Set the day after dance in the previous chapter.
….
Clary carefully counted her money one more time; she had to make sure that every last coin was safely in her purse so there weren't any surprises when she got to the bank.
She ran through what her da had told her again, so she was sure of what would happen: she'd walk in, look for the offices, explain to the teller that she wanted to open an account, sign the paper, and make sure that she got a receipt.
Clary frowned as she realised she had a problem, and she threw open the door to her bedroom. "Da!"
"What?" came his voice from the kitchen below.
Clary suddenly felt silly, but not telling him wouldn't solve her problem either. "I don't have a signature."
He came to stand in the doorway and she was sure she saw his mouth twitch a little, but his voice was even when he replied, "Just write your name, sweetpea."
"But it won't look all fancy like other people's signatures do."
Her da was definitely looking amused now. "Clary, half the people that go into that bank every day sign their name with a big cross because they don't know how to write. Writing your name will do just fine. Now, we're off in ten minutes, so you make sure you're ready."
Clary shut her bedroom door and wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She wanted a proper signature like her da had; she didn't want to write her name like an inexperienced child. She sat herself down at her desk and found her pencil and an old piece of parchment.
Clara Wright, she practiced.
Clary Wright.
C Wright.
Clara Wright. She liked this one best, so far. It was messy, but it was quicker and made it look like she was used to signing things.
Clara Wright.
Clara Wright.
Clara Wright.
A thought popped into Clary's head, and she couldn't help but try it out.
Trainee Guardswoman Clara Wright. She looked at the words and grinned to herself – it'd be just a few months before it was true! She'd write it lots when it really was true, just because she could.
Guardswoman Clara Wright.
Corporal Guardswoman Clara Wright.
Sergeant Clara Wright.
Sergeant Clara Goodwin. Clary stared at the words and felt her face flushing red. She hastily turned around just to check there was nobody standing behind her, and then looked back to the words again. She couldn't even explain to herself why she'd decided to write it, but she was sure she must just be overtired from all the dancing the night before. All the same, her finger was slowly tracing over the unfamiliar combination of names, and her stomach was feeling all fluttery just like when Tom had kissed her cheek to say goodbye last night.
"Clary!"
She jumped at the sound of her da calling up the stairs, and blushed again as she realised what she'd been doing. She tore the parchment up as quickly as she could, into tiny little pieces so that nobody could piece together more than a few letters, let alone two incriminating, fanciful words. She tucked her purse under her arm and tossed her shawl over her shoulder, and barreled down the stairs, past her father, and straight into the kitchen to toss the handful of torn parchment onto the fire.
Her da eyed her with amusement. "You were practicing your signature, weren't you?"
Clary was sure she was blushing again, but she stuck her nose in the air. "My signature's just fine as it is," she said. "Half the people who go into the bank sign their name with a cross because they don't know how to write. Really, Da, why would you go putting an idea like that in your daughter's head? Anyone'd think you were trying to make me proud and arrogant." She sniffed in disdain. "And I thought we had to leave."
Alfie laughed and kissed her forehead. "I'd be worried you were sick or sommat if you weren't getting up to tricks."
Clary just smiled and set off out the door.