by Peter Bunzl
Lily put the letter in her pocket, and stared in despair at the bundle on the floor. “We may have learned the truth about Mama, but we’ve still no concrete answers about Papa or this machine,” she said. “And, in a way, things are worse than before. I can’t go home because those men and Madame are there and I can’t stay here either, because they have their suspicions about Robert already. What on earth am I to do?”
“We’ll think of something,” Robert said.
Thaddeus put a hand on her shoulder. “And perhaps,” he said, “while we do, a little tea and toast would not go amiss?”
It was a funny little kitchen, on the first floor above the shop, tucked under the eaves and full of odd angles. Lily watched Thaddeus fill the copper kettle at the sink in the corner, while Robert stoked the fire in the large blackened range, bringing it back to life.
“Do you want any help, Mr Townsend?” she asked.
The clockmaker shook his head. “No thanks, young lady. And please, call me Thaddeus. You must take it easy, you’ve had a trying few days.” He handed the kettle to Robert, who put it on top of the range to boil.
With a sense of relief, Lily settled herself at the kitchen table. Malkin, who had been on edge since their discussion, crawled under her chair and sat by her heels, with one black-tipped ear pricked up, listening to the conversation.
“Get the things for tea, Robert,” Thaddeus said and Robert fetched three mugs from the dresser, took some bread and cheese from the larder, and laid everything out higgledy-piggledy on the table.
Thaddeus eased himself into a seat opposite Lily and got out his tobacco to prepare a pipe.
“May I have a look at your father’s box?” he asked, when he had his pipe lit and was puffing away.
Lily undid the blanket and placed the box on the table in front of him.
Thaddeus pushed his glasses down to the end of his nose and picked up the box, turning it around in his hands. “This is a well-made thing,” he said, “not designed to be opened without the key. Even its hinges are on the inside.”
As Thaddeus peered closely at the lock, Lily looked at its back and saw he was right – she hadn’t noticed before, but there were no hinges outside.
“So these men think this contains a perpetual motion machine?” Thaddeus asked. “And do they have the key?”
“I don’t know.” Lily swallowed, and her stomach gave a grumble. She reached across the table and took some bread and cheese. “Perhaps,” she said, “they thought Malkin or I would know where it was, or how to open it for them.”
“When this snowstorm is over,” Thaddeus said, “we should take the matter to the police.”
Lily was too busy eating to reply, but Robert answered for her.
“Those men said they were the police, Da. A secret police.”
“Of course they did.” Thaddeus nodded. “But, do we believe them?”
“It seems unlikely,” Lily said, through mouthfuls of bread. “But, if not, how would they have so many resources at their disposal?”
“Hmm.” Thaddeus put the box down. “A tricky situation.” He puffed on his pipe, and when it went out, relit it with a match. “Perhaps…”
He reached into the pocket of his trousers and took out a small keyring full of different sized keys. Lily swallowed her mouthful and held her breath as he flicked through them and tried a few in the lock.
He shook his head. “Nope. No good. What about your penknife, Robert?”
Robert handed it to him. From the folding elements within the casing, Thaddeus opened out a small sturdy screwdriver. He tried to force it under the rim of the lid, but that didn’t work either. “The clanking thing’s on too tight,” he muttered.
“We could smash it open,” Robert suggested.
“But then we might damage what’s inside,” Thaddeus said.
Everyone moved in closer to peer at the lid, and when the kettle whistled Lily nearly jumped out of her skin.
Robert took it from the stove and poured three mugs of tea with milk and sugar, then handed them around. Thaddeus, a little agitated now, brushed his aside. “May I see the letter as well?” he asked, handing Robert back his penknife.
Lily took the letter from her pocket and passed it to him. As he read, Thaddeus glanced up every now and then, frowning at the box. When he’d finally finished, he folded the page and placed it back in the envelope. “What about this fellow John mentions, Professor Silverfish?” he asked. “Who is he?”
“He’s my godfather,” Lily said. “When I was small he was always coming to visit Papa. They had a business together – a big factory creating mechanicals – but Papa sold up his share after they had some sort of falling out.”
“That’s right.” Thaddeus nodded. “I remember, John told me a little about it: I think there was a difference of opinion over the type of mechs they wanted to create. Your father was interested in machines with feelings, while Professor Silverfish wanted to make ones that ran longer. Seemed the business did very well, but then Professor Silverfish left the country for some reason, after your mother died.”
“It was his heart.” Lily took a sip from her cup of milky tea, cupping her hands around the warm china to absorb its heat. “He came to see me when he heard of Papa’s disappearance. I think he wanted to apologize. Make everything right again.” She drank the last sugary mouthfuls of tea from her mug.
“If he knew your da well,” Robert said, “perhaps he’ll have some clue about this box.” He nodded at it.
“That’s right,” Thaddeus said. “It might have been part of their work together.”
“And any clue could help lead us to Papa,” Lily added. For she still so wanted to believe he was alive. “Perhaps he’s a prisoner somewhere?”
“Maybe.” Thaddeus didn’t sound convinced about that part.
“If only you had an idea where this Silverfish character lived, then we could go ask for his advice,” Malkin muttered from under her chair.
“But I do know where he lives!” Lily cried. She took out Professor Silverfish’s card and placed it on the table. “He gave this to me, and told me if I was ever in trouble he would help.”
Thaddeus took the card and whistled. “Riverside Walk, Chelsea. This is a smart London address. He must be an important well-to-do man.” He pushed back his chair. “We shall go see him at once.”
“We?” Lily said.
“Yes. Robert and I will escort you.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t ask you to take such a risk.”
“Nonsense, those Roach-men, or whatever they’re called, are obviously dangerous. We will accompany you until you arrive safely at your destination. First thing in the morning we shall shut up shop and take you on the train to visit this fellow.”
“Couldn’t we go by zep?” Robert asked.
Thaddeus shook his head. “They’ll be expecting that. Besides, we can’t afford it. No, a train’s better, and there are more passengers so it will be easier to blend in.” Thaddeus smiled at them both. “Why don’t you go and get Miss Hartman some of your old clothes to wear tomorrow, Robert? It’s best if she travels incognito. Besides, she’d freeze to death in just that dress.”
Robert sighed. He stood and went out into the hall. Lily heard him open a door, further off, and he returned a moment later with a patched jacket, corduroy trousers and a grey felt cap.
“They should be about your size. Used to be mine a year ago, before I grew too tall for them. Should make a decent disguise.”
“Thank you.” Lily put the card and the letter in the pockets of his jacket, and tried it on. The jacket was warm and comfortable and smelled slightly of mothballs and of him.
“Not a bad fit,” Thaddeus said and even Malkin perked up, scrambling from under the seat to peer at her.
“Is there a looking glass?” Lily asked.
“Over on the wall.” Robert pointed behind her.
She stood and examined herself in the mirror. The jacket sloped off her shoulders and
the sleeves came nearly to her fingertips, but she actually quite liked it. She folded the cuffs back over each wrist, exposing the moth-eaten silken lining. Then she ran a hand through her hair, so matted and clumped. “It looks an awful muddle,” she said.
“That’s what caps are for,” Robert told her.
She wedged the cap on over her hair and tipped the brim down to hide her eyes a little. “What do you think, Malkin?” she asked the fox.
He angled his head, and his black eyes narrowed, taking her in. “You look like a vagabond.”
“I rather like it.” She peered closer at herself, and smiled. How horrified the Kraken or Madame would be if they saw her now. Suddenly, she felt a little better. Thanks to Malkin and Papa’s letter, she had some clues as to what was going on. And, thanks to Robert and his father, she had a disguise and a plan. Perhaps, together, they’d solve this mystery and find Papa, after all?
“It’s a funny thing,” she said, talking to her reflection, “but I always felt something of a tomboy inside. This way my outside matches that better, wouldn’t you say?”
“True.” Malkin gave a wide, pink-mouthed yawn.
Thaddeus glanced at his wristwatch. “Heavens! Look at the time – we’d best get some sleep if we’re to catch the first train.”
As soon as he said this, Lily realized how tired she was. She glanced over at Robert and saw his eyes drooping too.
“We’ll make up the daybed in the corner for you,” Thaddeus said. “It’s beside the range, so it’s the warmest place in the house.”
He and Robert went out into the hall once more and returned moments later with a pile of blankets. When they’d finished making the bed for her, they retired to their rooms.
Lily lay down on the daybed and found it rather soft. She pulled the blankets over herself and plumped the cushions. She could not sleep at first. Tears itched at her eyes, and black thoughts of all she’d learned crowded her mind.
Roach and Mould were dangerous men to be up against, and things were far worse than she could’ve possibly imagined a few days ago, but at least she had help now.
She touched the scar on her chest, remembering Mama, long gone; killed for a secret – a perpetual motion machine in a locked box. And then Papa, who’d tried to hide that truth from her. Now he’d gone too. She missed him most of all. The hurt felt keen and sharp, as if a new cut had been made deep in her chest. But, beside that, sat a soft glimmer of hope that he might still be alive somewhere. If she could only open the box, she was sure she’d discover a clue that would help find him.
Malkin padded over and licked her face with his rough tongue. Then he climbed across her lap, and soon the ticking of his little heart helped her drift off to sleep.
Robert woke to find someone shaking him. He sat up and groggily scratched his head. Lily stood by his bedside, twisting his cap in her hands. She was wearing the old clothes he’d given her and her face was flushed with worry.
“What time is it?” he asked, yawning.
“One o’clock.” Lily rubbed a hand across her face. “You’ve got to come. Those men are outside the shop.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes, Roach is standing at the end of the street and Mould’s out there too, hidden in the dark – I’m sure of it.”
“I’d better have a look.” He jumped out of bed and twitched a gap in the curtains.
Melting snowflakes spattered the windowpane. Mr Roach stood bold as brass under the single naphtha street lamp, his mirrored eyes glinting like quicksilver. He raised his skull stick and beckoned, and two men appeared from the shadows: Mould and someone else – a rough-looking type.
Robert stepped back from the window as they glanced up at the shop.
“Did they spot you?” Lily asked.
“I don’t think so. There’s someone else with them as well – another big bloke. He looks like one from the hunt when they were after Malkin.”
Lily fidgeted with the lining of the cap. “I knew they’d find me.”
Robert reached for the candle stub, and she leaped at him.
“Don’t light that – they’ll see!” Her voice was tinged with hysteria.
“It might scare them off,” Robert said. “Besides, they won’t get in. Not with Da’s locks. They’re unbreakable. We’re safe as mice in a mill here.”
Her eyes darted about the room. “I doubt that. Anyway, I can’t stay, not with them watching the house. You’ll have to help me get away.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “Could we ask your da?”
“I’ll go wake him.” Robert pulled his trousers on over the top of his nightshirt and threw on his shoes and a warm jacket.
Lily hurried to the doorway. “I’ll wind Malkin.”
Two minutes later, they all met at the foot of the stairs. Lily had her bundle wedged under an arm, while Malkin stood at her feet, his ears alert, listening for the slightest noise.
Thaddeus took charge. “Robert’s told me what’s going on,” he said.
Lily smiled at him, but she seemed on edge. “I’m afraid, Sir, I haven’t thanked you or Robert properly for everything you’ve done for Malkin and me.”
“It was nothing, Miss Hartman,” Thaddeus said. “But listen, we don’t think you should go, not yet. It’s not safe.”
Malkin agreed. “You should listen to them, Lily—”
“No,” Lily shook her head. “We’ve put you in enough danger already.”
Robert interrupted. “We want you to stay, Lily… I mean, I want you to. You can hide till tomorrow, Da knows a place—”
“We’re going.”
“As you wish,” Thaddeus told her, “but, in that case, we’re coming too. You need protection.” He turned to his son. “The back door’s probably our best bet. Robert, check the yard.”
Robert crept to the end of the corridor and peered through the frosted panes at the white footprint-less surface. “Looks clear,” he said.
Thaddeus searched through the keys on his chain. “D’you need a warmer jacket, Miss Hartman?” he asked.
“There isn’t time,” she said.
“Here have this.” He reached up and took a long woollen coat from a peg on the wall, which he helped her put on, his nimble fingers buttoning up the mismatched buttons. “It’s a little big, I’m afraid, but it’ll keep you warm on your journey.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Thaddeus beckoned his son. “Robert, come, we’ll get some money from the till.”
The four of them peered through the rag curtain into the shop.
The street outside was dark and empty, and yet something wasn’t right. It took Robert a moment to realize what… Then his da spoke his thoughts aloud: “How queer; the clocks have stopped.”
“You must’ve forgotten to wind them,” Malkin said.
“It’s a bad omen,” Robert whispered. “When the clocks go silent, death is near.”
“Oh tush.” Thaddeus stepped through the curtain. Unlocking the till, he counted out a handful of coins from the drawer into his hand.
Suddenly, behind his head, two figures wrapped in long coats sidled into the frame of the window outside. It was Roach and Mould – their eyes flashed in the moonlight.
“Da!” Robert hissed.
Thaddeus looked up, just as Roach raised his stick and smashed the silver skull-handle through the window. Glass shattered and fell like sheets of water, scattering across the shop floor.
Mould pushed past his companion and reached a meaty paw in through the jagged hole to unbolt the door.
“Quick,” Thaddeus shouted, “out the back way, I’ll hold them off!”
Robert pushed through the rag curtain, hustling Lily and Malkin down the passage ahead of him. They stopped short of the back door – a shadow lurked outside, visible through the glass – the third man. He rattled the handle.
At the far end of the passage, Roach and Mould pushed past Thaddeus and raced towards Lily and Mal
kin.
“The workshop!” Robert yelled, but he barely had time to bundle the other two through the doorway and turn the key in the lock behind him, before the two men barrelled against the door.
It shook as a barrage of fists and swear words were thrown against it.
“They’ll break the door down!” Robert screamed. And then he realized… “Da’s still on the other side!”
“Oh no! It’s me they want. He’ll be fine.” Lily searched the workshop for an extra obstruction and her eyes alighted on the old wardrobe with mirrored doors. “Help me move that.”
They wedged themselves into the gap between the cupboard and the wall, and pushed the groaning thing into movement, inching it partway across the door.
Lily moved round to the front of the cupboard. “Push it back hard.”
They heaved the cupboard against the door and its mirrored front juddered.
Thud!
“What are you doing in there?”
Thud!
“Removals?”
Thud!
“Don’t think that’ll stop us, Miss Hartman, because it won’t.”
The thudding turned into a heavy hammering. A riot of blows rained down on the door panels. The men were using a blunt instrument against it.
Then lamplight flickered up through the crack on the still-exposed side of the door and Thaddeus’s voice rang out: “I warn you, Sir, if you and your associates don’t leave—”
“Be quiet, you!” Mr Roach yelled.
“Da!” Robert called, but Thaddeus couldn’t hear him.
A loud explosion, sharp as a gunshot, ripped through the hall. There was a horrible ringing echo like a high bell, and the thud of something hitting the floor. Then, in a flash, the light went out and smoke filtered round the edge of the door.
Lily gave a strangled gasp and Malkin let out a horrified yelp.
Robert stared at the floor. A line of blood was trickling under the corner of the door.
“Robert?” his da croaked, his voice a phlegmy gurgle. “Are you in there? For the love of heaven, son, get away—”
The door handle rattled.
Mr Roach spoke again. “No way out I’m afraid, boy. Your father’s had rather a nasty accident, but if you open the door maybe we can help him.”
