see that poor creature put under the mould.
‘The Poor Murdered Woman’, traditional folk ballad
.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Ghul at the Window
Gimlet seemed amused at Josie’s outburst, which made her even more furious. She stamped around his cluttered studio, kicking offcuts of wood across the floor, hammering her fists on the arm of the sofa so hard that dust and horsehair flew out of the seams.
‘He was hideous, Gimlet!’ she cried. ‘How could a toady little boy like that help us find this Amarant?’
‘You got on like brother and sister, then?’ Gimlet said, smiling. ‘Don’t be too harsh on him, Josie. He’s had a difficult life. Wiggins is a kindly soul but not strong on discipline and Alfie’s grown up in a notorious area.’
‘Don’t be too harsh?’ Josie stared, clenching her fists. ‘He threw a dead toad at me and then frightened me half to death with an old woman’s corpse! And you’re telling me not to be too harsh?’
Gimlet opened his mouth to reply but the bell on the workshop door gave a muffled tinkle. He darted a glance at Josie, put a finger to his lips and padded over to the door.
‘Two old crones,’ he whispered, peering round the doorway. ‘Looks like those Aunts of yours. Didn’t you say there were three?’
Josie nodded. The anger drained from her and she could feel her face paling. A cold draught prickled her spine.
‘Better stay hidden. Crouch below the window there. If another one’s lurking about, she won’t see you.’ Gimlet stepped through into his workshop, clicking the door shut behind him.
‘Can I help you, ladies?’ said Gimlet. Josie could hear his voice through the door. He sounded cheerful and relaxed but she knew he wasn’t.
‘Mr Gimlet?’ Aunt Mag’s cracked voice drifted into the studio. Josie’s knees felt weak. She glanced around, wanting to run, hide – anything to escape the horror of that voice. ‘We are so sorry to bother you but we are relatives of the late Great Cardamom.’
‘My word. Cardamom? Passed away, you say?’ replied Gimlet. Josie shrank further below the window. ‘A great sadness. He was a good friend.’
A shadow caught Josie’s eye. She pressed herself against the cold wall. Above her was the dark shape of Aunt Jay at the window, her eyes glittering as she scanned Gimlet’s studio through the pane of glass. Josie bit her lip, trembling. The ghul was so close.
‘Which is why we knew that you’d share our tremendous concern,’ came the voice of Aunt Veronica through the door as Aunt Jay’s shadow, black and ugly, stretched across the opposite wall. ‘Sadly, the young girl for whom our late brother was guardian has gone missing.’
‘We are eager to find her.’ Aunt Mag’s voice grated on Josie’s ears. She froze as she saw Aunt Jay’s hooked nose and long fingernails scraping the windowpane, searching for an opening. ‘To fulfil our . . . obligations to her.’
‘She has some strange fancies and I fear that the burden of grief has quite turned her poor mind,’ continued Aunt Veronica. Josie screwed her eyes shut and tried to become one with the plaster of the wall. ‘She fled the house with no belongings and we wondered if she’d come to you.’
‘I’m sorry to say I can’t help you, ladies,’ said Gimlet. Aunt Jay rattled at the window frame, testing it. Josie stifled her sobs of terror. ‘I know Josie well and it concerns me that she may be out on the streets unprotected. I will make enquiries myself and if I hear anything I’ll contact you. Are you staying at Cardamom’s house?’
‘No,’ said Aunt Mag. ‘We will be in touch, Mr Gimlet. We’ll send word of where we are staying once we have made arrangements.’
The doorbell rattled again as they bustled out of the workshop. Aunt Jay’s dark shadow slid off the wall, leaving Josie shuddering on the floor.
Gimlet looked a shade paler when he returned. ‘I don’t think they were too convinced, Josie. That was a bit close for
‘The Poor Murdered Woman’, traditional folk ballad
.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Ghul at the Window
Gimlet seemed amused at Josie’s outburst, which made her even more furious. She stamped around his cluttered studio, kicking offcuts of wood across the floor, hammering her fists on the arm of the sofa so hard that dust and horsehair flew out of the seams.
‘He was hideous, Gimlet!’ she cried. ‘How could a toady little boy like that help us find this Amarant?’
‘You got on like brother and sister, then?’ Gimlet said, smiling. ‘Don’t be too harsh on him, Josie. He’s had a difficult life. Wiggins is a kindly soul but not strong on discipline and Alfie’s grown up in a notorious area.’
‘Don’t be too harsh?’ Josie stared, clenching her fists. ‘He threw a dead toad at me and then frightened me half to death with an old woman’s corpse! And you’re telling me not to be too harsh?’
Gimlet opened his mouth to reply but the bell on the workshop door gave a muffled tinkle. He darted a glance at Josie, put a finger to his lips and padded over to the door.
‘Two old crones,’ he whispered, peering round the doorway. ‘Looks like those Aunts of yours. Didn’t you say there were three?’
Josie nodded. The anger drained from her and she could feel her face paling. A cold draught prickled her spine.
‘Better stay hidden. Crouch below the window there. If another one’s lurking about, she won’t see you.’ Gimlet stepped through into his workshop, clicking the door shut behind him.
‘Can I help you, ladies?’ said Gimlet. Josie could hear his voice through the door. He sounded cheerful and relaxed but she knew he wasn’t.
‘Mr Gimlet?’ Aunt Mag’s cracked voice drifted into the studio. Josie’s knees felt weak. She glanced around, wanting to run, hide – anything to escape the horror of that voice. ‘We are so sorry to bother you but we are relatives of the late Great Cardamom.’
‘My word. Cardamom? Passed away, you say?’ replied Gimlet. Josie shrank further below the window. ‘A great sadness. He was a good friend.’
A shadow caught Josie’s eye. She pressed herself against the cold wall. Above her was the dark shape of Aunt Jay at the window, her eyes glittering as she scanned Gimlet’s studio through the pane of glass. Josie bit her lip, trembling. The ghul was so close.
‘Which is why we knew that you’d share our tremendous concern,’ came the voice of Aunt Veronica through the door as Aunt Jay’s shadow, black and ugly, stretched across the opposite wall. ‘Sadly, the young girl for whom our late brother was guardian has gone missing.’
‘We are eager to find her.’ Aunt Mag’s voice grated on Josie’s ears. She froze as she saw Aunt Jay’s hooked nose and long fingernails scraping the windowpane, searching for an opening. ‘To fulfil our . . . obligations to her.’
‘She has some strange fancies and I fear that the burden of grief has quite turned her poor mind,’ continued Aunt Veronica. Josie screwed her eyes shut and tried to become one with the plaster of the wall. ‘She fled the house with no belongings and we wondered if she’d come to you.’
‘I’m sorry to say I can’t help you, ladies,’ said Gimlet. Aunt Jay rattled at the window frame, testing it. Josie stifled her sobs of terror. ‘I know Josie well and it concerns me that she may be out on the streets unprotected. I will make enquiries myself and if I hear anything I’ll contact you. Are you staying at Cardamom’s house?’
‘No,’ said Aunt Mag. ‘We will be in touch, Mr Gimlet. We’ll send word of where we are staying once we have made arrangements.’
The doorbell rattled again as they bustled out of the workshop. Aunt Jay’s dark shadow slid off the wall, leaving Josie shuddering on the floor.
Gimlet looked a shade paler when he returned. ‘I don’t think they were too convinced, Josie. That was a bit close for
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