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By Root 2717 0

and beat her. I took a deep breath and waded into the swirling maelstrom of popular-prose-induced violence. Almost instantly I was punched on the jaw and thumped in the kidneys; I cried out in pain and quickly withdrew. I met a woman next to the J. G. Farrell section who had a nasty cut above her eye; she told me in a concussed manner that the Major Archer character appeared in both Troubles and The Singapore Grip. I glanced to where the Red Queen was cutting a swath through the crowd, knocking people aside in her bid to beat me. She smiled triumphantly as she head-butted a woman who had tried to poke her in the eye with a silver-plated bookmark. I took a step forward to join the fray, then stopped, considered my condition for a moment and decided that perhaps pregnant women shouldn’t get involved in bookshop brawls.

So instead I took a deep breath and yelled: “Ms. Farquitt is signing copies of her books in the basement!”

There was a moment’s silence, then a mass exodus towards the stairs and escalators. The Red Queen, caught up in the crowd, was dragged unceremoniously away with them; in a few seconds the room was empty. Daphne Farquitt was notoriously private—I didn’t think there was a fan of hers anywhere who wouldn’t jump at the chance of actually meeting her. I walked calmly up to the boxed set, picked it up and took it to the counter, paid and rejoined Miss Havisham behind the discounted Du Mauriers, where she was idly flicking through a copy of Rebecca. I showed her the books.

“Not bad,” she said grudgingly. “Did you get a receipt?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And the Red Queen?”

“Lost somewhere between here and the basement.”

A thin smile crossed Miss Havisham’s lips, and I helped her to her feet. Together we walked slowly past the mass of squabbling book-bargainers and made for the exit.

“How did you manage it?” asked Miss Havisham.

“I told them Daphne Farquitt was signing in the basement.”

“She is?” exclaimed Miss Havisham, turning to head off downstairs.

“No, no, no,” I added, taking her by the arm and steering her to the exit. “That’s just what I told them.”

“Oh, I get it!” replied Havisham. “Very good indeed. Resourceful and intelligent. Mrs. Nakajima was quite right—I think you’ll do as an apprentice after all.”

She regarded me for a moment, making up her mind about something. Eventually she nodded, gave another rare smile and handed me a simple gold ring that slipped easily over my little finger.

“Here—this is for you. Never take it off. Do you understand?”

“Thank you, Miss Havisham, it’s very pretty.”

“Pretty nothing, Next. Save your gratitude for real favors, not baubles, my girl. Come along. I know of a very good bun shop in Little Dorrit—and I’m buying!”

Outside, paramedics were dealing with the casualties, many of them still clutching the remnants of the bargains for which they had fought so bravely. My car was gone—towed away, most likely—and we trotted as fast as we could on Miss Havisham’s twisted ankle, round the corner of the building until—

“Not so fast!”

The officers who had chased us earlier were blocking our path.

“Looking for something? This, I suppose?”

My car was on the back of a low loader being taken away.

“We’ll take the bus,” I stammered.

“You’ll take the car,” corrected the police officer. “My car— Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

He was talking to Miss Havisham, who had taken the Farquitt boxed set and walked into a small group of women to disguise her bookjump—back to Great Expectations or the bun shop in Little Dorrit or somewhere. I wished I could join her but my skills in these matters were not really up to scratch. I sighed.

“We want some answers, Next,” said the policeman in a grim tone.

“Listen, Rawlings, I don’t know the lady very well. What did she say her name was? Dame-rouge?”

“It’s Havisham, Next—but you know that, don’t you? That ‘lady’ is extremely well known to the police—she’s racked up seventy-four outrageously serious driving offenses in the past twenty-two years.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. In June she was clocked driving a chain-driven Liberty-engined