The Shadow in the Glass JJA Harwood (book recommendations for young adults txt) 📖

her aching feet into the dirt. She’d been tricked. She’d been lied to. The deal had been tilted against her from the very beginning. Why should she honour such a bargain? Why, why, had Eleanor thrown her trust away on this puppet? The only person worth putting her faith in was herself.

Eleanor had hauled herself out of poverty. Eleanor had made her dreams come true. Eleanor’s life was what she made it: she had made the wishes. The black-eyed woman had only ever tried to drag her down.

It wasn’t fair. Eleanor would make it fair. She would be beyond the reach of law. All laws. Even those that governed the black-eyed woman.

Eleanor’s heart beat so fast it hurt. Hope and fear and pride churned through her. Her hands balled into fists. She wasn’t going to let the black-eyed woman take anything else from her.

The black-eyed woman was coiled in shadow. Something dragged her head upright, tugged her maw into a grin. Darkness snagged itself on her teeth.

Eleanor almost ran. Her heart was hammering. Her limbs were shaking. But the time for running was over. It was time to make her final gamble.

Breathing hard, Eleanor looked up at the grinning thing that had turned her dreams against her. She gritted her teeth. Her soul was hers. She was going to fight for it.

‘I am tired of bargains,’ Eleanor said.

She hurled herself at the woman, and into the darkness.

In the street outside a search was in progress. Moments before, there had been an enormous crack of thunder and the downpour began, but that did not stop the searchers. Wet constables swarmed over alleyways and knocked on doors, looking for a young girl in a blue ballgown. They checked the quiet street by the empty churchyard, and saw nothing but a deeper patch of darkness.

Outside the mansion, the guests huddled around the steps under umbrellas, whispering to each other. None of them left until the sun had started to rise. They could not; the Inspector insisted on interviewing each and every one, asking if they had seen or spoken to a young girl in a blue ballgown. He would not find her.

A young man had joined the search, even though they’d tried to stop him. His greying hair was soaked and there were early lines on his face. There would be more by the time the night was over. He would not find her either.

As the sun began to rise, the guests went home. The constables called in the day shift and trooped back to the station. The Inspector spoke to them all before they left, and wrote down the name of every street that had been searched. Charles Pembroke sat on the steps, limbs heavy.

Something winked at him from the cobblestones.

He lurched forward for a better look. It was a dainty little shoe; a delicate silver satin slipper still wet with rain. In the light from the ballroom it sparkled, like glass.

Charles reached out to it with trembling fingers. His fingers closed around the heel, and he held tight to all that could be found of Eleanor Rose Hartley.

Acknowledgements

You know that saying, it takes a village to raise a child? I’ve got no idea if that’s true, but I can tell you that it definitely takes a village to make a book. The Shadow in the Glass has been twelve years in the making (and honestly, who gave time permission to do that) and a large part of that has been due to the following people.

First of all, I’ve got to thank my preliminary readers: Rosie, Jess, Georgie and Wei. I pestered them with endless drafts of this book and I am forever grateful for their thoughtful feedback and bottomless reserves of patience. Without their advice, I would never have got this far. I’ve still got the paper drafts and I will treasure them forever, especially the ones with the little faces drawn on them.

My wonderful agent, Chloe Seager, also deserves a huge thank you. Her advice and support have been invaluable on every level and I owe her at least one massive cocktail. Thanks also to everyone at Madeleine Milburn and Northbank; it’s been fantastic to work with such dedicated and lovely people.

Speaking of, it’s time for me to thank everyone at Harper Voyager! I could not ask for a nicer team to publish my first novel. Natasha Bardon and Vicky Leech – thank you both so much for all the fantastic editorial advice, for indulging my tendency to go off on historical tangents in the notes, and for letting me be as spooky as I like. Thank you also to the insanely talented Caroline Young for the gorgeous cover; it looks so nice I cried. I’m also very grateful to Rebecca Bryant, Jeannelle Brew and Robyn Watts for all their hard work on promoting and producing this book. If I’ve missed anyone at Voyager I’m very sorry and will buy you a drink; you are awesome.

The writing process can be really hard work; it was made so much easier through the support of my friends. A really special thank you goes out to my housemates, Cath and Claire, for keeping me supplied with endless cups of tea, indulging my mid-cooking writing rants, and for reminding me that I am a human being who needs to go to bed occasionally instead of an unstoppable word machine. (Although give it time, I’ll get there.) Thank you also to Susie, Ellie and Catherine for letting me bounce ideas off you, for listening to me and for all your help and encouragement. You’re the best, why do we not all have matching jackets already.

I have, of course, saved the best for last. I never would have been able to do this if it wasn’t for the constant love and support from my family. Lucy: thank you so much for all your advice, for letting me rant at you even when it’s all nonsense, and for taking my author