Swift

  Ivy sat up with a start, the blood draining from her face. That was where her mother had been all these years? Surely he must be pranking her. She opened her mouth, but Molly spoke first:

  ‘Dance and theatre? Really? Can I come with you?’ She must have noticed Richard’s dubious look, for she went on quickly, ‘Mum lets me go to Truro on the bus sometimes, as long as I take my mobile and promise to call her when I’m coming home. And she likes it better when I’m out of the house anyway. She won’t say no if I tell her I’m going with friends. Please.’

  Richard glanced at Ivy, but she was too choked with hurt and anger to reply. So her mother had abandoned her family to go dancing after all – not with the faeries, but with the humans. No wonder Richard had kept this from her.

  But why was he telling her now? Did he think it was safe to reveal Marigold’s secret because Ivy had already committed herself, because she needed her mother’s help too badly to walk away? He was right about that, but she hated the thought that he’d manipulated her so easily – and that she’d been fool enough to let him.

  ‘You never told me what she was doing,’ she accused, when she could speak. ‘Did she ask you not to? Or was it your idea to keep me in the dark?’

  Richard’s jaw tightened, and she could see she’d offended him. But he said only, ‘I don’t think this is the time to discuss it.’ Turning to Molly, he continued, ‘I know we’re in your debt. But I don’t think it’s a good idea. As you can see, Ivy’s a little sensitive at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, and now it’s my fault?’ exclaimed Ivy. How dare he make her seem ungrateful for Molly’s kindness? ‘I apologise,’ she said hastily to Molly, who had turned pale and then very red. ‘If there’s anything else we can do to repay you, I’d be glad to know of it. It’s only—’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ Molly said, her eyes on Richard. ‘I won’t interfere in your faery – or piskey – business. But if you had any idea what mum’s been like…’ A spasm of anger distorted her face. ‘Never mind. I suppose that’s all just human business to you.’ She leaped up from the bucket and ran out.

  ‘Wait—’ Ivy called, but Molly had already slammed the door behind her.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Richard. ‘She’ll be all right by tomorrow. And so will you, once you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.’

  Ivy bristled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I told you your mother was at a dance school,’ he said. ‘If I thought that was some kind of dark secret, I wouldn’t have said it. I’ve never lied to you yet, Ivy. Not that I expect you to be impressed by that, but you should be, because I’m one of the few faeries who can.’ He pushed himself upright and went to the window. ‘Marigold will explain everything when you see her – tomorrow. Tonight, you need to rest.’

  ‘I’m not tired.’ Ivy spoke crisply, to deny the embarrassment crawling inside her. Perhaps she had leaped to the wrong conclusion, and perhaps she was being unfair – but she hated being so vulnerable, so easily caught off guard. ‘Why can’t we go to Truro right now?’

  ‘Because you’re not ready to fly again, even if you think you are.’ His hands tightened on the windowsill. ‘Do you have any idea how damaged your body must have been, to need two complete healings in a day?’

  The reminder of how much she owed him shamed her, but she was determined not to let it hold her back. ‘All right, then we’ll fly slowly. But I’m not staying here.’

  He gave an exasperated growl and pushed himself around to face her. ‘Why are you always so stubborn? What are you trying to prove?’

  ‘Cicely needs me!’ she shouted at him. ‘She’s out there somewhere, and she’s scared and she’s hurting, and nobody’s going to find her if I—’

  Richard cut her off with a gesture – literally so, because though Ivy’s mouth kept moving no sound came out. ‘Quiet down,’ he said. ‘Or Molly’s mother will hear us.’ He held her gaze until she gave a sullen nod, then gestured again to remove the spell and went on, ‘I know you want to find your sister. But you’re not going to help her by killing yourself.’

  So not only did he see her as sickly and fragile, he thought her too witless even to realise how weak she was. No wonder he’d taken such pains to protect her. ‘I’m not stupid,’ she retorted, barely controlling her fury. ‘I know what I’m capable of.’

  ‘If that were true,’ Richard said, ‘we wouldn’t be here right now. It took a lot of power to heal you, and I’m not going to let all that effort go to waste. So stop behaving like a petulant child, and lie down.’

  Ivy’s fists clenched. ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘Then I’ll knock you out myself.’

  He would, too. She could see it in his face. ‘Fine,’ Ivy said bitterly. ‘I’ll do as you say. For now.’

  ‘Good,’ said Richard, and turned away.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out,’ he replied shortly. ‘Don’t wait up for me.’ Then he was gone, and in his place was a little black-and-white bird. It flashed around Ivy, lighted on the windowsill to fix her with one coldly glittering eye, then flew away.

  With her mind still raging at Richard, her clothing stiff with mud and nothing but a thin layer of horsey-smelling blankets beneath her, Ivy didn’t expect to sleep well that night. But once she’d made herself small and dragged a piece of sacking over herself for protection, she dropped into a deep slumber almost at once.

  Still, it seemed only a short time before the door to the barn creaked, and Ivy’s eyes opened to the first pale light of morning. The horses stamped and neighed, and Ivy got up quickly, thinking it must be Molly coming in. But then among the earthy smells of grass and manure she caught a thread of an unfamiliar scent. Surely Molly had never smelled like that, all drenched in musk and strange spices? Ivy crept to the corner and peered around it, keeping small so as not to attract notice.

  A woman stood before the second box, fitting a bridle over the grey mare’s head. She wore trousers and a fitted jacket, and her auburn hair curved smoothly against the nape of her neck. Her skin was pale as cream, far lighter than Molly’s. Still, she had the same upturned nose and determined chin, and there could be no doubt she was the human girl’s mother.

  The mare snorted and shied as her mistress led her out into the corridor, but the woman kept a firm hand on the bridle until the horse settled again. She lifted the saddle onto her back and cinched the strap tight, then led the mare into the yard. Keeping to the shadows, Ivy crept to the door and watched as Molly’s mother swung herself up into the saddle and cantered off.

  To ride like that must be glorious, thought Ivy with a tinge of envy. She retreated to the far end of the barn and sat down again, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. There was no sign of Richard yet, but surely he’d return soon.

  ‘Hello?’ came Molly’s voice from the other end of the barn, and Ivy jumped to her feet. The sun had fully risen now, slipping its golden fingers between the shutters, and the place was growing stuffy with its warmth.

  ‘I’m here,’ Ivy said, her mouth watering at the rich, buttery scent rising from the paper sack Molly carried. Even after finishing off most of last night’s provisions she felt as hungry as she’d ever been in her life, and when the human girl offered her the bag she took it eagerly.

  Molly glanced about the barn and frowned. ‘Where’s, er, Richard?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Ivy said. ‘I thought he’d be back by now.’ She took out a pastry and bit into it. It tasted as delicious as it smelled. ‘I saw your mother a little while ago.’

  Molly’s face became hard and closed – a strangely old look on her still-young face. ‘Oh,’ was all she said, and then she turned away and picked up Dodger’s currying combs.

  Ivy finished two pastries and a generous piece of cheese before forcing herself to stop – Richard would probably be hungry as well, when he returned. It seemed odd that he’d been gone so long, but after their quarrel, she could hardly blame him for wanting to sle
ep elsewhere. She still resented some of the things he’d said to her, but she hadn’t exactly been fair to him either, and she hoped he’d come back soon so they could both apologise and move on.

  ‘The food was very good,’ she said to Molly. ‘I appreciate it.’

  Molly paused in her combing, and her set expression relaxed. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, and went back to brushing the horse again. There was a long silence while Ivy wondered what to say next, but then Molly spoke without looking up:

  ‘My mum didn’t used to ride much. But lately she’s been taking Duchess out all the time. I asked her once if I could ride with her, but she said no, she needed time to herself.’ Her voice turned acid on the last two words, and her hand clenched in Dodger’s mane. ‘Like she doesn’t get plenty of that already. Sometimes I wonder why she even bothered to have me.’

  Ivy was silent.

  ‘Sorry.’ Molly rubbed her face against her forearm. ‘You don’t want to hear all that human stuff. It’s just…it gets hard sometimes, not having anyone to talk to. I mean, I have friends, but…’

  Ivy felt an ache of sympathy. She knew all too well what it was like to wonder if her parents cared. And though she had friends in the Delve, the things she’d done and been through in the past week were more than she could expect any of them, even Jenny or Mattock, to understand. ‘You don’t need to apologise,’ she said. ‘I know what you mean.’

  Molly gave her a watery smile. Ivy smiled back – and suddenly felt happier than she had in a long time. It was good to feel that she’d brought the human girl a little comfort, however small.

  Yet she couldn’t stay here much longer, even for Molly’s sake. ‘I’m going to look for Richard,’ Ivy said. ‘I’ll be back.’ Then she changed to swift-form and flashed out the open door.

  The yard dropped away beneath her, the low rectangles of the barn and cottage receding with it. She shot westward, passing over hedge-bordered fields and patches of woodland, bare ridges and grassy valleys, clusters of human dwellings and dark ribbons of paved road. Other birds flapped or flitted across her path, some much larger than she was and others smaller, but nowhere did she see a bird with Richard’s distinctive markings. Where could he have gone?

  Ivy circled to the east, rising higher as her sharp eyes searched the air. Perhaps he was already on his way back to the barn, and she’d just missed him. Surely there was no reason to worry…

  And yet she did. Because deep inside her, an instinct as sure as her sense of direction told Ivy that Richard ought to have returned a long time ago. And that if she didn’t find him there when she returned, then he wasn’t coming back at all.

  eleven

  Ivy paced the barn floor, her emotions an agonising spiral of impatience, confusion, and worry. What could have happened to Richard? Had he been captured? Hurt? Perhaps even killed?

  ‘I don’t think he’s the sort to take risks unless he has to,’ said Molly, when Ivy voiced her fears. ‘If you’d heard the way he talked the first time he was here, especially when he was ill…he doesn’t fancy himself as a hero.’ She stroked Dodger’s nose as the brown horse lipped the last fragments of apple from her palm. ‘I think he might just have decided it was time to go.’

  But he promised my mother, Ivy protested silently. He said he’d bring me to her if he could.

  And yet, surely Richard had done far more than Marigold had expected of him already? He’d risked his life, and nearly lost it, delivering her message. He’d done the near-impossible, by teaching her wingless daughter to fly. And if that weren’t enough, he’d saved Ivy’s life twice over, just to bring her this far.

  No wonder he’d been so frustrated by Ivy’s stubbornness last night, her seeming ingratitude. No wonder he’d flown off to cool his temper – and if he’d decided in the end that it wasn’t worth coming back, who could blame him?

  ‘You’re probably right,’ Ivy replied, though there was a knot in the middle of her chest that wouldn’t go away. Perhaps Richard considered himself well rid of her, but she wished she’d had the chance to say goodbye.

  ‘Well, anyway,’ said Molly, wiping her hands and tossing the rag aside, ‘my mum’s gone to the grocer’s and she won’t be back for a while. Why don’t you come inside and get cleaned up, and I’ll make you some tea?’

  Ivy ran a hand through her filthy hair. She longed to accept Molly’s invitation, but part of her feared to take the risk. If Molly’s mother returned unexpectedly and found an oddly dressed stranger in the house, there was no telling what might happen.

  Yet Ivy could hardly go to Truro covered in dirt and bloodstains, either. And if Richard didn’t show up in the next hour or so, going on without him was exactly what Ivy would have to do.

  ‘Yes, please,’ Ivy said. ‘I’d like that very much.’

  Such a strange place to live, thought Ivy as she followed Molly into the cottage. The tunnels and caverns of the Delve had rounded ceilings and gently bowed-out walls, but everything here was sharp angles, like the inside of a box. Instead of displaying the beauty and solidity of the surrounding stones, the humans had covered them with plaster and paint. And there were windows everywhere she turned, which made her feel exposed and self-conscious.

  ‘Here you are,’ said Molly, leading her to a white-tiled room crowded with unfamiliar shapes. ‘Leave your clothes outside the door, and I’ll—’

  ‘Wait,’ said Ivy. ‘Where do I bathe?’ She could see no water-channel where she could splash her face and hands, or a pool she could pump full and step into. There was a little bit of standing water in one basin, but she couldn’t imagine trying to get clean with it.

  Molly broke into a grin. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’ she said, and Ivy would have been embarrassed, except that the other girl looked so delighted by her ignorance. ‘Well, if you want to have a proper soak you can use the tub, right here. First you put in the plug, and then you turn the taps like this. And you can use this towel to dry off after.’ She started the water running, poured in some liquid that made it froth and bubble, then waved cheerfully to Ivy and shut the door.

  There was one alarming moment when Ivy couldn’t figure out how to make the water stop, but she managed to solve the mystery just in time. Soon she was blessedly clean, and shaking out her damp curls as she dressed in the clothes Molly had left for her. First came a turquoise blouse with short sleeves and a softly gathered neckline, then a pair of dark blue breeches that came halfway to her knee – both of them too wide for Ivy’s slight frame, but once she’d pulled the belt tight they fitted well enough. She hung up the towel, drained the bath, and went out.

  She found Molly in the kitchen, pouring tea into two flower-painted cups. The other girl had set out a plate of split buns with butter, strawberry preserves and clotted cream, and as soon as Ivy came in she pulled out a chair for her. ‘I could cut up some cheese as well, if you like,’ she said. ‘Or make watercress sandwiches.’

  ‘This is lovely,’ said Ivy, reaching for the butter-knife. She had loaded up one of the splits and taken a bite – they were as good as anything Mattock could make – when Molly spoke again:

  ‘So how are you going to find your relative, if Richard doesn’t come back? Have you been to Truro before?’

  The food caught in Ivy’s throat, and she had to take a sip of tea to ease it down. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure I’ll find her somehow.’ Though since she had no idea where the dance school was or what it looked like, it might take a while.

  ‘Oh,’ said Molly. ‘And when will you be leaving?’

  Ivy’s hands tightened around her teacup, seeking its comforting warmth. There was a hollow feeling inside her, and she realised that she’d given up hoping that Richard would return. ‘As soon as I’m done here,’ she said.

  ‘And this relative of yours…’ began Molly, then stopped and gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, I’m asking too many questions again, aren’t I?’

  Guilt stirred in Ivy. This girl had been so kind to her,
and asked for so little in return. Was it really fair to leave her in the dark?

  ‘It’s my mother,’ she said. ‘She disappeared five years ago, and I never knew what had happened to her. Until I met Richard, and he told me she was alive, and wanted to see me.’

  ‘And she’s been in Truro all this time?’ Molly frowned. ‘That’s a bit odd, isn’t it? If she wanted to see you, why didn’t she come and find you herself?’

  She was right, of course. No matter how hard Ivy tried to rationalise it, that was the one thing about her mother’s story that had never made sense. ‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘Perhaps there’s a reason, but I won’t know until I see her. The problem is—’

  She was about to tell her about Cicely, but a crackling noise from the front of the cottage interrupted her. ‘That’s my mum’s car!’ Molly exclaimed, snatching Ivy’s teacup out of her hand. ‘Quick – hide in my bedroom. Third door on the right.’

  There had to be a better plan, but Ivy didn’t have time to think of one. She ran down the corridor to the room Molly had indicated, darted inside and shoved the door closed behind her. Heart drumming, she pressed her ear to the wood and waited.

  ‘Mum!’ exclaimed Molly brightly from the kitchen. ‘I was just making lunch. Would you like some?’

  ‘It looks more like tea to me,’ the woman replied, disapproval in her tone. ‘What a mess you’ve made! But I suppose. Go and get the other bags from the boot for me, please.’

  ‘Right,’ Molly said, and the front door banged in her wake. Ivy kept her ear to the wood, afraid to move. What if Molly’s mother guessed that her daughter had not been here alone? What if she came looking for the intruder? But no footsteps sounded in the corridor, and at last Ivy relaxed. She let her hands slide from the door, turned – and her lips parted in amazement.

  Molly’s bedroom was full of faeries.

  Printed on the coverlet and the draperies, etched on ornaments dangling from the ceiling, framed in wood or casually stuck to the wall, pictures of the Small People were everywhere. Faery dolls of all sizes formed a teetering pile in the corner, and the shelf beside the window was cluttered with little statues of them, from a glass-winged faery in pewter to a pottery piskey with a look as mischievous as Keeve’s…