Hoarsely she shouted, ‘Mum! Marigold! Wake up!’ But her mother did not stir. The only sound was a scraping of branches against the door, and a distant whinny that must have been Duchess, protesting as Gillian rode her away. Ivy drew a sobbing breath. ‘No,’ she begged, not even knowing with whom she was pleading. ‘It can’t end like this. It’s not – please. Please, if there’s anyone who can hear…’ Then she threw her head back and screamed with all her might, ‘HELP ME!’ The words dropped like stones into the silence, and for a few heartbeats all was still. Then the door cracked open, and she heard the last voice she had ever expected to hear: ‘Ivy?’ If she hadn’t been encased in stiff clay up to her neck, Ivy would have collapsed with the shock. ‘Molly?’ The girl stooped through the doorway, electric torch in hand. The beam fell on Ivy, and she exclaimed aloud. ‘What happened to you?’ ‘No time,’ Ivy wheezed as the Claybane crept along her jaw. In a few seconds, she wouldn’t be able to speak at all.
