didn’t either.
‘How far from the Delve are we?’ she asked. ‘Are we safe here?’
‘Not too far, but far enough that your people aren’t likely to find us,’ said Richard. ‘And besides, there’s some charm about this place that makes it difficult for magical folk to see — I’d never have found it myself that first time, if Molly hadn’t shown me the way. Some old protective spell set up by her grandmother, perhaps.’
‘You mean,’ said Ivy, propping herself on one elbow, ‘you think her grandmother was a faery?’
‘Or her great-grandmother, I suppose,’ Richard replied, gazing thoughtfully into the rafters. ‘It’s impossible to say. But there’s magic in Molly’s blood somewhere, if she’s been seeing faeries all her life. On her father’s side, probably — it doesn’t seem likely to be her mother’s.’
‘Where is her father, then?’ asked Ivy. ‘Doesn’t he live here?’
‘Sometimes,’ Richard said. ‘But his work takes him away for weeks at a time, so Molly doesn’t see much of him. I’ve never seen him at all.’ He sat up, brushing dirt from his dark jacket. ‘I think I could heal that leg of yours now.’
‘I’d rather you healed Dodger’s,’ said Ivy, getting up and leading the way. She opened the door to show Richard the horse’s bandaged leg, but the faery shook his head.
‘I don’t have your people’s way with animals,’ said Richard. ‘And my sorry experience with this one is that he’d as soon bite me as look at me. He can heal on his own, as far as I’m concerned.’
Ivy wanted to protest, but she owed Richard too much to demand anything. She was about to close the door when a new thought occurred to her. ‘I cut my leg on something in here,’ she said. ‘Maybe that’s what happened to Dodger, too.’ She slipped inside the box, pushing away the horse’s inquiring muzzle, and crouched to examine the partition. At first she saw nothing unusual, but when she allowed her skin to glow a little brighter she caught the glint of some dull metal object protruding from the wood. She closed her fingers around it and felt the faint tingle that told her what it was: iron.
‘An old nail,’ said Richard. ‘Probably worked its way out over the years and no one noticed it. Tell Molly, when she comes back.’
‘Tell me what?’ asked Molly from the doorway, and Ivy pointed to the nail. The human girl gasped. ‘Is that how Dodger cut himself? We thought he did it outside, but we could never find where. Thank you!’
Ivy went rigid with shock at the careless thanks. By the time she recovered, Molly had found a hammer and tugged the nail out. ‘You hurt yourself on it too, didn’t you?’ she said to Ivy as she held it up — a crude-looking thing, rusty with age. ‘That’s how I could see you.’
‘I…hadn’t thought of that,’ said Ivy. She’d been immune to iron when she lived in the Delve, but perhaps Richard’s healing spells had changed her more than she’d realised. Could he have made her part faery by accident? Ivy wasn’t sure she liked that idea at all.
Molly tossed the nail into the wastebin and plopped down on an overturned bucket, crossing her ankles. ‘My mum’s in the study working on some project or other, so we should be all right for a while.’ She pulled out a cloth sack and began rummaging inside. ‘I found a packet of fairings-’
‘Fairings?’ asked Richard.
‘Ginger biscuits,’ said Ivy, helping herself to one.
‘And some sausages — sorry they’re cold. Oh, and pears.’ Molly made a face. ‘It’s not much of a meal, is it? Sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise,’ said Ivy. ‘It’s kind of you to bring us anything at all.’
Molly looked at her curiously. ‘You’re nothing like I expected,’ she said. ‘I thought piskeys were little brown men, all full of wrinkles and mischief.’
‘That’s just local legend,’ Richard interrupted before Ivy could speak. ‘Piskey women don’t get out much, but they do exist. And magical folk don’t have wrinkles. Unless you know what to look for, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a piskey of twenty and one who’s two hundred.’
‘Two hundred!’ exclaimed Ivy. ‘That’s ridiculous. The oldest piskey I know can’t be more than a hundred and ten. And she certainly does have wrinkles; all the older folk do.’
Richard looked surprised. ‘My mistake, then,’ he said. ‘Perhaps faeries and piskeys are more different than I’d thought.’
‘Tell me about your people,’ said Molly, turning eagerly to Ivy. ‘I want to know more about them.’
Ivy hesitated. She hadn’t meant to give away any secrets, and she had a feeling she’d already said more than she should. Not that it worried her where Richard was concerned; by now she felt almost sure she could trust him. But although she liked Molly, she didn’t know the human girl well enough to feel comfortable talking about the Delve in her presence.
‘Well,’ she said slowly, trying to think of an answer that was honest but harmless, ‘piskeys do enjoy a good prank, or at least the younger ones do. It’s a sort of game with our people, to play tricks on each other without being tricked ourselves. And if we can all laugh about it together, that’s the best of all.’
Yet even as she spoke, Ivy had to admit that there wasn’t nearly as much laughter and fun in the Delve as there had been when she was a child. The older folk had a weary air about them, and some of the oldest — especially the older knockers — looked positively grim. Was it Betony’s strict rule that had sobered them? Or was it something more?
‘Go on,’ said Molly. ‘Where do you live? Richard told me once about some faeries who lived in a hollow oak tree. Is it something like that?’
‘No,’ said Ivy. ‘But it’s a safe place. A good place. And it’s…beautiful.’ And with that homesickness welled up in her, and she couldn’t speak any more. She had spent a night and a day out of the Delve now. Would she ever see her home, or her people, again?
‘I’m taking Ivy to visit a relative,’ said Richard, filling in the silence. ‘Someone she hasn’t seen in a long time. Once that’s done, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Where?’ asked Molly.
Richard shrugged. ‘I couldn’t tell you,’ he said. ‘I prefer to keep my options open.’ But a shadow crossed his face as he spoke, and for the first time it dawned on Ivy that he might not be a wanderer by choice — that he might not have anywhere to go.
‘I didn’t mean where are you going,’ said Molly reproachfully. ‘I know not to meddle in your business by now. I meant Ivy. Where are you taking her?’
‘Truro,’ said Richard. ‘There’s a dance and theatre school in the city where her relative’s been staying.’
Ivy sat up with a start, the blood draining from her face. That was where her mother had been all these years? Surely he must be pranking her. She opened her mouth, but Molly spoke first:
‘Dance and theatre? Really? Can I come with you?’ She must have noticed Richard’s dubious look, for she went on quickly, ‘Mum lets me go to Truro on the bus sometimes, as long as I take my mobile and promise to call her when I’m coming home. And she likes it better when I’m out of the house anyway. She won’t say no if I tell her I’m going with friends. Please.’
Richard glanced at Ivy, but she was too choked with hurt and anger to reply. So her mother had abandoned her family to go dancing after all — not with the faeries, but with the humans. No wonder Richard had kept this from her.
But why was he telling her now? Did he think it was safe to reveal Marigold’s secret because Ivy had already committed herself, because she needed her mother’s help too badly to walk away? He was right about that, but she hated the thought that he’d manipulated her so easily — and that she’d been fool enough to let him.
‘You never told me what she was doing,’ she accused, when she could speak. ‘Did she ask you not to? Or was it your idea to keep me in the dark?’
Richard’s jaw tightened, and she could see she’d offended him. But he said only, ‘I don’t think this is the time to discuss it.’ Turning to Molly, he continued, ‘I know we’re in your debt. But I don’t think it’s a good idea. As you can see, Ivy’s a little sensitive at the moment.’
‘Oh, and now it’s my fault?’ exclaimed Ivy. How dare he make her seem ungrateful for Molly’s kindness? ‘I apologise,’ she said hastily to Molly, who had turned pale and then very red. ‘If there’s anything else we can do to repay you, I’d be glad to know of it. It’s only-’
‘Don’t bother,’ Molly said, her eyes on Richard. ‘I won’t interfere in your faery — or piskey — business. But if you had any idea what mum’s been like…’ A spasm of anger distorted her face. ‘Never mind. I suppose that’s all just human business to you.’ She leaped up from the bucket and ran out.
