gasped. ‘You think he’s the scientist?’
‘He might be,’ Peg agreed. ‘He looks like a city sort.’
Mercy was keen to discuss it some more. But the episode had left me confused. Why on earth would a scientist be visiting my mother’s grave? I’d no idea. No idea at all. And right now my mind was too full to take it in.
Holding my hand, Peg led me across the grass to the spot where Mam lay.
‘It’s a small grave, but it’s proper nice. It’s got angel’swings on it, see?’ said Peg, placing my fingers on the headstone.
Slowly, I traced the curved lines. I tried to think of how pretty they must look, but all I felt was cold, rough stone. The churchyard smelled of rotting leaves, and from the dull light, I supposed we were right under trees. Poor Mam shouldn’t have been left somewhere this bleak; she should’ve been laid to rest in the sun.
Tears rolling down my face, I dropped to my knees. Peg knelt beside me, her elbow and hip pressed comfortingly against mine. We stayed like that until our legs ached and our skirts grew even damper.
‘All right?’ Peg asked me.
I sniffed. ‘Just about.’
Putting my hand out to push myself up, I felt something lying on the grass. It was a heavy, round, button-sized thing.
‘What’s this?’ I asked, holding it for the others to see.
‘That’s a brass button.’ Mercy breathed in sharply. ‘Or maybe it’s a gold one.’
‘Cor! Let me see!’ Peg said, leaning in close. ‘It’s got a shape on it, like a crest or something. It looks right expensive.’
‘I bet it belongs to that scientist man. It probably came off his cloak,’ I said, closing my fist around it.
‘He might come back for it,’ Mercy warned. ‘Or say he finds out you’ve got it and comes after you ?’
The crying had worked loose something knotted up inside of me, and I felt bolder because of it. The worst had already happened: we’d lost our mam. There wasn’t much left in the world to be scared of, and that included scientists and bellringers.
‘I want to know why he was visiting Mam’s grave,’ I said, dropping the button into my pocket for safekeeping. ‘So we’re going after him .’
11
The man had headed in the direction of the post office, so Mercy said. It was a short walk away across the green. Despite the building’s front window being of thick, watery glass, Mrs Henderson, who stood behind it, saw everything. Even if the stranger hadn’t gone inside, she’d still be able to tell us who he was.
Mercy was less enthusiastic. ‘You look tired, Lizzie. Why don’t we come back tomorrow?’
I pulled down my bonnet brim to hide my face.
‘I’m fine,’ I assured her.
Yet outside the shop my new-found courage faltered. The scent of horses was very strong; it was a sure sign the place was busy. Recalling those bellringers, I had a rush of nerves. Peg let go of my sweaty hand.
‘I’ll see if he’s in there, shall I, Lizzie?’
I didn’t know what to do. Perhaps we should come back tomorrow, like Mercy said. I might feel strongerby then. But before I could say so, the shop door opened, the bell above it jangling violently.
‘Uh-oh,’ Mercy muttered.
‘Is it the man?’ I asked, readying myself to speak with him.
The answer was an ear-splitting squeal from Peg.
‘Oh, Mrs Pringle!’ she cried. ‘They’re so lovely!’
Mrs Pringle was old and played the church organ rather badly. I’d no idea why Peg was greeting her like a long-lost friend.
‘Yes, yes, now if you’d step aside and let me pass,’ Mrs Pringle said, as if she was in a hurry to get away.
‘But you’ve got kittens in your basket, Mrs Pringle! You must let me see.’
Which explained everything.
‘The ginger one is a dear,’ Peg chattered on. ‘Da wouldn’t mind if I had one, would he, Lizzie?’
‘Umm … well … maybe …’ I didn’t suppose Da would mind. But it was painful to hear the excitement in Peg’s voice, when I couldn’t see the kittens for myself and
‘He might be,’ Peg agreed. ‘He looks like a city sort.’
Mercy was keen to discuss it some more. But the episode had left me confused. Why on earth would a scientist be visiting my mother’s grave? I’d no idea. No idea at all. And right now my mind was too full to take it in.
Holding my hand, Peg led me across the grass to the spot where Mam lay.
‘It’s a small grave, but it’s proper nice. It’s got angel’swings on it, see?’ said Peg, placing my fingers on the headstone.
Slowly, I traced the curved lines. I tried to think of how pretty they must look, but all I felt was cold, rough stone. The churchyard smelled of rotting leaves, and from the dull light, I supposed we were right under trees. Poor Mam shouldn’t have been left somewhere this bleak; she should’ve been laid to rest in the sun.
Tears rolling down my face, I dropped to my knees. Peg knelt beside me, her elbow and hip pressed comfortingly against mine. We stayed like that until our legs ached and our skirts grew even damper.
‘All right?’ Peg asked me.
I sniffed. ‘Just about.’
Putting my hand out to push myself up, I felt something lying on the grass. It was a heavy, round, button-sized thing.
‘What’s this?’ I asked, holding it for the others to see.
‘That’s a brass button.’ Mercy breathed in sharply. ‘Or maybe it’s a gold one.’
‘Cor! Let me see!’ Peg said, leaning in close. ‘It’s got a shape on it, like a crest or something. It looks right expensive.’
‘I bet it belongs to that scientist man. It probably came off his cloak,’ I said, closing my fist around it.
‘He might come back for it,’ Mercy warned. ‘Or say he finds out you’ve got it and comes after you ?’
The crying had worked loose something knotted up inside of me, and I felt bolder because of it. The worst had already happened: we’d lost our mam. There wasn’t much left in the world to be scared of, and that included scientists and bellringers.
‘I want to know why he was visiting Mam’s grave,’ I said, dropping the button into my pocket for safekeeping. ‘So we’re going after him .’
11
The man had headed in the direction of the post office, so Mercy said. It was a short walk away across the green. Despite the building’s front window being of thick, watery glass, Mrs Henderson, who stood behind it, saw everything. Even if the stranger hadn’t gone inside, she’d still be able to tell us who he was.
Mercy was less enthusiastic. ‘You look tired, Lizzie. Why don’t we come back tomorrow?’
I pulled down my bonnet brim to hide my face.
‘I’m fine,’ I assured her.
Yet outside the shop my new-found courage faltered. The scent of horses was very strong; it was a sure sign the place was busy. Recalling those bellringers, I had a rush of nerves. Peg let go of my sweaty hand.
‘I’ll see if he’s in there, shall I, Lizzie?’
I didn’t know what to do. Perhaps we should come back tomorrow, like Mercy said. I might feel strongerby then. But before I could say so, the shop door opened, the bell above it jangling violently.
‘Uh-oh,’ Mercy muttered.
‘Is it the man?’ I asked, readying myself to speak with him.
The answer was an ear-splitting squeal from Peg.
‘Oh, Mrs Pringle!’ she cried. ‘They’re so lovely!’
Mrs Pringle was old and played the church organ rather badly. I’d no idea why Peg was greeting her like a long-lost friend.
‘Yes, yes, now if you’d step aside and let me pass,’ Mrs Pringle said, as if she was in a hurry to get away.
‘But you’ve got kittens in your basket, Mrs Pringle! You must let me see.’
Which explained everything.
‘The ginger one is a dear,’ Peg chattered on. ‘Da wouldn’t mind if I had one, would he, Lizzie?’
‘Umm … well … maybe …’ I didn’t suppose Da would mind. But it was painful to hear the excitement in Peg’s voice, when I couldn’t see the kittens for myself and
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