9pm (The Haunting of London Book 2) by Amy Cross

Author:Amy Cross [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackwych Books Ltd
Published: 2025-09-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

One year later, as she made her way along the narrow London street, Catherine Lewicki couldn't help but keep coughing in an attempt to clear the soot from her lungs. On either side of the road, blackened brick houses stood in the dull light as the sun struggled to break through thick clouds high above. Catherine's feet pressed against patchy cobbled paving that in places was already sinking into a soupy mix of mud and manure, while a clogged sewer grating was already filled with clumps of dirt and waste that blocked trickling channels of foul-smelling water.

Reaching the front door of her father's house, Catherine took a moment to look up proudly at his name stencilled above. As the sharp stench of a nearby stable yard drifted through the air, Catherine couldn't help but smile as she realized that her father's shop was by far the grandest property on the entire street, perhaps even in the neighbourhood. Orders had been flowing so fast of late as Lewicki's reputation had grown, and sometimes Catherine – as the de facto manager of the business – had to turn away the less worthy jobs. Deep down, she was starting to believe that soon she and her father might have enough money to hire a couple of apprentices, and that one day they might even be able to stop worrying so much about money.

“Of course, Bishop Hayes,” she'd said to one customer a few days earlier, “we shall have this ready for you in a week's time.”

“I'm terribly sorry, Doctor Harper,” she'd said to another, with no small tremor of pride, “but we simply cannot take your order at the moment. I could perhaps give you the names of some less busy bookbinders who you could try.”

The honour of picking and choosing one's own customers was an honour that Catherine held in high regard.

Pushing the door open, she stepped into the front room. The coal stove in the corner was still rumbling, its warmth being used to keep the containers of glue from going hard, while the grimy windows permitted just enough light to pick out the knives and awls and brass tools on a nearby bench. Catherine was a little surprised not to find her father in his usual spot at that bench, inspecting her latest work, but as she set her basket down she supposed that he had pootled off to find a job somewhere else in the building. He was slower these days and she had come to accept that he needed to work at his own pace. Instead of worrying, then, she headed to one of the other tables and saw that the rolls of sheep leather had been left out, while jars filled with powdered pigments waited nearby for her to resume her work. She moved one jar away from a candle, just for safety's sake. Now that the door was shut and the harsh smells of the outside world had been at least partially blocked, the air

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