The Crooked Sixpence by Jennifer Bell Page B

wall.
    Something had happened to Valian.

Chapter Nine
    Ivy collapsed onto the dusty floor, feeling all her confidence ebb. Maybe Valian had been arrested, or maybe someone else had found him and he’d got into a fight and run off. Whatever had happened, Ivy doubted he was coming back. She was going to have to rescue Seb without his help.
    After a few blank, cold minutes she reached for Granma Sylvie’s soft leather handbag and sniffed. She knew what her granma would tell her, if she was there:
Get up, Ivy. You’re all Seb’s got. Come on, get up!
    Slowly she rose to her feet. To make herself feel more comfortable, she tugged off Valian’s leather jacket and replaced it with her duffel coat. The wool still smelled like the vanilla air freshener her mum sprayed around at home. She tucked the silver coin into her pocket, ignoring the strange warmth spreading through her fingers, and tried to concentrate.
    Think, Ivy. Think . . .
    She went through Valian’s pockets and got out the uncommon candle. The old trader’s sign had read: INVISIBILITY CANDLES .
    Ivy examined it closely as it heated her palms. The candle looked like a blob of black pudding with a short wick that burned with a crystal-white flame.
    How she had missed that it was already lit, she didn’t know. She turned the candle around slowly, careful not to touch the flame. It didn’t dance as it moved, like a normal one; it remained straight and unbroken. Ivy somehow suspected that if she did touch it, it wouldn’t even feel hot – it hadn’t damaged the inside of Valian’s jacket, after all. She tried to recall the old man’s parting instructions:
blow it out to use it; keep it in your hand at all times.
    Blow it out? Right . . .
    It was worth a try. Ivy took a deep breath and aimed it at the flame.
    Here goes nothing, I suppose.
    The white spark wobbled and then faded. A puff of black smoke climbed up from the wick. It curled through the air with a low hiss, spiralling around Ivy. In seconds it had surrounded her in a wall of murky gas, but before she had time to panic, the wall dissolved, and her surroundings were visible again. The wick was left trailing an almost imperceptible wisp of grey mist.
    Ivy stuffed Valian’s jacket under her arm and pointed the candle ahead of her like a talisman warding off evil spirits. She wondered if it had actually worked; if she really
was
invisible . . .
    She guessed there was only one way to find out.
    The toes of Ivy’s yellow wellies peeped out into the arrivals chamber, her body remaining firmly in the shadows of the tunnel. Her heart was thudding away inside her ribs. In front of her, buzzing with noise, were thousands of people who brought a whole new meaning to the word
stranger
. And she wasn’t welcome here, she knew that.
    She took a quick step forward while she still had a shred of courage, and began weaving her way through the crowd. Her eyes darted from face to face, checking reactions. It was the strangest thing she’d ever done in her life – making sure she was invisible. She could imagine Seb’s face if she ever told him.
    A minute went by. Then another. Not a single person made eye contact with Ivy. But that was almost normal. She was so small that not many people did notice her; not many adults, anyway. She couldn’t assume that the candle had worked just yet. She had to make sure.
    Over by a mountain of studded leather trunks, a man with oiled black hair and a twirly moustache was calling to the crowd.
    â€˜Feast your eyes on the latest Hobsmatch trends this season, ladies and gents!’ He gestured to three rails loaded with strange garments. ‘I’ve got the most talked-about looks from Paris and New York, straight off the Hobwalk.’ He slid a floor-length mirror out from behind a rack of thick fur coats. ‘Free to try and take a look!’
    Ivy stopped when she saw the mirror. It was the