‘Only she’s not what she was, she’s only a cup now, and, you must believe me, a moustache cup I heard them saying, and I’ve heard her, I heard her calling. Her voice, among all the others, she is a part of the Gathering.’

‘But I was with her then! So close! I saw her!’

‘And she, Lucy, I do believe, is in the cellar.’

‘Well then, Clod,’ she said, taking a breath. ‘All right then. Come along.’

She looked so bullied already, so beaten and scraped. As if they’d got to her, pulled some of the Lucy from her.

‘We’ll get out,’ I said, ‘and we’ll never come back.’

‘You’re coming with me?’

‘I shan’t leave you. We’ll smash our way out if we have to.’

‘What made you so tough of a sudden?’

‘You did, Lucy, you did.’

‘I’m not an Iremonger, Clod, not even a bit of one.’

‘I know, I know, and I love you for it.’

‘I’m a thief, I always have been I think, I stole those objects.’

‘I know it and I love you for it.’

‘I was out in the heaps, I saw Tummis going under. I tried to get him, I didn’t though, I didn’t manage it.’

‘Oh, Lucy, you tried, didn’t you, you tried your absolute best.’

‘I did, yes I did.’

‘And I do love you for it.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Albert Powling.’

‘Oh no.’

‘What is it?’

‘Little Uncle.’

On Our Way

Little Uncle Timfy was before us, his face illuminated by a gunny lamp, making it shine like a little moon, a small planet of malice. His nostrils flaring in the pride of our discovery, so eager, so hungry to damage.

‘Stop, stop you right there, I’ve got you now. I’m the one to do it. Not Idwid. Me. I’m in charge here, not him. He’s been smashed about. How he bleeds! That wiped the smile from his face. Well, good, I say. I’m in charge of this house. I’ll be Governor some day. Why not! Stand straight now! Clod Iremonger, you ruin your own blood.’

‘Leave us be, Uncle Timfy.’

‘Not likely, never likely is it? Give her, give it, up.’

‘No, Uncle, step back.’

‘I mean to take it from you.’

‘I’ll hurt you, Uncle, I shall hurt you.’

‘You, Clod, you’re made of nothing but foul air. What hurt could you do?’

‘You will not touch her.’

‘I shall, I shall touch that. Watch me at it!’

‘Don’t kick me, Uncle, I’ll smash you, I swear I will.’

‘Do it then, you bit of nothing. You’re not worth my spit, Clod, you’ve no use at all. I’ll end this now.’

He blew hard on his Albert Powling and in response there was a sudden crash further along the corridor.