KATHARINE ORTON

© Glassheart by Katharine Orton published 2020 by Walker Books. Cover illustration by Sandra Dieckmann

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InIn thethe cold,cold, stillstill hourshours ofof night,night, whenwhen shadowsshadows swathedswathed thethe wildwoodswildwoods andand mostmost peoplepeople werewere inin bed,bed, footstepsfootsteps creakedcreaked onon thethe landinglanding nearnear Nona’sNona’s door.door. SheShe frozefroze atat herher deskdesk –– pencilpencil poisedpoised overover herher sketchbook,sketchbook, heartheart inin mouth.mouth. HerHer wide,wide, darkdark eyeseyes glitteredglittered byby thethe lightlight ofof aa falteringfaltering candle.candle. ThisThis waswas whatwhat she’dshe’d beenbeen waitingwaiting for.for. TheThe reasonreason she’dshe’d stayedstayed awakeawake allall thisthis time.time. YetYet thethe soundsound stillstill chilledchilled herher blood.blood. SheShe heldheld herher breath.breath. Listened.Listened. AA foxfox shriekedshrieked fromfrom thethe WiltshireWiltshire wildswilds beyondbeyond herher windowwindow –– itsits crycry soso humanhuman andand eerieeerie thatthat itit mademade Nona’sNona’s skinskin prickle.prickle. There’dThere’d beenbeen foxesfoxes inin LondonLondon wherewhere sheshe waswas bornborn andand hadhad lived,lived, ofof course,course, butbut therethere theythey werewere moremore likelylikely toto rattlerattle thethe dustbinsdustbins thanthan toto howlhowl inin thatthat terrible,terrible, mournfulmournful way.way. That’sThat’s notnot whatwhat sheshe waswas listeninglistening for,for, though.though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 7 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 The floorboards creaked again. Closer this time. Nona snuffed out the candle with quick fingertips. The wick hissed and sent up the sharp smell of sulphur. Putting out lights was ingrained in her from the Blitz. It had been her task, aged seven, to run around the flat with her brother,1 plunging it into darkness at the first notes of the air-raid siren; the hum of a bomber’s engine. Even in the years since the war ended, dimming lights whenever she heard something strange or out of place was more of a reflex than ever. InNow the it includedcold, anystill sudden hours sound of – night,the backfire when of shadowsa motorbike; swathed yelling the voices. wildwoods and most people wereOr in footsteps. bed, footsteps creaked on the landing near Nona’sThe door.candle’s She glowfroze had at herbrought desk –out pencil the goldpoised in overNona’s her wildsketchbook, brown hair. heart Now in mouth. the moonlight Her wide, picked dark eyesout theglittered silver ofby the the slim light scar of thata faltering ran down candle. the length This wasof one what cheek. she’d been waiting for. The reason she’d stayedA slenderawake allshadow this time. slipped Yet under the sound the crack still chilled below herher blood.bedroom She door. held herIt grew breath. bigger. Listened. Sliding across the unvarnishedA fox shrieked boards from from the one Wiltshire side to the wilds other. beyond Uncle herAntoni, window is that – its you? cry soshe human wanted and to eerie call thatout. itBut made the Nona’swords stuckskin prickle.fast in her There’d throat, been frozen foxes there. in LondonShe was wherealmost she certain was itborn was him.and hadAlmost. lived, And of yetcourse, the tread but theresounded they different were more somehow. likely to Heavier.rattle the What dustbins if it than was toan howlintruder, in that come terrible, to rob theirmournful downstairs way. That’sworkshop? not whatA shiver she wasran listeningthrough for,her though.at the thought. The lead

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 8 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 and solder they kept down there, for the making of stained-glass windows, would fetch a good price on the black market. Nona decided it was best to stay quiet. If she called out and it was Uncle Antoni, she might never discover why he’d been creeping1 around in the night so often lately. The shadow withdrew across Nona’s floor and the footsteps passed her room, heading towards the stairs. That meant the person must have come from InUncle’s the roomcold, just still across hoursthe landing. of night,So it had when to be shadowshim. Didn’t swathed it? She the channelled wildwoods a slow, and deep most breath people to werecalm inher bed, nerves. footsteps Besides, creaked why onwould the alanding thief be near up Nona’shere, where door. the She lead froze and atsolder her deskwasn’t? – pencil poised overNona her sketchbook, tucked the heart pencil in mouth.behind Herone wide,ear, easeddark eyesherself glittered silently by out the of lighther chair of a andfaltering snuck candle. towards This the wasdoor. what She wasshe’d quick been andwaiting light for.on herThe feet reason and knewshe’d stayedwhere awaketo tread all to this avoid time. making Yet the a sound noise. still Of chilledall the herkids blood. from herShe oldheld building, her breath. she’d Listened. been the best at tag wheneverA fox shriekedthey’d played from it the on theWiltshire common. wilds Practically beyond herunbeatable window –– asideits cry from so human her brother, and eerie of thatcourse. it made But Nona’sthat cramped skin prickle. building There’d in London, been andfoxes all inthose London kids, wherewere gone she now.was bornEveryone and was.had Exceptlived, offor course, Nona. but thereOnce they wereat her more bedroom likely to door, rattle theNona dustbins timed than the toopening howl ofin itthat with terrible, the steady mournful thud and way.creak That’s of footfall. not whatShe peeredshe was into listening the dimlyfor, though. lit hallway. Moonlight

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 9 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 shone through the small, curtainless window above the stairs, made from a hotchpotch of glass offcuts. It cast the bare floorboards in reds, blues and greens. Even though Uncle Antoni had thrown it together from scraps, it was still beautiful. As if he couldn’t help but be a master craftsman,1 even when using the broken bits that other people threw away. The light shifted. A figure slid beneath the colours. The sudden movement lodged the seed of a cry in Nona’s throat, but it was Uncle all right. The Inrich the shades cold, glided still over hishours skin, hisof clothes, night, before when he shadowscame out swathedthe other the side wildwoods just at the andfoot mostof the people stairs. wereHe turned in bed, a corner,footsteps and creaked was out on of thesight. landing near Nona’sEven door. from She the frozeway heat walked,her desk all – hunchedpencil poised over, overNona her could sketchbook, tell he wasn’t heart inhis mouth. usual, Herbreezy wide, self. dark He eyescould glittered only be byin the griplight of of a adream faltering … couldn’tcandle. Thishe? was Forwhat as longshe’d as been Nona waiting had lived for. with The Uncle reason Antoni, she’d stayedhe’d been awake a terrible all this sleeper.time. Yet It thewas sound the only still timechilled he hertalked blood. about She theheld war: her breath.during Listened.nightmares in sleep- lacedA foxPolish shrieked – his frommother the tongue Wiltshire – that wilds were beyond loud herenough window to wake– its cry Nona so human from andher eerieown. that He’d it madebeen Nona’sknown toskin sleepwalk prickle. too,There’d in his been bumbling foxes kindin London of way. whereOnce she’dshe wascaught born him and downstairs had lived, in ofhis course,nightgown, but theretrying they to eat were a candle.more likely She’d to taken rattle it the out dustbins of his hands than toand howl sent inhim that back terrible, upstairs mournful to bed. But way. this? That’s It wasn’t not whatthe same. she was He listeningstrode with for, a though. purpose. A direction.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 10 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 As if he’d been called – and had no choice but to go. The thought made her skin prickle. The night before last she was sure she’d heard him speaking to someone. But they lived alone. Just him and Nona. Her heart pounded as she edged onto the landing. She couldn’t get left behind.1 She couldn’t risk him seeing her either. If he did she might never find out what was going on. “Here we go, then,” she said to herself, rubbing the goose pimpled skin of one arm. She started down the stairs, treading in unusual places Inon thethe boards cold, in thestill hope hours of avoiding of thenight, creaky when spots. shadowsThe darknessswathed deepenedthe wildwoods at the footand ofmost the peoplestairs. wereThe sharp,in bed, warm footsteps smell creakedof linseed on oil the flooded landing Nona’s near Nona’ssenses. door.Everything She froze smelled at herof deskthe thick, – pencil golden poised oil overdown her here, sketchbook, because it heart was thein mouth. main ingredient Her wide, in dark the eyescement glittered for their by the stained-glass light of a faltering window candle. making, This to waskeep what the mixture she’d been nice waitingand runny. for. It The was reasonone of thoseshe’d stayedscents thatawake seeped all this into time. everything Yet the and sound lingered still chilled – even herand blood. especially She onheld a herperson’s breath. skin. Listened. AOutside fox shrieked the wind from picked the Wiltshireup – moaning wilds throughbeyond herthe windownearby woods – its cry and so causinghuman andthuds eerie and that whistles it made in Nona’sthe old, skindraughty prickle. house. There’d A flood been of foxes coolness in London stroked wherethe back she of wasNona’s born neck and as hadshe squintedlived, of into course, the dark, but therebut her they eyes were hadn’t more adjusted likely to yet. rattle She the couldn’t dustbins see than her touncle howl now. in Atthat all. terrible, mournful way. That’s not whatUntil she wasa lamp listening flicked for, though.on in the tiny, cluttered

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 11 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 painting room – a dozen paces across the length of the workshop. Her uncle was inside it. Already. Any minute he would shut the door. Then Nona wouldn’t find out what he was up to. “Nooo. No, no, no,” she moaned to herself. She’d never make it in time. 1 Nona set her jaw. She wasn’t about to give up yet. Keeping close to the wall, she made a dash through the dark, straight for the tiny room. The wind moaned again – and the house whistled as if in Inreply the – the cold, sounds still flooding hours her earsof asnight, she sprinted. when shadowsUncle Antoni swathed shuffled the awaywildwoods from theand desk most lamp people he’d werelit and in turnedbed, footsteps towards creaked the door. on Towardsthe landing her. near She Nona’sfroze on door. tiptoes, She bentfroze at at the her waist, desk her– pencil arms poisedthrust overout forher balance.sketchbook, But hearthe stared in mouth. straight Her through wide, dark her, eyesunseeing, glittered and by pushed the light the of door a faltering slowly candle.to. Nona This let wasout herwhat breath she’d and been surged waiting forwards for. The again. reason The she’ddoor stayedwas closing. awake The all thislight time. from Yet inside the soundwas soon still nothing chilled hermore blood. than She a sliver. held her Nona breath. reached Listened. it the second the lightA winkedfox shrieked out. from the Wiltshire wilds beyond her windowShe clawed – its at cry the so jamb human but and it slippedeerie that out it ofmade her Nona’sfingers. skinThe prickle.last segment There’d slotted been into foxes its framein London with wherea clunk. she The was key born turned and in had the lived,lock. ofThat course, was that.but thereShe was they too were late. more likely to rattle the dustbins than to howlNona in clenched that terrible, her fists mournful and threw way. back That’s her headnot whatin a shesilent was howl listening of frustration. for, though. Then she crouched

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 12 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 down, hugged her knees and thought. She tried not to focus on the darkness around her. Or how frightening Uncle’s blank expression had been, how ill – almost trancelike – he’d looked. Or the fact that, if anything happened to him, she’d be completely alone again. He was the only one 1who would take her in after the bomb destroyed her home and everyone in it. People in the village had grown tired of giving homes to dirt-ridden children from London by then, what with the earlier wave of evacuees. But Antoni Pilecki Indid. the Perhaps cold, it wasstill his hoursneed for ofan apprenticenight, when that shadowshad driven swathed him to thetake wildwoods in the seven-year-old, and most peopleas he’d werecasually in bed,told footstepsthe nosier creaked villagers. on Or the maybe landing the near real Nona’struth was door. because She froze he knew at her what desk it –was pencil like poised to be oversomewhere her sketchbook, new and amongheart in strangers. mouth. Her Or wide,because dark he eyestoo hadglittered lost everythingby the light in of the a falteringwar. His candle. family. This His washomeland. what she’dLater, been his abilitywaiting to for.fight, The when reason his injuryshe’d stayedput him awake out of all the this air time. force Yet for thegood. sound still chilled her blood.They weren’t She held related, her breath. but it Listened. didn’t matter. There is companionshipA fox shrieked infrom loss, the and Wiltshire theirs madewilds thembeyond as hergood window as family. – its Nonacry so washuman eleven and now eerie – that they’d it made been Nona’sinseparable skin forprickle. the lastThere’d four beenyears. foxes And in if London Antoni whereever decided she was to bornreturn and to Poland?had lived, Then of course,they would but therego together, they were no morequestion. likely Although to rattle thatthe dustbins was unlikely, than toNona howl knew. in that The terrible, country mournfulhad been carvedway. That’s up by notthe whatvictors she of was the listening war: Poland’s for, though. own allies, including

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 13 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 Britain. A betrayal Nona knew by the twist of his lips any time it came up that he felt bitterly. She could read him now, from the smallest flinch to the ghost of a wink – just as he could read her. Beyond the door came more shuffling: her uncle moving around. And then his voice – usually warm and calm, now low and dark. Mumbled. Yet apparently in conversation. “Of course. We leave as soon as possible,” she managed to catch. The rest was too hard to hear. Nona’s stomach flipped. Who could he possibly be speaking to? There wasn’t another soul who lived in the house.

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InDid the Uncle cold, Antoni still have hours a telephone of night, in there,when shadowsone that Nonaswathed didn’t the know wildwoods about? andOr a mostwireless? people wereWith in bed, one footstepsear pressed creaked against on thethe thicklanding wooden near Nona’sdoor, Nonadoor. Shelistened froze in. at herStill desk she –couldn’t pencil poisedmake overout whather sketchbook, he was saying. heart inWait. mouth. Was Her that wide, another dark eyesvoice glittered replying by to the Uncle light Antoni?of a faltering A woman’s, candle. Thissoft, wassmooth what and she’d singsong? been waiting Nona shuddered.for. The reason There she’d was stayedsomething awake unusual all this – time. almost Yet hypnotic the sound – stillabout chilled that herother blood. voice. She It heldcame her in breath. waves Listened.– first near, then far. If onlyA fox she shrieked could hear from what the theyWiltshire were wildssaying. beyond Or at herleast window see inside… – its cry so human and eerie that it made Nona’sNona skin felt prickle. her way There’d around beenthe door foxes and in found London the wherekeyhole. she The was key born blocked and ithad from lived, the ofother course, side, butbut thereit had they a halo were of morelight likelyaround to it. rattle The thelock dustbins was old than and toloose. howl Perhaps in that she terrible, could nudgemournful the keyway. out That’s somehow not whatand get she a was glimpse listening of what for, wasthough. going on…

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 15 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 The pencil she’d tucked behind her ear could be the answer. There ought to be room to fit the sharpened end into the lock and give the butt of that key a good poke. Deftly, she slipped it in and jabbed – hard. The pencil tip made a snapping noise, but the key gave way. It clattered1 to the floor, on the other side of the door. The voices stopped. Nona withdrew the pencil quickly and bit her lip. She had two instincts, both forged in the Blitz: to run, Inand the to hide. cold, Right still now hoursshe wanted of tonight, do both. when She shadowshesitated swathed– pulled inthe opposite wildwoods directions and most by curiosity people wereand fear.in bed, Seconds footsteps passed. creaked No one on camethe landing to the door.near Nona’sPerhaps door. – perhaps She froze– she’d at got her away desk with – pencil it. poised overGuilt her sketchbook, twanged inside heart inher. mouth. Should Her she wide, even dark be eyeslistening glittered in at by all? the This light was of clearlya faltering something candle. UncleThis waswanted what to she’dkeep beenprivate. waiting There for. were The few reason things she’d he stayedwouldn’t awake tell allher this if she time. asked Yet the– and sound he usuallystill chilled had hera good blood. reason She heldwhen her he breath. didn’t. Listened. Maybe she ought to justA trust fox himshrieked this time,from asthe normal? Wiltshire wilds beyond her windowNo. It had – its gone cry so on human long andenough. eerie Workingthat it made on Nona’splans in skin secret. prickle. Talking There’d behind been locked foxes doors.in London Not wheredrinking she his was tea. born Nona and was had his lived, apprentice. of course, She butdid therehis paperwork. they were moreNo job likely ought to rattle to be the kept dustbins secret thanfrom toher. howl He neverin that locked terrible, doors. mournful And he alwaysway. That’s – always not – whatdrank she his was tea… listening for, though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 16 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 Nona peered through the lock with one eye – and bit her lip so she didn’t yell with triumph. Her plan had worked. With a bit of shifting from side to side, Nona could see most of the room. Her uncle and the other voice mumbled to one another again – more quietly1 this time. Nona saw Uncle Antoni, surrounded by shelves cluttered with brushes and powdered paints. Perfect faces rendered on pieces of glass stared back at her from the angled painting table in various stages of completion: Uncle’s Inwork, the and cold, none instill the world hours more of beautiful. night, It whenwasn’t shadowsjust Nona swathed who thought the wildwoods so either. andPeople most sought people his wereskill infrom bed, all footsteps over the creaked country, on tothe restore landing church near Nona’swindows door. destroyed She froze in the at war.her deskThat’s – whatpencil they poised did overnow her– together. sketchbook, heart in mouth. Her wide, dark eyesThe glittered illustrated by the eyes light glittered of a faltering in such acandle. lifelike This way wasit made what Nona she’d feelbeen watched. waiting Thefor. backThe reasonof her she’dneck stayedprickled. awake But allbesides this time. her Yetuncle the and sound those still paintedchilled herstares, blood. there She was held no her one breath. else to Listened.be seen. No telephone or wirelessA fox shrieked either. Nothingfrom the that Wiltshire could havewilds made beyond the hersound window of that – itsother cry sovoice. human She andstrained eerie thatto see it madeevery Nona’scorner ofskin the prickle. room. There’dSurely thebeen owner foxes of in the London voice wheremust be she somewhere, was born madeand hadby something… lived, of course, but thereA they movement were more at the likely corner to rattleof Nona’s the dustbins eye drew than her toattention howl in back that to terrible, the glass mournful faces. She’d way. been That’s wrong, not whatshe realized. she was Not listening all of for,them though. were painted on. One of

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 17 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 them shifted, moved. It was a reflection. Of a woman with honey-coloured hair. A woman who wasn’t there. Nona’s whole body turned icy cold. She scanned the room again wildly. It wasn’t possible – there had to be someone making that reflection. But there wasn’t. Nona’s stomach turned.1 Everything inside her screamed that she was being watched. With dread, Nona’s eye returned to the reflection. The woman stared out of the glass, straight at her – as if she could see Nona through the solid Inwood the door cold, – and stillsmiled. hours Her eyes of gleamed. night, For when long shadowsseconds, Nonaswathed couldn’t the wildwoods move or breathe.and most She people could werebarely in do bed, anything footsteps except creaked stare backon the into landing those eyes.near Nona’sThen door. the woman She froze tipped at herher head desk and – pencilmoved. poised A curl overof hair, her ansketchbook, embroidered heart sleeve, in mouth. flashed Her across wide, each dark of eyesthe glass glittered pieces. by She the had light to ofbe acoming faltering for candle.the door. This was Nonawhat turnedshe’d been on her waiting heel and for. pelted The forreason the stairs.she’d stayedShe rushed awake up all them, this time.no longer Yet the worried sound aboutstill chilled being herheard. blood. When She she held got her to thebreath. landing, Listened. she dived through her Abedroom fox shrieked door andfrom shut the it Wiltshire tight. wilds beyond her windowShe sat with– its cryher soback human against and the eerie door, that panting.it made Nona’sHer head skin thrummed prickle. withThere’d dizzying been blood.foxes in It Londoncouldn’t wherehave been she real.was Itborn just andcouldn’t had. lived, of course, but thereThen they again,were more it was likely hardly to rattle the the first dustbins time thanshe’d toseen howl things in that that terrible, others mournfuldidn’t. People way. That’swho werenot whatthere sheone was minute listening and disappearedfor, though. the next. Animals

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 18 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 with human-looking eyes that stopped to watch her. Strange trails of lights glinting in the woods at the back of their home, like pinpricks of dancing dust weaving through the trees – as if leading somewhere. Yet they would usually end at stones or trees and go no further. She didn’t dwell1 on any of this – and she certainly never told anyone. It wouldn’t do to admit these things. She knew that. How the village gossips would use such information didn’t bear thinking about. They saw her as an outsider as it was. In Nonathe cold,waited: still until hours Uncle’s of footsteps night, –when still shadowsoddly heavy swathed – clumped the wildwoods across the and landing, most pausingpeople wereoutside in Nona’sbed, footsteps door. She creaked held heron thebreath, landing watching near Nona’shis shifting door. shadow She froze on theat her floorboards desk – pencil around poised her. overWould her he sketchbook, come in? Laugh, heart andin mouth. explain Her it was wide, all darka big eyesmisunderstanding? glittered by the Instead light of his a falteringshadow slippedcandle. away.This wasUncle what carried she’d on been to his waiting room. for. The reason she’d stayedThere awake his to-ingall this and time. fro-ing Yet the reverberated sound still through chilled herthe blood.walls, joiningShe held with her thebreath. other Listened. sounds of the house: the Acreaks, fox shrieked the whistle from of thedraughts. Wiltshire Would wilds he beyondever go herto sleep? window And – itscould cry theso humanstrange and woman eerie still that be it madethere, Nona’slurking skinaround prickle. downstairs? There’d been foxes in London whereWhat she stuckwas bornin Nona’s and had mind lived, was of how course, familiar but therethe woman they were had more looked. likely And to rattle the theway dustbins she’d smiled than toat howlNona inthrough that terrible, the door mournful … it was way. as ifThat’s she knew not whather. Who she was was listening she? The for, questions though. swirled inside Nona

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 19 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 like a whirlwind. An image flashed through her panicked mind, just as it always did when she was overwhelmed: her old home in London. A thousand glass shards frozen in the air around her, glinting like jewels. Their curtains in shreds. That feeling, that she was inside a box about 1to be crushed. The smell of burning. It was her one and only memory of the night the bomb hit. She’d relived it a hundred times. She couldn’t stand to relive it again now. In Nonathe cold,leaped upstill and crossedhours the of floor. night, She snatched when shadowsa small objectswathed from the its wildwoods usual place and propped most againstpeople wereher windowpane in bed, footsteps and clutched creaked iton to the her landing chest. Soon,near Nona’sthe thundering door. She of frozeher pulse, at her her desk breathing, – pencil began poised to overslow, her and sketchbook, she opened hearther hands in mouth. to peek Her at wide, the object. dark eyesInside glittered was by a piecethe light of rounded,of a faltering pinkish-red candle. glass.This wasTypical, what Nona she’d thought,been waiting that for.some The children reason wouldshe’d stayedhave a awake doll or all a this teddy time. for Yet comfort, the sound while still she chilled had herthis. blood. A half-heart She held in her shape, breath. its Listened.edges were smoothed withA age,fox itsshrieked one sharp from point the filedWiltshire off for wilds her by beyond Uncle herAntoni. window It was – its thick cry inso some human places, and eeriethinner that in it others, made Nona’swhich Nonaskin prickle.knew meant There’d it wasbeen likely foxes to in have London been wherehand-rolled she was rather born than and made had bylived, machine. of course, That andbut thereits colour they weremade more it even likely more to rattle special. the dustbinsPink and than red toglass howl got in its that colour terrible, from themournful most preciousway. That’s metal not of whatall: gold. she was listening for, though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 20 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 But this piece was dear to Nona for another reason. It had once been a part of her old home – fixed into a Victorian upper window panel. She used to love how its glow would track across the room as the sun crossed the sky each day, falling first across the tablecloth, then the1 armchair, settling on her mother’s face. Everything else had been destroyed. Everyone killed – including her mother and brother. But that’s what you could expect from a direct hit in an air raid. InIt wasthe a miraclecold, Nonastill had hours survived of atnight, all. In fact,when no shadowsone could swathed really explain the wildwoods how. and most people wereThis in bed,piece footsteps of glass had creaked been inon her the hand landing when near the Nona’swardens door. came. She In frozeher shock at her she desk must – havepencil picked poised it overup, though her sketchbook, she had no heart recollection in mouth. of Her doing wide, that. dark Or eyesof any glittered of it at byall. the light of a faltering candle. This was Evenwhat now, she’d the been details waiting were hazy.for. TheThe doctorreason who’dshe’d stayedput the awake stitches all in this the time. cut onYet her the cheek sound had still called chilled it her“shock”. blood. Muttered She held herthat breath. her memories Listened. would return in time,A fox and shrieked she’d fromlikely thewish Wiltshire they hadn’t. wilds But beyond they hernever window had. – its cry so human and eerie that it made Nona’sNona skin turned prickle. the pieceThere’d of glassbeen overfoxes in inher London hands, wherefelt its shehalf-heart was born shape, and rubbed had lived, its cool of surfacecourse, withbut thereher thumb. they were She more wished likely she to understood rattle the dustbins why all than this tohad howl brought in that her rightterrible, back mournful to that night way. in That’s the Blitz. not whatAlthough she was listeningthe sharp for, edges though. of most glass filled

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 21 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 Nona with terror, this piece never failed to soothe her. Tiredness washed over her as she turned it. At a certain angle you could see a tiny crack inside the glass. One that hadn’t yet reached the edges, but was a weakness nonetheless. It would eventually break the piece in two, Nona knew.1 The more she turned it, the warmer it felt, and the more that warmth moved through her fingers and up into her bones. When she closed her eyes she could see its reddish-pink glow on the inside of her eyelids, as if standing once again Inunder the its light.cold, still hours of night, when shadowsFrom theswathed glow emergedthe wildwoods shapes. Images. and most The womanpeople wereshe’d inseen bed, in footstepsUncle’s painting creaked room on the – thelanding way nearshe’d Nona’slooked rightdoor. at She Nona froze and at smiled. her desk A glimpse – pencil of poiseda long overroad, her and sketchbook, trees rushing heart past. in Thenmouth. a greatHer wide,expanse dark of eyeswild, glittered rolling land. by the A flashlight ofof something a faltering dark candle. beyond This it wasthat madewhat hershe’d momentarily been waiting catch for. her The breath. reason she’d stayedIt wasn’tawake unusualall this time. for NonaYet the to sound see things still chilled when hershe blood.held the She glass. held herIn fact,breath. she’d Listened. come to expect it. WithA thefox half-heartshrieked from still clutchedthe Wiltshire in her wildshand, beyondNona’s herexhausted window mind – its crossedcry so human over the and threshold eerie that into it madesleep, Nona’scarrying skin the visionsprickle. with There’d it. There been she foxes saw inthe London woman whereagain, sheinside was an born unfamiliar and had place: lived, a templeof course, perhaps, but thereor a church. they were more likely to rattle the dustbins than to howlAnd inthere that was terrible, something mournful else. way. Someone That’s else.not whatLike sensingshe was thelistening weather for, turn, though. Nona felt her dreams

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 22 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 Title: Glassheart File: GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK Date: 01/09/20 Extent: 336 01/09/2020 12:29 grow thick grow and heavy with threat. Though fought she against mindthe it, her into wilds, drawn was out onto A chilling seen earlier. the rolling darkness hills she’d itself around wrapping like gathered clouds, storm a figure. – head like, A man, with a stag’s looked but it the on horizon. make just out could she whom GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 23 13

InNona the woke cold, to findstill Uncle hours Antoni of night, shaking when her, shadowshis face drawn. swathed Light the floodedwildwoods the room, and mostthough people dark wereshadows in bed, clung footsteps beneath creaked her uncle’s on thewide landing eyes. Silentnear Nona’sfright bled door. into She every froze part at ofher Nona’s desk –body. pencil This poised was overUncle, her no sketchbook, one to be afraid heart inof. mouth. But by Herthe lookwide, on dark his eyesface glitteredsomething by themust light be ofdrastically a faltering wrong. candle. NonaThis wasreached what out she’d and beengripped waiting his arms for. tight. The reason she’d stayed“Uncle! awake What all this is it?” time. Yet the sound still chilled her blood.As soon She as heldshe met her hisbreath. gaze Listened.his shoulders relaxed. “WeA havefox shriekedto leave,” from he said. the WiltshireHis voice wildswas calm beyond – it herdidn’t window match – his its cryeyes. so Had human he slept and eerieat all? that What it made time Nona’swas it? skin prickle. There’d been foxes in London where“What?” she was gasped born Nona.and had “Leave? lived, Toof course,go where?” but thereShe lookedthey were all more around. likely “Now?”to rattle theJudging dustbins by than the tolight howl streaming in that throughterrible, themournful windows way. she That’smust havenot whatseriously she wasoverslept. listening for, though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 24 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 Uncle nodded. Nona’s heart sank. She didn’t want to go anywhere – all journeys put Nona on edge, raised bad memories – yet there was no question of her staying here without him. Wherever one of them went, so did the other. It was their pact. “We’ve got some windows1 to install for a job, Jenny Wren,” he replied simply. “In Dartmoor. It’ll just be a short trip.” Jenny Wren was what he often called her, even though her name was Nona – because, he said, she was small, fast and worked hard, like the bird. In “Howthe cold, long?” stillNona asked,hours bemused.of night, But hewhen just shadowstold her toswathed pack a bagthe withwildwoods clothes andand mostanything people she weremight in need bed, for footsteps a short creakedstay, then on stoodthe landing and left near the Nona’sroom without door. Sheanother froze word. at her desk – pencil poised overNona her sketchbook, was stunned. heart Was in this mouth. something Her wide, to do darkwith eyesthe womanglittered from by the last light night? of aShe’d faltering heard candle. Uncle Thistalk wasabout what leaving she’d as beensoon waitingas possible. for. ButThe what,reason exactly, she’d stayedhad she awake seen? allA womanthis time. who Yet wasn’t the sound there still – who chilled had herno doubtblood. beenShe heldthe oneher breath.who’d spokenListened. to her uncle in soft,A hypnoticfox shrieked murmurs. from theAnd Wiltshire then there’d wilds been beyond her hernightmares… window – itsNona cry pickedso human up theand half-heart eerie that whereit made it Nona’shad fallen skin into prickle. her lap. There’dShe should’ve been knownfoxes in better London than whereto sleep she near was it. Doingborn andso always had lived,gave her of thecourse, strangest but theredreams. they Though were more she likelyhadn’t to expected rattle the anything dustbins thanquite toas strangehowl in – thatand frighteningterrible, mournful – as the stag-headedway. That’s man. not whatNona she was did aslistening her uncle for, had though. asked and packed some

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 25 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 things – including the half-heart. It was a little piece of home – of comfort – which she wrapped in hankies and tucked safely in her pocket. Her head thumped as she stepped out into the slicing air and towards the van where Uncle waited. It was packed full of glass and1 window-making materials. For an instant she hesitated, desperate to stay. Yet she couldn’t – not after what she’d seen last night. She’d never feel safe, even if she was allowed to stay in the house alone. Which she wasn’t. And what of their pact? In Fromthe cold,somewhere still nearby hours an owlof upnight, late shrieked when shadowsa warning swathed cry, sending the wildwoods chills through and most her. peopleNona wereclimbed in bed,into thefootsteps van, and creaked they set on off. the landing near Nona’s door. She froze at her desk – pencil poised over her sketchbook, heart in mouth. Her wide, dark eyesFar beyondglittered the by tangle the light of trees of a thatfaltering lined candle. the winding This wasroad, what Nona she’d caught been a glimpse waiting of for. moorland. The reason She drankshe’d stayedit in through awake theall passengerthis time. seatYet thewindow: sound the still delicious chilled herebb blood. and flow She andheld rollher breath.of the landscape,Listened. the distant dipsA brim fox shriekedfull with frommist. theThe Wiltshire sight should wilds have beyond filled herher windowwith wonder. – its cry Yet so allhuman she couldand eerie feel that was it dread.made Nona’sHadn’t skinshe seenprickle. glimpses There’d of thisbeen last foxes night in London– in her wheremuddled she dreams? was born Would and hadshe seelived, the of woman course, again but theretoo? theyAnd werewhat more about likely that to stag-headed rattle the dustbins figure –than the toone howl wearing in that storm terrible, clouds mournful like a cloak? way. The That’s thought not whatof it chilledshe was Nona’s listening bones. for, though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 26 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 They travelled in silence for hours. Down the country lanes of Wiltshire and out onto the grey stretch of endless roadways that had brought them to where they were now: an unfamiliar landscape that grew wilder and more ragged by the second. It had been afternoon already1 by the time Uncle woke her – her late night must have taken its toll – and the day felt like it was racing away from her untethered. Around her, everything felt like it was closing in: the narrowing road. The looming trees. The heavy sky. In Athe flash cold, of something still caughthours her of eye night, on the horizon: when shadowsthe dark shapeswathed of athe man. wildwoods She whipped and roundmost topeople look werecloser. in Insteadbed, footsteps Nona caughtcreaked her on ownthe landingreflection near in Nona’sthe window door. of She the froze van, atand her hid desk from – itpencil instinctively poised overbehind her her sketchbook, hair – allowing heart in the mouth. brown Her strands wide, to dark fall eyesacross glittered her cheeks, by the her light scar. of She a falteringhated to seecandle. it because This wasit reminded what she’d her ofbeen the waitingway others for. alwaysThe reason stared. she’d She stayedscowled awake in frustration. all this time. It wasn’t Yet the all sound there stillwas chilledto her, heryet blood.it was allShe so held many her people breath. cared Listened. to see. AStill, fox the shrieked odd silhouette from the she Wiltshire thought she’dwilds glimpsed beyond herwasn’t window there. – Her its cry skin so prickled. human andThere eerie was that that it feeling made Nona’sagain from skin last prickle. night: There’d of being been watched. foxes in London whereWorse, she wassince born last andnight’s had events, lived, Uncle’sof course, strange but therebehaviour they werewas moregetting likely stranger. to rattle Should the dustbins she ask than him toabout howl what in thatshe’d terrible, seen last mournful night, straight way. out?That’s Could not whatshe? Itshe would was meanlistening admitting for, though. to spying on him. Nona

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 27 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 felt like she would explode unless she confronted him about the reflection in the glass. But his strange, brooding silence – so unlike him – unnerved her. So she kept quiet. Nona squeezed her coat pocket, to remind herself of the half-heart glass 1inside. She studied Uncle Antoni. He looked vacant, hunched over the wheel, his eyes drilling ahead as if all he could think about was their destination. A stab of panic left her heart thumping. What if he got worse out here in the middle Inof nowherethe cold, and shestill needed hours to find of help? night, He waswhen the shadowsonly person swathed Nona thehad wildwoodsleft in the world.and most If anything people werehappened in bed, to him…footsteps creaked on the landing near Nona’s“Uncle?” door. NonaShe froze tested. at Herher voicedesk came– pencil out poisedhoarse overand herquiet. sketchbook, When he heart didn’t in respondmouth. Hershe wide,spoke dark up. eyes“Uncle?” glittered by the light of a faltering candle. This was Thiswhat time she’d he been gave waiting a start. for. “Yes, The Jenny reason Wren?” she’d stayedThough awake he smiled, all this his time. eyes bulgedYet the whensound he still glanced chilled at herher, blood. like someone She held who’d her breath.woken far Listened. too early from sleep. A“Where fox shrieked exactly from are we the going Wiltshire again?” wilds Nona beyond said, herrelieved window that – he’d its cry at leastso human replied. and eerie that it made Nona’s“Oh, skin you prickle. know… There’dA place beenin…” foxesHe gestured in London one- wherehanded she to wastheir born surroundings and had butlived, couldn’t of course, seem but to therekeep theyhis train were of more thought likely going. to rattle the dustbins than to howl“Dartmoor?” in that terrible, mournful way. That’s not what“Yes! she wasPrecisely.” listening Uncle for, though. Antoni hesitated before

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 28 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 he went on, and when he spoke he did it slowly, as if the words were hard to form. The details difficult to remember. “It’s a small village. Abandoned, as far as I know. The church was hit during the war by a German plane that went off course. Looking for Plymouth, I think.” 1 This was progress. Now to see if Nona could keep him talking. Bring back a little of the Uncle Antoni she knew, and get a proper grip on their situation. “Dartmoor is huge, Uncle,” she said. “I don’t want Inus tothe get cold,lost, and still sunset’s hours not farof off. night, Maybe whenif you shadowsshow me swathedon the map…” the wildwoods They went and over most a rise people in the wereroad intoo bed, fast. footsteps Nona’s creakedstomach onlurched. the landing The sheets near Nona’sof glass, door. stacked She andfroze secured at her withdesk leather– pencil straps poised in overthe backher sketchbook, of the van, heartslammed in mouth. against Her the wide, side. dark The eyesthought glittered of glass by thesmashing light of terrified a faltering her. candle. It reminded This washer toowhat much she’d of beenthe Blitz. waiting Of that for. night. The reason she’d stayed“Uncle?” awake sheall thissaid time.when Yet he stillthe sounddidn’t reply.still chilled her blood.“Hmm?” She held her breath. Listened. A“The fox map?”shrieked from the Wiltshire wilds beyond her windowUncle Antoni – its cry scowled. so human “What and eerie does that it itmatter made Nona’swhere we’reskin going?”prickle. heThere’d snapped. been “Just foxes trust in Londonme, will whereyou? You she don’twas needborn toand know had every lived, little of thing.”course, but thereHeat they rose were in more the back likely of to Nona’s rattle neck,the dustbins and her than eyes toprickled. howl inHe that never terrible, usually mournful kept secrets way. from That’s her. Thenot whatonly shething was her listening uncle refusedfor, though. to talk about was the

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 29 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 war, besides the bare basics. His escape from Poland after it was invaded, then his time in the Royal Air Force before his injury; the shrapnel that buried itself dangerously close to his spine. Even though, going on his medals, he was a war hero. It’s in the past, he’d say. Best left there. 1 He said the same any time Nona tried to talk about what had happened to her too. Or how much she missed her mother, and her brother, Amos. Was it in the past, though? Because most days InNona the could cold, feel thestill war’s hours presence, of hangingnight, aroundwhen shadowsher like thick,swathed suffocating the wildwoods smoke. andSo much most that people she werecould in smell bed, its footsteps scent – ofcreaked burning. on Uneasethe landing swelled near in Nona’sNona like door. bad She weather. froze Sheat her had desk that –feeling pencil again poised of overbeing her watched, sketchbook, but it heartwas worse: in mouth. as if Herthey wide,were beingdark eyesstalked. glittered Shadows by the moved light in of the a falteringdistance, candle. at the edgesThis wasof her what vision, she’d but been she waiting refused for.to look.The reasonThey wouldshe’d stayedonly disappear awake all if thisshe tried.time. Yet the sound still chilled her blood.A flurry She of heldrain herlanded breath. against Listened. the windscreen. It madeA foxa sound shrieked like thefrom drumming the Wiltshire of bony wilds fingers beyond and hersent window her nerves – its rattlingcry so human further. and That eerie woman that it madeshe’d Nona’sseen last skin night… prickle. Was There’d she real? been What foxes did shein London have to wheredo with she all wasthis? born and had lived, of course, but there“Nona?” they were She more jumped likely toat rattleher uncle’sthe dustbins voice, than the towarm howl touch in that of histerrible, hand onmournful her shoulder. way. That’s His scowl not whatwas gone, she was replaced listening with for, worry though. lines on his forehead.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 30 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 “I’m sorry I got angry,” he said. “It was uncalled for. You were only trying to help.” Nona sighed with relief. The strange look in his eyes was gone. This was the person she knew. He shook his head and brought his other hand back to the steering wheel. “I don’t1 know what’s the matter with me,” he muttered. He sounded frustrated, but this time it was with himself. “Am I catching a cold or something, or is this just what it’s like to get old?” Nona chuckled – he was hardly old – but she Instudied the himcold, curiously. still Didn’thours he ofremember night, anything when shadowsabout last swathed night? the wildwoods and most people were“Have in bed, I told footsteps you any creaked of the legends on the of landing Dartmoor?” near Nona’sUncle Antonidoor. Shewent froze on. atNona her deskshook – herpencil head. poised She overcouldn’t her sketchbook,stop herself fromheart smiling.in mouth. His Her knowledge wide, dark of eyesfolklore glittered was almost by the aslight boundless of a faltering as his knowledgecandle. This of wasglass. what “No, she’d Uncle.” been waiting for. The reason she’d stayed“What? awake Not all thiseven time. the oneYet theabout sound the stillbottomless chilled herlake? blood. Or the She witch held her who breath. sends Listened. mists to trick weary travellers?A fox shrieked Or even from the thehaaairy Wiltshire hands wilds that beyondappear heron windowpeople’s –steering its cry so wheels human to and send eerie them that itoff made the Nona’srooooad skin?” Heprickle. reached There’d over beento tickle foxes her in withLondon his wherecalloused, she lead-stainedwas born and fingers. had lived,Nona of shrieked course, withbut therelaughter they and were batted more them likely away. to rattle the dustbins than to howlThe vanin thatswerved terrible, on the mournful damp, uneven way. road.That’s Uncle not whatAntoni she grabbed was listening the wheel for, though. to steady it. The brakes

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 31 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 screeched and the wheels juddered, refusing to grip. They overcorrected and veered the other way. Nona’s shoulder bashed against the side window as the glass sheets thumped and rattled in the back again. Uncle Antoni grappled with the wheel. The tyres gripped. Finally. Uncle Antoni managed1 to steer the van straight again. Nona let out the breath she’d been holding in. She glanced at Uncle Antoni, wide-eyed, and he grimaced – part-relief, part-apology – before concentrating on Indriving. the cold, still hours of night, when shadowsThe daylightswathed wasthe wildwoodsfading now, and as most Nona people had werepredicted. in bed, And footsteps fast. The creaked road wason thegetting landing narrower near Nona’sstill, bumpier, door. She and froze deeper at sether insidedesk –the pencil moors. poised The overway herahead, sketchbook, and all around,heart in mouth.had become Her wide, concealed dark eyeswith glitteredbends and by scrub,the light with of more a faltering trees towering candle. Thisover wasthem, what crooked she’d as been the handswaiting of for. fairy-tale The reason crones, she’d and stayedwith rotting, awake allmoss-covered this time. Yet walls the soundto the stillsides. chilled The herrain blood. was really She held coming her breath.down. Listened. A“Who’s fox shrieked given usfrom this the job, Wiltshire Uncle?” wilds This beyond time, herNona window hoped, – sheits cry might so human actually and get eerie a proper that itanswer made Nona’sout of him.skin Evenprickle. so, There’dher voice been was foxes quiet. in Tentative. London whereThe dread she hadwas comeborn back.and had lived, of course, but thereHe they scowled, were more and likely for one to rattle terrible the dustbinssecond Nona than tothought howl hein wouldthat terrible, snap at mournfulher again –way. but That’snow it wasnot whatconfusion she was instead listening of anger. for, though. “Don’t you know?”

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 32 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 “No! You haven’t told me. Or shown me any of the paperwork. I keep asking, but—” “Really?” He chuckled with an air of disbelief and shook his head. “I thought I’d left it all with you. Honestly. I feel all muddled, ever since… Ever since…” Nona could almost1 see the thoughts slipping away from him – sucked through the tiny open gap at the top of the driver’s side window that made the air whistle past. It was the look in his eyes, growing ever distant. “Never matter,” he said eventually. In “Whothe cold, hired stillus, Uncle?”hours Sheof night,couldn’t when keep shadowsthe frustration swathed out the of wildwoodsher voice. Butand Unclemost Antonipeople wereappeared in bed, not footstepsto hear her. creaked He had on his the gaze landing fixed ahead near Nona’sagain. Everythingdoor. She frozelooked at darkerher desk and – glistenedpencil poised with overthe slickher sketchbook, of rain: the heart trees, in themouth. drystone Her wide, walls, dark the eyesroad. glittered Some of by the the tall light grass of had a faltering been weighed candle. down, This wasbent whatand flattened she’d been against waiting itself. for. The reason she’d stayedDesperation awake all swelledthis time. in Nona’sYet the chest sound and still burst chilled out herof her blood. mouth She before held her she breath.could stop Listened. it. “Let’s go back,” she Asaid. fox shrieked“This whole from thingthe Wiltshire is wrong. wilds Everything beyond herabout window it. Something’s – its cry so happened human and to you, eerie something that it made … Nona’sunnatural. skin If prickle. you need There’d help, wherebeen foxeswill we in goLondon to get whereit, out here?she was What’ll born I do?and I hadsaw youlived, last of night, course, talking but thereto that they woman. were moreWho likelyis she? to Has rattle she the got dustbins something than to todo howlwith this?in that Tell terrible, me!” mournful way. That’s not whatUncle she was Antoni listening didn’t for, reply. though. He was gone from her

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 33 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 again, even though he sat right beside her. Nona chewed her lip and turned to the window so she didn’t have to look at him. She tried to take deep, calming breaths. She had finally blurted out what was bothering her – only to be ignored. Alongside them, where1 part of the wall fell away to nothing, Nona glimpsed a small cottage. Then another stone-walled home, further on, amid an endless sea of mist and moor, rising and falling. She felt miniscule. Overwhelmed. In Unclethe cold,Antoni stillslammed hours on the of brakes. night, The when force shadowsof it hurled swathed them forwards,the wildwoods and then and back most into people their wereseats inagain bed, when footsteps the van creaked stopped, on thedead. landing Nona near had Nona’sjust enough door. time She tofroze glimpse at her the desk hare – pencilsitting poisedtall in overthe middleher sketchbook, of the road, heart its inlong mouth. ears Herpricked wide, and dark its eyeseyes glitteredtrained onby them,the light before of a itfaltering bounded candle. away Thisinto wasthe brush.what she’dIt had been looked waiting straight for. at The her, reasonit seemed she’d to stayedNona. awakeAs if it allhad this been time. expecting Yet the themsound all still along. chilled her blood.Only now She didheld Nona her breath. spot the Listened. church up in front: a ruinA fox with shrieked empty windowsfrom the andWiltshire half a wildssagging beyond roof. herSurely window this wasn’t – its cry the so right human place. and It eeriewas athat wreck! it made Far Nona’sbeyond skinanything prickle. that There’d a set of newbeen windowsfoxes in couldLondon do wherefor it. Uncleshe was Antoni born slumped and had back lived, in his of seat,course, but stillbut theredidn’t they take were his moreeyes offlikely the to road. rattle When the dustbins he spoke, than it towas howl as if inin thata dream. terrible, mournful way. That’s not what“We’re she was here,” listening he said. for, though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.inddGLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 34 01/09/202001/09/2020 12:29 12:29 Q&A with KATHARINE ORTON

What is Glassheart about? Glassheart is about a girl called Nona who travels around with her uncle after World War Two, repairing stained glass windows in places that have been bombed in the Blitz. This work takes them to a strange, lonely church in1 Dartmoor, where Nona soon realises her uncle has been bewitched. Soon she’s totally entangled with the world of magic and spirits, and must figure out a way to stop the terrible dark force that’s coming… In the cold, still hours of night, when What’sshadows your swathed inspiration the wildwoodsbehind the story?and most people Partlywere in it camebed, footstepsfrom working creaked with on glass the myself, landing near alongsideNona’s door. other She glass froze artists, at herteachers, desk –tradespeople pencil poised andover more her sketchbook, – even a former heart monk in mouth. who taughtHer wide, me howdark toeyes engrave! glittered And by partly the light from of all a falteringthe amazing candle. folktales This thatwas Dartmoorwhat she’d is beenso rich waiting in. And, for. of Thecourse, reason there she’d werestayed my awake grandparents’ all this time. personal Yet the experiences sound still of chilledthe war,her blood. which Shegot heldme really her breath. thinking Listened. in all sorts of ways aboutA foxhow shrieked people might from havethe Wiltshirecoped with wilds the thingsbeyond they’dher window seen and – its been cry sothrough. human and eerie that it made Nona’s skin prickle. There’d been foxes in London Howwhere did she you was create born and and develop had lived, your characters?of course, but Forthere Nona, they wereI found more an likelyimage. to It rattle was a the beautiful, dustbins old than black-and-whiteto howl in that photographterrible, mournful of a girl halfway. hidden That’s not behindwhat she her was hair, listening and I thought for, though. she had sad eyes.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 01/09/2020 12:29 I asked myself questions about who she could be and what her life might have been like, and from there I slowly started to imagine and build her character. Others sprang to life of their own accord – like Castor, who kept piping up to throw curveballs into the plot (with me, the writer, trying1 to play catch-up). It seems he was always destined for great mischievousness.

Why did you choose Dartmoor as the setting for the book?

DartmoorIn the cold,is such astill wild, hoursmagical place,of night, filled towhen the brimshadows with swathedfolktales. the Early wildwoods last year I andwent most walking people therewere andin bed, it totally footsteps captured creaked my imagination.on the landing near Nona’s door. She froze at her desk – pencil poised Whatover her are sketchbook, your top writing heart tips in mouth. for budding Her wide, authors? dark There’seyes glittered so much by I thecould light say, of about a faltering finding candle. yourself This anwas agent what and she’d always been looking waiting out for. for The writing reason she’d organisations,stayed awake allopportunities this time. Yet and the schemes sound set still up chilled to helpher blood. along theShe way,held buther mostbreath. importantly: Listened. A fox shrieked from the Wiltshire wilds beyond 1 – Put aside any doubts about your abilities and her window – its cry so human and eerie that it made just write. It’s the best practice. Nona’s skin prickle. There’d been foxes in London where2 – Beshe kind was to born yourself, and andhad iflived, you can’tof course, do that, but there theytalk were to a morefriend likely who tocan rattle be. the dustbins than to howl3 – Always in that keep terrible, going. mournful You can do way. it! That’s not what she was listening for, though.

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GLASSHEART_9781406385236_PI_UK.indd 7 01/09/2020 12:29 After gaining an English degree and an MA in creative writing, Katharine Orton worked for Barefoot Books in Bath before leaving to focus on her writing and her young family. She signed with her agent after taking part in the brilliant Wo Mentoring Project. Katharine’s debut, Nevertell, was published in 2019 to critical acclaim; Glassheart is her second novel. She currently lives in Bristol.

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