Free Strange Star by Emma Carroll Page A

take pity on us and be good enough to grab Isaac Blake from his hiding place and box his ears. And then we could finally get to the bottom of this gravestone business without any more interruptions.
    ‘Can you tell him to stop?’ I said. ‘And please, sir, why were you in the churchyard?’
    ‘Well, good day to you all,’ Mr Walton replied, like he’d not even heard me. Gravel crunched underfoot as he walked away.
    ‘Sir! Wait! Could you …?’ I trailed off.
    But he’d gone.
    ‘Fat lot of help he was,’ I muttered.
    Doof.
    A stone pinged off my forehead. That was it. My temper flared.
    ‘I know it’s you, Isaac Blake! What a weedy specimen you are, now you know I can’t get you back!’ I cried.
    Mercy joined in. ‘How dare you, Isaac! Don’t you ever speak to me again after this!’
    ‘But look – he’s beckoning us, or waving like he’s trying to tell us something,’ Peg said.
    I didn’t believe a word of it. Not for a minute.
    ‘It’s all right. He’s taken off,’ said Peg, eventually.
    I let out a long breath.
    ‘And good riddance,’ Mercy muttered.
    ‘But Lizzie, that person …’ Peg stopped.
    ‘The man? Mr Walton?’
    Silence.
    ‘I can’t see if you’re nodding, Peg.’
    ‘Yes. The man.’ She sounded very serious. ‘I think you’re definitely right about him being the scientist. That button you found was just like the ones on his cloak.’
    ‘I reckon so too,’ Mercy agreed. ‘Folks who’ve seen him say he’s awful tall.’
    ‘And he was mighty tall – tall as …’ Peg searched for the word, ‘… a giant!’
    I gave a nervous smile. ‘A giant, eh? Did he have huge feet and big hands and a face full of warts?’
    ‘Stop it.’ Peg started to giggle and Mercy joined in. But I couldn’t quite manage it. All I could think of was Mr Walton stood at Mam’s graveside, writing things down. If he was the scientist from Eden Court, then what did he want with her?
    With us?
    I’d not the faintest idea.

12
    Our trip to the village had proved an unpleasant reminder that life from now on wouldn’t be easy. Things were different – I was different. And the people of Sweepfield had made me feel it.
    ‘There’s bound to be talk,’ Da said when I told him. ‘You survived a terrible accident. Folks are intrigued.’
    ‘They’d do better to be interested in that Mr Walton man,’ I said. ‘He’s a strange one, all right, to be visiting our mam’s grave.’
    Da heaved a long, tired sigh, the sort a person does when they don’t quite believe you.
    ‘It’s true,’ I said. ‘Peg saw him. So did Mercy.’
    ‘There’s no law against visiting a churchyard, Lizzie. Besides, as I work for Mr Walton now, maybe he was just showing us his sympathy.’
    But I didn’t much like people’s sympathy, especially coming as this did from a stranger: it made me feel pitied. And pity scared me, for it forced me to think ofall I’d lost. Grief already gnawed at my edges, and if I let it, it would swallow me whole.
    *
    For the next few days, I stayed home. There didn’t seem much point in venturing out just to be stared at or be a target for Isaac Blake and his stones. Truth was, I felt shaken and very low. So much so I didn’t even get dressed. Hiding away didn’t help matters though: it just made life dreary and dull. So when Mercy stopped by, I tugged on my frock and combed my hair, ready as I’d ever be to face the world – or Mercy, at least.
    ‘Fancy a walk?’ I said, tying my shawl before she’d a chance to come inside. ‘It’ll be just the two of us.’ Da had gone out on carpentry business and taken Peg with him. It was a rare occurrence not to have her tagging along with us.
    ‘All right. Not into Sweepfield, though.’
    ‘No, not Sweepfield.’
    On that we were agreed.
    So at our gate we turned right, heading instead towards the main Netherton road. At first, the lane was rough underfoot; I had to concentrate hard. Mercy, her arm through mine, guided me past