Somebody Stop Ivy Pocket (18 page)

‘Did you not wonder where she was all day?’

‘My daughter was rather clever and I was rather busy,’ said Mother Snagsby with some pride. ‘She told me she was reading to an invalid cousin across town and as she was that sort of girl, I believed her.’

‘Then who is Anastasia Radcliff?’

‘I should think that is perfectly obvious – Gretel gave a different name to avoid detection.’

Which made perfect sense. But not completely.

‘When Sebastian’s family began looking for him, why did you not tell them the truth about who Anastasia really was? Surely that would have put their minds at ease.’

‘I did not wish to mire the Snagsby name in scandal. What good would have come of it?’

That really only left one question. And it was of the most important variety.

‘What happened to Gretel and Sebastian?’

‘The young man’s family disapproved most strongly of the match, as did I.’ Mother Snagsby closed her eyes briefly. ‘They were from two different worlds and had no business being together. As you might imagine, young love is hard to snuff out
and they fled in the night without leaving so much as a note.’ She let out a huff that seemed to signify our conversation was over. ‘And now you know everything.’

I found myself looking with astonishment at Mother Snagsby. ‘Don’t you wonder where they are?’

‘What would be the use? I trust they are content with their choices and … and that they have found peace.’

‘It must be a thrill to know that Gretel is with her one true love.’

Mother Snagsby rubbed her brow. ‘Yes, it is a great comfort.’

Then she mumbled something about pressing business matters, and shooed me from the room.

The girl arrived unannounced on Friday morning. Which was horrendously impolite. But also perfectly timed.

‘You are alone?’

‘Utterly,’ I said, offering her Ezra’s favourite chair by the bookcase. It was positioned at an angle, facing away from the mantel – which suited my needs.

‘I do apologise,’ said Estelle, taking off her hat, ‘but as I was in the neighbourhood visiting friends, I thought I would drop by and see if you were at home. I was rather worried that I had
scared you off yesterday – my great-uncle gave me a thorough scolding when you left.’

‘You did seem slightly crackers,’ I said, plopping down on a seat opposite her.

Estelle kept glancing at the door. ‘Your parents are out?’

‘Yes, thank heavens.’ Ezra was at the blacksmith having his tools sharpened, Mother Snagsby was running errands in town and Mrs Dickens had the morning off.

‘And your cook from the Congo?’

‘Drowned in a bucket of glue,’ I told her. ‘Happened last night. We’re completely heartbroken as he left no instructions for lunch.’

The faintest of smirks appeared on the girl’s face, but it quickly faded. ‘I confess I was hoping to speak with you again about Sebastian.’

‘Well, dear, after a great deal of deduction, snooping and tomfoolery, I have made a most thrilling discovery on that front.’

The girl was now perched on the very edge of her seat, her cheeks aglow. ‘What is it, Ivy? Oh, please tell me!’

‘Anastasia Radcliff is not the villain you suppose her to be. In fact, Anastasia Radcliff is not even her name.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me at all,’ said the girl coldly. ‘My mother spent a great deal of money tracing her background and
could find no family connections in all of England. When a girl wishes to hide her shameful past and win a rich husband, it stands to reason she would use an alias.’

‘Actually, your brother fell in love with a kind-hearted girl who only wanted to do good in the world.’

‘Kind-hearted?’ Estelle’s frown was most fetching. ‘After what she did to my brother, I am shocked that you would say such a thing, Ivy.’

‘But I do not believe your brother is dead.’

‘Oh, but he is – Mother could feel it in her bones, and I feel it too.’

‘And what if you are wrong?’

‘I would be glad of it,’ said the girl fiercely. ‘Only one person can tell us what happened to Sebastian but she simply refuses. Stubborn fool!’

‘I do not understand,’ I said, looking gloriously baffled. ‘Who refuses?’

Estelle tried to sigh with embarrassment. The results were questionable. ‘What I mean is, Anastasia ran away so that she would never have to reveal what she had done.’

‘In a moment, perhaps two, you are going to feel like a monumental idiot,’ I said tenderly. The time had arrived and I stood up. ‘The fact is your brother fell in love with a girl from a fine family. A girl who changed her name so that she could tend
to your brother without her mother knowing it.’ I pointed triumphantly at the mantel behind Estelle. ‘And that girl is Gretel Snagsby!’

‘Gretel
Snagsby
?’

Estelle twisted in her chair to look at the portrait of Gretel above the fireplace.

‘You cannot mean her?’ she said, pointing rather dismissively at the painting.

‘I expect the years have dulled your memory, as you were just a small girl at the time. Or perhaps you are naturally dim-witted when it comes to faces.’ I hurried over and waved my hand majestically at the portrait. ‘She might appear a little younger than you recall, but you must admit, this is Anastasia Radcliff.’

The infuriating girl reached for her hat and stood up. ‘You are quite wrong, Ivy – that is
not
the girl who took my brother away.’

Mother Snagsby prowled the house again that night. She walked past my bedroom door at least a thousand times as she stalked the halls. Did she
never
sleep? I was waiting for an opportune moment to steal away to Winslow Street and journey once again to Prospa House.

I had stared and stared into the Clock Diamond, willing it to show me another vision of Rebecca. Just so that I might know that she was all right. That she hadn’t met some grisly fate on my account. But the stone offered only a sparkling night sky.

Following our conversation in her office, I hoped that Mother Snagsby and I had turned a corner. She had taken me into her confidence, told me all about her runaway daughter. But if Gretel was really Anastasia, why did Estelle not recognise her in the painting? It made no sense! Yet I did not dare question Mother Snagsby – she hardly looked my way over dinner. Offered little more than a severe word or two about the state of my apron. Everything was just as it had always been.

I heard Mother Snagsby moving past the door, her footsteps fading. Then silence. At last she seemed to have retired to bed. Then the click of her shoes as she turned and headed back again.

The old woman would tire in time. She
had
to. Until then, I would stay awake. Frightfully bright-eyed and alert. And when the moment was right, away I would go. At least, that was the plan. But my eyes grew heavy. My head dropped to my chest. I only closed them for a moment. Perhaps two. But alas, the battle was lost. At least for tonight.

The Snagsbys sent me off to Hackney with their blessing. In a carriage no less.

‘Tell Mr Grimwig that we offer an additional five per cent if he’s likely to expire in the next seven days,’ said Ezra, as I took off my apron and put on my bonnet. ‘That’s a very generous offer and no funeral home will do better.’

‘Yes, dear, I’ll give him all the grisly details.’

I had told the Snagsbys that a dear friend from Paris had written to me about her cousin Victor Grimwig, who was gravely ill, and in imminent need of a pine box and a hole in the ground. Mother Snagsby quizzed me on Mr Grimwig’s particulars – of
which I knew very little, so naturally I made up something fascinating – and decided he sounded like just the sort of customer she liked.

‘Though I fail to see why we cannot come with you,’ she declared as the coach pulled up outside.

‘Mr Grimwig must not suspect that we are after his business – he’s a suspicious sort of character who rarely parts with his money.’ I smiled knowingly. ‘If you two grim fossils turn up he will wonder how you knew of his illness and turn you away. Allow
me
to lay the groundwork and when it is time to measure him up, you can come back with me.’

Mother Snagsby grunted. ‘We never turn down a customer at Snagsbys’ Economic Funerals, so I expect you to represent us well and bring home a sale.’

Despite the generous helping of troubles currently piled upon my plate, I had not forgotten my promise to the Duchess of  Trinity. Yes, she was a hideous, murderous, double-crossing ghoul. But a small voice in my head told me that the Duchess might be of some further use to me. And I knew for certain that this wasn’t another one of her wicked schemes. For how could there be any danger in a discount coffin?

‘What’s this about then?’

Victor Grimwig was a great disappointment. Average height. Thin face. Largely bald, save for two fuzzy grey tufts above his ears. He was neatly dressed. Fond of black. And not terribly pleased to see me.

‘As part of a Snagsbys’ Economic Funerals Saturday bonanza we are offering one lucky resident of Hackney a stupendous discount on a high quality coffin,’ I announced, ‘and
you
, Mr Grimwig, are that lucky resident!’

Which was only a lie in the sense that it wasn’t at all true.

‘I don’t want a discount coffin,’ said Mr Grimwig, ‘thank you very much.’

‘You’re terribly welcome and isn’t it marvellous?’ I felt the moment was right to push past him and enter the small, but neat, sitting room. There were two cats on the window sill and another by the fire. I sat down on a faded armchair beside a potted fern and got down to business. ‘Would you prefer oak or something in maple?’

Victor stood in the doorway and coughed rather violently. ‘For what?’

‘Your coffin, of course.’ I smoothed out my apron. ‘Honestly, dear, keep up.’

Victor coughed again. ‘I can assure you that I am in fine health and have no need for any of your coffins.’

‘Stuff and nonsense. Half of our customers claim to be in fine health and just minutes later are as dead as a fence post.’

‘I have a cold, that’s all,’ he said.

‘A cold is the beginning of practically every fatal disease, surely you know that?’

Victor paled slightly. Closed the front door and sat down. A ginger cat on the window sill jumped down and sat in his lap. ‘It’s nothing to worry about, that’s what Doctor Benson said.’