I help myself to the buffet, piling my plate with an assortment until it wobbles about. Consider throwing it over Horatio’s head. And then I move towards Mrs Charm and Mr Loveheart who are engaged in a deep conversation about apricot jam.
“Hello,” I say.
“Pedrock, darling!” Mrs Charm cries. “Come and sit with us.” And so I plop myself down.
“What do you think of Horatio?”
“Vain and spoilt,” I reply quietly.
“Quite right too. I am going to write him into my novel. Perhaps have him disembowelled. Don’t you think Mr Loveheart looks very fetching today?”
“Will you write him into your novel as well?”
“Of course, he’s something wicked and something wonderful.”
“Hello again,” Loveheart waggles what appears to be a gherkin at me and then pops it into his mouth.
“Mr Loveheart,” the Professor says, standing behind him. “Mr Loveheart, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. But I have heard so much about you.”
“Likewise,” replies Loveheart. They stare at one another, Mr Loveheart remaining seated.
The Professor then glances over to me. “Pedrock, I have spoken to Reverend Plum regarding the sad recent events and we both agree that it would be in Boo Boo’s best interests if she came to live with me.”
I am horrified.
“Would it really?” replies Mr Loveheart, darkly.
“Is it wise to separate a brother and sister?” cries Mrs Charm. “Surely that is not for the best.”
“Pedrock can see Boo Boo whenever he wishes and Reverend Plum is their legal guardian until Mr Grubweed reappears. The decision is made, I’m afraid.”
I am crying and I can’t help it. Mrs Charm puts her arm around me.
“There is no need to be upset, Pedrock.” The Professor’s voice is smooth like velvet.
“There is every reason,” and Loveheart stands up to face him.
“Do we have a problem, Mr Loveheart?”
“Not if you’re dead.”
The Professor momentarily loses his composure and then, quickly regaining it, he says, “I really am quite disappointed in you, I thought you of all people would understand.” And he turns to leave, walking into the shade, the darkness obscuring his features.
“Don’t you worry,” says Mrs Charm, gently. “Mr Loveheart will sort this mess out.”
Mr Loveheart yawns lazily, his feet resting on the table, and waggles his sword in the direction of the Professor, “Disembowelled perhaps? Mmmmm…”
I spend the remainder of the party crying into Mrs Charm’s lap. Boo Boo wanders over and puts her hand on my cheek. “Pedrock, please can you take care of Guardian? The Professor won’t let me take him.”
I nod my head sadly and she cuddles me and then leaves, hand in hand with the Professor, a little girl and a monster.
Mrs Charm is muttering, “He’s a villain.”
That night in bed I wait to hear whispering in Boo Boo’s room, but nothing comes. Guardian now sleeps in my room and howls most of the night in sadness. I close my eyes and make a wish that Mr Loveheart will kill the Professor. I wish and wish and wish and when I open my eyes there is a boy sitting on the end of my bed with eyes of black glitter.
“Who are you?” I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Death.” His voice is as soft as moth wings.
“What do you want with me?”
“Your sister will be able to take care of herself. You will see her again. Be patient. Be very patient.”
“He’s going to hurt her, I know it,” I cry.
“And someone is going to hurt him.” And the boy smiles and it is the most terrifying smile I have ever seen. “Now go back to sleep, Pedrock, and in the morning you will feel better. Go sailing on the lake. Start to live your life. Stop worrying about your sister. Let the Fates deal with the Professor.”
“What will happen to him?”
The boy pulls a loose thread from his sleeve and examines it, dropping it casually onto the floor. “A taste of his own particular medicine.”
Lucy Dewdoll escapes
I am sitting in my cell, staring at a spider on the wall, its web half done, like a piece of lace, incomplete. There’s a tapping at the barred window. I peer out. A man on a ladder with a hacksaw.
“Good morning, Miss Dewdoll. My name is Mr Loveheart and I’m here to rescue you.”
Attempt to steal the butterfly, rescue Boo Boo and blow up the Professor
It’s two o’clock in the morning and Constable Walnut and myself are about to break into the Professor’s house. We’re hiding in a bush near the moat.
“I’ve brought my lucky ferret leg, sir,” said Walnut, and he whipped out a disgusting, deformed thing from his pocket and held it under my nose
“My God, what happened to that unfortunate creature!?”
There is a rummaging from the bushes and Mr Loveheart appears with a pistol and what appears to be a bomb.
“Lovely evening,” he says.