violet’s hand and the two of them stepped into the alley. Although Lucy had been rather dismissive of Violet’s fears, she felt a prickle of unease as they left the autumn sunshine for the gloomy dankness of the alley. There were no cobbles to walk on and the ground was muddy underfoot. Lucy was glad she was wearing her sturdy winter boots, as there were filthy puddles to splash through.
They were halfway down the alley when they heard a noise.
“Awwww! Awwww!”
“What’s that?” Violet said, clutching Lucy’s arm.
“I don’t know.”
“We should go back!”
“Awwww! Awwww!”
“I think someone’s hurt,” Lucy said. She gathered her courage and ventured a little way further into the alley, with Violet still grasping her sleeve. A very strange sight soon met their eyes. A boy around the same age as Violet was sitting in one of the mucky pools of water, sobbing loudly. He had golden curly hair and a chubby, cherub-like face, which was streaked with dirt, as was his neck. His gaze flickered first towards Lucy, then to Violet.
“Miss, you’ve a kind face!” he said to her. “Please help me!”
“Oh, of course I will!” Violet said, her fear forgotten. She moved closer to the boy. “Whatever’s the matter? Are you hurt?”
“He stole my bun money!” the boy wailed. “I’ve been saving up for buns for my mum’s birthday tea. It’s taken me months. And he stole it! Awww! Awww!”
“Who did?” Lucy asked. She had to shout to be heard above the din. Although she felt sorry for the boy, the dreadful wailing was rather wearing on the ears.
“A big brute of a lad! And now there’ll be no buns for tea!”
“How horrid!” Violet replied. “But do stop crying. I’ve got threepence. You can have that to buy some buns.”
The boy looked up at her with a shocked expression on his face. It seemed he was unused to kindness. “Really?”
“Of course! Now, you should get up out of that puddle or your bottom will rot! Then you really will have problems!” Violet said. The serious expression on her face indicated she earnestly believed in bottom-rot.
The boy did as Violet suggested and stood up, muddy water dripping off the seat of his ragged trousers. Violet held out her silver threepenny coin to him.
“You’re so kind, miss. I wish I could give you summat in return.” He began patting the pockets of his jacket. Lucy frowned as she noticed something puzzling about him. His jacket didn’t match his raggedy trousers. It was new-looking and made of good, thick material. Perhaps he’d stolen it? But Lucy didn’t have time to dwell on this as by now the boy had found something in his pocket to give Violet. There was a flash of silver as he whipped out a knife.
The boy leaped at Violet, wielding his blade. He knocked her to the ground, then pinned her down by kneeling on her arms.
Violet shrieked wildly.
Lucy charged towards the boy, her fingers tingling with heat the way they had earlier that morning when she’d been practising magic with Lord Grave. Barely thinking about what she was doing, she drew her hand back and sent a flurry of attack sparks whizzing towards the boy’s exposed nape, just above his collar. The sparks struck their target perfectly.
The boy screamed in pain, clapping his hand over the back of his neck. Violet managed to free one of her arms and punched the boy. The punch didn’t have much power behind it, but it did land somewhere sensitive, and