Her tirade was interrupted by the return of the Gormley, carrying a notepad and biro. Ed couldn’t help noticing that the pink notepad had the words ‘Hello Kitty’ printed on the cover beside the image of a cartoon cat. Victoria regarded it sullenly.
‘Is this really the best you could find?’ she snapped.
The Gormley bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry, yer Madge. S’all I could get at short notice.’
‘Oh, very well. I suppose it will have to suffice.’ Victoria cleared a space on the table, opened the notebook and began to write laboriously on the lined paper. At one point she paused and looked up at her husband. ‘Bertie, how do you spell “solemnly”?’ And he patiently spelt it out for her while she followed his instructions. When she had finally finished, she signed her name with a flourish, tore off the sheet of paper and handed it to Sherlock. ‘Will that do for your purposes?’ she asked.
Sherlock scanned the note for a moment and then smiled. ‘That is perfect,’ he said. ‘My eternal gratitude, Your Majesty.’ He bowed his head, then folded the paper in half and slipped it inside his coat. ‘May I enquire what your plans are for this evening? Will you be visiting the Agon?’
‘We will not,’ said Victoria primly. ‘All those pompous males braying about their so-called accomplishments! The last time we attended, Robbie Burns read out what was supposed to be a comic poem. It was unspeakably vulgar! We were not amused. No, Bertie and I shall make the most of our time together. We shall stroll out across the Meadows and observe the sun setting behind Arthur’s Seat. It was always one of our favourite views.’
‘Ve had many heppy times looking at zat view,’ murmured Albert. ‘Chust me and Vigtoria.’
Victoria turned back to her husband and took his hands in hers.
‘Oh Bertie,’ she murmured.
‘My dollink,’ he said.
Once again, they were gazing rapturously into each other’s eyes, so Sherlock took the opportunity to grab Ed’s arm and lead him away across the road to the far pavement, where Bobby was still waiting for them, his tail wagging insistently
‘Are they always that soppy?’ whispered Ed.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Sherlock. ‘I suppose that’s true love for you.’
‘And… is it right, what you just said? That you can leave Edinburgh?’
‘I believe so. But first, we need to set things up.’ Sherlock glanced quickly up and down the street then reached inside his coat and pulled out a mobile phone. It was one of the latest mini tablet-sized models but it still looked tiny in his huge metal hands. He keyed in some numbers, waited a moment and then spoke. ‘James? Where are you? Good. Look, it’s on for tonight. All systems are go. Yes, that’s what I said. All systems are go! I’ll explain everything when I see you. Where
are you now? I see. Well, make your excuses and get over to the lab with all speed. Can you meet me there at… say around six? Yes, I do mean six AM! There will be two of us, by the way. No, no, not another statue. No, I haven’t told anyone else about the Anomaly. As I said, I’ll explain when I see you. Bye!’
He signed off and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
‘I didn’t know you were allowed phones,’ said Ed.
‘We’re not,’ hissed Sherlock. ‘So forget you ever saw that. But James and I needed a way to get in touch easily. When you only have one day a year every moment is precious. There wouldn’t be time to send him a written invitation, would there?’ He started walking back the way they had come and Ed followed him. Bobby trotted happily along in their wake.
‘So you’ve got permission to leave Edinburgh,’ murmured Ed. ‘Where exactly are you going?’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Sherlock corrected him. ‘We’re going. As in, you’re coming with me.’
‘Oh, I see. But where?’
‘To Manchester, of course. The fact that you’re a native of the city is about the only thing we’re reasonably sure of. We’ll find out what happened to you to make you lose your memory, I’ll get you back where you belong and I’ll return here in time for the changeover.’
‘I see…’ Ed felt vaguely disappointed. ‘Couldn’t I… couldn’t I come back with you?’ he asked. ‘Once I know who I am. Just until the Calling is over?’
Sherlock glared at him. ‘Why on earth would you want to do that?’
‘Well, I was kind of beginning to enjoy being here… learning about all this crazy stuff. I mean, maybe once we know who I am, we could come back for the rest of the Calling. I could go to the Agon and everything and then tomorrow, after it’s all over and you’re back on your plinth, I’d just leave for Manchester on the next train or something.’
‘I wouldn’t be in such a big hurry to come back here if I was you,’ said Sherlock, mysteriously.
‘Why not?’
‘Because of Charlie.’
Now Ed was completely baffled. ‘What about him?’ he said.
‘My boy, I know him better than you do. I know how his mind works. You see, he won’t like the fact that you know all about the Calling. He’ll be thinking to himself, “What if that boy were to tell others about it?” As in, other humans.’
‘I’ve already promised him I won’t do that,’ Ed assured him. ‘And besides, who would believe me? They’d think I’d gone barmy.’
‘Perhaps. But that won’t mean anything to him,’ murmured Sherlock. ‘He’s a paranoid. He’d go to any lengths to keep the Calling a secret. And what did the Colonel say when he brought you to me? That Charlie had been talking about chopping somebody’s head off? That wouldn’t have been your head, by any chance?’
‘Umm… well yes, it was, actually.’
‘That’s what I deduced. You may think that you got away with that, but once Charlie gets an idea into his mind, he never gives up on it.’
Ed stopped in his tracks for a moment, a hand at his own throat. Then he hurried after the detective.
‘You’re not saying that he’d…?’
‘I’m not saying anything. I just think it would be a lot better for you if I return to Edinburgh empty-handed and tell Charlie that I… lost you.’
‘Couldn’t you tell him the truth? That you took me there in your special machine?’
Now Sherlock was shaking his head. ‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘Absolutely not. I don’t ever want Charlie to find out about the Anomaly… that’s what we call it, by the way, our apparatus. The Anomaly. No, if Charlie found out about that, there’s no telling what he might do. Like I said before, to him it would be pure witchcraft. He’d certainly have it destroyed. Or worse still, he’d use it himself for some wicked purpose. No, trust me on this, it’s best if we stick to my story.’
‘But… if you say you lost me… won’t that make you look a bit… useless?’
Sherlock laughed dismissively. ‘I’m not worried about that! Charlie already thinks that about me anyway. Trust me, I know the man. This will just ensure that you’re safe. And that of course, is my primary objective. So I’m taking you to Manchester, just as soon as I can organise it. And for you, it’s best if it’s a one way ticket.’
‘OK, I suppose you know what you’re doing. One thing though…’
‘Yes?’
‘What will it look like?’
Sherlock scowled down at him. ‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘What are people in Manchester going to think when they see a kid walking along the street with a nine foot tall statue?’
Sherlock frowned. ‘That’s actually a very good point,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t considered that.’ He thought for a moment and then smiled. ‘Luckily, you’ve overlooked one of my most celebrated skills.’
‘Oh yeah. What’s that?’
Sherlock smiled. ‘As well as being a brilliant detective, I’m also a master of disguise,’ he said.
Thirteen
Incognito
Sherlock stepped out from the changing cubicle and stood in front of Ed, a questioning look on his oddly transformed face. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘How do I look?’
Ed didn’t really know how to answer that question. He considered saying what he actually thought, that the great detective looked ‘really weird,’ but decided that wouldn’t be helpful. So instead he just nodded thoughtfully and said, ‘Hmm. Yeah…’ Bobby wagged his tail, but even he seemed puzzled.
‘Hmm, yeah? Is that all you’ve got to say?’
They were in a huge department store called Jenners (just one more place that Sherlock happened to have a key for.) They were in the menswear department and Sherlock was demonstrating his ‘disguise’ – or at least, his attempt to pass for a human being. For a start, he’d managed to find what must have been the biggest grey raincoat ever made, which he was wearing on top of his bronze clothing – and he’d also found a wide-brimmed black hat, which fitted neatly over the top of his deerstalker. His huge hands were enclosed in leather gloves, though to actually get them on, he’d had to take a pair of scissors and cut them open from the wrists to the middle of his palms. Of course, the colour of his bronze ‘skin’ had proved to be a real problem, so he’d picked up some cosmetics on the way up here, a large tube of foundation makeup and some rouge, both of which he’d plastered onto his face in an attempt to make him look more ‘human,’ though the corpse-like pallor he’d achieved just looked really strange. The outfit was completed by a pair of aviator-style sunglasses, because there was no way in the world he was ever going to be able to make his metal eyes look real.
‘You look… different,’ said Ed.
Sherlock scowled. ‘That isn’t a proper answer. The question is, can I pass for a human, looking like this?’
‘I… I suppose so,’ muttered Ed. ‘A really… odd-looking human. It’s just that you’re so… big.’
‘I can’t do anything about my height,’ reasoned Sherlock. ‘But there must surely be some tall people around Manchester?’
‘Maybe… basketball players?’ offered Ed.
‘Well, it’ll have to do. We don’t have an awful lot of time at our disposal.’ Sherlock reached under the real coat and pulled out his pocket watch. ‘We need to be going,’ he said. ‘We’ve already wasted enough time on this.’ He slipped the makeup into the pockets of his raincoat and led the way back through the departments and down the stairs to the entrance. He let Ed and Bobby out onto the street and they watched as he locked up and reset the burglar alarm.
‘How does it work with the keys?’ asked Ed. ‘I mean, you surely can’t have one for every building in Edinburgh.’
‘No, but between us, we have keys for all of the useful places,’ said Sherlock. ‘Sometimes, if we need one for a particular place, we can simply borrow it from somebody else. And on certain occasions, we have even been known to make duplicates.’
They soon found themselves walking alongside Princes Street Gardens again and heading across Waverley Bridge. They passed a couple of white stone statues walking the other way, two elderly men in wigs and frock coats who had been deep in conversation as they approached, but who stared in open amazement as Sherlock and Ed went by.
‘Morning,’ muttered Ed self-consciously but Sherlock just ignored them. He appeared to be deep in thought. Once again, Ed wondered what people in the real world were going to make of the enormous shambling figure beside him.
‘So tell me more about this machine you’ve built,’ he suggested.
‘Hmm?’ Sherlock looked down at him as though annoyed at the interruption. ‘I can assure you, I have had nothing to do with its creation. It’s James’ invention. I merely inspired him.’
‘James?’
‘James Clerk Maxwell. He’s Edinburgh’s most famous…’
‘Physicist. Yes, David Livingstone mentioned him to me. So, how did you inspire him exactly?’
‘Well, I happened to mention an idea to him at one of the Callings and by the following year, he’d pretty much worked out how to make it a reality.’
Ed nodded. ‘What was the idea?’
‘Well, if you really want to know, I merely said how dreary travel must be for humans and wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could just step through a door in Edinburgh and arrive instantly, anywhere else in the world.’
‘Wow! And that’s what this machine can do?’
‘Hopefully.’ Ed couldn’t help noticing that Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on the way ahead. ‘That’s… pretty much the gist of it…’
Ed sensed that he was being vague. ‘Hang on a minute. Didn’t you tell Queen Victoria that it hadn’t been tested yet?’
‘Erm… well, actually, I wasn’t completely honest with her. We did er… have a bit of a test, only two years ago.’
Ed felt suddenly rather suspicious. ‘What do you mean? A bit of a test?’
‘Well, we erm… we sent a statue through the door. Just a little statue of a… a cherub. Silly little creature, really, of no great importance. He happened to mention that he wasn’t enjoying his life in Edinburgh any more and he fancied a change of climate, so we er… offered to give him one. Of course, it isn’t an actual door, you understand, it’s more of a portal. An opening into another dimension.’
‘Right… and where did you send this… this cherub?’
‘Well, we sent him to India, actually. He said he’d always wanted to see the place, so we thought “Why not?”’ That’s as good a test destination as any.’
Ed was beginning to get a bad feeling about this.
‘And… did he get there?’
‘Oh yes, we’re fairly sure he did. Of course, we did warn him before he left to make sure he was back by midnight… it’s a bit like Cinderella when you think about it. You know, the glass slipper and all that? Only… well… it could be that he got confused by the time difference, and…’
‘And what?’ Ed prompted him.
‘Well, he… he’s not actually back yet.’
‘Yet? But that was two years ago!’
‘Umm… true. We’re not sure what happened. It could be that he just preferred it there, or… maybe he didn’t get back to the portal in time and sort
of… froze. But James has made quite a few adjustments since then, so…’
‘Wait!’ Ed stopped in his tracks. ‘I’m not sure about this,’ he said. ‘It sounds dangerous.’
‘Not at all!’ Sherlock paused and turned back to look at him. ‘Do you really think I’d be offering to go with you if I thought it was dangerous?’
‘You might. You’re supposed to be quite brave aren’t you?’
‘Well, yes, but I’m not foolhardy. Besides, I have complete trust in James. His is one of the greatest minds of the nineteenth century. Oh, if they’d had your kind of technology back when he was alive, who knows what he might have accomplished? Every year the Calling comes around and he’s there with another amazing idea, all ready to go.’
Ed got the impression that Sherlock was deliberately trying to change the subject, so he didn’t pursue the point but he couldn’t help feeling worried. He wondered what had happened to the cherub. Was there now an unexplained little statue in the middle of a high street in Mumbai? And was he still able to come alive for just one day of the year?
He and Sherlock had stepped off the main street now and were wandering along a wide, straight avenue with a row of trees on either side of them. The way ahead was divided by a white line along its centre, half for pedestrians, half for bicycles. Ed was astonished to see that a human on a bicycle was slumped asleep in his saddle, right in the middle of the track, his front light still flashing rhythmically, even though it was now broad daylight. More weirdly, his bike had somehow remained upright, supported by nothing more than fresh air. Ed stared in disbelief. ‘How is that even possible?’ he asked. ‘Why doesn’t he lose his balance?’
‘Just another of the wonders of the Calling,’ said Sherlock. ‘You see, from midnight, human time simply freezes. That chap was probably on his way home from a party. At midnight tonight he’ll just carry on pedalling to his destination.’
‘It’s incredible,’ observed Ed.
‘It is, but we statues take it for granted now. The real mystery to me is that you are able to move and talk and breathe at all. It’s against all the laws of reason. If we had more time it’s something I’d like to investigate in more detail. What is it about you that makes you different to every other human in Edinburgh?’
Ed shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘The Colonel reckons it’s something to do with me losing my memory.’
‘He could be right, I suppose. I expect James will have a theory about it. He’s good at that kind of logical thinking.’
‘Better than you?’ asked Ed, surprised.
‘Oh no, not better than me. Nobody’s better than me.’
Ed laughed at that and Sherlock allowed himself a smile. ‘I know it can come across as arrogance, but I feel I’m merely stating facts.’
‘So how do you stand it?’ Ed asked him.
‘How do I stand what?’
‘Being stuck on that plinth, all year round, not able to move. Just waiting for the one day when you can do some stuff. I… I can’t imagine what that must feel like. Doesn’t it make you want to… scream and shout? What if…?’ He thought for a moment. ‘What if you get a really bad itch and you need to scratch it? That must be awful.’
Sherlock shrugged. ‘It is simply the statue’s lot in life,’ he said. ‘We all have the same limitations. Think what it must be like for the other statues around the world! They never get to move. As far as I am aware, they don’t even have thoughts and feelings, like we do. And at least we have the whole year to anticipate the Calling. You know, I suppose it’s a little bit like being a butterfly. All that time they spend getting ready for their big day. They are eggs, they are grubs, they are locked in a cocoon… until finally, finally the time comes and they have just that one summer’s day to spread their wings and fly. And then, almost as soon as it’s begun, it’s all over for them. At least we get to spread our wings again and again.’
The Calling Page 9
