Anyone but Ivy Pocket Read online

  In the end, it was an easy decision. I would fulfill my promise. Come what may (including dagger-wielding nincompoops), I would see the Clock Diamond hanging around Matilda Butterfield’s neck.

  I awoke a few hours later feeling remarkably fresh. Of course, the Duchess’s grisly death still troubled me. But it would not deflate my spirits. After all, I had taken the necessary precautions to protect the Clock Diamond before I went to sleep. I had pulled a small writing desk in front of my cabin door, thus blocking any intruders. And I slept with the precious stone under my pillow. I had dispensed with the black velvet box and the old key—they were cumbersome and unnecessary and they practically shouted “Please rob me!” Which wasn’t helpful.

  The second I woke up, I felt beneath my pillow for the stone. My sleepy body flooded with relief to find it still there. I quickly decided to keep the stone in my pocket at all times during the day and to sew the pocket shut to eliminate the possibility of loss or theft.

  Before I slipped the diamond into my pocket and stitched it in, I held the stone up to the light. Through the porthole, I could see the shimmering sun high above the rippling blue horizon. It cast the cabin in a bronze haze. In the heart of the diamond, the sun hung in miniature above the ship. The entire stone glowed like an iridescent egg yolk. It was beautiful. And all I know is, I got lost in it. Lost in its wonder.

  A longing bloomed inside of me again, just as it had in the Duchess’s bedroom chamber. A mad desire. I needed to wear the necklace. To put it on. To see myself with the Clock Diamond around my neck. Yes, yes, I had promised the Duchess I wouldn’t. But how could it possibly hurt her now? I could try the necklace on—just for a second. A minute or two. Then take it off. No one would know.

  I walked to the mirror. The silver necklace pooled in the palm of my hand like a puddle. I looked splendid in my new dress. My dark hair was tied back in a braid and was very fetching. I held both ends of the clasp behind my neck. I glanced in the mirror. The Clock Diamond hung in the air, the heavy stone swinging like a pendulum. My hands trembled. My mouth was dry. A feeling of lightness rushed through my head.

  With new determination, I steadied my fingers and fixed the clasp together. The necklace dropped to my chest and hung there, its warmth radiating through my dress.

  The Clock Diamond glowed a silvery white. Then the stone began to pulse. I could feel it beat against my chest. At first it was irregular, throbbing out of rhythm. Then the pulse steadied. I cannot say for sure, but it seemed to have synchronized with the beating of my heart.

  The stone dimmed. Thump. Thump. Thump. It felt awfully hot in the cabin. Stuffy. I took a breath. It took more effort than usual. My head was positively spinning. Or was it the cabin? The stone throbbed and filled with a billowing black mist.

  The dark fog churned like a thunderstorm, then cleared.

  In its place I saw something move.

  A baby. Looking up and laughing.

  In an instant the infant was older. A girl now. Dark hair in two braids. Gorgeous blue eyes. But pale. Plain. She was crying. Sitting by a window. Wondering why she had been left in that awful place. Then older. Eleven or twelve. Dressed as a maid. Serving tea. In a fine house.

  Then a glittering white mist filled the stone. And the girl was gone.

  The girl who was me.

  A glow burst from the diamond like a searchlight. It seemed to reach for me.

  It filled my eyes, pouring into me. It swallowed me up.

  Then the world fell away.

  All was black.

  Tap.Tap.Tap.

  The door.

  Someone was knocking at the door. I opened my eyes and blinked. My head ached. I was lying on the floor of my cabin. Bright sun filled the tiny room. I squinted, shielded my eyes, and slowly got to my feet.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  “Just a moment!” I called out.

  My brain felt like it had been taken out of my head, kicked around like a football, then shoved back in. I had overexcited myself. Such things were always happening to girls in novels.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

  I quickly straightened my dress and took a deep breath. My hand was gripping the door handle when I remembered. The necklace! I was still wearing it. I unfastened the clasp and slipped the necklace into my pocket.

  Then opened the door.

  “I’m Geraldine Always,” said a rather prim-looking woman in a brown dress and matching gloves. “My cabin is right next to yours. I heard a thump and I was concerned. Are you all right?”

  She had unremarkable brown hair pulled back from her face. Round spectacles. Excellent teeth. And I liked her from the start.

  “I’m perfectly fine,” I said. “I dropped . . . my bag. Yes, my bag. That must have been the noise you heard.”

  Geraldine Always sprung up on her tiptoes (she was short, but not shockingly so) and looked over my shoulder. “You are traveling with family?”

  “Heavens no,” I said. “My parents are currently on an expedition in Mongolia. Hunting aardvarks. I am traveling back to England to spend the summer with my grandmother. She’s beastly.”

  “You must think me awfully nosy, knocking on your door and interrogating you,” said Miss Always rather meekly.

  “Yes, dear, that is just what I was thinking.”

  Miss Always laughed. Which was odd. She said, “You see, like you, I am traveling alone—which is very dull. What is your name?”

  “Ivy Pocket.”

  “Well, Ivy Pocket, we shall have to be companions for the length of our voyage. There is no other option.”

  And so we were.

  The poor woman was a writer. Her first book—Famous Ghosts of Scotland and Wales—had sold just sixty-three copies. For the last year she had been traveling the world writing a new book on lost myths and legends—cursed relics, hidden worlds, vengeful gods, that sort of thing. Now Miss Always was heading back home to England to care for her sick mother. My new friend was sweet natured and monstrously dull. But being a generous sort of girl—for I have all the natural instincts of a stockbroker—I did my best to ensure she had a jolly good time.

  Over the two days and nights of our voyage, I was never parted from the Clock Diamond. It stayed sewn in my pocket by day, and safely beneath my pillow by night. I was still troubled by the Duchess’s murder, but despite this, my spirits remained high. In fact, following my ridiculous fainting spell, I’d never looked better. And I had the appetite of a small army.

  That first evening, Miss Always and I took a moonlight walk along the upper deck after supper. We discussed my parents’ many adventures. They were mapmakers by profession. Traveling to the darkest corners of the globe, mapping its uncharted valleys and gorges and mountains. They had been everywhere. Done everything. Dug up mummies in Egypt. Carved tracks through the Amazon. Miss Always was utterly fascinated by their adventures. As was I. After all, I was hearing them for the first time.

  Yes, yes, it is wrong to tell lies and whatnot. But I couldn’t help it. I knew nothing of my real parents. The only information I had was that someone—a lady of grim countenance—had brought me to the Harrington Home for Unwanted Children in London. And left me there. I was five. My memories don’t really begin until after I arrived at the orphanage—the years before it are a blur. But I am certain my early life was filled with amazing adventures.

  “You must treasure your parents, Ivy,” said Miss Always gravely. “That is why I am so keen to get back to England, to see my poor mother. She is terribly ill.” She came to a stop, resting her hands on the railing. Beyond us, the milky moonlight played upon the black sea. “Shall I tell you a secret, Ivy?”

  “I insist that you do,” I said.

  “In Paris, I bought a very special gift for my mother,” she whispered. “A diamond ring. My father couldn’t afford one when they first married. But Mummy has always wanted one.”

  “Was it stupendously expensive?” I asked.

  “Shockingly,” said Miss Always. She leaned close to m
e. “Perhaps you could help me, Ivy. For I haven’t been able to think of a place to hide the diamond while we are at sea. You know, somewhere no one would ever think to look. I’m terrible at such things.”

  I looked around to make sure we were quite alone. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, Miss Always,” I said softly, “but I’m traveling with a diamond myself. Very rare. One of a kind.”

  “You are?” She looked stunned.

  “Nobody knows about it,” I said. “Not even the captain.”

  Now perhaps it was unwise of me to speak of the stone. But I am an excellent judge of character, and I knew I could trust Miss Always. She wrote books, how dangerous could she be?

  “Where did you get it?” asked my new friend eagerly.

  “From a fat old duchess,” I said brightly. “We were monstrously close. It was her dying wish that I deliver the diamond personally to Matilda Butterfield of Butterfield Park. The Duchess trusted no one but me with the mission.”

  “Then you know how nervous I feel about carrying something so valuable myself,” said Miss Always. She licked her lips. “How on earth did you figure out where to hide the Duchess’s necklace?”

  “It was easy, dear,” I said. “I always carry it with me.”

  Miss Always’s eyes widened. “You have the Cl—” She coughed all of a sudden, undoubtedly choking on a wasp or some beastly sea bug. “You have the diamond on you right now?”

  “I do.”

  She looked at me eagerly. “May I ask where?”

  What a simpleminded nincompoop she was.

  I giggled. “I keep it in my pocket,” I explained. “I sew the pocket shut—so you see, it’s perfectly safe. Nobody could take the stone without my knowing about it.”

  “And at night?” asked Miss Always. “What do you do at night?”

  “Under my pillow, dear,” I answered. “I’m a very light sleeper. If anyone tried to steal it, I would wake up and thrash them brutally. Plus, I barricade the door.”

  I thought Miss Always looked slightly disappointed. But I’m sure I was mistaken. She swiftly took me further into her confidence (that dear, trusting, dimwitted creature). “My mother’s ring,” she whispered. “Would you like to see it?”

  Now I must confess, apart from the Clock Diamond, I have little interest in jewels as a general rule. But the bonds of friendship demanded that I at least try to look interested.

  “I would love to,” I said.

  Miss Always’s cabin was just like my own. Only darker, and lit by a single candle on the bedside table. With the door safely locked, my friend patted down her mousy brown hair, pushed up her spectacles, and took a deep breath. Then she opened her travel bag and removed a large book on ancient Greece. For a moment I feared she was going to read to me. Fortunately, the book had a far more interesting function, for carved inside was a chamber, and in it, a small red box. Miss Always pulled it out and with great care opened the lid.

  “Here it is,” she said dreamily.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” I cried.

  It wasn’t. It was small. And dull. A thin gold band. A tiny diamond. I’d seen dust with more sparkle. Still, it was my job as a bosom friend to lie. I oohed and ahhed. Was suitably complimentary. Declared that her mother would be so delighted she would probably die of shock. Which was an unfortunate choice of words given the poor woman’s perilous health. But Miss Always seemed pleased by my reaction.

  The smile soon faded from her lips. “The ring must appear very insignificant when compared to your diamond, Ivy. Could I—?” She shook her head. “No, I shouldn’t ask. It’s terribly rude of me.”

  “What is?” I said.

  “I was going to ask if I might take a look at it,” she said shyly. “The necklace, I mean. But please forgive me. I shouldn’t ask such a thing.”

  Now of course I had vowed to show no one the stone. Not until the birthday ball. But Miss Always was a sweet-natured blockhead. What could be the harm in giving her a glimpse of the Clock Diamond? “Come closer and I will show you,” I said quietly.

  Miss Always edged towards me, hands behind her back. “Only if you are sure,” she said with heartbreaking intensity. She was close to me now. I turned, searching the bedside table for something to cut open the stitching on my pocket. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck.

  “You don’t know how much this means to me, Ivy,” I heard her say. “You will never know how much.”

  “Calm yourself, dear,” I said, opening a series of drawers, looking for a pair of scissors or a small knife. “It’s only a silly diamond. Though I will admit, it did look rather glorious when I tried it on.”

  I turned to face her just as her arm was swinging towards me. Something in her hand flared in the candlelight, blinding me for a moment. It sliced through the air, coming right at me. I didn’t have time to flinch. Just as quickly, Miss Always froze. Her hand was steady. She had the scissors poised right in front of my chest. Which was rather troubling.

  “Miss Always?”

  The poor creature looked horribly bewildered. A small gasped escaped her lips. “What . . . what did you say?”

  “Be careful with those scissors, dear,” I said with a furrowed brow.

  Miss Always blushed. Looked down at the scissors. “Goodness. Yes, of course. I found them on the desk and was so eager to hand them to you, I nearly . . . oh, Ivy, I’m awfully sorry. It’s all the excitement, I suppose.”

  I took the scissors from her hand. “Yes, dear, you’re monstrously excitable.”

  “Ivy, did you say you tried on the necklace?”

  I nodded and began to snip the stitching on my pocket. “Only for a moment. I didn’t see any harm in it. Of course, then I fainted—and the next thing I knew, you were knocking at my door.”

  “I . . . I don’t believe it,” she muttered.

  “Oh, it’s perfectly all right,” I said brightly. “The stone wasn’t damaged, and as I said, it was only for a minute or two.”

  Miss Always smiled tightly. “You really are full of surprises, Ivy.”

  With the stitching cut away, I slipped my hand into my pocket to retrieve the necklace. Suddenly Miss Always’s fingers snaked around my wrist. Her grip was rather tight. “Stop,” she commanded.

  “Whatever’s the matter, dear?” I said.

  “I hear voices outside,” said Miss Always, glancing towards the door.

  “I’m sure it’s just someone passing by.” I was now rather eager to show Miss Always the stone, hopeful she might actually explode with excitement (which would be frightfully tragic, but violently entertaining). “Don’t worry, dear. We are perfectly safe.”

  But Miss Always did not seem to believe it. Only moments ago, she had been drooling with anticipation at seeing the stone, and now she refused to even look at it. She said she would see it some other time. Then she hurried me from her cabin, suggesting I get a good night’s sleep.

  “Oh, and Ivy,” she said, pushing me out into the hallway, “do be sure to lock your door. With a diamond so rare and valuable, you must be terribly careful. There are thieves around every corner. You will be careful, won’t you, Ivy?”

  Before I could answer, Miss Always had closed her cabin door.

  The next evening, before dinner, I went hunting for food. I was hungrier than I had ever been in my entire life. Some of my cravings were really very odd. I had a newfound appetite for potatoes. Raw ones. Also, cabbages. Unfortunately, all I found in the empty tea room was half a strawberry cream cake and two stale scones. Still, they were rather scrumptious.

  When I returned below deck to freshen up, a peculiar thing happened, and it stopped me in my tracks. As I rounded the narrow corridor leading to my cabin, I spotted Miss Always at the far end. She had her back to me. Her head bowed. She appeared to be talking. And in front of her was a small hooded figure, dressed in some sort of brown robe. The figure was partly obscured by Miss Always, but from where I stood, it looked as if the two of them were deep in conversation. />
  “Miss Always?” I called out.

  She lifted her head, then turned around with a rather sweeping gesture—and as she did, the hooded figure seemed to vanish with the swish of her skirt. As if into thin air. Which was frightfully odd.

  Miss Always hurried towards me. “You look pale, Ivy,” she said. “Whatever is the matter?”

  “Who were you talking to, dear?”

  “Talking to?” Miss Always smiled and waved her hand. “Oh, that. Just some passenger who had lost his way. I was telling him how to get back to his cabin.”

  “He was dressed very strangely,” I said next.

  “Was he?” Miss Always looped her arm through mine and began to walk with me. “One passenger is much the same as the next to me, Ivy.”

  “But his robes were positively medieval,” I said, “and he was terribly short.”

  Miss Always stopped. Put her hand on my forehead. Frowned a great deal. “You don’t look well at all, and you are making very little sense. The gentleman I spoke with was dressed in a dinner suit.” She nodded grimly. “I’m afraid you have a bad case of seasickness, Ivy. The most common symptoms are hallucinations—which you are clearly suffering from—and sudden changes in appetite. Have you noticed anything unusual about your eating habits?”

  Well, of course I had. Ravenous hunger and whatnot. “Not really.”

  “You look flushed, and your forehead is terribly hot,” said Miss Always.

  Was it? It seemed all the signs were there. I was monstrously hungry and I had conjured up a hooded dwarf from thin air! “Perhaps you are right,” I said as we mounted the stairs towards the dining room. “After supper, I will pay a visit to the ship’s doctor.”