Page 3 of Fiendish Delights
I gazed at her and she gazed at me. The silence stretched out for several seconds while the prickle turned into an itch. ‘Do you need some help, Sophia?’ I asked finally.
‘I live down the street.’ She waved vaguely to the right. ‘I want to hire you. I have a job that needs doing.’ She might be no more than four-feet high but she sounded like a Mafia boss ordering a hit.
I smiled. ‘How old are you?’
‘Nine.’
‘Do your parents know you’re here?’
‘There’s only my dad, and no, he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t like it. He thinks you’re weird and he told me to stay away from you.’ She delivered the information in a matter-of-fact voice.
‘Your dad is right,’ I said cheerfully. I scratched the back of my neck with my nails. Did brownies get fleas? Was that why I felt so itchy? ‘Iamweird and youshouldstay away from me. Nice to meet you though, Sophia.’ I started to close the door.
‘Wait!’
I hesitated.
‘I still want to hire you.’ She swallowed. ‘Ineedto hire you. I need a treasure hunter.’
Oh, man. ‘That’s very kind of you, Sophia, but I’m afraid I’m busy.’
Although she was obviously nervous, her response was instant. ‘No, you’re not. You finished that job for Mrs York and I’ve seen your advert in the shop window down the street that says you’ll hunt foranysort of treasure, so you can’t be that busy.’
Was this kid keeping tabs on me? I should have known that forking over a whole twenty quid to advertise my skills in the corner-shop window would bite me in the arse sooner or later.
She held out a crumpled five-pound note. ‘I can pay you.’
‘I can’t take your money, Sophia.’ I tried to sound as gentle as possible. ‘You should go home to your dad and ask him for help.’
Her cheeks turned scarlet. ‘Stop! Stop patro – patro– patro?—’
‘Patronising you?’
Her jaw tightened. ‘Yeah. That. I want to hire you to get my treasure back. You’re a treasure hunter.’ She glared. ‘So hunt for my treasure.’
‘What treasure is it?’
‘My doll.’
Help. I scanned the street again. It was devoid of people. ‘Um…’
‘A doll might not be treasure to you but she’s treasure to me. She’s the last present my mum gave me before she died.’
My stomach sank to my boots. Shit. ‘Where did you last see it?’
‘In the cemetery at the end of the road.’ She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘I was visiting Mum’s grave and I tookNancywith me,’ she stressed the name, as if she were insulted by me calling her doll an ‘it’. ‘Nancy’s my doll. I put her down while I went to get some water for the flowersand when I turned around, she’d gone. Somebody took her. I need to get her back and you can help me.’
‘Um…’ I tried to think of a polite way to decline. It would have been easy if she were an adult.
Sophia threw the balled up five-pound note at my chest. Without thinking, I grabbed it before it tumbled to the ground and her face immediately transformed into a bright grin. ‘Brilliant! Thank you! I’m at number seventy-two. Flat four. You can knock on the door when you’ve found Nancy. You’ll know her when you find her. She has a pink heart sewn on her chest.’ She twisted away and marched down the street, her hair swinging in the light breeze.
Nuh-uh. No way. ‘Wait! Sophia!’
She didn’t turn around. ‘I’ll be home from school every day at four o’clock!’ she called. ‘Don’t come after six or my dad will see you.’
No sooner had the last word left her mouth than she started to run with the pelting speed that only professional sprinters, expert shapeshifters and pre-pubescent kids could manage. I was left clutching the grubby fiver and staring after her with the definite sensation that I’d been completely conned by a child.
I sighed, stepped back, closed the door and headed for the kitchen where Otis and Hester were already making a mess. ‘So,’ I hedged. ‘You remember what I said about only hunting for substantial treasure from now on?’
