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Back The Dazzle of the Light Save as PDF
Chapters (55)
  1. Praise for Georgina Clarke
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. Historical Note
  52. Acknowledgements
  53. Also by Georgina Clarke
  54. About the Author
  55. Copyright

She makes her way, without rushing, towards the main door, beyond the marbled foyer where she had run into Ruby Mills only yesterday. She breathes deeply. The doorman nods politely and opens the door for her, and she steps out on to the street.

Nothing has changed. The London traffic is as it ever was – noisy and smelly. The world continues to turn.

If she takes a single step further, if she walks away from the store, then everything will have changed. If she moves her feet, she will be a thief.

She grips the handle of her handbag so hard that her knuckles hurt.

All she needs to do is walk now. Walk purposefully along the pavement without regard to her direction. She must turn into the first street she comes to, and then turn several times more, until she has put nearly a mile between herself and Debenham and Freebody. She knows how they do it, the Forty Thieves. Alice Dunning told her all about it. It is easy.

Just one step.

She stares at her shoes. She can feel where the edge meets her stockinged toes. One shoe has a scuff mark near to the strap. She frowns. It will need polishing. She will leave them out for Hanson later.

She hesitates.

From somewhere down the street a car horn blares – a hard, raucous sound – swiftly followed by another, deeper honk. Two motor cars have collided, and their drivers are shouting, commanding the attention of passers-by.

A pair of magpies on the roof of the store opposite take off, chattering in annoyance, soaring away to find a better perch, tails fanning gracefully behind them, flashing blue-black.

Harriet feels for the case in her pocket and clutches it as she steps out, walking in the opposite direction from the motor cars, as though she has urgent and important business elsewhere, the sort that will allow for no distraction.

She walks and walks, not caring where she is going, only away, until she no longer expects a hand on her shoulder or the shout of a shop assistant.

Finally, in a small park, she takes the manicure case from her pocket and cradles it in her palms. Such a small and mundane item. Her heart races even to look at it.

The sensation makes her quite giddy.

32

32

Saturday evening

It is nearly eight o’clock that evening when Harriet finally considers abandoning her attempt to find the entrance to the Angel.

Since six o’clock, she has been walking the streets, trying to dissipate the restless energy that has been fizzing inside her.