The Empty Grave (Lockwood & Co. #5)(42)

‘Hold on,’ Holly said. ‘Why didn’t she remove the tiara after Sid’s death? Why risk other people’s lives?’

Lockwood shook his head. ‘It’s hard to say. Sarah claims she hadn’t had the opportunity. Personally, I wonder if her private misery had morphed into a dull hatred for the world in general. Or perhaps she found she simply liked the secret power … But that’s a matter for Inspector Barnes, not us. Here he is now. I’ll fill him in.’

Looking at Lockwood then, as he strode across to meet the DEPRAC contingent, coat swinging behind him, so confident and self-possessed, you’d have been hard pushed to imagine that an hour or two before he’d been a ghost’s plaything. His smile was as bright as ever, his energy lit up the stage. A little crowd gathered to listen. Old Inspector Barnes, crumpled and hangdog as usual, hung on his every word. George and Kipps were there too, standing on the sidelines, luxuriating in everyone’s goodwill.

Only Holly and I hung back. In my case this was partly down to exhaustion, partly delayed shock at the drastic action I’d had to take to save Lockwood. I simply didn’t feel like joining in. Holly was fine, but she could see the state I was in and wanted to keep me company.

I watched Lockwood through a fog of weariness. From the moment he awakened he’d seemed his normal self. But I knew what I’d seen when I looked into his spellbound eyes.

They’d been no different to those of Charley Budd. And what had George said about Charley – him and the other victims? They had weak connections to life. Enchainment worked on those who, one way or another, were already somehow looking to the next world. The ghost had tried it on me too. I’d wavered, I’d felt the pull. But Lockwood? He’d fallen for it, big time. It didn’t matter how sprightly he seemed now. For a few short minutes he’d been back in that overgrown cemetery with his family. He’d been walking towards that empty grave.

An hour later we were standing at the gates to Tufnell’s Travelling Fairground, waiting for the night cabs to take us home. Kipps had got hot teas from a bearded lady who seemed to like him. He, George and Holly were huddled together, sipping from plastic cups. I stood slightly apart, coat wrapped tight around me, looking south towards the river. You could just see the Thames from here, glinting in broken shards beyond the factory chimneys. It was a cold morning.

Lockwood came to stand beside me. We stood in silence, shoulders touching, watching the grey city grow sharp and definite, hardening into a new day.

‘I haven’t said a proper thank-you,’ Lockwood said.

‘It’s all right.’

‘I know what you did for me.’

My mouth tightened. ‘Swung down on a bloody trapeze was what I did, Lockwood.’

‘I know.’

‘I hate heights.’

‘I know that.’

‘I hate trapezes.’

‘Yes.’

‘Don’t ever make me have to do something so ridiculous and dangerous again.’

‘Lucy, I won’t. I promise.’ He offered me a sidelong grin. ‘But listen – you were amazing. Holly told me. Kipps too – he saw the part from when you landed on the crash mat.’

‘Oh, he didn’t see that bit, did he? God.’

‘You saved my life.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Thank you.’

I wiped my nose with a gloved hand, sniffed at the coldness of the air. ‘We shouldn’t have split up the way we did, Lockwood. And you shouldn’t have been there at all. I told you and George before we came. You were vulnerable to that thing.’

He let out a long, slow breath. ‘From what George tells me, you were too.’

‘I was, it’s true. I was thinking about my sisters – and other things like that. It sensed my sadness and took advantage.’ I looked at him. ‘What were you thinking about when it appeared to you?’

Lockwood pulled his collar up against the chill. He wasn’t very good with direct questions like that. ‘I don’t really remember.’

‘You were so far gone when I got to you. You were completely ensnared. At the end, even after I chopped the thing’s head off, you were still mooning over it.’

The DEPRAC vans came through the gates and pulled away, lights flashing, brakes squealing. There was Barnes, following in his car. He waved a lugubrious hand.

Lockwood didn’t speak until everything was quiet again. ‘I know you’re worrying about me, Luce,’ he said. ‘But you really mustn’t. These things happen when you’re an agent. You’ve been snared by ghosts in the past, haven’t you? There was the one that made the bloody footprints, and the thing in the tunnels below Aickmere’s department store. But it’s fine – because I helped you then, and you’ve helped me now. We’re there to help each other. If we do that, we’ll get through.’

Which was a lovely thing to say, and it made me feel a little warmer. I just had to hope it was true.

Back at Portland Row, normality was resumed – which meant arguments about who paid the taxi fare, three helpings of breakfast each, and George hogging the hot water in the bathroom. Kipps and Holly had gone to their respective homes; mid-morning saw George, Lockwood and me all sleeping late. When I woke up again, sometime after noon, the first thing I saw was the ghost-jar, still protruding from the top of my rucksack where I’d slung it on my bedroom chair. It was tilted at an angle, thanks to a fair-sized pile of dirty washing, and the spectral face inside was staring at me like I’d just shot its grandmother.