by Amy Myers
But then he had to hurry away, for they were bringing Mr Splendour out. Gone was his usual jaunty air; instead there was panic, desperation and sobs of denial as he was unceremoniously thrust into the Black Maria.
Constable Peters might be thinking as I did. That they’d arrested the wrong person again.
XV
One Last Flue
Greatly troubled, I set out for home. I had tried to find Clara to talk this over, but there was no sign of her, and my priority was Ned. The quicker I found out the whereabouts of the Seven Deadly Sins script the better.
Three days. That was all I had left before May Day. It was Thursday afternoon and by Sunday morning I had promised Ned that Phineas would be free to come to the procession and see his Jack-in-the-Green. I was passing Billingsgate and remembered I needed food for Cockalorum and ourselves. It was hard to stop there, because I was so eager to reach home again.
When I did, Ned was waiting outside with Cockalorum who gave a yowl of delight as he shook himself and ran up to greet me.
‘Smelled the fish in my pocket eh?’ I joked.
Ned laughed too, which was good. Mrs Snook had had to leave, he told me, and Ned must have felt safer out here in the court with folk passing every now and then. Cockalorum led the way upstairs and into our rooms, then looked at me expectantly. Once the question of supper had been discussed and Cockalorum satisfied, we settled down for a talk. Cockalorum took my armchair, Ned took his own and I had the broken one we’re waiting to take to Zechariah for mending once we have enough sixpences.
‘There’s more to tell me, isn’t there, Ned?’ I asked gently. ‘You need to spit it out, lad.’
He looked sullen at first but at last he began to talk. ‘They threw me in that sack, guvnor. They said they’d drown me, but they didn’t. They forced me right inside it for a bit till they threw me into that place.’ He stopped, but then wailed, ‘It was like being in a chimney again.’
I silently vowed they would pay for that.
‘I told ’em I had to get back,’ he went on, ‘because I was going to be Jack-in-the-Green, but they just laughed. I didn’t know where I was except that I could smell the river.’ I knew what he meant. Nothing like Old Father Thames for smell. It’s my belief the fish are glad to get out of it.
‘They tied me up.’ His voice was getting croaky now. ‘I couldn’t even get out to crap.’
I knew that all too well and so did Mrs Snook. I’d make them pay for that, too. ‘What about Jericho Mason and William Wright? See anything of them, did you, save for when we picked you up?’
‘No, guvnor.’
This was a puzzle. Jericho and William were rivals for Hetty’s hand and now it seemed likely that Jericho was mixed up with Slugger Joe’s affairs, perhaps even working for him as part of Flint’s mob. Could William be the victim here? Had he been caught up in Jericho’s private press-gang, and even part of Flint’s mob? Certainly William had not looked happy when they were there to help us, when we had needed them at the warehouse.
‘I’ll have a word with Clara about this,’ I told him gravely. ‘And the sooner the better. You coming with me?’ I asked, not wanting to leave him alone. Seeing his face, I quickly added, ‘Tomorrow. You’ll feel better then.’
‘What about Cockalorum? If they come, they might find him.’
‘I’ll find a way round that, Ned.’
He looked happier at that, but could I find a way? Now I was truly down in the dumps. Ned was right. Look after Cockalorum, Phineas had said, and I hadn’t done so. Kwan-yin was looking happier with Cockalorum’s return, but Phineas was still in Newgate. Tom Wasp, I ordered myself, find that way.
*
‘Letter for you, Mr Wasp!’ Mrs Scrimshaw called out the next morning, that being her landlady’s duty. ‘From the pigmen. What’s going on? They arresting you?’
I hoped not, but I unfolded it in trepidation until I remembered that Constable Peters had said something about good news. It was good news and cheered me greatly. Inspector Harvey had been kind enough to let me know that Phineas was being released on Saturday. Tomorrow! Plenty of time for him to see Ned as Jack-in-the-Green on Sunday.
Mrs Scrimshaw had lingered so I told her the good news. Mrs Snook nipped by to tell me the good news. Then Enoch called with one of the morning newspapers for me in case I hadn’t heard the good news. I waited for Slugger Joe to toddle in with the good news, but he didn’t.
‘I’ll take Doshie tomorrow,’ I told Ned, ‘and drive Phineas home in state. Then we’ll take Cockalorum back to him and get some fish on the way.’
I’d spoken without thinking and saw Ned’s look of distress. Parting with the cat was going to be hard for him. ‘We’ve still got Kwan-yin,’ I comforted him.
‘She won’t like it if Cockalorum goes,’ Ned muttered.
‘He belongs to Phineas, lad.’ Cats don’t truly belong to anyone, especially cats like Cockalorum. They make their own choices out of what’s available, in my experience, but mine was the easiest way of telling Ned what had to be. ‘You’re right, though, Ned. When I saw him in Newgate, Phineas shouted after me, Look after the cat. I didn’t, but I can tell him tomorrow how much you’ve done for him.’
He looked at me in a puzzled way. ‘Phineas never called Cockalorum the cat — he thought it was impolite. He always called him Cockalorum.’
‘Those were Phineas’ very words, Ned. He shouted look after the cat as I left.’
Ned still looked doubtful and so I thought about this and then — by gosh — it came to me.
‘The cat poem!’ I cried. ‘He meant those lines about Jeoffry in the Jubilate Agno. ‘Phineas would have known that we would look after Cockalorum, but that cat poetry was different. I might not think of looking after that.’
‘But that’s just poetry, guvnor. Anyway, you have looked after it. It’s still in my pillow.’
‘It’s not there any longer, Ned. Don’t you remember I gave it to Hetty to keep it safe in case Slugger Joe came back here and destroyed it?’
I’d spoken without thinking and Ned went very white. ‘I’ll ask Hetty for it back when I get to Dolly’s today,’ I assured him.
‘What about work?’ Ned asked crossly, seeing me put my boots on.
‘Chimneys will have to wait. Getting Phineas’ cat book back is more important. Coming with me?’
He wavered. ‘Only if I can bring Cockalorum.’
I thought of Cockalorum getting loose in Clara’s kitchens and shuddered. ‘He won’t like it, Ned,’ I explained tactfully. ‘He’ll think he’s being given away again when he sees strangers and he’s going home tomorrow anyway. He’ll be happy enough here alone today.’
He glared at me. ‘I’ll stay with him.’
I didn’t like this idea either, but the chances of Slugger coming here in broad daylight were slim indeed, particularly after he’d had his wigging from Mrs Snook.
*
I still wondered whether I’d done the right thing in leaving Ned, but I had to put this to one side in the interests of getting to the bottom of this matter. The cat poem had to be taken care of for Phineas’ sake and the Tarlton script was the key to two murders. They needed sorting out rapidly, if Mr Splendour was not to be wrongly charged as Phineas had been.
It was Clara I needed to talk to first and she seemed just as anxious to talk to me, for all she was as busy as ever.
‘I heard the news, Tom,’ she said as we sat down in her greeting room. ‘I don’t know whether to laugh or cry what with Phineas free and Mr Splendour taken away. But you’ve found Ned, that’s the main thing.’
‘I’ve Jericho and William to thank for that.’
She smiled. ‘When they told me Ned was missing I told them to do everything they could to help or else I’d beat the living daylights out of them. I’ll make William’s lost tips up to him. But, Tom, how they came to be there at the right time is a puzzle. They told me they were just passing. That’s gammon, but why should they lie about it?’
>
‘I was hoping you’d tell me why, Clara.’
‘I can’t. They’re not pals, Tom. Why were they even together? William’s so fond of Hetty that he keeps a suspicious eye on everything Jericho does. But they’re both so devoted to her and to Dolly’s that I can’t see they’d be mixed up themselves in anything criminal.’
At that moment Hetty opened the door and peered in. ‘Oh Mr Wasp, isn’t it wonderful? Phineas is to be free and I’m to be the Queen of the May on May Day!’
She looked so pretty, she could have stepped right up to her throne this very moment. I could see William standing behind her in the corridor, however, and his face suggested the news wasn’t at all wonderful. To have Phineas out and wooing Hetty was the last thing he or Jericho would want. I needed to speak to Hetty alone, but I couldn’t do so with William around. I had to act quickly if Phineas was to have his cat poetry back tomorrow.
‘And a prettier queen they’ll never see,’ I assured Hetty, then adding the first thing that came into my head. ‘I’d like a few words about the Boy in Panyer Alley, Hetty, if you can spare a minute.’
Hetty giggled and Clara and William looked highly puzzled, which wasn’t surprising. It achieved its purpose, though, as William returned unwillingly to his serving duties, with Clara bustling after him.
‘Not a word to anyone, Hetty, but I’d like that bag of papers to give back to Phineas tomorrow. He values it highly.’
Hetty looked disappointed. ‘I could bring it on Sunday, Mr Wasp. Phineas will be at the procession — isn’t that wonderful news?’
I agreed wholeheartedly with the good news, but I wanted My Cat Jeoffry back. ‘It’s safer for me to give it back to Phineas right away, Hetty,’ I said. ‘And on Sunday Phineas will have more to say to you than just thanking you for his poetry book. He loves you, Hetty, and he didn’t mind your telling Mr Harcourt about the Tarlton manuscript.’
‘Oh, Mr Wasp.’ She threw her arms around me. ‘Thank you. But this poetry book isn’t dangerous, is it?’
I stretched the truth a little. ‘Flint might be interested in it. We wouldn’t want him getting confused between that and the Seven Deadly Sins manuscript he’s so determined to get.’
‘I don’t think Flint exists,’ Hetty said crossly. ‘It’s all Flint here, Flint there, Flint everywhere but he’s just a story book character.’
‘He exists all right,’ I said sadly. Youth will have its way but we older ones know that in life there’s always a Flint around somewhere, a devil thrown out of heaven and touching earth on his way down to hell.
Hetty cheered up. ‘I’ll fetch the poetry book for you, Mr Wasp.’
Within minutes she had returned with the bag I had left with her and seeing it again made me realise that I couldn’t wait until I was home to see if my suspicion was right. Instead, I opened it immediately and took out the manuscript.
I wasn’t right. When I opened the manuscript to study more closely what lay within, I began at the very first page, not where it had been opened before. The Jubilate Agno began with some pages all in the same handwriting as the lines I’d already seen. Then I came to those about My Cat Jeoffry, the servant of the living Lord. There was nothing about the seven deadly sins or Richard Tarlton.
‘It’s a very long poem,’ Hetty said in awe, peering over my shoulder. ‘It must have taken a very long time to write.’ She lifted a few of the following pages, and then I registered that the paper size and handwriting had changed. Nor did it look like the same poem any more in which each line began with a capital letter. Then I caught sight of a few words that I could read, despite the old language. ‘Hey nonny’. That was one of Phineas’ songs. And Phineas sang Shakespeare’s verses, not Christopher Smart’s.
I almost choked in excitement as I turned the pages. This new handwriting continued until nearly the end of the pile, but then the last few pages were written in the earlier style and handwriting. There must have been about thirty pages in all of the earlier style, and in the middle was a great wodge written in the new style. The paper looked different, too.
I hardly dared to look again in case I found out I was wrong. But I did look again, and I knew the Seven Deadly Sins was before me, even though it had no separate front cover. Flint would have that, perhaps one or two pages of the Seven Deadly Sins with it, to fool him at first into thinking this was the manuscript he was after. Whatever else was in it, to give the necessary bulk to satisfy him that he had the whole play after his initial glance, certainly wasn’t by Tarlton, because I was holding that in my hands.
At first I could not read much of the handwriting in the Seven Deadly Sins, but as I lifted the pages I saw: ‘Scene II: A room in the Duke’s Palace. Enter the Duke, the fool and musicians’. Then as my eyes grew more accustomed to it, I grew even more excited: the Duke had the first speech:
Pray, fool, cunningly disclose
The strange variety of things
To this the fool replied:
Why then consider women, sire
Some women are wanton, and hold it no sinne
By tricks and devices to pull a man in
Now I saw the way of it, I stopped trying to read more. My admiration for Phineas grew. He had known Slugger Joe had no intention of giving the manuscript to the Widow Snook, and was determined not to let him have it. While he was in the bookstore that night, he must have tucked most of the Tarlton script into his precious tuppence worth of cat poetry and handed over its cover and another page or two to Slugger, after cramming in a pile of some other papers he’d either found in the bookstore or taken with him.
Had Phineas lied to me then, when I asked him whether Slugger Joe had taken the Seven Deadly Sins script? That wasn’t like him. He’d said he had given it to Joe, but he hadn’t. Most of it he’d kept. Then I remembered Phineas’ habit of telling the exact truth — which can lead to problems. It had in this case. He’d told me he’d handed over the Seven Deadly Sins folder. He’d said nothing about its contents. This confusion had a happy ending though: Phineas was to be freed and I had the play.
I repacked the bag with its precious contents and clutched it closely to me just in case Flint himself was about to sneak up on me and seize it. After tomorrow Slugger, Flint and Lairy John would all be eager to greet Phineas in their own particular way — and at the moment I was holding the answer to everything they wanted.
Was it everything, though? My part in this story would not be over with Phineas’ release. Not only was Mr Harcourt’s killer probably still at large, but Mrs Fortescue’s also. The dark shadow hanging over me was that somewhere in the smoke and grime of London’s fair city was Flint. And I had not taken his advice.
*
Phineas was quiet as Doshie picked his careful way over the granite setts on Saturday morning. He clutched a coarse green bag which held his few possessions. His hair was sprouting again, his beard had grown and he was very pale. Worse, his eyes were dull and he stared at his surroundings with little interest. I decided not to bother him until we reached his lodgings and I’d fetched Ned and Cockalorum.
I need not have made any such plan. When we arrived at his home, there was Ned sitting at the foot of the steps and Cockalorum perched at the top of them.
‘Hey nonny, Ned,’ Phineas said with delight and already he looked happier. I could see that in time all would be well — at least with Phineas.
A feast awaited us when we walked inside. Phineas must have felt like Bob Cratchit in Mr Dickens’ story when he saw the turkey that Scrooge had bought for him. There was no turkey here but I had brought some pies with me, supplied by Clara, and a jug of ale. Mrs Snook must have paid a visit too for there was a cake and a ham and fruit, even a bunch of flowers. Phineas just gazed at it all, Cockalorum sprang into his basket and went to sleep while Ned and I lit the fire.
‘It’s May Day tomorrow, Phineas,’ I said. ‘You’ll be going to the procession, won’t you?’
As I had feared, he shook his head. ‘I’ve changed my mind
.’
It’s hard for a man to lose his liberty and fear for his life. In Phineas’ own world that couldn’t happen, but now he knew the real world. Somehow, I had to make sure he lived in both.
‘Hetty’s to be Queen of the May,’ I ventured.
‘And I’m Jack-in-the-Green,’ Ned piped up.
Phineas said nothing, even when I added, ‘She’ll be sad if you’re not there, Phineas.’ But he did raise his head and show interest.
As a master sweep, I should be at the head of the procession with my fellow master sweeps in the Tower area, but I needed to protect Ned, too. As Jack-in-the-Green in his wicker cage he should be safe enough, but I had to reckon on the chance that Flint might be around and he might have other plans. Perhaps this was unlikely given that neither I nor Phineas would have brought the script with us, but who knew, where Flint was concerned?
‘I’ve brought back the cat poem,’ I told him, delving into my bag. He hadn’t even asked me about it and didn’t look at it when I handed it to him, which showed his spirits were still low. ‘I saw you’d slipped something inside it,’ I ventured.
‘The Shakespeare script,’ he told me matter of factly.
I blinked. ‘Tarlton, not Shakespeare. He was an Elizabethan fool, Phineas. It’s true Shakespeare might have added something here and there.’
‘I meant Shakespeare looked after it,’ he explained. ‘For Pip.’
Eh? What was this? ‘Who’s Pip, Phineas?’ I was at a loss.
‘I can’t quite remember. I think he was my great great great great — ‘He counted on his fingers — ‘great great great great great great grandfather,’ he ended triumphantly. ‘The Boy in Panyer Alley.’
I stared at him. Had Newgate turned his brain? Ned gasped at the mention of the Boy. ‘What’s he to do with it, Phineas?’ I asked.
Phineas looked puzzled. ‘Pip is the Boy.’
I gulped. Take this carefully, Tom, I warned myself. ‘You mean the Boy is your ancestor, Phineas? How do you know that?’
‘Yes. My father told me. Pip was the son of Mr Tarlton, and Mr Shakespeare was keeping the manuscript for Pip until he was grown up because he was only six when his father died.’
