Justine Windsor - Goodly and Grave in A Bad Case of Kidnap

The other players, who had noticed nothing amiss, muttered angrily as they discovered they had lost the game.

“Another round?” one particularly grubby individual asked.

Lady Red declined, as Lucy expected she would. She only ever stayed for one or two hands of poker.

“How does she do it?” Lucy muttered to herself as Lady Red gathered up the notes and coins she’d won, and pushed back her chair, which banged straight into Lucy.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweet child, I didn’t see you there! Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” Lucy said, hoping the woman wouldn’t guess she’d been spying.

“Well, that’s a relief. In that case, I wonder if you’d mind helping me to my coach?” Lady Red said as she finished stuffing her winnings into a fancy silk bag. “I’m wearing most unsuitable shoes for this icy weather.” She lifted her long skirts to show a pair of dainty scarlet velvet shoes with a high pointed heel. “I’ll reward you, of course.”

Lucy agreed instantly. They made their way outside, where Lucy took the woman’s arm and helped her to the black carriage that was waiting. It was drawn by a fine dark horse, its breath steaming in the cold air. The driver was so bundled up against the cold that all that Lucy could see of him was the tip of his nose.

Lady Red stopped at the bottom of the carriage steps. “I have an idea. Why don’t you hop in with me? We could go to my house. Have cocoa and toast in front of the fire. I’ll still give you a coin too, of course.”

Lucy’s empty stomach rumbled at the thought of cocoa and toast. She and her parents hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. But Lady Red had something Lucy wanted even more than food. The thought of what she was about to do made her tremble. It wasn’t in her nature to thieve, but Lucy was truly desperate.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Lucy said. But she didn’t move.

“Wonderful. Hurry up now, it’s cold. You get in first.”

“I’ve never ridden in a carriage before. Do I just go up these steps?” Lucy asked, trying to sound bewildered.

“Why don’t I help you in?” Lady Red spoke very slowly, as though Lucy was three years old. “Take my hand.”

Lucy took the woman’s gloved hand in her own rough cold one. And just as she had hoped, Lucy saw a playing card poking out from the bottom of Lady Red’s sleeve. Lucy snatched it and pulled herself free. For a split second, Lucy’s eyes met Lady Red’s, which blazed suddenly like tiny twin suns.

Lucy turned and ran.

And ran.

And ran some more.

Lady Red tried to run after her. But she hadn’t been lying about her shoes being useless in the snow. She slipped and fell.

“Treeves, after her!” Lady Red yelled. This was followed by the creak of wheels and the crunch of ice as the carriage began to move. But Lucy knew the alleyways and backstreets to dart down, all of them so narrow the vehicle would never squeeze through, so it didn’t take her long to shake off her pursuer.

Lucy told no one about the card, not even her parents. It took her a lot of practice to work out how to use it. And even when she did, it was a long time before she plucked up the courage to gamble with it. But when she eventually did, her nightmare life of poverty, hunger and cold soon ended. Her parents quickly began to let her take charge of things, never questioning her about her newfound skill. Although Lucy earned enough to make the Goodlys’ lives comfortable and carefree, she wasn’t greedy or reckless. She made sure she lost a few games to avoid suspicion. And she never played opponents who were as poor as she once was.

Lucy was also careful never to visit dens where she’d seen Lady Red. She always feared the woman would find her somehow. But she never did, except in Lucy’s dreams, when she would open the door of Lucy’s bedroom, eyes burning in that unnatural way.

“Give it back. Give it back!” she’d shout.

For a while, Lucy couldn’t sleep for fear of Lady Red making an appearance. But as she was a sensible girl who always tried to find a solution to her problems, she soon trained herself to get out of bed in her dreams and slam the door in Lady Red’s face. Eventually the nightmares went away.

“Something wrong?” said Vonk.

Lucy blinked herself back into the present. “No. You’re right, it is a lovely painting. Lady Grave’s got a very kind face.”

“Yes. Lady Tabitha was one of the best. She loved animals, couldn’t bear to see them mistreated. She persuaded his Lordship to bring Bathsheba home. She rescued the elephants from a circus. And so on. Now, back to your work, girls.” Vonk turned and strode out of the room, the ring of his shoes on the tiled hallway gradually fading into the distance.

“You’ve gone a funny colour,” said Becky.

“Have I?”

“Urgh, have you got some revolting disease? Maybe it’s that nose-rotting one. I read all about it. Your nose goes mouldy and then drops off. Be an improvement in your case.”

Wearing a full suit of armour in the middle of summer really was no fun, but it was better than being eaten alive by a panther or squashed to death by an elephant. Lucy tried to comfort herself with this thought as she opened the gate set into the spiked iron fence that separated Grave Hall from his Lordship’s wildlife park. She was pushing a wheelbarrow of straw.

Lucy’s second day at Grave Hall was turning out to be even worse than her first. Lord Grave had ordered that one of her new duties was to feed Bathsheba and clean out the wooden hut the giant cat slept in at night.

Lucy closed the gate behind her. Bathsheba, who’d been snoozing in the afternoon sun, leaped to her paws when she spotted the bucket of raw meat that was hooked over one handle of the wheelbarrow.

“Keep back!” Lucy said. She slung the bucket’s contents on to the ground. Bathsheba pounced on it, growling her appreciation. For such an elegant animal, the panther had deplorable table manners. She chomped her meat so loudly she scared off some of Lord Grave’s parrots who were roosting in a nearby tree.

Lucy reluctantly set about cleaning the hut, which was almost as big as Leafy Ridge. She picked up gnawed bones from Bathsheba’s previous meals and changed the dirty straw for the fresh. The armour made her movements stiff and awkward. The white feather plume on the top of Lucy’s helmet bobbed up and down annoyingly and she grew hotter and hotter inside her metal second skin.

When she’d finally finished her work, and Bathsheba had torn and swallowed the last of the meat, Lucy returned to the Grave Hall side of the fence. She took off her helmet, put it on top of the smelly contents of her wheelbarrow and began toiling back to the house.

If she hadn’t been slowly cooking inside her armour, it might have been pleasant wandering along in the warm sun with the elephants trumpeting to each other in the distance. Homesickness washed over Lucy. On days like this at home, she and her parents would sit outside after supper and watch Phoebe chasing dragonflies.

Why did Lord Grave want to keep her here against her will? Was it just because it meant he had a boot girl he didn’t need to pay? Or could there be some other more sinister reason? It was all very worrying. The urge to run away was so strong it made her stomach hurt. She’d spent most of last night trying to think of a getaway plan. But Lucy’s usual resourcefulness seemed to have taken a holiday. Every solution she came up with had a fatal flaw, such as wild animals mauling her or the police dragging her off to prison for cheating at cards.