The Case of the Weeping Mermaid

by Holly Webb

  Maisie peered at the little squares of paper again. Her candle was guttering and almost burnt down – it wouldn’t last much longer. But she couldn’t go to sleep yet. She had been reading and rereading the notes ever since she and Alice had gone to bed, desperate to find another clue. They had been so worried and silent at supper that Gran had started talking about Mrs Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, or cod liver oil. Maisie had eaten a whole extra helping of boiled turnip, just to prove how very healthy she was. She could still taste it.

  Eddie sighed and wriggled in his sleep, and the little paper squares fluttered. Maisie patted him gently – she had forgiven him for chewing the book now, of course. Then she pulled out one of the notes that had ended up squashed under his front paw. She turned it over to smooth it out properly – and gasped, holding her candle closer.

  There was more writing on the other side of the note.

  December 25th

  Overheard two sailors in a harbour drinking den tonight. Talking of the disappearing ships. Nothing new to say, except “the ivy”. They said “the ivy got them”. What does that mean? Ivy doesn’t grow at sea! Some sort of clinging water weed? Stupid… Besides, I’m sure they mentioned something about London, too. I just couldn’t hear it properly. Ivy… Who knows. Unless it’s a person, perhaps. Mr Ivy, or Ivey. Aivy, maybe – of course I’ve not seen it written. Probably nothing, but it niggles at me. Ivy…

  Maisie sighed to herself. She had no idea what it meant either. And she was never going to get to sleep now. The mystery was so exciting, and at the same time so hard to get hold of. It ran through her fingers like water.

  She wriggled out of bed, leaving Eddie snoring a little, and crept round Alice and the three cats on the folding cot. She padded slowly into the kitchen to make herself a cup of cocoa. Maisie was halfway to the stove before she realized that she wasn’t the only person in the room. Mr Smith was sitting at the kitchen table, frowning. Spread in front of him was a piece of paper with writing on, but as he saw Maisie looking, he quickly folded it up and stowed it in his pocket.

  Maisie smiled at him, wondering why the message was so secret. A love note, perhaps! She liked the idea of Mr Smith sighing over some lady. It would be nice for him to have company, as Maisie worried that he was rather lonely.

  The note had been hand-delivered, she had seen that as he’d folded it away. Noah Smith, it said in large black letters on the back. Someone had slipped it through the door for Mr Smith to find. And perhaps he had been down here ever since, worrying over it. Not a love letter, then… The writing looked faintly familiar, Maisie thought, stifling a yawn. Perhaps she had seen it on another of Mr Smith’s letters?

  “I can’t sleep, Mr Smith.” Maisie smiled at him brightly. “Would you fancy a cup of cocoa with me?”

  The old ship’s cook heaved a mighty sigh and said, “Aye, Maisie. Aye, I would.” His glass eye seemed to be fixed on her, glinting in the light of the lamp. “You’re a good girl, Maisie. Your father would be so proud of you.”

  Maisie was poking at the ashes in the stove, trying to get the fire going again to heat the milk, but she turned round at the mention of her father. “Mr Smith, did you say you lost your eye on board your ship? It was an accident, wasn’t it? Was it because of a falling block? My father said in his last letter that someone on the ship was hit by one falling from the rigging. What did he mean?”

  Mr Smith nodded wisely. “Common injury on board ships, Maisie. A block – hmmm. Hard to explain. A great big lump of wood with holes in it, that’s what you’d think if you saw one, I suppose. The ropes run through it – it’s part of a pulley, you see, to make it easier to haul the sails up and down. But if the end of the rope is loose, the block can run down the rope and hit someone walking below.”

  “Oh.” Maisie nodded thoughtfully. “And you got hit by one?”

  “No, no. It was a flying rope end that did for me. Thrashing about in a gale. Took my eye straight out.”

  Maisie shuddered. Life at sea could obviously be dangerous and her father’s injury could have been an accident. But somehow she didn’t think it very likely.

  Maisie found it very hard to drag herself out of bed the next morning. She’d had so little sleep that her mind felt foggy and dull. Alice was talking to her as they buttoned up each other’s dresses, but her friend’s voice sounded strangely like the twittering of little birds.

  “Maisie, are you listening? Oh, Maisie, you’re still half asleep!” Alice patted her cheek gently. “Are you all right?”

  “I couldn’t get to sleep until late,” Maisie explained, yawning. “I kept reading those notes, over and over. But it’s a good thing I did – look.” She handed Alice the note with the writing on the back.

  “A clue!” Alice breathed. “What can it mean? Ivy?” She frowned. “There was a tree in our garden that had to be cut down, because ivy grew all around it. Papa said that it had sucked the life out of the tree. The ivy strangled it.” Her face went suddenly white. “Do you think this Mr Ivy is a strangler, Maisie?”

  Maisie shuddered. “I hope not. And we don’t even know that Ivy is a person! That was just an idea my father came up with. But even if he is a person, and he is a strangler – ugh – we shall have to go on, Alice. We can’t let your father and stepmother sail into danger like this. And if my father is right and this Ivy is in London, then we are the only ones in the right place to stop it.”

  Alice nodded, but she was still pale. “I was telling you before, Maisie, I think we should go to Papa’s office in the city. It’s in Threadneedle Street. I’m wondering if there are any papers there that we can look at for more clues. Perhaps Papa even knows this Mr Ivy, but has no reason to suspect him?” She looked uncertainly at Maisie. “I know it seems a bit far-fetched, but I can’t think what else to do…”

  “Not nearly as far-fetched as some of the plans I was thinking up in the middle of the night. Oh, excuse me!” Maisie stifled a mammoth yawn, and then giggled. “I think we should go as soon as I’ve helped Gran with the washing up and done the dusting. If we leave it any later, I’ll just fall asleep.”

  But it was as if Gran had heard them planning and was trying to prevent them setting off to do what she described as “that unladylike detecting”. Every time Maisie finished a chore, Gran would pop up with another and she kept shooing Alice away whenever she tried to help. Gran kept telling her that a nice young lady like Alice should sit with her embroidery in the lodgers’ sitting room – which was a gloomy room full of wax flowers that hardly anyone ever used. Alice kept sneaking out to give Maisie a hand when Gran wasn’t looking, but it was still halfway through the afternoon by the time the two girls finally made their way to the front door.

  “Come on, Alice,” Maisie gasped, flinging on her mantle and shivering in the chill February mist. “Oh, I thought she was never going to stop.”

  “I know! The house must be spotless now. Shall we take a horse bus down along Oxford Street?” Alice asked hopefully. She had never travelled on the omnibuses before coming to live with Maisie, and she liked watching the other passengers.

  Maisie nodded. “Do you know the people at your father’s office? What are we going to say to them?”

  Alice nodded. “I’ve been trying to think,” she said, peering along the road to look for an omnibus approaching. “Oh, it’s coming, Maisie. Can we sit on the top?”

  Maisie sighed. She thought it was far too cold to sit on the open top of the carriage, but at least it would stop her falling asleep.

  They settled on the long bench on the top deck, with Eddie held tightly on Maisie’s lap. She was glad of him – he was like a little furry hot water bottle.

  Once Alice had taken a few minutes to admire the shops, she turned back to Maisie. “I have a plan,” she said, rather mysteriously. “For Papa’s office. I’m going to tell the clerks that I want to find my necklace. Papa took it to work with him a few weeks ago because the clasp was broken. He was going to take it to a jeweller’s for me. But of
course with everything that was happening he didn’t have time.”

  “And you’re going to say that you’ll take it to be mended yourself?” Maisie nodded admiringly.

  “Yes, because hopefully Papa will have put it in a drawer somewhere, and we shall have to look all over his private office for it.” Alice looked pleased with herself. “It’s rather a good excuse, isn’t it? We just have to hope that it isn’t just lying there on the top of his desk.”

  They rattled on through the streets into the City, where Alice had explained that there were a great many shipping merchants and bankers and lawyers. “Everything to do with money,” she had said vaguely.

  Eventually, they wobbled down the outside staircase of the bus as it pulled up in Threadneedle Street. Maisie stared at the grand columns on the front of the huge Bank of England. Alice had been there often enough not to be impressed, and she hauled Maisie past impatiently.

  “This is a very smart sort of place to have an office,” Maisie murmured, removing her mantle.

  “I know,” Alice sighed. “Papa doesn’t want to give the rooms up, because then everyone will know that the business is in trouble. But he might have to soon. We’re here, look.” She pointed to a brass plate engraved with Lacey and Co. fixed up beside a huge black door. Then she led Maisie up the steps and into a grand hallway with a gilded lift and a boy in a smart uniform to work it.

  “Second floor, please,” Alice told him, and Maisie tried not to giggle as the lift lurched upwards and her stomach lurched with it.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Eccles,” Alice said politely to the smartly dressed lady clerk in the outer office.

  “Oh! Miss Lacey. How very nice to see you.”

  Maisie wasn’t sure that she meant it. Miss Eccles looked very slightly worried and she fiddled with the papers on her desk. Perhaps she thought that Alice had come to check up on her. After all, her employer had sailed away to China, so she might not have been working very hard.

  “I’ve come to find my necklace – did Papa mention it to you, Miss Eccles?” Alice asked. She was trying very hard to be believable, Maisie realized. Alice wasn’t very good at acting a part (or lying, as Gran would have called it). If Miss Eccles had known her well, she would have noticed that Alice’s cheeks had gone bright pink, and she was playing with her hair.

  “A necklace?”

  “Yes, Papa was supposed to take it to be mended, but I think he must have forgotten. Or perhaps he just didn’t have time before he went away. Do you know where he put it?” Alice smiled hopefully at the clerk, but she had her fingers crossed behind her back – of course they were hoping that Miss Eccles didn’t know.

  “No, I’m afraid he never mentioned it.”

  Miss Eccles shook her head.

  “Oh, how very annoying.” Alice was trying hard not to sound too relieved. “Well, never mind, we shall just have to go and look for it.” She started to walk towards the door of her father’s private office.

  “But you can’t go in there!” Miss Eccles yelped.

  Alice blinked at her, and Maisie looked at the clerk curiously. Why didn’t she want them to go in?

  “Why ever not?” Alice asked, and her cold voice wasn’t put on this time.

  “Mr Lacey is very particular about his office,” Miss Eccles explained. “He specifically asked that no one should use the office while he was away. Even I don’t go in there unless he calls me!”

  “That certainly doesn’t apply to me!” Alice snapped. And she marched straight over to open the door. Maisie followed her, and Eddie whisked in after them.

  Alice shut the door with a decided thud, and the two girls leaned against it, staring at each other.

  “I can’t tell whether she was trying to keep us out or if she’s just fussy,” Maisie gasped. “You were amazing! So brave!”

  “I just copied the voice Papa uses when he thinks people are being rude. He’s much better at it than I am – he can freeze your blood.” Alice giggled. “But she did look quite shocked. We’d better hurry and look around before she finds an excuse to get rid of us.”

  Maisie nodded. “This office is awfully tidy, Alice. I suppose most of the records are kept in those cabinets outside.” There were no papers lying on the big desk, and when they tried the drawers, there was very little in them apart from headed writing paper, blotters and a fountain pen. And Alice’s necklace, in a little velvet box. She tucked it away inside her fur muff.

  “Nothing useful at all,” Alice sighed.

  “There is one thing, though,” Maisie said thoughtfully, as she closed the last of the drawers and went to look at the bookshelf. “Miss Eccles was lying. She does come in here, and often enough to leave a trace of her scent. Can’t you smell it?”

  Alice sniffed. “Lavender? I thought that was the furniture polish.”

  “No, she was wearing lavender scent. I noticed because it’s quite old-fashioned, and her dress is so very new and smart. It was a beautiful dark silk, did you see?”

  “No, you know you’re much better at noticing that sort of thing, Maisie.” Alice shook her head crossly. “I suppose she comes in here to sit on the comfortable armchair and eat her lunch, or something like that. Oh, I don’t think there’s anything useful here at all. I was sure we would find some clue about Ivy! It just isn’t fair!”

  “Perhaps we could try asking Miss Eccles? If she’s not too cross to talk to us.” Maisie went quietly over to the door and pulled it open, revealing Miss Eccles standing just on the other side, looking rather surprised.

  “Did you want something?” Maisie asked her sweetly.

  “I was just coming to see if you had found the necklace,” the clerk said, sounding huffy.

  “Yes, thank you.” Alice brought out the box, opening it up to show a beautiful amethyst necklace.

  “Very pretty.” Miss Eccles’s hand went to her wrist, Maisie noticed, to stroke a gold charm bracelet she was wearing, as though Alice’s necklace had reminded her of it.

  “That’s nice,” Maisie said politely, wanting to butter Miss Eccles up so they could ask her some questions. “They’re lovely charms. So delicate!”

  “Oh!” Miss Eccles smiled. “They are, aren’t they? They all have a meaning. I was born in Yorkshire, so this is a white rose, and this little pony is to remind me of the pony I had as a girl.”

  Maisie nodded – and then her eyes widened. Her voice was a little hoarse as she said, “I think the ivy leaf is the prettiest. Such a nice green colour. Why … why do you have that one?”

  Miss Eccles smiled. “Oh, that was the first one that I was given, when I was a very small girl. My name is Ivy, you see.”

  Maisie wasn’t quite sure how they got themselves out of the Lacey and Co. offices. It seemed that they were suddenly just outside on the street, staring blankly at each other. At last, Maisie grabbed Alice by the arm and hurried her along the road to a church with a little courtyard, and they sat down upon the wall. Alice’s face shone sickly white, even in the late-afternoon shadows.

  “It’s her!” Alice gasped. “It’s her! Papa’s clerk! She has worked for him for years, he told me. He trusted her. She knew almost more about the business than he did, he said. Her father was a merchant, but he fell on hard times and lost his business, so Miss Eccles went out to work. It was terribly sad.”

  “Could that be why she’s doing all this?” Maisie asked doubtfully. “If her father was ruined?”

  “You mean, it’s all revenge?” Alice’s eyes widened even more.

  “I don’t know! Maybe she just really hated being poor. Perhaps she’s trying to make as much money as she possibly can?”

  “You two all right? You look white as a sheet, Maisie. Your freckles are almost dark brown.”

  “George!” Maisie jumped up in surprise, and Eddie growled suspiciously. He knew quite well that George didn’t like him. “Have you been following us?”

  “No,” George said quickly, but he didn’t sound very convincing. Then he shrugged and
added, “Maybe. Saw you heading off again. And then that Mr Smith that lodges with you came out the front of the house, all scowling. Said did I know where you was, because he was worried you’d gone off to the docks. I didn’t tell him I’d seen you, but I thought I’d keep an eye on you myself. I was on the bottom of that horse bus. And then I just hung around outside. That your pa’s offices, Miss Alice?”

  “We don’t need keeping an eye on,” Maisie muttered, but she didn’t sound very cross. If Miss Eccles was the evil mastermind behind the sinking of all those ships, and possibly even pushing people overboard and nailing bodies up in barrels then it would be best to have as many people as possible on the case.

  “We’ve found out who it is that arranged for Papa’s ships to be sunk,” Alice told him impressively. “But I don’t know what we can do about it. I’m not sure the police will believe us, Maisie. Not just on the strength of a charm bracelet…”

  “A what?” George looked bewildered, and they pulled him down to sit next to them on the wall and explained. Then they explained it again, because George said they weren’t making any more sense than his Aunt Lucy, who could only ever tell a story backwards. But eventually he let out a slow, surprised whistle.

  “I think you have solved it and all. But you’ve still got to prove it. And stop her!”

  “How though?” Maisie muttered.

  “We’ve got to keep her under observation,” George said, drawing out the long word to show off. “Watch her,” he added, in case they hadn’t understood.

  Alice jumped up, pulling at Maisie’s arm. “We’d better go, then.”

  “What?” Maisie looked at her in surprise. “Where?”