larks we’re all having!’ She hitched up her lemon-yellow skirts and squatted down close to him. ‘I remember this rooftop being built. Oh, it must’ve been thirty, maybe even forty years ago.’
The cold metal gutter numbed Edgy’s knuckles.
‘The man who laid that brick – you know, the stone that fell from under your feet? He was a lazy, careless worker. I made sure of that.’
Edgy’s breath grew ragged as his head fell forwards, crushing his own windpipe. His shoulder felt ablaze as he struggled to hold on. Salomé frowned and put her dainty finger to her red lip.
‘Oh, and the man who fixed this gutter ran out of screws but couldn’t be bothered going back down for more so he missed a few out.’ Salomé’s red lips pursed into a neat smile. ‘I made sure of that.’
With a metallic groan, the brackets holding the gutter buckled, snapped and swung out away from the wall. Suddenly Edgy was dangling in mid air high above the ground. Sweat trickled down his back.
‘Ooops.’ Salomé’s eyebrows rose in perfectly plucked arches, her mouth a round ‘o’ of pretend surprise. ‘But the man who worked down there – the one who fitted the pointed iron railings directly beneath you – he was a God-fearing man. He did a good job.’
The street beneath Edgy swung to and fro as the gutter creaked and shifted again. The lines of the paving slabs, the edge of the road, the railings rocked and see-sawed. The gutter sagged. Henry’s weight in the sack dragged at him, burning his shoulder.
Salomé’s face screwed into a hard scowl. ‘You see what you’re up against, little boy?’ she hissed. ‘Whole lifetimes of corner-cutting, settling for second best. All to serve me. That was a nasty trick, throwing salt in my face. I was very disappointed in you.’
Salomé beckoned with her finger and, as if it were alive, the gutter began to swing back to the wall of the building. Edgy lost his grip, slipping along the slimy ironwork towards the broken end of the gutter. Then his head hit the wall and, for a moment, all was darkness and weightlessness.
This is it , he thought. I’m going to die .
Fair Eleanor, she sat still.
It wasn’t long till she saw
Her own dear seven brethrens
All wallowing in their own blood.
Fair Eleanor, she sat still.
She never changed a note
Till she saw her own father’s head
Come tumbling by her foot.
‘Earl Brand’, traditional folk ballad
Chapter Fourteen
Cutting Corners
A sudden jerk opened Edgy’s eyes.
Salomé had his waistcoat scrunched in her fist, her arm outstretched supporting him as though he were weightless. A button from his jacket vanished to the street below. Edgy heard it clink against the railings that speared up beneath him and felt sick.
‘Wait,’ he gasped. ‘Wh-what clings tight to hand or nose, from toady slime it grows, as quick as it’s here, it goes?’
‘A riddle?’ Salomé’s eyes glowed a deeper green. Slowly she eased Edgy back on to the rooftop and dumped him flat on to the tiles. ‘Oh, Edgy, you are naughty. You know I can’t resist a riddle.’
‘If you can’t get it,’ Edgy croaked, straightening up and sitting next to her on the roof ’s edge, ‘you must let me go.’
‘Oh, you are clever, Edgy Taylor,’ Salomé smirked at him. She dangled her booted feet over the edge of the roof and kicked them like a child on a grown-up’s chair. ‘But I know it, you see. It’s a wart. A wart clings to face or hand and then one day it’s just gone!’
Edgy’s heart plummeted. He felt as though he were falling all over again.
‘Just give me the letter, silly,’ Salomé giggled. She leaned over and pulled out the letter from his pocket. ‘That’s twice you’ve lost to me. Have you solved my first riddle yet?’ Her eyebrows rose as she scanned the letter. ‘Oh, I see. Mr Scrabsnitch suggests a revitalising pint of ale at the Green Man Inn, does he? Fascinating.’ She carefully folded the letter and slid it back into
The cold metal gutter numbed Edgy’s knuckles.
‘The man who laid that brick – you know, the stone that fell from under your feet? He was a lazy, careless worker. I made sure of that.’
Edgy’s breath grew ragged as his head fell forwards, crushing his own windpipe. His shoulder felt ablaze as he struggled to hold on. Salomé frowned and put her dainty finger to her red lip.
‘Oh, and the man who fixed this gutter ran out of screws but couldn’t be bothered going back down for more so he missed a few out.’ Salomé’s red lips pursed into a neat smile. ‘I made sure of that.’
With a metallic groan, the brackets holding the gutter buckled, snapped and swung out away from the wall. Suddenly Edgy was dangling in mid air high above the ground. Sweat trickled down his back.
‘Ooops.’ Salomé’s eyebrows rose in perfectly plucked arches, her mouth a round ‘o’ of pretend surprise. ‘But the man who worked down there – the one who fitted the pointed iron railings directly beneath you – he was a God-fearing man. He did a good job.’
The street beneath Edgy swung to and fro as the gutter creaked and shifted again. The lines of the paving slabs, the edge of the road, the railings rocked and see-sawed. The gutter sagged. Henry’s weight in the sack dragged at him, burning his shoulder.
Salomé’s face screwed into a hard scowl. ‘You see what you’re up against, little boy?’ she hissed. ‘Whole lifetimes of corner-cutting, settling for second best. All to serve me. That was a nasty trick, throwing salt in my face. I was very disappointed in you.’
Salomé beckoned with her finger and, as if it were alive, the gutter began to swing back to the wall of the building. Edgy lost his grip, slipping along the slimy ironwork towards the broken end of the gutter. Then his head hit the wall and, for a moment, all was darkness and weightlessness.
This is it , he thought. I’m going to die .
Fair Eleanor, she sat still.
It wasn’t long till she saw
Her own dear seven brethrens
All wallowing in their own blood.
Fair Eleanor, she sat still.
She never changed a note
Till she saw her own father’s head
Come tumbling by her foot.
‘Earl Brand’, traditional folk ballad
Chapter Fourteen
Cutting Corners
A sudden jerk opened Edgy’s eyes.
Salomé had his waistcoat scrunched in her fist, her arm outstretched supporting him as though he were weightless. A button from his jacket vanished to the street below. Edgy heard it clink against the railings that speared up beneath him and felt sick.
‘Wait,’ he gasped. ‘Wh-what clings tight to hand or nose, from toady slime it grows, as quick as it’s here, it goes?’
‘A riddle?’ Salomé’s eyes glowed a deeper green. Slowly she eased Edgy back on to the rooftop and dumped him flat on to the tiles. ‘Oh, Edgy, you are naughty. You know I can’t resist a riddle.’
‘If you can’t get it,’ Edgy croaked, straightening up and sitting next to her on the roof ’s edge, ‘you must let me go.’
‘Oh, you are clever, Edgy Taylor,’ Salomé smirked at him. She dangled her booted feet over the edge of the roof and kicked them like a child on a grown-up’s chair. ‘But I know it, you see. It’s a wart. A wart clings to face or hand and then one day it’s just gone!’
Edgy’s heart plummeted. He felt as though he were falling all over again.
‘Just give me the letter, silly,’ Salomé giggled. She leaned over and pulled out the letter from his pocket. ‘That’s twice you’ve lost to me. Have you solved my first riddle yet?’ Her eyebrows rose as she scanned the letter. ‘Oh, I see. Mr Scrabsnitch suggests a revitalising pint of ale at the Green Man Inn, does he? Fascinating.’ She carefully folded the letter and slid it back into
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