The Crooked Sixpence Read Online Free PDF Page A

Six
    Daylight disappeared, along with the fresh smells of grass and wet mud. Ivy gave a dusty cough and reached forward blindly into the shadows. Soft carpet cushioned her hands, sending waves of heat through her body. Her skin felt ticklish. It was the same sensation as before.
    â€˜Seb?’ she cried. ‘Seb! Are you there?’
    There was no response. She took a couple of deep breaths but her heart was pounding, her whole body shaking. She smelled old leather and boot polish. She had no idea what that meant. She tried crawling forward. Wherever she was, there had to be a way out.
    After a few paces Ivy heard a click, and a sliver of light materialized far in the distance. Her eyes watered with relief as she scuttled towards it. It quickly grew to the size of a letter box, shedding just enough light for her surroundings to become clear. She gasped as she saw the brown suede lining of the suitcase.
    Wait – was she
inside
it?
    Was she
inside a suitcase
?
    She hurried towards the rectangle of light, and when it was big enough, clambered out onto a cold stone surface. Looking back, she saw an identical suitcase to the one she’d picked up in that field – the same fastenings, battered leather and brown paper tag – standing on the floor.
    She glanced down at her legs and started. They were
tiny
– the size of rolling pins – but getting bigger. Her bones creaked and her trousers bubbled as if blisters were forming under her skin. In seconds, everything had returned to its normal size.
    Trying hard not to panic, she got shakily to her feet and looked around. She was in a huge sandy cave about the same size as her school sports hall. The high ceiling was fitted with two glass discs that oozed butter-yellow light out over the floor, which was packed with the widest assortment of luggage Ivy had ever seen: stacks of suitcases, toppling pillars of hatboxes, piles of handbags and turrets of metal trunks. It was like some sort of cloakroom fortress. She spotted a single opening in the cave wall which appeared to lead off into a dark tunnel.
    â€˜Seb . . .’ she whispered. She needed to find out where he was. She turned back to the suitcase. The lining seemed to disappear into darkness like some sort of optical illusion. She checked the tag on the handle:
Lundinor
was written on it in black ink.
    Lundinor
. . . Officer Smokehart had said something about that. The dark-haired boy had called him an
underguard
. She wondered what it all meant.
    Just then, the suitcase began to shake. Ivy retreated from it as it rattled across the stone. The dark lining exploded with blond hair and grey sweatshirt.
    â€˜Gonna throw up,’ Seb spluttered as he fell out of the case and onto the floor. His arms, legs and torso rippled back to normal size as if made of plasticine.
    â€˜Seb! Are you all right?’ Ivy was filled with relief as she stooped to help him up. His hands felt clammy and cold.
    â€˜I really need to—’ Before he’d finished his sentence, he was vomiting.
    Ivy dodged out of its path just in time. An expensive-looking leopard-skin briefcase was the unfortunate victim. She covered her nose and ushered Seb into a corner of the cave.
    â€˜Looks like bag travel doesn’t exactly agree with your friend,’ a voice remarked, close by.
    Ivy spun round. The dark-haired boy was standing behind her, dusting down his knees.
    â€˜He’s not my
friend
,’ she corrected in a tight voice. ‘He’s my brother. And of course he doesn’t enjoy
bag travel.
’ She said the phrase like it was a medical term.
    The boy smirked as he closed his suitcase. His dark hair fell across his angular face. ‘You two use rugs or vacuums, I suppose? You sound posh enough.’
    â€˜
Posh?
’ Ivy shook her head. ‘Rugs or –
what
?’
    Behind her, Seb’s retching noises stopped. She heard his heavy footsteps staggering over.
    â€˜Air are