by Clive Mullis
‘Jack, stop preaching,’ said Rose. ‘You don’t have to sell it to us. We’re already here.’
‘What? No, I wasn’t preaching.’
‘Yes you were. Save it for later when you’re selling it to the public.’
Frankie grinned. ‘Yeah, Jack, and you can put yer arms down now; you look like a bloody semaphore with them dancing hands.’
Cornwallis stopped mid-gyration and put on a sheepish grin. ‘Sorry, just think we’re on to a good thing.’
‘I’m sure we are, but let’s see what it’s like first,’ replied Rose.
‘Are you lot going to shift yer arses?’ asked the dwarf. ‘We ain’t got all day, you know.’
Felicity and Dewdrop were still in front so they were the first of the group to enter the dwarf tunnels. Rose linked her arm through Cornwallis’ and they both quickly followed.
‘Don’t you bloody well hold on to me,’ warned Frankie to MacGillicudy.
‘No sodding chance,’ replied the commander, horrified at the thought.
The six prospective commuters entered the dimly lit entrance. Inside, a barrier stopped their progress with a booth for tickets alongside. Another dwarf, dressed as the first, handed out pieces of paper with a number on each.
‘A dollar, please,’ said the dwarf as he handed out the tickets.
‘What?’ asked Frankie, shocked at the charge.
‘Don’t worry; you don’t have to actually pay. I’m just practising.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then, but a dollar seems a bit steep.’
‘Early days,’ said Cornwallis. ‘We’re yet to fix the fares.’
Frankie eyed the dwarf warily who grinned in return before sniffing and swallowing a gobbet of snot.
‘Nice,’ observed Frankie as Cornwallis pulled out his notebook and started to write.
‘Come on, there is a timetable, you know,’ said the dwarf impatiently.
The six intrepid commuters cast a look at the dwarf and then negotiated the gate and moved further into the tunnel, which meandered snake-like, deep down into the underside of Gornstock. Cornwallis held back a bit and watched his five companions closely.
‘Could do with a bit more light,’ ventured MacGillicudy. ‘Black as a chimney sweep’s arse.’
As Felicity giggled, Frankie nodded sagely, though the gloom made him difficult to see.
‘Hmm,’ mused Cornwallis. ‘You may have a point there,’ he agreed, pulling out the notebook again and scribbling some more.
‘A few lanterns along the wall?’ suggested Rose.
‘Possibly, but the oil will need to be topped up all the time and candles would need to be replaced regularly; it would cost a fortune.’
‘Fireflies?’ suggested Frankie. ‘Bung a load of ‘em in a bottle. That’ll work.’
Cornwallis shook his head. ‘No, we’d need millions and millions of the little buggers. I’ll have to give it a bit of thought.’
They moved around a corner into a better lit spot where tracks barred the way ahead. The tracks extended to the left and right, entering and exiting a particularly dark and uninviting tunnel. The dwarf guiding them put out an arm to stop them going further.
Then from the right came a low grumbling noise which morphed into a slow clack-clack which became steadily louder and seemed to be coming closer. They all stared into the deep dark mouth of the tunnel as the noise approached.
Suddenly the noise reached a crescendo and a little contraption with two dwarfs upon it lurched into view. A flat-bed pump-trolley hooked up to a cart with the two dwarfs pumping the handles as if their lives depended on it: the cart looked like a shed on wheels, with cut-outs where windows should be and a little door at the rear on the nearside to allow entrance to the shed.
The two dwarfs ceased pumping and one grabbed a handle, pulling on the brake until the whole thing ground to a stop, adjacent to the six commuters.
Another dwarf appeared at the open door of the cart. ‘Tickets please. Step aboard.’
A slight problem now became apparent. There were no steps and the floor of the cart lay about three feet above where they were standing, which necessitated some undignified clambering. Eventually, Cornwallis got on board and he pulled out his notebook.
‘Move along please,’ said the dwarf guard. ‘Take your seats quickly.’
The seats were in rows, along both sides of the cart, enabling it to carry twenty seated passengers. When everyone had made themselves comfortable, the guard stuck his head out of the windowless window.
‘All aboard,’ yelled the guard. ‘Give it a bit of welly.’
Cornwallis eyebrows shot up and the notebook received another scribble.
The pump handle went up and down and the cart began to move, heading off into the pitch dark mouth. Everyone grinned nervously as the contraption entered the maw of doom.
‘Bit dark in here,’ ventured MacGillicudy after a couple of moments.
‘A bit dark?’ returned Frankie. ‘I can’t see my bloody hand in front of my face.’
‘Er, slight technical problem,’ said Cornwallis.
A noise of a slap intruded. ‘Cecil, don’t do that, not here anyway.’
Rose grinned into the dark as she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.
‘Sorry,’ apologised Dewdrop. ‘Just wanted to hold on to something.’
‘Well, try holding my hand instead.’
MacGillicudy, seated next to Frankie, turned his head. ‘Don’t you have any ideas about holding on to something, because there’s a right-hander here, waiting just for you.’
‘Don’t worry, Jethro, there is absolutely nothing of yours that I would want to touch.’
‘That’s all right then,’ replied the commander. ‘However, I’ve got a bit of an itch down here if you wouldn’t mind helping.’
‘Sod off, Jethro.’
‘Oh, for the gods sake,’ whined Rose. ‘You’re worse than children.’
‘You want to be where I’m sitting,’ said Felicity.
‘That’s not fair,’ countered Dewdrop. ‘We’re an item.’
‘No, Cecil, we’re a couple. Didn’t last night prove that?’
It was dark, nobody could see, but everyone knew that eyebrows shot up.
‘Last night?’ queried Cornwallis. ‘Do I want to know about last night?’
‘No, Mr Cornwallis, you certainly don’t,’ replied Felicity vehemently.
That’s okay, Rose and I didn’t happen either.’
‘Jack,’ exclaimed Rose.
‘Bugger,’ responded Frankie. ‘As if I had the bloody chance, what with Tulip an’ all.’
‘Thanks for reminding me,’ said MacGillicudy, ‘that I am somewhat bereft in the happening department.’
‘That’s your own fault,’ countered Frankie. ‘I’ve introduced you to loads of ladies recently.’
‘Frankie, your idea of a lady is a very loose term, as is, if I may be so bold to say, their morals. I would even go so far as to say that they came with a price list.’
‘Ah, but you have to admit that Clarissa scrubs up well. She even gives a discount to her regulars.’
A bit of a judder came from the cart and then a slight hazy light instilled itself into the dark and over the six virgin passengers.
The guard emerged from the shadows. ‘Approaching Tooley Street,’ he informed, as the light then came rushing in.
The pump-trolley dwarfs yanked on the brake and the cart slowed to a halt.
‘Tooley Street already, eh? That was quick,’ said Cornwallis.
MacGillicudy nodded. ‘I’ll give you that. Would have taken at least fifteen minutes up top.’
‘Longer, if it were the rush hour,’ added Dewdrop. ‘Er, sir.’
‘You’re quite right, Constable Toopins. We’ve no traffic down here.’
Another uniformed dwarf helped them down from the cart and guided them up to the entrance where they could breathe the fresh clean Gornstock air.
A few minutes respite and then t
he whole process began again, back down into the tunnel, onto the cart, clambering not optional, and away, off to Slingshot Row, conveniently situated close to the Stoat, where the inevitable debrief would take place.
‘Now that we’ve all got a drink,’ said Cornwallis, ‘we can begin. Who wants to go first?’
The pub started getting busy. Eddie had installed a skittles alley at the back and a team of dwarfs were playing a team of bears. As always, there were plenty of bets flying around, as well as skittles.
‘It were too dark,’ ventured Dewdrop after a while. ‘Looking from a police point of view, if the Commander don’t mind me saying…’ MacGillicudy gave him a nod to continue, so Dewdrop did. ‘…it would be easy for a dipper or a groper to operate down there.’
‘Well said, lad,’ said MacGillicudy. ‘They were my thoughts precisely. Anywhere dark like that would be giving the thumbs up to all sorts of undesirables. There needs to be a lot more light.’
Cornwallis scribbled in his notebook.
‘The tunnels don’t need light, just the carts,’ suggested Felicity. ‘Then the guard would be able to see what goes on.’
‘Good idea,’ said Cornwallis, scratching out what he’d just written and replacing it with something new. ‘Anything else?’
‘Getting on and off weren’t easy. Needs steps or something,’ said Frankie.
‘Or raise the floor a bit,’ suggested Rose. ‘A platform so you can just step into the cart.’
‘Carriage,’ amended Cornwallis. ‘I’ve decided to call the carts carriages; it makes them sound posher, lends it a bit of class.’
‘In that case,’ said Rose. ‘You’d better do something about the ride. It was as hard as nails. At least the road carriages have some suspension.’
‘And the seats,’ added Felicity. ‘They were just wooden boards; you’d get a really numb bum if you went any distance.’
‘You could’ve sat on my lap,’ said Dewdrop, and then turned a deep shade of crimson as everyone looked at him.
‘This is definitely a new side of Constable Toopins coming out, ain’t seen this one before,’ said Frankie with a grin. ‘I’ll tell you what son, me and you will have a little word later and I’ll give you some tips,’ and he gave a little wink.
Rose sighed.
Felicity sighed.
Cornwallis and MacGillicudy laughed.
*
‘Gentlemen, thank you for coming. We have a very important issue to discuss. I have learnt that the dwarfs are planning to introduce a new mode of transport to the city.’ The Chairman of the Guilds reached forward to take a sip of water from his glass. ‘It goes without saying that this office welcomes enterprise, innovation and invention for the good of all our band of brothers. But, and indeed, it is a big but, the dwarfs are not members of the Guilds Hall. Therefore, it poses a bit of a problem. Before, we could ignore them, as they just sort of dug around down there, doing whatever it is that they do, but with this proposal, they intend to impact on us up here; they intend to enter into the world of commerce and business. In effect, they are planning to take the food from out of our mouths. The Guilds can’t stand around idly watching while all this happens. We need to stop all this from happening; we need a strategy to thwart their ambitions. We can’t let a minority group dictate to us. Thoughts gentlemen?’
‘How did you learn about this?’ asked the master of the guild of pawnbrokers.
‘Ah, a good chairman has eyes and ears everywhere. I heard it from one of my contacts.’
In fact, he’d heard it from someone who had heard it from someone who had overheard a couple of dwarfs talking a few nights ago, when he had been at his club, dressed in a manner not necessarily pertaining to his sex; his release in times of stress or euphoria, depending which was prevalent at the time. He’d just made a great deal of money, so decided to celebrate with one of his set of Molly boys.
‘Reliable contact?’
‘Oh, very. You can take what I said as fact.’
‘Then we will have to do something. Can’t be having those short-arses getting above their station.’
A murmur of general agreement ran through the meeting and then the hard work of working out what to do began. What were they to do?
Chapter 5
‘There’s been a delegation with a protest,’ announced Cornwallis senior as he strolled into the office.
Rose and Cornwallis junior looked up as the earl entered, as did Frankie and Isabella. MacGillicudy ignored the slam of the door as it smacked against the wall, as playing with Tulip took priority, bouncing her up and down on his knee; some happy gurgling coming from both participants.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Rose, a look of consternation briefly visiting her face.
‘I mean the Master of the Guilds, and the committee, visited the Warden, and the Warden has asked me to look into it.’
‘But you can’t, can you?’
‘I can and I will. The Warden doesn’t trust anyone else to do it. The Guilds think that any new and large enterprise should go to them first for approval, to see if it impacts on any existing guild member. As the guilds pump money towards the Warden, the Warden conceded that they may have a point.’
‘But the guilds don’t want anything to do with the dwarfs. They’ve said that often enough,’ argued Rose.
‘That’s not the point,’ replied the earl. ‘The point is that it may have an adverse effect on some of their members.’
‘Who?’
‘Er, the cabbies for one. This could have a serious impact on them.’
Rose’s eyes blazed with a light that the earl had never seen before.
‘Well, at least it might have an effect… in some way… Rose, please don’t look at me like that. I’m only doing my job,’
‘You’re going to help the guilds? You’re going to go against both the dwarfs and us?’
Cornwallis interrupted before things took a turn for the worse. Rose had passionate beliefs about a lot of things and one of them pertained to how the city treated the dwarfs as a sub-species. ‘Let’s not jump to conclusions,’ he said. ‘There are many ways to look into things and now we have an advantage; we know what’s going on.’
‘Exactly,’ said the earl, taking a deep breath. ‘So, please, Rose, can you readjust your gaze to one of undying love and admiration. I’m a politician, so I know what questions to ask to get the answers I want, I can ask the questions that nobody wants to know the answers to, and I can ignore asking the questions where people actually want to know the answers.’
Rose sighed. ‘I suppose so, but it galls me that the guilds think that they can dictate to everyone.’
‘That’s because they can. The guilds are powerful; they have oodles of money to splash around so they can call the shots. Don’t forget, in this city, money talks. Well, in reality, it shouts.’
‘But that’s not fair,’ replied Rose indignantly.
‘No, it’s not but it’s a fact of life and, in this instance, it’s got its aim on the dwarfs and this Pipe thing. They are going to do everything they can to make sure that they win. The problem is that I have to make sure they don’t.’
‘You mean that?’ asked Cornwallis. ‘You’ll take our side?’
‘Of course I will, my boy. Blood is thicker than water, after all. I’m just telling you how things stand at the moment.’
Tulip made another gurgling sound, this one being more ominous. Her face turned a little puce and MacGillicudy began to look a little worried. He was just about to hand her back when it happened. A foul-smelling, creamy torrent of liquid erupted from between her lips and spurted straight onto the shirt-front of the Commander of Police.
‘Oh, bugger,’ said the commander who sat resolute and in control. ‘Poor little lamb, are you feeling a little iffy?’
The smell took on a persona of its own, a thick, cloying aroma, wholly human in an unhuman kind of way.
Isabella jumped up from her chair and hurried over with her typical mothers
’ bag full of unlimited accoutrements. She fished out a cloth and picked hold of Tulip, handing her to Frankie.
‘Who’s daddy’s favourite girl then, puking on the good commander? Don’t worry, he’s used to it.’
MacGillicudy raised a laconic eyebrow as Isabella wiped the offending deposit off his shirt. ‘Ah, yes, but normally I can arrest the little shite.’
Frankie wibbled and wobbled her lips with his fingers and Tulip broke out in a smile.
‘Ah,’ said everyone in unison.
Then everyone went ‘Ooo,’ as Tulip’s face went bright red and her features set determinedly, screwing up her eyes and puckering her mouth, the strain ready to produce.
‘Is daddy’s ickle girl having a shit?’ asked Frankie, cooing proudly.
‘This should be interesting,’ said Isabella quietly to Rose. ‘He was the last one to change her.’
A slim, attractive girl, Isabella had long dark hair, full lips and dark intense eyes; she had once rented a room from Cornwallis to conduct her business of speaking to the dead.
Frankie’s broad proud smile began to falter a little; his eyes became slightly larger and developed a hint of consternation. His mouth began to harden in a tight grimace and his nose began to twitch as he felt a nice warm spot develop on the front of his trousers, which had nothing to do with him, but everything to do with Tulip.
He lifted her up.
He had a double whammy.
MacGillicudy howled with laughter.
‘Apparently, there has been a bit of a protest,’ remarked Cornwallis. ‘The Guilds, but my father is going to deal with it.’
Goodhalgan stroked his beard and looked up as he and Cornwallis poured over the notes made on the trial run.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, they’re worried about their members, but I don’t think there’s need to worry.’
‘In that case, I won’t,’ replied Goodhalgan, dismissing it out of hand. He turned back to his notes. ‘All this will take some dwarfpower,’ he said tapping the bits of paper.
‘Which you have in plenty,’ observed Cornwallis, leaving the protest to a corner in his mind. ‘We need to get it right from the very beginning, otherwise people won’t come back.’
