The Creeping Shadow

Making tea is a ritual that stops the world from falling in on you.

What, are you queuing now? Just how British are you people? Don’t just stand in line! Kill somebody!

Strange how close the darkness is, even when things seem brightest. Even in the glare of a summer noon, when the sidewalk bakes and iron fences are hot to the touch, the shadows are still with us. They congregate in doorways and porches, and under bridges, and beneath the brims of gentlemen’s hats so you cannot see their eyes. There is darkness in our mouths and ears; in our bags and wallets; within the swing of men’s jackets and beneath the flare of women’s skirts. We carry it around with us, the dark, and its influence stains us deep.

Ah, two firm friends, reunited at last! There should be sweet violin music playing for us, but I'll settle for the screams of the dying.

Never touch a mummified body part if you don't know where it's been. That's my motto.” [- Lockwood] “Holds true with unmummified ones too,” George said. “That's the motto I live by.

At last! Am I glad to see you! Right, stab this guy quickly, and let's be going.

Is it just me,' Kipps said, 'or does that boy need punching?' 'It's not just you.

At Lockwood & Co., George was famous for not being able to throw or catch with any accuracy. Back in the kitchen at Portland Row, even the casual passing out of fruit or bags of chips became an exercise fraught with danger.

You're not our leader,' Dave said. 'No, but I know what I'm doing, which is a nice alternative.' - Lucy

In my eyes, refusing cake is an immoral act.

I suggest we go into business together. ‘Carlyle and Skull,’ we’d call it, or possibly ‘Skull and Co.’ Yes, that’s it, with a little picture of me over the door. I can see it now….

Has anyone got any bandages? I've just split my sides laughing.

Penelope Fittes—” “Has got nothing whatsoever to do with it, as you well know. It was Lockwood who came knocking on your door, and that’s why you considered the proposal, and let’s face it, that’s why you said yes.

Lucy, I’m a malevolent skull, without an ounce of compassion. You’ve got to be worried if I’m feeling sorry for you.

Oh, we'll suffer in silence. You've given us plenty of practice at that.

What have they done to your poor arm?' - Holly 'Oh, don't worry, it's just a graze.' - Lucy 'I'm talking about the bandages. That's simply the most incompetent bit of first aid I've ever seen. Lockwood, George - how much dressing did you use?

Well, she may think it was her idea, but I’d been looking for an excuse to get you back all winter.

Lucy doesn't like orange juice with floating bits,' George said. 'You remember.' 'Oh, yes. That's right. They get caught between your teeth, don't they?' I was staring at him. My warm feeling had partially retreated. 'I'll take the orange juice. So Holly stayed over last night?' 'Personally I've always thought straining it through your teeth is part of the fun,' Lockwood said. 'You can pretend you're a blue whale.

Doubts, like ghosts, gain strength in darkness; even with the dawn I wasn’t sure I’d done the right thing.

This guy’s a drag.” I spoke under my breath. “He sure is.” “Know what I suggest?” “Yep. And the answer’s no. I’m not going to kill him.” “Oh, you’re no fun.

More ghosts have been created in bedrooms than anywhere else.

Then I realized he was still holding my hand.

Do you remember,” George went on, “what we found in the tunnels beneath Aickmere’s? Aside from a massive pile of human bones.” “I found Lucy,” Lockwood said.

What could it be? Not a date, surely—the boy’s got eyes.

But Holly the gun-toting, wild-haired madwoman of the night before was in there somewhere, I knew. It made me look upon her with fond affection.

A warm feeling filled me. It was made of tea and biscuits and sudden gratitude.

We’re in line to get to you.” “What, are you queuing now? Just how British are you people? Don’t just stand in line! Kill somebody!

Strange, sometimes, how you make a particular choice. When it's not a specific thought or line of argument that decides you, but more a set of jumbled sensations that changes your mind.

I was making for 35 Portland Row.