Free The Deptford Mice 1: The Dark Portal by Robin Jarvis Page B

anyway,’ he said. ‘Mother hates it when I lose something she’s made.’
    He picked the scarf off the ledge – it was slightly damp but he wound it round his neck just the same.
    ‘This is the place where the rats got us,’ he said. ‘Audrey’s brass must be here somewhere. Have a look will you?’
    They searched everywhere. Piccadilly even felt in some slime for it but the mousebrass could not be found.
    ‘Do you think it might have fallen down there in the water?’ he asked.
    They both looked over the edge and gazed at the black stream below.
    ‘Oh dear we’ll never find it in that,’ Oswald despaired.
    Piccadilly wiped the mud from his paw.
    ‘It’s no use – it’s totally lost,’ he said.
    Oswald had to agree. He shook his head when he thought how unhappy Audrey would be. They were about to return to the Skirtings when the divining rod gave an almighty leap.
    ‘Oh my!’ exclaimed Oswald. ‘Piccadilly look, we’re not done yet. The mousebrass can’t be in the water, it must be down that tunnel. Come on.’ He dashed off, darting into a tunnel they hadn’t been down before.
    ‘Hang on Oswald,’ said Piccadilly. ‘We’ll get lost if we don’t stick to the same route. Oswald come back!’ he called:
    ‘OSWALD!’ But Oswald was too far ahead to hear. Piccadilly ran after him.
    Audrey waited anxiously in the cellar with Twit. They found it difficult to speak about their departed friends. Dread and guilt weighed heavily on Audrey’s mind – what had she done?
    Twit sat on the ground, his head cradled in his paws and his knees tucked under his chin. He knew he shouldn’t have let his young cousin go down into the sewers. He tried to hum a little tune but the mood stifled it. He looked at Audrey and smiled weakly.
    So preoccupied were they in their thoughts that the two mice did not sense the change of air flowing from the Grille or detect the muffled movements of body against body on the other side.
    Audrey sat down and sighed. The picture of Jupiter that Arthur had painted seemed to leer at her; she had had enough of faces that grinned at her and turned her back to it. Now she was directly in front of the rusted gap, unaware of the plans being made behind the ironwork.
    A voice called her name in the hall. It was Arthur looking for her. ‘Can you fetch him, Twit?’ she said. ‘I said I would wait for them here.’
    Twit got to his feet and climbed over the rolls of paper till he reached the cellar steps. He was really too short to tackle them himself and his struggles to clamber up them brought the shadow of a smile even to Audrey.
    In between the iron leaves of the Grille indistinct forms advanced and then beady yellow eyes blinked greedily in the dark.
    When he reached the top step, Twit looked down at Audrey sitting next to the gap and then squeezed through the door. Arthur was wondering if he ought to try the landing when Twit came to him.
    ‘Oh hello,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for Audrey again – and that Piccadilly.’
    ‘She’m in the cellar,’ said Twit.
    Arthur was furious.
    ‘What’s she doing there?’
    Twit explained about the missing mousebrass, and how Piccadilly and Oswald had gone to look for it.
    ‘But they’ve been gone a while now,’ he ended sadly.
    ‘We really can’t have this,’ protested Arthur crossly. ‘If she lost it then it’s her own fault and she’s got no right to make Oswald and that grey go looking for her.’
    He strode down the hall and barged through the cellar door.
    ‘Just you listen to me Audrey!’ he yelled, but she was not there.

6. Visitors in the Attic
     
    There was no sign of Audrey anywhere, but Arthur and Twit guessed at once where she had gone. They knew nothing of the brief desperate struggle that had taken place moments before and how, overwhelmed and defeated, Audrey had been dragged through the Grille by sharp, snatching claws. Arthur thought the worst of his sister.
    ‘She’s gone back in,’ he gasped in disbelief.