by John Patrick
30 Monnington Street was an ornate brick house with twisted chimney spires and rings of precise dwarf hedges and co-ordinated flowerbeds. Fifteen year-old Nicholas had lived at the house for the last few years, having been sent by his parents to stay with his wealthy merchant uncle. Their plan was for him to learn how to become a trader and with a bit of luck impress his uncle enough to be invited into the business. So far all he’d learnt was how to clean and carry. His uncle explained that first and foremost he must cover the cost of board and lodgings and learn how to work hard. Once he’d proven himself he could start to learn the complex world of business - but not before. Nick's disillusionment with his 'apprenticeship' was only matched by his longing to return to his family and his home in Norfolk.
Nick stood behind the tall padlocked iron gates at the front of number 30 as Mary and Samuel approached. Mary smiled coyly at him.
'Where are you two off to?' Nick looked upset, his eyes reddened and face pale.
'Can’t tell you that.' replied Samuel sharply. 'It’s private.'
'Nick is alright, he’s not gonna tell anyone, are you Nick? Do you want to come with us Nick?'
'Tell what? Come where?'
'Mary, you can’t bring ‘im. What if he blabs?' Samuel argued.
'He won't tell nobody!' Mary whispered back angrily.
'What are you two on about? And anyway, I can't leave this bloody prison. Uncle says I can’t go past this gate.'
'Shame' said Samuel with an air of finality. 'Come on, let’s go.' He tugged on Mary’s arm. She pulled back.
'You could climb over, Nick. It won’t take long. You’d be back before 'e even knew you was gone.'
Nick looked at Mary then back at the house. It was tempting and after the morning he’d just had, why not?
'Nicholas! Get away from them and get on with your jobs!' His uncle’s voice boomed from a first floor window. 'Go on you two, clear off!'
Mary was taken aback. Nick’s uncle had at least always appeared courteous, even if he wasn't particularly friendly. It was unlike him to shout at them like they were common street urchins.
'I’d better do what the bastard says.' mumbled Nick and trudged away to the house.
'Come on Mary, for 'eaven's sake. Forget 'bout your boyfriend. Let's get this done before Misses P gets up.'
Mary let the comment pass and begrudgingly followed her brother. Samuel was still feeling deflated about the discovery that Shipton, or Scroggs, was a fraud. But at least he had the comfort of knowing the stone was special, and better still, valuable. He squeezed it tightly in his pocket to make sure he couldn’t lose it.
Mary tried to picture Shipton's living room and places he might hide the key. She was nervous at the prospect of going back inside his house. If the Scottish man in the skirt was still there she would turn around and leave, no questions asked.
Suddenly someone clattered into them from behind, shoving in-between them. It was Nick. He placed a hand on a shoulder of each of them and stood panting.
'Found you!' he gasped.
Samuel pulled Nick’s hand off his shoulder and pushed it away. Mary smiled warmly.
'Wasn’t sure which way you went. What are we up to?'
'Your uncle’ll kill you.' Samuel pointed out.
'That’s up to him.' Nick replied with apparent nonchalance.
'What’s eatin’ ‘im all of a sudden any'ow?' asked Mary.
'You didn’t hear?' Nick looked surprised. 'The Galley house, you know, down the street. They got it. The Infection. It’s all locked up with them inside. Got locks and chains, guards on the doors. He's wetting his pants.'
Mary halted. 'You're teasin'. What all of them? All locked up? Isabel an' all? Which one of 'em is sick? '
'I don't know. But Uncle says that’s it now. Says it’s got too close so he's locked the gates. He's going to lock up the house and we're all hiding away until this is over he says.'
'Oh so he’s gonna love you coming with us then.' sneered Samuel.
'Where we goin’ anyway?'
'We just got to go an’ pick up a key for someone. It’s a long story Nick. Come on. I’ll explain as we go.' urged Mary.
But Nick stayed where he was, glaring up the street. Ahead were two men. One carried a blood-stained club, the other pushed a large handcart filled with dead dogs and cats, their heads bloodied and disfigured. Flies buzzed around the carcasses. As Nick looked at them tears welled in his eyes.
'What's the matter Nick?’ asked Mary.
'Those evil bastards came and killed Cromwell.' he turned his head away. 'And he just let them. Said he had no choice.'
Mary went to put an arm around his shoulder but thought twice about being so bold and settled for a pat on the arm.
'They took him down the side of the house and bashed him. I could hear him, whimpering.'
Tears now filled Mary's eyes too, for Nick rather than the dog.
'I tried to stop them but they threatened me too and that old bastard just laughed.'
'Why they do’ it?' Samuel frowned.
'They say they spread plague but that’s a load of shit. There was nothing wrong with Cromwell. I should get a club and do the same to them.' He started to march towards them.
Mary grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Nick didn't resist. 'Don’t be silly, there's two of them – and if you go home messed up your uncle’ll know you been out. Come on, we got things to do.'
'Suppose you're right.' answered Nick. 'They can count themselves lucky.'
Shipton’s front door was unlocked. Mary pushed gently and the iron hinges squealed as the door swung open. Images of a man in a kilt slicing people up filled Mary’s head. She craned her head over the threshold. Samuel pushed his way in front of Nick.
The house was trashed, furniture thrown around the room. The contents of the cupboards and sideboard were strewn over the floor, bottles and flagons were smashed. The three children nervously crept inside, broken pottery crunching under foot.
'What the 'ell happened 'ere?' Samuel looked around in disbelief.
'It’ll be that Scottish man he was on about.' answered Mary. 'He said ‘e was nasty. He’ll be lookin’ for 'is stone. Hurry up. Let’s find that key and get out.'
They searched through the sideboard, the debris on the floor, the cupboards, in the few clothes he possessed but found no key.
'Whoever did this obviously took the key.' Nick kicked at Shipton’s bedding. 'We might as well go.'
There was a crash from upstairs. The children froze.
'There’s someone up there.' hissed Nick 'Let’s get out!' He hurried to the door. A white blur hurtled down the stairs and shot behind the upturned table. Samuel dashed after it.
'What the hell was that?' shouted Nick nervously from the doorway.
'How did you get here girl?' Samuel emerged from behind the table holding the white cat. Eloise rolled onto her back and purred. 'You’d better watch out or they’ll bash you too.'
Nick huffed. 'That key isn't here. It's time we left before whoever did this comes back.'
'Just one last look.' pleaded Mary. 'It’s got to be here somewhere. Then Mister Shipton can go.'
There was a cupboard under the stairs with a door as tall as Samuel. The handle was missing. Samuel squeezed his fingers in the gap around the wood and tried to prise it open but all he managed to do was buckle his finger nails.
'Move out the way, squirt. I'll get that!' Nick marched across the room and shoved Samuel to one side. He pulled out a small knife, squeezed it into the gap around the door and began trying to lever it open.
Samuel was unimpressed. He charged back and shoved Nick away. 'Get off it! I don’t need your help!'
The blade snapped and fell to floor.
'Why you little...' Nick pulled back his fist.
'I've got it!' Mary found an iron key, hidden into a recess beneath the window. It was long and heavy, with a heart-shaped head and rusted shaft. 'This must be it. Thank heavens! Now we can get out of here!'
Nick scowled at Samuel and dropped his hand. Samuel stuck a finger up his nose and sneered back.
'Stop it Samuel! Come on you two, let’s go.' urged Mary, tip-toeing over the debris towards the door.
Samuel picked up Eloise again and gently tucked her inside his shirt, leaving just her head peeping out, then followed Mary to the door.
Nick was distracted by a bracelet lying amongst the debris. The figures were poorly marked and hard to read. He wiped the dust away and slowly spelt out the letters ABRACADABRA. He wasn't sure what it meant but he had heard about magical trinkets with powers to protect the wearer. And anyway, no one was watching, no one would miss it amongst this chaos. He shoved it into his pocket. He felt safer already.
Mary pulled open the front door. Their escape was blocked. The hand cart, laden now with a huge pyramid of animal corpses, was parked across the front steps whilst the two sweaty workmen sat resting at either end.
'Samuel, hide Eloise!' hissed Mary.
The cat's bright blue eyes were staring out from Samuel's open shirt. Samuel shoved her head deep inside his clothes and tried to fasten his shirt but she was having none of it. She wriggled back past his hand and shook her head with disapproval.
'Oi! He's got a friggin' cat!' The man jumped to his feet, pointing his club at Samuel. 'Give that 'ere, right now!'
The other man reluctantly climbed to his feet. 'Come on boy, it's dirty. You don't wanna make everyone sick.'
Nick shoved a couple more trinkets into his pocket. He was still curious about the jammed cupboard. He gave it a frustrated kick. A soft thud echoed from inside and the door opened a fraction. Nick peered through the crack in the door; it was pitch-black. He squeezed his fingers into the gap and tugged with all of his strength. Suddenly the resistance disappeared and the door swung wide open. The corpse of a man thumped onto the ground at Nick's feet. His mouth gaped, his eyes stared upwards, his throat sliced open. The body was that of Blackburn, Shipton's landlord.
Nick panicked. He bolted for the front door. He barged past Mary and Samuel and leapt from the top step, landing on top of the cart. It toppled over and Nick found himself lying amidst dead cats and dogs.
'You bloody hooligan!' The man ran at Nick, club raised. Nick scrambled over the carcases and ran. Mary and Samuel saw their chance and sprinted after him.
The tired workmen had no chance of keeping up. As he fled, Nick howled and shook a triumphant fist over his head.
After a couple of streets they slowed to walking pace. Mary smothered Nick with her gratitude. How brave he had been charging out from the house to save them, how clever creating a distraction to allow them to escape - and he'd had his revenge after all. Nick enjoyed the adulation. He sure as hell wasn’t going to spoil the impression by telling her the truth.
They arrived back outside Nick’s house. He knew there'd be trouble from his uncle when he went in. Mary sensed the hesitancy.
'Why don’t you come and meet Mister Shipton?' she asked.
'His uncle wants him.' pointed out Samuel.
'Yeh, he’s right.' Nick looked anxiously at the house. 'I should really go back in.' He stayed where he was.
'You could show me what's happening at Galley’s house.' suggested Mary.
'Suppose we could…' Nick glanced again at the house. There was no sign of his uncle.
'Can’t believe your uncle allowed them to do that to Cromwell.' Mary added.
'No… I can’t either.'
'Was he one of those dogs on that cart?'
'Probably.'
'Come on Mary. We should go.' Samuel started to head back home.
'Alright' resolved Nick. 'I’ll show you the Galley's house, just for a minute.'
Chapter 14
