Great Animal Escapade

by Jane Kerr

  ‘Someone else could have found that bleedin’ bird, Ethel May. He didn’t have to go. The truth is the boy disobeyed me. And just look at him! Grubbier than a coalman’s apron. And not even wearin’ his costume! Haven’t I enough to worry about? I’ve already had to make everythin’ right with Snade. And now I’ve Threlfall breathin’ down my neck as well.’

  Mr Jameson took a quick puff of his cigar and glared at Danny. ‘Tomorrow evenin’ I’m holdin’ the first costume fittin’ for the show . . . and I expect you to be there, all cleaned up and dressed as Prince Dandip. No excuses!’

  Danny felt for the broken lock, buried inside his pocket. His thumb smoothed over the dent in the metal. But he said nothing, because Mr Jameson’s words were running in a loop around his head.

  ‘. . . You know what’s at stake. There’s a fortune ridin’ on this show . . . and your name’s everywhere . . .’

  ‘. . . I can’t afford for anythin’ to happen to you . . .’

  ‘. . . You’re the star of the show. People are payin’ to see you and Maharajah . . .’

  A hollow feeling twisted in his stomach. Because over the last fe days, Mr Jameson hadn’t sounded like a father worried about his adopted son – the mute, brown-skinned boy he’d saved from poverty in Edinburgh, dressed up as an Indian prince and brought home to Manchester.

  No.

  Mr Jameson sounded like a man worried about his business. About the money he would lose if anything went wrong.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Surrender. Or I’ll shoot!’

  ‘You daft halfwit, you couldn’t hit a barn door if you were sat next to it!’

  ‘I could as well!’ As he spoke, the soldier lifted his rifle and hoisted it on to his shoulder. And if he hadn’t tripped over his own bootlace, Danny was almost sure that blood would have been spilt.

  But thank goodness, this wasn’t a real war – and these weren’t real soldiers. It was the first costume fitting for ‘Prince Dandip and the Fight for Flamenca’.

  The men were among eighty volunteers recruited from Gorton on the promise of a shilling a day and as much food as they could eat. On arrival, they’d been divided into groups, taken to the Italian gardens and given uniforms. On the left side were the British, wearing scarlet coats and polished helmets. While on the right, the French dazzled in blue jackets trimmed with gold braid.

  Danny had mar velled at the sheer brightness of the costumes. Not that his outfit was any less colourful. As ordered, he’d arrived dressed in his Prince Dandip clothes. And as usual he felt ridiculous. Alongside the purple cloak and embroidered slippers, Mrs Jameson had made him a new emerald-green waistcoat and a matching pair of bagg y trousers. Three large feathers bobbed from his turban, and Danny had to push them away to be able to see.

  ‘Danny! Over here!’

  He turned and immediately his mouth dropped loose. It was Hetty – but Hetty like he’d never seen her before. She wore a white peasant’s blouse, tied at the waist with a yellow silk sash. Her butter-coloured skirt fell in tiers to her ankle boots, and a red shawl, complete with tassels, covered her shoulders.

  ‘Isn’t it marvellous?’ Hetty held up the sides of the skirt and twirled in a circle. Her hair had tumbled down, spiralling into curls around her face. ‘I’m to be one of the Spanish villagers, caught up in the fight for Flamenca.’

  ‘Oh,’ Danny said. ‘Wonderful.’ He couldn’t stop staring. She looked so completely different from her everyday self. As if some extraordinary, glowing creature had burst out of an ordinary brown shell. He wished he felt half so comfortable. But he’d never enjoyed pretending to be a prince. The problem was that Mr Jameson seemed to expect it. And now most mornings, Danny dressed up in his Prince Dandip costume to welcome visitors at the gate. Only riding Maharajah made it bearable.

  Sliding a hand into his pocket, Danny pulled out the padlock. He’d been carrying it around since yesterday, torn between telling Mr Jameson, regardless of the consequences – and trying to solve the mystery by himself. ‘I found this. Outside the emu pen. It’s the old lock.’

  He held out his palm so that Hetty could see, but to his disappointment, she barely glanced at it. ‘That rusty old thing? No wonder Emerald was able to break out of the aviary. Maybe the lock snapped open when she battered down the gate.’

  ‘No.’ Danny shook his head. Every instinct told him that someone had helped Emerald to disappear. He turned the metal case so the shallow, circular dent was visible. ‘I think someone hammered it. To force it open.’

  ‘Really? Let me take another look.’ But before Hetty could peer closer, they were interrupted.

  ‘Miss Henrietta! Good evenin’ to you!’ Tom Dalton was marching towards them, dressed in a scarlet soldier’s jacket and carrying a rifle. Hastily, Danny closed his fingers over the padlock and stuffed it back into his trouser pocket.

  ‘Tom! I didn’t know you were going to be here.’ Hetty pushed a stray curl behind one ear and smiled brightly.

  ‘Yes. I thought I should volunteer for duty.’ He braced the rifle against one shoulder, clicked his heels and saluted. Danny wanted to roll his eyes but Tom was already turning towards him.

  ‘So you’re here as well, Prince Dandip. Interesting hat.’ He flicked a finger at one of the peacock feathers, and Danny curled his hands into fists. The urge to throw a punch was almost overwhelming.

  Quickly, Hetty moved to stand between them. ‘Well, you certainly look the part, Tom. Being in uniform suits you.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Henrietta.’ Tom’s chest puffed out. And for a moment, he reminded Danny of one of the howler monkeys from the ape house, just before it let out an ugly screech. ‘Of course, soldiering’s not for me. I’m going to be a pyrotechnist. One day I’ll take over from my grandpa at the firework factory. He’s teaching me everything he knows.’

  ‘How wonderful!’ Hetty’s smile brightened. ‘I saw some of the test rockets a couple of nights ago from my bedroom window. They were incredible, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Yes, we’ve been working on them for weeks. Grandpa even let me make one myself. The Red Fire Peony, it’s called. Grandpa reckons I’ve a gift for pyrotechnics. He says together, we could be famous. Everyone in the country will know our names.’

  Danny let out a snort before he could think to stop it. And Tom’s eyes swivelled towards him. For a long moment, they glared at each other, neither willing to look away. Then finally, Tom curled his lip and switched his attention back to Hetty. ‘So, what were you looking at?’

  ‘Nothing particularly interesting. Just an old lock. Danny found it by Emerald’s cage. He thinks someone took a hammer to it.’ Hetty nudged Danny’s side. ‘Why don’t you show him?’

  Reluctantly, Danny pulled out the padlock from his pocket. Tom snatched it from his hand and turned it over. ‘I don’t know what you’re making such a fuss about,’ he sniffed. ‘This is just old. Tools and cages get broken all the time. If you’d been at Belle Vue as long as I have, you’d know that.’

  Danny scowled. ‘No. I think—’

  ‘I reckon you’re better off throwing it away. In fact, why don’t I do it for you?’

  Tom had already drawn back his arm before Danny could protest. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed the lock into the air. It arched across the rows of flower beds before falling straight into the ornamental pond. The resulting splash was deep and final. Danny was so angry he couldn’t move. Once again, words were stuck in his throat, as hard and uncomfortable as pebbles.

  ‘Attention everyone! I want all the soldiers over here now. The French and the British.’ Mr Jameson had appeared on the far lawn, bellowing like a tinpot general. ‘Come along! Line up for inspection. We haven’t got all night.’

  Tom glanced over his shoulder. ‘I’m afraid I have to go. The army’s callin’. But I hope to see you soon, Miss Henrietta.’

  Nodding a goodbye to Hetty, Tom strode off down the path, swinging his rifle with a swagger. Danny watched
, hoping the gun would trip him up. Instead, Tom was forced to avoid another figure who was cutting through the blue and red armies.

  ‘It’s Papa! What’s he doing here?’ Hetty scowled, pulling her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. ‘Oh, I hope he’s not changed his mind about the show. He promised me!’

  Danny was still struggling to conjure up some words of reassurance when Mr Saddleworth spotted them. He marched across the lawn.

  ‘There you are! Good. I have some news. And, I thought Hetty ought to know straight away . . .’ He took a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘. . . your Aunt Augusta is coming to Belle Vue.’

  Hetty’s hand loosened on the shawl. Her face lost what little colour it had. ‘Aunt Augusta? Coming here? But why?’

  ‘I have to travel to France in a few days. Mr Jameson wants me to look at some zebras that are coming up for auction in Paris. I’ll be gone about a week. Maybe a fortnight if I can arrange to bring the animals back with me. So, I’ve asked your aunt to take care of you while I’m gone.’

  Danny could almost feel Hetty’s desperation. ‘But Papa, I can look after myself. There’s no need to invite Aunt Augusta. I’ll be perfectly fine.’

  ‘No, Hetty. I’m not leaving you on your own.’ Mr Saddleworth’s voice flattened. ‘And there’s no one else I can ask. Your aunt may be a little strict but she’s a good woman.’

  ‘What about the Jamesons? I could stay at their house. I’d be no trouble.’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Jameson are busy enough without adding to their workload. And your aunt says she’s happy to come.’

  ‘You asked her . . . without speaking to me first?’ Frown lines had appeared between Hetty’s eyes. A muscle twitched in her cheek.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry but this trip was unexpected. I had to make the arrangements quickly.’

  ‘But what about the show? You said I could be in it. That you’d come and see me and—’

  Mr Saddleworth put up a hand, palm flat. ‘I’m sorry, Hetty, but I’m unlikely to be back in time for the performance. You’ll have to discuss the show with your aunt. It’ll be her decision.’ He dropped his arm. ‘Now, no more arguments. Aunt Augusta arrives tomorrow and that’s the end of it. I’ll see you at home.’

  He turned to push his way back through the line of volunteer soldiers. But Hetty didn’t watch him leave. Instead, she sank on to the grass until her skirts pooled around her in yellow waves. ‘That’s that then. It’s over. I won’t be able to be in the show. I might as well give up now.’

  Danny frowned. He’d never known Hetty to back down so easily. ‘Maybe your aunt won’t mind.’

  Hetty released a laugh but there was little humour in it. ‘You haven’t met Aunt Augusta. She’d never let me be part of anything like this. I can hear her now: ‘A show in public! How outrageous! Someone might see your ankles!’ I only just managed to persuade Papa. But once Aunt Augusta’s here, she’ll never let me out of her sight. It’ll be dreadful. I’ll have to act like a proper lady. And I won’t be able to do anything fun. Or interesting. Or . . .’

  Having a conversation with Hetty was sometimes like playing with a skipping rope. Danny had to choose exactly the right moment to leap in. ‘Listen,’ he said, and then when that didn’t work, he said it again. ‘Listen! Listen to me!’

  Abruptly Hetty broke off, mid-flow.

  ‘You can’t give up now.’ For some reason that Danny couldn’t quite explain, it seemed important that Hetty be allowed to do this. As though her battle for freedom had become his own.

  Besides, he owed her more than he could ever repay. Hetty had been the first friend he’d ever had. It hadn’t mattered to her that he wasn’t a real prince. That he was only a street thief who Mr Jameson had found pickpocketing in Edinburgh. It hadn’t mattered that he hadn’t been able to speak or that he had no money and very little education.

  It hadn’t mattered because she’d wanted to be his friend – just at the time when he’d needed one the most.

  ‘Why shouldn’t I give up?’ Hetty looked at him, suspiciously. ‘No one believes I can do this . . . Even you laughed when I first told you!’

  ‘Well, if I did, I was wrong.’ Danny swallowed. ‘Whatever your aunt says, I’ll help you . . . I’ll help you be in the show.’

  ‘Truly?’ Hetty’s smile took his breath away.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘After all, your aunt can’t be that terrible.’

  Chapter Seven

  Danny didn’t go straight home after the costume fitting. Instead, he spent an hour with Hetty dreaming up schemes to win over Aunt Augusta. And then another hour, on his own, trying to find the padlock in the pond where Tom had thrown it.

  Neither effort yielded any success.

  But it did mean that he was still wandering through the park when the first explosion blasted across Belle Vue. Heart drumming, Danny looked up. A shower of sparks shimmered overhead, illuminating every corner of the night before falling like silver tears.

  His pulse slowed. It was only a firework. George Dalton and his team of pyrotechnists must be testing some more of the new rockets for the show.

  But he hadn’t been the only one startled. From the menagerie, a babble of screeches and snarls filled the air. Danny frowned. He hated hearing the animals’ fear. But Mr Jameson had insisted on the firework testing and there had been no persuading him otherwise.

  ‘Look, it has to be done,’ he’d said. ‘We have to practise everythin’. Work out all the timings until they’re spot on. This is goin’ to be the most fantastical show Belle Vue has ever seen. And we can’t afford for anythin’ to go wrong. Besides, it’ll be over in a few days.’

  Another blast sounded – a little louder than the first – and a streak of scarlet arched across the sky before crumbling into hundreds of petals. A heartbeat later, each petal burst into hundreds more. Danny felt his jaw loosen. The night had blossomed into flowers.

  ‘Will you look at that!’

  Further down the path, a handful of Mr Jameson’s volunteer soldiers stood, gazing upwards. One of the men pushed back the peak of his helmet. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘I reckon next time George Dalton’s goin’ to fire a rocket so high he’ll hit the moon.’

  Laughter mingled with the heavy stomp of boots as the soldiers continued down the path and disappeared. Moments later, another firework soared into the sky. And then another. And another. Until finally, there was silence.

  Danny relaxed. And around him, Belle Vue settled down to sleep. He turned, quickening his pace a little. He was abruptly conscious of his own solitude. He’d lingered too long in the park and now the last of the visitors had gone. Belle Vue was virtually empty.

  Suddenly, a sharp blast cracked the darkness.

  He looked up. But even as he searched the sky, Danny knew it hadn’t been a firework. The sound was too quick. Too piercing. More like a bang than a boom. No, it hadn’t been one of Dalton’s rockets.

  The noise had been a gunshot.

  Hastily, Danny pivoted on his heels, looking for any sign of life among the shadows. Almost immediately another shot rang out. This one was near enough to make his pulse pick up.

  But he’d no reason to worry. It was probably one of the show soldiers showing off with his rifle. Or perhaps a night keeper warning away an animal that had got too close.

  A third shot.

  Unease tightened Danny’s stomach. Quickly, he spun round. The ornamental maze was only a short distance away. Its high hedges might provide some protection. He darted inside and let the walls close around him. For a brief moment, he felt safe.

  Then the shooting began again, splintering the branches above him. And Danny knew he couldn’t pretend any longer. He was being followed. Someone was shadowing his path, with all of the cunning of a lion hunting its prey.

  He started to run – straight down the narrow strip of grass between the tall hedges. Around one corner, and then the next. And the next. He didn’t think he would ever stop. But now there were choices; the maze
split into three directions. He took the left fork, flinging himself along the path like a moth seeking light.

  It was a dead end.

  Frantically, Danny turned back, sprinting down the opposite passageway. His heart was drumming, pounding hard against his ribs. He’d only just realized the full stupidity of his actions. There may be countless paths and hiding places inside the maze. But there was only one way in – and one way out. The gunman need only sit outside and wait.

  He was trapped.

  Panic knifed through him, sharp and unwelcome. And then he turned another corner and the fear stabbed even deeper. Because he was back exactly where he’d started – at the entrance to the maze.

  Desperately, Danny spun on his heels, sucking air in deep hungry gulps. He started running again, the terror close to blinding. And perhaps that was why he didn’t see the shadowed figure until it was far too late. The collision was ugly and painful. Nose and forehead crunching against chest and collarbone.

  He toppled backwards, sprawled across the ground like a rag doll, but when he tried to get up, hands pressed him down. He tried to twist away. Lashing out with every bone and muscle and sinew in his body.

  There was only one man he knew who wanted to hurt him. One man who would like to see him hurt. Frank Scatcherd. The man who Danny had sent to jail.

  Panic threatened to cut off his breath.

  ‘Stop! STOP!’

  Confused, Danny lifted his head and stared. It wasn’t Scatcherd’s voice – or his face. This man’s speech was polished and perfect, and his features were slim and fine-boned. Nothing like Scatcherd’s rough accent or his solid bulk of muscle.

  ‘Just listen to me! I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help.’

  Danny struggled again but this time his movements were weaker – less certain – and the man’s grip only tightened. He was surprisingly strong for someone so slight.

  But in the end, it was another gunshot which made the decision. It split the ground behind them, spraying up dirt and soil into the air. And Danny knew he had no choice. He dropped his legs and stopped kicking.