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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Sunlight streaming into the library woke Marigold. She felt its warmth on her face. She had been exhausted by the time Bert and Jet had made a bed for her out of the fattest books they could find. They'd placed them next to each other and stacked them three high. The feel of their hard backs beneath her wasn't that uncomfortable. For sheets they'd used some newspapers.
She still didn't know what to make of Jet. Although he'd been kind to her last night, he had put her in the Crusher. Could Lady Artifice really have killed him with that remote control box if he hadn't? Could she trust a talking dog?
At school, Ariadne and Bijoux had been kind to her once. They'd said that her hair was a gorgeous shade of red, helped her with her French homework and insisted she sat with them at lunch time. Later that day, they'd kicked and punched her and howled with laughter:
'You're so stupid, Marigold! Fancy thinking we'd want to be friends with you, Marigold!' She'd ran to the dormitory in tears.
She sat up and pulled off the sheet of newspaper. Her eye caught a headline.
'IT'S OFFICIAL – 'SUN SETS AT LEAST TWICE A DAY!'
I knew that.
For the moment, the sun's rays were cast across the library floor. She followed them to the bit of sky she could just about see through the windows. Small and narrow, they were at the very top of the wall. She hadn't noticed the black bars across them last night.
'Everybody wants to lock me up', she heard herself say with a sigh.
'It's your own fault. I told you to stay'. It was Bob speaking to her from a corner of the room. He was wrapped in an old blanket and polishing something tipped with diamonds. It looked like a drill.
'But I couldn't!' protested Marigold. 'It wasn't... right'
'Not right! Being the Flaunts' spoilt brat. You must be mad!' he scoffed.
Before Marigold could say anything more, Jet's jaws snapped in Bob's face. Bob squealed and waddled away from him.
'Don't like it, do you, Blob', said Jet. Don't pick on her and I won't pick on you'.
She studied the dog.
Perhaps I can trust him?
Bert yawned from the shelves he was leaning against. Last night, she'd noticed he went to sleep standing up.
Does he prefer it that way? Or would he take up too much space if he lay down?
'We're prisoners here too, lass', said Jet. 'Welcome to Blackmoor Hall.'
'Why don't you run away?' she asked. 'Nobody could catch you, Bert.'
