Ring. Sister. Piano (Book 4 of The Powder Trail)

Chapter Thirty: Holiday's Over

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The ivy was perfect. She had been longing to climb it from the moment the Academy had loomed into view, nestled at the heart of those climbing plants like a tea-pot in a cosy. 

It was like climbing down a green chute – admittedly, a damp green chute, with nameless things brushing her neck, dripping down her collar, and rustling in her ears. She would probably be finding twigs and spiders in the oddest places. But that was all right, because she was the only one who would be looking in her oddest places from now on.

She reached the bottom, and tried to tug the most noticeable leaves and twigs out of her hair. She would need to hail a hansom cab, and cabbies developed a kind of blindness towards people of unkempt appearance, although she remembered – how well she remembered! – a kind-spirited one who had driven her all the way to London while she'd been bleeding to death on his upholstery.

She crunched down the gravel drive, keenly aware of how visible she would be from the Academy's windows – a dark-haired woman in a hive of blondes. 

But hopefully it was too soon for anyone to be looking out. As far as they knew, he was still in her room. As far as they knew, she had thrown herself onto the bed and cried her eyes out. She had wanted to do that, it was just... well, Jack might have heard her, and the ivy had looked so tempting, and Robin needed her. There would be time enough to cry her eyes out. Anyway, she was coming back.

There was a cab at the side of the road, just a little way down from the gates, and the driver on top of the box tipped his hat and jumped down as though he'd been expecting her.

"Where can I take you, Miss?"

"I didn't say you could-" said Ellini, and then stopped as he opened the door for her. Matthi was already inside, in her shapeless greatcoat, looking expectant.

"You're not the kind for barricading yourself in your rooms, I thought. Not when there's an open window and an abundance of climbing ivy outside. Besides, you seemed to 'ave something on yer mind, even before the pillock made you angry. So where to?"

Ellini climbed inside and shut the door in the face of the grinning coachman. It wasn't really fair, but she felt as though they were both having a laugh at her expense – and since there was no way to discompose Matthi, she might as well take it out on the coachman.

"I was going to come back," she said sulkily, when they were alone.

Matthi said nothing, which probably meant she didn't believe her. Ellini wondered now if she believed herself.

"Where to?" Matthi repeated.

Ellini sighed and settled back into the seat. "North-west, perhaps? What's to the North-west of the city?"

"Binsey? Wytham woods? Am I allowed to ask the purpose of the journey, or is it a surprise?"

"Robin's in trouble. I think."

Matthi blinked. "Oh. Well, that should be fun to see."

"He'd be about half a day behind me," said Ellini, with an impatient wave of her hand. "He would have sulked for half a day, and then he would have come after us."

"'e could've taken the train and got 'ere before us."

"No, he would have wanted to stay close, to see if we got diverted or waylaid. But the snow would have prevented him from getting into the city last night. So we're looking for a town to the North-west – on the coach road, or near it – somewhere with a decent Inn, because he likes to travel in style."

It wasn't a wild stab in the dark, asking Matthi. She didn't know Oxford, but she absolutely devoured reading material, particularly atlases and ordinance surveys. She loved reading so much that it had transcended the mere deciphering of words on a page – she read maps, she read lips, she read music, she read signs and symbols, gestures and expressions. She would have read minds if she'd considered such a thing to be a possibility.