She turned her head, as if noticing our presence for the first time. ‘Whatever,’ she muttered. ‘They’re not local. Who cares about them?’
I grinned. I decided that I liked Amy.
She drew in a breath. ‘All I’m asking, Alan, is that—’ She stopped and she looked at us again, or rather she looked at Hugo. Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re Lord Hugo Pemberville,’ she said.
It didn’t matter where we went, sooner or later somebody always recognised Hugo.
‘And I’m Lady Daisy Assigney,’ I said brightly, to be perverse rather than because I wanted attention. ‘Daughter of a lost high elf!’
‘Nice,’ she said without looking at me; her attention remained on Hugo.
Alan, who appeared fascinated that she’d recognised us, spoke up. ‘They’re here for the Staffordshire Hoard.’
A faint flash of disgust crossed Amy’s face. ‘It’s not here, not any more. There’s not even a hole in the ground to look at.’ Her lip curled. ‘I thought someone like you would be too smart to bother coming here for that.’
Hugo didn’t miss a beat. ‘You’d be surprised what you can learn from old sites. Sometimes you have to visit a place to truly understand it. The Staffordshire Hoard has been found but that’s not what interests me. What is truly fascinating is the history of a place.’
Amy’s eyes narrowed and she examined him carefully. ‘Hmm.’ She sniffed. ‘To be honest, I thought you’d be taller.’
I couldn’t prevent a laugh escaping. That apparently made me worthy of Amy’s attention because she glanced at me with a knowing grin. ‘So,’ she said to Hugo, ‘how do you feel about arachnids?’
Alan let out an exasperated hiss. ‘Amy…’
‘This is nothing to do with you, Alan, as you’ve already made very clear by refusing to display my advert.’ She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You ought to be careful when you head home. There is a pair of brownies out there who look pretty tough. They’re at least three inches high and they’re definitely cruising for a bruising.’
Only with each other, I thought, although I was impressed that Amy referred to Hester and Otis as brownies and not fairies. There weren’t many people, not even elves, who recognised them as such.
Then she caught me off guard. She looked at me and raised her eyebrows. ‘Is Lady Rose really dead?’ she asked. ‘Or is she only pretending to be dead?’
I hadn’t mentioned my birth mother by name. Not only did Amy know far more about our world than first impressions had suggested, but she was also far cannier given that Rose was indeed pretending to be dead. Suddenly I liked her even more, despite her brusque, antagonistic edge.
I smiled vaguely. Sensing she wouldn’t get any more from me than that, she returned to Hugo. ‘Well?’ she demanded.
Hugo and I gazed at her. ‘What?’ he asked finally.
‘How do you feel about arachnids?’ she asked impatiently, as if he possessed limited intelligence.
Hugo looked perplexed but nevertheless he answered. ‘I have no strong feelings about them,’ he said.
‘Good.’ Amy smacked her lips and shot Alan a triumphant look. ‘Come on, Lord Pemberville,’ she trilled, taking Hugo’s arm. ‘Let’s head outside and talk business.’
She dragged him out of the shop, leaving lucky old me to pay a very bemused shopkeeper for Hugo’s postcards.
Chapter
Twelve
Icaught up with them in the nearest park. Amy and Hugo were sitting on a bench with Hester and Otis hovering nearby. From the brownies’ expressions, their curiosity about Amy had supplanted their mutual antagonism – at least for the time being. I couldn’t blame them; she was fascinating.
She tilted her head. ‘So here’s the thing,’ she said. ‘I have a problem and I think you can help me. I’m flat broke and I can’t pay you for your services, but I don’t think you need the money.’ She looked up at me and nodded knowingly. ‘Neither do you. But you’re here for a reason and I know this village like the back of my hand. If you help me with my problem, I reckon I can help you with yours. Sound fair?’
‘What makes you think we’ve got a problem?’ Hugo asked.
‘Duh.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You’re not here for the Staffordshire Hoard because it’s not here, so you’re here for something else.’ She pointed at me. ‘You look like you’ve not slept for a month.’
One night. I hadn’t slept for one night.
She pointed at Hugo. ‘And you look scared.’
