"She didn't get herself into it," Alice said reprovingly. "She was trapped by my opposite's power."
Tancred sat back and digested this. "Ah," he said at last. "You must mean Mrs. Tilpin."
Alice sighed. "I fear so." All at once she looked over her shoulder.
"Someone's coming. Tancred, be prepared."
Tancred sat up very straight and laid a hand on his bag. The door opened and Grandma Bone came in. She was wearing her bathrobe and looked very sleepy.
"Tea?" she asked with a yawn. "Is it teatime?"
"Yes, I think it is, Grizelda," said Maisie, putting the kettle on.
Grandma Bone turned and stared at Alice and Tancred. "You don't live here,"
she said.
"I'm staying for a while." Alice gave Grandma Bone a radiant smile. "I'm Alice Angel, remember?"
"I suppose I do." Grandma Bone yawned again. "And who are you?" she asked Tancred.
Tancred sprang to his feet and opened his bag.
It was full of broken china halfheartedly wrapped in tissue paper. Tancred had gathered up all the broken china his mother had put aside, ready for gluing. Poor Mrs. Torsson now used only plastic cups and saucers, her husband and son having broken every single piece with the violent weather they produced.
"So?" Grandma Bone poked at the china with her bony finger. "Are you trying to sell this stuff? It looks broken."
"Exactly, madam," said Tancred in an odd, gravelly voice. "I'm mending it. Do you have any broken china?"
Grandma Bone stared glumly at Tancred. "No. And I wouldn't give it to you if I had."
Tancred chewed his lip and sat down.
"Here you are, Grizelda," said Maisie. "I've popped two cookies on the saucer."
Grandma Bone took her tea and cookies and left the room without another word.
"Is Mrs. Bone all right?" asked Tancred in a low voice. "She doesn't seem to be all there."
Maisie laughed. "She's been like that ever since Alice came. I think you've cast a spell on her, Alice."
Alice regarded her long, elegant fingers and said, "I probably have. Oh, look, the rain has stopped."
Tancred grinned sheepishly and stood up. "I was going to wait for Charlie,"
he said, "but I don't suppose he'll be back for another hour, so I'll head off. Tell him I'll see him tomorrow, maybe at the bookstore."
Maisie saw Tancred to the door. "I'd better warn Charlie about your ..." She tapped her upper lip and gave Tancred a wink.
"Bye, then, Mrs. Jones." Tancred marched confidently up Filbert Street. He noticed that several people were filling their cars with suitcases, bedding, bags, and even plants. People often left the city on Friday, for a weekend away. But the amount of stuff that was being crammed into some of the cars made it look as though their owners were going away for months, or even years.
High Street was almost deserted. What was going on? Curiosity got the better of Tancred. "Excuse me," he said to a harassed-looking mother with a baby in a stroller. "Has something happened? I mean, where is everyone?"
"Fog," said the woman.
"Fog?" Tancred looked up and down the street. "I don't see any fog."
"It's coming." The woman walked on.
"Coming?" Tancred called after her. "How do you know? What sort of fog?"
"Bad. It's coming off the river." The woman was actually running now. "Listen to your radio."
Tancred stood still. He looked all around him. Shops were closing. Cars were roaring down High Street, breaking all the speed limits. Tancred changed his mind about going home. The bookstore was closer. He began to jog.
It was Tancred's intention to go straight to Ingledew's Bookstore, but as he passed the end of Piminy Street, something made him turn onto it. He decided to visit Mrs. Kettle. He hadn't seen her for some time and wanted to make sure she was safe in the street of hooligans and scoundrels.
There was no sign of anyone leaving Piminy Street. If anything, there were even more people about than usual. Oddly dressed people in fashions long gone. Unshaven men who laughed unpleasantly and walked right into Tancred, knocking him aside. There were women in shawls and greasy bonnets, their long skirts trailing in the gutter.
Angry and nervous, Tancred caused a blast of wind to sweep across the street.
His electrified hair blew his hat off and rain began to fall again in bucketfuls.
In the Stone Shop, carved creatures with grotesque faces stared out into the street, their eyes glimmering behind the rain that streamed down the windowpane.
Tancred shuddered and made a dash for the Kettle Shop. A group of teenagers with white faces, velvet coats, and braided hair glared at Tancred as he put his finger on the doorbell and rang and rang and rang. His false mustache slipped off his wet face, and mocking laughter erupted from the teenage gang.
He turned to send a blast of wind in their direction but was distracted by the sight of Norton Cross standing on the other side of the road, his gaze fixed on Tancred.
The door was opened at last by Mrs. Kettle, tall and jolly, her red hair as shiny as polished copper. "Come in, young man," she said, hauling Tancred over the doorstep. "As for you lot"—she glared at the teenagers—"scram!" She slammed the door.
Tancred stood in the shop, gazing at all the bright kettles. Only a few weeks ago, almost every kettle had been smashed by a vicious stone troll brought to life by Eric Shellhorn. "You've mended them all," he said. "Everything looks just great."
"Come into my parlor," said Mrs. Kettle, leading the way through an arch into her private part of the shop. She stopped suddenly and, putting her hand to her chin, said, "I think I should warn you..."
But Tancred had already seen the boy carefully polishing a big copper kettle.
It was Dagbert the drowner.
The two boys stared at each other in horror, and then Dagbert uttered a low wail and shook his head. "You're dead," he moaned, "dead, dead, dead!" And dashing past Tancred, he ran out of the shop.
16. A DISTANT VOICE
There's been a mishap," said Maisie as Charlie and Emma walked into the kitchen at number nine.
"Not another one." Charlie dropped into a chair and hungrily regarded the food on the table. "Good spread, Maisie. I'm starving."
Emma took a chair beside him, and Charlie handed her a plate of chicken sandwiches.
"Emma's come to see Alice," he told Maisie.
Before he could say any more, Alice came in and sat at the table. "Emma, how lovely to see you!" Alice beamed with pleasure, and so did Emma.
Charlie quickly explained his idea for releasing Olivia from her bewitching.
Alice looked at him with great interest, her head on one side, before saying,
"Charlie, that's an excellent idea." She turned to Emma. "So can you describe this vest for me, the little details, the placing of the sequins, the size of the armholes, the length, the buttonholes?"
"Every night, when Liv takes it off in the bathroom, I take a good look,"
said Emma. "She snatches it up very quickly, hardly looks at it, when she puts it back on. So I don't think she'll notice if it's not an exact match."
She reached into her pocket and brought out a folded piece of paper, which she flattened out and laid in front of Alice.
"A sketch! Emma, this is wonderful!" Alice bent over Emma's drawing of the vest and studied it intently.
"So what's the mishap?" asked Charlie, not very enthusiastically.
"I thought you'd never ask." Maisie put a plate of scones on the table and sat down. "Your friend, Tancred, was here and—"
"Tancred?" said Charlie through a mouth full of chicken.
"Yes, in a mustache," said Maisie.
"A mustache," said Emma. "I hope no one saw him. I hope he's all right. I mean I hope he hasn't been caught."
"Well, THEY probably know he's alive by now."
When Maisie said this, Emma's hand flew to her heart, her eyes wide and glistening.
"Because," Maisie went on, "he went up Piminy Street and lost his hat and mustache. Probably due to the weather he'd brought about. So he's only got himself to blame. But, anyway, he went into the Kettle Shop and saw that drowning boy, Dagbert something-or-other. The boy rushed out, but luckily Miss Ingledew saw him hovering outside the bookstore in a bit of a state, so she coaxed him in."