There was the tiniest of noises. Dodger glanced down and saw a very small rat run over his boot. Was that a sign? He really wanted a sign. There ought to be signs, and if there was a sign there should be a sign on it to show that it was a sign so that you definitely knew it was a sign. To be frank, a rat running over your boots in the sewer did not, when you thought about it, seem that much like a sign. Was it a sign, or was it just a rat? Oh well, what was the difference? The Lady always had rats around her, and he had half hoped to see a beautiful face magically appear on the dripping bricks of the sewer.
The traffic rattled overhead and the usual punctuated silence remained distinctly empty, and so Dodger added, ‘Grandad, who you most surely have heard of, told me that you always had a pair of shoes on – I mean, not boots but real shoes, so if you would be so good as to smooth my way, I will give you the best pair of shoes that money can buy. Thanking you in expectation, Dodger.’
That afternoon, Solomon pretended to be amazed at how much care Dodger was taking to get ready for the theatre.
Dodger scrubbed out every crevice and corner several times while thinking about the Outlander. He’d never heard of him, but then you don’t get to hear about everybody and it was certainly unlikely that anybody would try anything at the theatre, wasn’t it? But later, in his little private world behind the curtain, as Solomon went through his own ablutions with a considerable amount of splashing and grunting, he carefully took Sweeney Todd’s razor from its hiding place and stared at it.
It was a razor, just a razor. But it was also a fear and a legend. He could slip it into his pocket quite easily. Izzy had done some magnificent work; in fact, the jacket had an inner pocket which just did the job perfectly, and Dodger wondered whether, since this jacket had originally been intended for Sir Robert Peel, Sir Robert Peel had required there to be an inner pocket for those items that a gentleman walking the street might need to get hold of in a hurry – brass knuckles, perhaps.
He sighed and put the razor back in its hiding place. He was uncertain if he wanted to sit next to Simplicity with that so close, and as soon as he had that thought, he felt a little shocked and told himself, Mister Todd killed, but he wasn’t a killer. Maybe if he’d never had to go to that blessed war, he wouldn’t have gone right off his head. But however he looked at it, today at least was not the day for Sweeney Todd’s razor to be on the streets.
Angela had told Solomon to expect a coach that would take them all to the theatre. Dodger found himself looking out for it at least an hour before it was due to reach them, and was gratified that when it did arrive, there were two brawny footmen with it, well spruced up. Their well-set jaws and knowing eyes indicated that they were more than happy to take on anyone in the rookeries who got closer to the coach than they wanted them to.
Solomon got in first. When Dodger stepped in behind him, he was totally crestfallen not to see Simplicity inside, but one of the coachmen poked his head in the coach, gave Dodger an uncharacteristic smile and said, ‘The ladies are still getting ready for the performance, sir, and so we were told to pick you up first. I’m also to tell you that there are refreshments that you may wish to savour during the journey.’ Then, and in a far less nobby voice the footman said, ‘The man that battled Sweeney Todd. Oh my, I can’t wait to tell my old mum!’
While Solomon critically inspected the little well-stocked bar inside the carriage with, as it turned out, great approval, Dodger was thinking hard. Never mind about the Outlander, he thought, but there was something at the back of his mind that was playing over and over again the words that Mrs Holland had told him. Something wasn’t right: what she had told him sounded like, well, a story, rather like Sweeney Todd’s razor, and Dodger knew the truth about Sweeney Todd’s razor, didn’t he? Admittedly, he thought ruefully, he had made up parts of that story so now he was some kind of brave warrior to a lot of people while in his heart he knew himself only as a smart young man.
Swift as a knife, the thought came back. How much of that is the same for this Outlander? Him with all his ladies? Does that sound quite real? he thought. He answered himself: No; even Mrs Holland is pretty well terrified of him, and maybe the Outlander had spun a little spell that made him bigger and more dangerous than he was. Ah yes, that made Dodger feel better. It was like showmanship; it was always showmanship that got you through, and he had a show of his own to prepare.
He reminded himself that he would have to have a very important conversation with Miss Coutts, dear Miss Coutts. He knew that she was a most unusual woman with more money than practically anybody and no husband, and he smiled at himself and he thought, Hmm, a woman with loads of money who isn’t interested in a husband. After all, if you’ve got the money – your own money – a husband is sort of in the way. Solomon had told him that she had once proposed marriage to the Duke of Wellington. Wellington, known to have been a good tactician, had carefully and respectfully declined. Dodger thought, There’s a man that knew there was one battle he would never be able to win!
Solomon put a stopper in a brandy decanter with a happy sigh and Dodger said, ‘Solomon, there’s something I must tell you.’
It was less than fifteen minutes before the coach got to its destination, and Dodger spent a lot of that time looking nervously at Solomon, who seemed lost in thought right up until the old man said, ‘Mmm, well, Dodger, I must say that you are very thorough. You are looking at a man, old and creaky as he is now, who once got out of a jail by garrotting a gaoler with his bootlaces. It is something I regret now, while at the same time reminding myself that because of that act I am now here to tell you about the escapade – and frankly the bastard deserved it because I saw what he had done to others. My people are not known as fighters, but should it be necessary we try to be very good at it. As for your plan, it is bold, daring, and in the circumstances you describe, quite possibly something that will work. Although, my dear friend, do reflect that you will have to get this past Angela, who sees herself at the moment as the protector of our Simplicity.’
The coach was slowing down now, and Dodger said, ‘I know what you mean, but the only person who can order Simplicity to do anything, according to the rules, is her husband, and you must understand that what he says is not going to happen, because he is a pox of a prince. A right royal richard.’
Another flunky opened the door even before Solomon’s hand had touched it, and Solomon and Dodger were shown into a sitting room that contained Angela but, alas, not Simplicity. Angela must have noticed Dodger’s expression because she said cheerfully, ‘Simplicity is taking her time, Mister Dodger, because she is going out to a theatre with you.’ She patted the sofa next to her. ‘Do take a seat.’
So the three of them sat there, in that rather strange silence of people who are waiting without very much to say to one another, until a door was opened and a maid came in, fussing alongside Simplicity, who smiled when she saw Dodger and turned the whole world into gold.
Miss Coutts said, ‘How nice to see you looking so beautiful, my dear, but I think we are going to be late for Julius Caesar if we do not hurry. I know we have a box at the theatre, but I always think it looks so discourteous to be late.’
Dodger was allowed to sit next to Simplicity in the coach; she wasn’t saying very much at the moment, but was apparently somewhat excited at the prospect of the theatre, while Dodger thought things like: A theatre box – that means quite a lot of people in the theatre can see you, oh dear.
But shortly after they arrived at the theatre, in sufficient time not to be too embarrassing, the footmen – or a pair just like them – took their places behind the four of them. It must have been the original two, Dodger thought, because as he turned to look at them he thought he recognized the one who couldn’t wait to tell his mum about Dodger. For just one moment, as he recognized said Dodger, the footman proudly let him glimpse a shining display of brass knuckles, which magically disappeared again into his dressy outfit. Well, that was something.
Dodger h
ad been in theatres before, unofficially, but it took him some time to get the hang of what was going on. Solomon had earlier tried to give him some inkling of what Julius Caesar was all about, and it seemed to Dodger to be about something like a gang fight, except that everybody talked too much. But the words flew over his head and he tried to flap after them, and after a while the play began to enter him. Once you’d got used to the way they were speaking, and all the bed sheets and so on, this was about nasty people, and the moment he thought that and wondered on whose side he should bet, he remembered that these Roman coves had built the sewers and called the Lady ‘Cloacina’.
Although Julius Caesar and the other coves were not actually building any sewers on the stage, Dodger wondered if he should call the Lady by the name they had given her; it might be worth a try. So as the speeches rolled over him, he shut his eyes and trusted his luck to the Roman goddess of the latrines and opened his eyes again as a voice declaimed, ‘There is a tide in the affairs of men. Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.’ Eyes wide open, he stared at the players. Well now, if you were going to have a sign, something like this was certainly better than a little rat on your boot!
Miss Coutts, his hostess, was sitting beside him for propriety’s sake, leaving Simplicity chaperoned by Solomon, who being an elderly gentleman could in theory be guaranteed not to think about hanky or panky. Now Miss Coutts nudged him very discreetly and said, ‘Are you all right? I thought you were sleeping, and you nearly jumped out of your seat.’
‘What?’ said Dodger. ‘Oh yes, I just know that it’s going to work, no doubt about it.’
He cursed himself for being stupid then, because Angela whispered, ‘What is going to work, pray?’
Dodger mumbled, ‘Everything.’ And suddenly he paid more attention to the stage, wondering why it took so many Romans to kill one man, especially since he didn’t seem to be a particularly bad cove.
It was what Solomon called ‘a repast’. Which was apparently something much more exciting than a meal. There were glorious potted meats and cold cuts and pickles and chutneys to make your eyes water and Solomon’s eyes gleam. As they finished eating, Dodger said quietly to Angela, ‘Where are your servants now?’
‘Why, in the servants’ hall. I only have to ring if I require them.’
‘Can they hear us?’
‘Absolutely not, and may I remind you, young man, that you already know that they have my full trust. I would not employ them otherwise.’
Dodger stood up. ‘Then I must tell all of you what I hope will happen tomorrow, if you agree.’
The thing about secrets is that they are usually best kept by just one person. That was the special thing about secrets. Some people seemed to think that the best way to keep a secret was to tell as many people as possible; what could possibly go wrong for a secret when there were so many people defending it? But sooner or later he did need to tell it, and the time was now. He also needed an ally, and it needed to be Angela. It seemed to him that a woman who had more money than God, and was still happy and alive, must be a very clever woman indeed. So he told them, quietly and carefully, covering every detail, including what Mrs Holland had told him about the Outlander, and when he stopped there was absolute silence.
Then Angela, not quite looking at Dodger or Simplicity, said, ‘Well, Mister Dodger, much as I admire you, my first inclination was to utterly forbid you to attempt this curious and dangerous scheme. But even as I summoned up the breath to do so, I realized, having seen the looks that passed between the two of you and reminding myself that Simplicity is not a child but a married woman, that the best I can do is to thank you for allowing me into the secret. And frankly, even if I have to pick up the pieces, in truth this matter is one between the two of you.’ She turned to Solomon and said, ‘Will you tell us your thoughts, Mister Cohen?’
After a few seconds there was, ‘Mmm, Dodger has told me of the Outlander, and it is unlikely that he would find Dodger before Dodger’s plan comes to fruition. As a plan it seems to me it does have certain beguiling aspects, because if it works it is unlikely anyone would wish to delve into the matter subsequently. And, of course, my spirits rise when I consider that this plan will take place on a battlefield absolutely familiar to my young friend who, as I am aware, knows every inch of the terrain. In the circumstances mmm, I don’t think Wellington himself could do better with an army.’
Dodger’s eyes had remained on Simplicity through all of this. Once he saw her frown and his spirits had plummeted, rising again when she grinned – not a smile but a grin, quite a saucy one like somebody contemplating a weak adversary.
Angela said, ‘Well, my dear, you are your own woman and will have my support against any man who suggests otherwise. Pray tell me what you think of this hare-brained scheme, eh?’
Quietly Simplicity walked over to Dodger and took him by the hand, sending a quiver down his spine so fast that it bounced up again. She said, ‘I trust Dodger, Miss Angela. After all, look at the things he has done for me already.’
With this ringing in the air, Dodger said, ‘Er, thank you. But now you’ve got to give up your wedding ring.’
Instantly her hand touched the ring, and the silence in the room thundered great peals of absence of sound while Dodger waited for the explosion. Then Simplicity smiled and said, quite softly, ‘It’s a pretty ring, isn’t it? I loved it when he gave it to me. And I thought I was married in the eyes of God. But what do I now know about being married? The poor priest who conducted the ceremony is dead, and so are two good friends, so I think that God was never in this marriage. He was never there when I was beaten, or when I was dragged into that coach, and then there was Dodger. Angela, I trust my Dodger, completely.’ With that, she looked into his eyes, then dropped the ring into his hand and gave it to him with a kiss, and of the two he considered the kiss to be truly twenty-four-carat.
Angela looked at Solomon, who said, ‘Mmm, I think there is no doubt about it, Angela. What we have here is a rather unusual Romeo and Juliet.’
‘So you say,’ said Angela, ‘but as a practical woman, I think we will also need a dash of Twelfth Night. Mister Dodger, you and I must talk about particulars before you leave.’
Angela’s coach carried Dodger and Solomon back to Seven Dials, and they barely exchanged a word until after they had got back from Onan’s late-night run, and even then, still lost in their own thoughts, they spoke little in the gloom. Finally Solomon said, ‘Well, Dodger, I have faith in you, Miss Burdett-Coutts may have some faith in you, but Miss Simplicity has a faith in you which I venture to suggest is greater than that of Abraham.’
In the darkness, Dodger said, ‘Do you mean your friend Abraham, the slightly suspect jeweller?’
And the darkness came back with, ‘No, Dodger: the Abraham who was prepared to sacrifice his son to the Lord.’
‘Well,’ Dodger said, after a moment, ‘we are not going to have any of that sort of thing!’
After that he tried to sleep, seeing as he tossed and turned the face of Simplicity repeating again and again the words that she had said during that last discussion: ‘I trust my Dodger, completely!’
The echoes of it bounced among his bones.
In the morning, he counted what he took to be three plain-clothed policemen, trying to be surreptitious and as ever not doing it properly. He pretended that he didn’t see them, but Sir Robert Peel obviously meant what he had said; two nights in a row there had been someone outside his crib, and now they were here in the daytime too! They were, in a policemany sort of way, trying out new ideas, such as having no man visible near the tenement but putting a couple just round the corner, where he might run into them. Was Sir Robert getting nervous?
Long before daylight, Dodger had already been a very busy boy while the fogs, steams and smoky darkness gave him lots of cover, and now, as the world woke up some little way away, a poor old woman could be seen hobbling past the policemen – if there was anyone about who cared to look at poor
old women, who were in reality something of a glut on the market, owing to the fact that they tended to outlive their husbands and generally speaking had nobody who cared about them very much. Dodger thought it was sad; it always was, and sometimes you saw the old girls scraping a living by scrabbling around in the dust heaps and sieving household dust for anything remotely usable.1 Of course, it was out-doors work but you hardly ever saw one of them in anything like a decent coat. And they were scary; they really were. Terrible bright eyes some of them had as they held out a claw for a farthing; toothless old ladies with that fallen-in look to the face that made you think of witches, and you found them everywhere – anywhere a body could get out of the rain.
But on this occasion, moving through the lanes and alleys, there was a now rather more spry old woman towing a handcart – a vehicle of high status on the streets – and she was fussing over it as elderly ladies did. If there was indeed a watcher on the moon, looking down on London, they would have noticed her zigzagging her way to the embankment, whereupon she hazarded a penny on a boat that took her and her little cart across the Thames, although on this occasion she paid no more than a farthing – not the official sum for the trip, the watcher would have noticed, but the lighterman himself had never seen an old girl in such a sad old dither. Having an old mother himself, he felt a little generous today and even agreed to wait to take her back across the river, only to find that when she came back from her errand, on her cart was strapped a corpse in a winding sheet. This, to tell the truth, was a problem, but then one of his mates stopped on the landing to disembark a fare and, waving vaguely towards the old girl, who was still in such a terrible state, the lighterman got his mate to help him on with the cadaver. Fortunately, it was still bendy.
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