When the sun sets more than once a day and the world's diamonds are stolen, a small brave girl, struggling to belong, has secrets to discover.
Marigold leaves her lonely life to join extraordinary thieves, Bert and Bob. Who is their Mistress? What i...
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At The Tower of London, a dark ball lifted itself from the moat half way between the Byward and Middle Towers. Bob had only dared to rest on the ground because of what he'd overheard. Pressed into a corner of the outer wall, the news had drifted down to him from above. One of the Beefeaters patrolling the wall had told another that the thieves had been caught. How Bob had smirked.
Pulling the trolley bag was exhausting. If only he could have kept his face against the cool grass of the moat for longer. Hopefully any Beefeaters looking down would mistake him for an overfed raven. But he knew he couldn't risk encountering them at closer quarters. He took hold of the trolley bag and began to drag it once more. He was relieved that the wheels weren't quite so squeaky on the damp grass.
It wasn't that far to the underground station at Tower Hill. Inside the tunnel walls, he would find one of the hidey-holes known only to thieves of his calibre. With new accomplices, he would plot even greater diamond robberies. Taking back his Kohinoor from that crack pot Artifice would be the first job. He closed his eyes for a second and slobbered as he imagined touching the stone again.
His eyes opened and immediately closed in a squint. A beam of light was shining in his face. He cursed and turned around. There was torchlight from this direction too. Beefeater shoes were barring his way.
'Well spotted, Arthur', said a woman's voice.
'Ugly little thing', isn't it.'
The woman leaned forward and studied Bob's screwed up face in the torchlight. 'Good for something though', she smiled.
'What?' Arthur was bent down on his knees next to her.
Bob saw her lick her lips.
'Henrietta! You don't mean...'
She straightened up. 'I'm afraid I do. I know it's wrong of me. But don't you tire of our diet too?'
'Well, now you come to mention it...
'It'll be our secret, Arthur.'
He gave her a sneaky smile. 'Pork' he whispered with delight.
Bob whimpered. He started to creep away. Arthur gripped his shoulder and pushed him even closer to the ground. He peered upwards at Henrietta. She had put her torch down and taken off her hat. She was feeling for something within her brown curls. From the top of her head she brought down a silver fork.
Bob gulped. He twisted under Arthur's hold and saw him hitch up one of the legs of his breeches with his free hand. Out from under the red stockings came another fork.
Arthur's hand was removed from his shoulder by Henrietta. 'The thrill of the chase, Arthur', she said.
Bob attempted a run.
'I'm convinced it improves the flavour of the meat' he heard Henrietta continue.
He tried to make his stubby legs move faster. Where was Bert when he needed him? His eyes became damp. He didn't know what was making him weep more – abandoning his diamonds or the Beefeaters' plans for him. The beams of their torches fell across his striped sweater and his feet in the grass. A hand grabbed his ear and scooped him up. Bob squealed.
