Free Freaks by Kieran Larwood

something had come along and snipped a woman-shaped hole out of the world. The only bits of her skin visible were the tips of her white fingers where they poked from the end of her black lace gloves.
    As Mama Rat and Sheba wove their way through the gravestones, the lace veil twitched, then moved as the woman turned her head. Sheba found it unnerving to be watched without being able to see any eyes.
Although
, she thought,
a veil would be a good way to hide your face. If I had one, I could go anywhere, and no one would know I was at all different.
    â€œGood day,” said Mama Rat as they reached the bench.
    â€œGood day,” said the woman.
    Sheba wondered if she should say “good day,” too, but generally children were expected to be silent unless spoken to. Instead she took a subtle sniff.
    Besides the smell of the graveyard itself, and the stench of horse manure and rubbish from the road beyond, Sheba picked up a rather cold and sharp smell around the woman — with a trace of something else, a sweet aroma that, for once, she couldn’t place. She frowned.
    â€œPlease, do have a seat,” said the woman, breaking Sheba’s thread of concentration.
    Mama Rat sat beside her on the bench, leaving Sheba room to hop on the end.
    â€œI take it you’re the lady that Mr. Sneepsnood has been representing,” she said.
    â€œIndeed,” said the woman. “My name is Mrs. Crowley.” She spoke with a strange lisp. “I understand you have been making inquiries about lost children?”
    â€œMay I ask what interest our inquiries are to you?” asked Mama Rat.
    There was a long pause, as if the woman were reluctant to speak. Finally, she gave a soft sigh and said, “I too am searching for a lost child. My son went missing some months ago. He was playing by the shoreline one morning and never returned. Which is why I contacted Mr. Sneepsnood. And several other businessmen up and down the river besides. I thought they might have some news.”
    â€œSurely you’d be better off speaking to the peel — I mean the police?” Mama Rat said.
    â€œOh, I have tried,” Mrs. Crowley replied. “And they have assured me repeatedly they are ‘looking into it.’ But I thought . . . if I knew someone else in the same position, we could somehow join forces. Share notes. And to know someone else who felt as I do . . . it would help me immeasurably.”
    â€œIt’s clear you fear the worst, if you’ve gone into mourning already.” Mama Rat gestured with her pipe at the black dress.
    â€œOh, yes, the veil,” said Mrs. Crowley. “I know it might be premature, that there still could be hope. But without my little boy . . . it wouldn’t feel right to go about dressed as normal. I’m sure you understand.”
    Mama Rat lit a fresh pipe. “We’d like to help, of course, but we’ve only just started looking into the matter ourselves.”
    â€œI see. And is it your daughter that has gone missing? Or a son like mine perhaps?”
    â€œNeither,” said Mama Rat. “Never had any children myself. Oh, besides Sheba here, of course. No, we’re looking into the matter on behalf of some friends.”
    â€œSheba . . .” For the first time, the veil turned toward her, and for an instant Sheba thought she saw the glint of an eye shining through the thick lace veil.
    â€œGood day,” she said rather belatedly.
    The veil didn’t move for several seconds, as if the lady was examining Sheba closely, then it turned back to Mama Rat. “May I ask who those friends are?”
    â€œI’m afraid that’s confidential,” said Mama Rat.
    â€œI understand,” said Mrs. Crowley. “But perhaps you could let me know of anything you might discover?”
    â€œOf course,” said Mama Rat.
    â€œThat would be wonderful.” Mrs. Crowley clasped her hands as if satisfied, although without