The Creeping Shadow (Lockwood & Co. #4)

by Jonathan Stroud

I even recognized the tie – it was one I’d given him a year ago, after the case of the Christmas Corpse. So he still had that, still liked to wear it . . .

His smile broadened, carrying me with it. It became a sunnier place, that little landing; the smell of my neighbour’s lavender plantation receded; I no longer noticed the peeling wallpaper on the stairs.

Making tea is a ritual that stops the world from falling in on you. Everything pauses while you do familiar things with taps and kettles: it allows you to get your breath back and become calm.

Do you take sugar now?’ He was staring at the clutter on my floor, blank-eyed, as if lost in thought. ‘It’s only been four months, Luce. I haven’t suddenly started taking sugar in my tea . . .’

It was an odd thing, seeing Lockwood so unsure of himself.

‘There’s no one else I would want at my side.’

He wore his slim dark suit; his hair was swept back and, I thought, subtly gelled. He was making more of an effort than usual. I hadn’t seen that attention to detail before. For me? No. Penelope Fittes was far more likely.

I understood why Penelope Fittes had wanted me there. Penelope Fittes. Not Lockwood. Whenever I thought of that, annoyance speared through me.

As I sank into it, he caught sight of my sleeve, saw the congealed blood running from elbow to wrist. His face changed. ‘What the hell’s this?’ ‘It’s nothing. Just a cut.’ He knelt at my side, pulled my sleeve back with his long, quick fingers, exposing the laceration on my arm. He gazed up at me with searching eyes. ‘A knife made this, Lucy. Who—?’ He stood up. ‘No – explanations can wait. I’ll get George; we can clean this, fix you up. You don’t have to worry any more; you’re safe here.’

‘I’ve missed you so much, Lucy.’ OK, what with the wig and the make-up, and his blacked-out teeth, he didn’t look too great right then; but behind his gappy grin shone the old Lockwood smile, and that smile and those words together swept everything else aside.

Lockwood grabbed my arm, helped me up the steep slope.

He motioned with his head; without looking at me, his fingers stole out and gripped mine.

Then I realized he was still holding my hand. He realized it at the same instant. Our fingers kind of fell away, swinging back into vigilant positions at our work-belts, ready to seize salt bomb or rapier at a moment’s notice. Lockwood cleared his throat; I pushed my hair out of my eyes. Our boots did small, intricate shuffles on the frosty ground.

I’m glad I’ve got you with me. I think you keep me safe, if anything.’ Right then, the cape wasn’t the only thing that kept me warm. I smiled at him.

‘Back at Guppy’s house you mentioned something about it being Penelope Fittes’ idea that I call on you. Don’t deny it. You did. Well, she may think it was her idea, but I’d been looking for an excuse to get you back all winter. I just knew that unless I had a really good reason you’d tell me to get lost. And you would have, wouldn’t you?’

His eyes fixed mine. I did my best to look super-casual, but I could feel a bit of blushing going on. Then I realized that everyone was watching us.