The Crooked Sixpence by Jennifer Bell Page A

doors. The smoked-glass window of the one in the far right-hand corner was engraved with the word CELLS .
    Ivy checked on the underguards as she snuck past them. It was still difficult to believe they didn’t know she was there.
I’m invisible
, she repeated to herself.
I’m invisible.
    As she approached the door, she glanced back once more. Satisfied that the guards were all distracted, she reached for the handle.
    Just in time, she heard it creak and leaped back—
    The door burst open. Ivy ducked aside and pinned herself against the wall.
    A willowy lady with sloping shoulders and a long neck came striding into the room. Her dark hair lay neatly plaited over her shoulder and she wore a floor-length grey silk dress with a purple sash across her chest, like some Roman emperor. ‘There must be a mistake,’ she said calmly. ‘It can’t be her.’
    â€˜I can assure you,’ said a second voice, ‘there is no mistake.’
    Ivy identified the second voice instantly; her skin turned to ice as Officer Smokehart stopped right in front of her. He gestured to a framed picture behind the stone desk. ‘The map doesn’t make mistakes.’
    Ivy scrutinized the picture curiously. Except . . . wait, it
wasn’t
a picture; it
was
a map – she could see the image on its surface shimmering like a seashell. First it depicted a rugged coastline of white cliffs, then a patchwork of fields and rolling hills, and finally crisscrossing roads and concrete buildings. The map was
moving
.
    Smokehart turned back to the tall woman. With her slanting blue eyes, thick lashes and high cheekbones, she looked a bit like a movie star. Around her wrist was a thin leather leash; a small, sandy-haired dog sniffed around the bottom of her dress.
    â€˜I’ve checked the records,’ Smokehart insisted. ‘Sylvie Wrench took the glove when she was eleven. She was visible on all uncommon maps after that date until Twelfth Night 1969, when she disappeared off the face of the planet. Our map hasn’t been able to find her for over forty years, but it
can
see her now. She appeared this morning.’
    The tall woman lowered her head, thinking.
    â€˜With your authority,’ Smokehart continued, ‘I will reopen the enquiry into Twelfth Night. Everyone knows what happened to Sylvie Wrench’s father, Octavius, but the movements of the rest of the family have always eluded us. If we can piece together what really happened that night, we might be able to discover the whereabouts of the three brothers and the mother, and bring them to justice. This is the first opportunity we’ve had to—’
    The tall woman raised her hand, her blue eyes widening as she interrupted him. ‘This is the first opportunity we’ve had to stir up the past. Many uncommoners lost friends and family on Twelfth Night, fighting the Fallen Guild. Reopening the case is like baring old wounds. It is not a good idea.’
    â€˜Selena, listen to me. We could make history—’
    â€˜
Officer
,’ the woman said sharply. ‘You and I are colleagues, but please do not feel you have earned the right to address me as anything other than Lady Grimes. I am a
quartermaster
.’
    Just for a second Smokehart’s pale face flushed scarlet and little red dots appeared on his neck. Ivy remembered that it had happened before, when he had been pursuing her in that rain-drenched field. He bowed his head. ‘Forgive me, Lady Grimes, but if you could just—’
    Selena Grimes raised her hand again. ‘You said that Ms Wrench is confined to a common hospital, yes?’
    Smokehart gritted his teeth. ‘Yes. She appeared on the map while travelling in an ambulance. I ascertained her address, and then, after my constable and I had searched her house, we went to the hospital to question her. Unfortunately the woman simply doesn’t know anything. Purposefully or not, her mind has