Verity Sparks, Lost and Found by Susan Green

off. “Wool and a jar of ginger.” She lowered her voice. “And perhaps a little surprise, Mr Opie. I suggest something pretty. Perhaps lacy. I think it would be a good investment right now.”

    Our shopping expedition started off successfully. Daniel and I strolled down Collins Street until we found a haberdasher’s, and within minutes I was able to match the wool.
    “And now for the surprise,” I said, and led Daniel to the Royal Arcade. On the day of my birthday treat, I’d seen a shop there with fine imported lace caps, collars, shawls and trimmings in the window.
    “How about this?”
    I shook my head. “Too many frills.”
    “Or that one.”
    “Daniel! It’s hideous.”
    “I give up,” he said. “It’s obvious I know nothing about mothers-to-be
or
fashion. You choose, Verity.”
    I picked out a pretty cap with pink ribbons, the saleslady wrapped it in tissue, brown paper and string, and then all that was left for us to do was to buy Judith’s ginger.
    Thanks to the geography lessons at Hightop House, I knew we were a long way from the Orient. But I could see why Melbourne people called it Chinatown. I tried not to stare. All around us was a busy throng of Chinese people in their flat slippers, tunics and trousers, laughing, shouting, making bargains and calling out their wares.
    “Look in there,” I said. We were outside an eating house. It was crowded with people, all tucking into bowls of food with their chopsticks, and delicious spicy smells wafted out into the street.
    “Don’t you feel hungry, Daniel?”
    “We could take home a duck,” he suggested, pointing to a row of cooked fowl hanging by their feet. “They look tasty.”
    “Or a lobster. Look out!” A pair of big claws was poking out from a bucket, pincers snapping nastily.
    Eventually, we wove our way through piles of vegetables and sacks of rice into a grocer’s shop, where we found what we were looking for. But which jar? Jade green, red with gold dragons, or blue and white with a pattern of bamboo leaves?
    “All three, please,” said Daniel.
    The shopkeeper wrapped them up with newspaper and string, took Daniel’s money and bowed us out of the shop.
    “I feel we’ve had quite an adventure,” said Daniel as we headed off to catch a cab back to Richmond. But the real adventure was just about to begin.
    Suddenly, the sky went dark, there was a crack of thunder and down came the rain. By now we were used to Melbourne’s changeable weather and we were prepared. Up went our trusty umbrellas, and Daniel and I ran along together, laughing and chattering, for a couple of blocks.
    “What street is this?” I panted, looking around for a sign. I didn’t know Melbourne well, but surely we should have reached Collins Street by now. Had we gone too far? Where were we? We were no longer in Chinatown, that much I was sure of. I’d felt a lot safer when we were. Dark and narrow lanes ran off to both sides. Now that the worst of the storm was over, water dripped and gurgled from rusty spouting and turned the ground to muddy slush under our feet. We had to skirt slimy puddles and piles of bottles, rags and other rubbish, and I was glad I’d worn my sturdy boots. The smell was revolting.
    “This way,” said Daniel, pointing to a lane. “Let’s see if we can get back through to Bourke Street.”
    “Yes, let’s,” I agreed.
    But then Daniel stopped dead. “What on earth?” he said. “D’you hear that, Verity?”
    Voices, muttering at first, then raised. They sounded rough and somehow threatening. There was a loud groan, and then in a sneering tone, someone said, “There’s more where that came from, guv, so hand it over.”
    More groans and some unpleasant laughter. There was a thump, a crunching sound and a cry of pain. Someone was being attacked.
    “I’d better look into this,” Daniel said grimly. “You stay here, Verity.”
    “No, I’ll come with you.”
    He gave me one quick exasperated glance and said, “Come on