Cogheart

by Peter Bunzl

  “Where to now?” Anna asked.

  “To Professor Silverfish’s house,” Lily said, handing her the professor’s card.

  Anna read the address and shook her head. “I can’t drop you here. I’m not allowed to land unauthorized in these posh parts of town. Tell you what, though, I’ll get you as close as I can.”

  Anna turned the wheel, swooping Ladybird past a row of building-block houses, and over the vaulted steel ribcage of St Pancras airdock.

  She steered their tiny craft past King’s Cross Station, where a maze of tracks led early-morning locomotives to platforms. Out front, steam-wagons and horse-drawn carriages waited to collect arriving passengers, while pin-sized pedestrians and hawkers streamed across miniature cobbles.

  Anna squeezed Ladybird between two fat aerostats which marked the gateway to the city’s airways, and jostled her through the lines of airships that filled the soot-stained sky.

  Soon, the bulbous dome of St Paul’s Cathedral, topped with its golden cross, loomed out of the fog. Anna turned Ladybird hard starboard, taking the east–west airway, which she told them followed a direct path along the Thames to the professor’s house. Beneath the other airship traffic, Lily could make out coal barges and steam tugs navigating the watery blue snake of the river as it cut through the heart of the city.

  A single red aerostat, floating over the north bank on a long chain, marked the turn-off for Kensington and Chelsea. Anna pulled out of the air traffic, and flew over an expanse of large houses that stood beside the river.

  Lily’s heart leaped when she saw them, for something about the streets spoke of home. Even though the professor had only just moved back to London, he had obviously returned to the area where they had all once lived.

  She felt as if she knew the landmarks from before – the piers, and bridges, and streets, the park on the south side – they all looked remarkably familiar. She was sure she’d be safe here, with the professor, and, most importantly, he would be able to give her some answers about Papa and the perpetual motion machine at last.

  But Anna didn’t stop. Just floated on past the rows of tree-lined houses, and finally, ten minutes later, jerked to a halt over a derelict stretch of dockland between the waterfront and a railway siding crowded with engines. Below, on the port side, was a wharf filled with boats. A few steamers chugged in and out of a narrow canal that led to the river.

  “Sorry about the detour,” Anna said, as she lowered Ladybird’s anchor.

  “Where are we?” Robert asked.

  “Counter’s Creek – an airship mooring – and as near as I can get to your fancy address. I don’t want to get fined for weighing anchor in Chelsea. I’ve got a whole slew of unpaid air-tickets as it is.”

  She scribbled down a map on a scrap of paper and handed it to Lily. “This is how you get back to where you want to be. I’ll be moored right here if you need me. Tomorrow I’ll take a trip to Fleet Street, visit the offices of The Daily Cog, and then I promise to stop by and see you and your godfather, let you know what I’ve found out about your father and those men, Roach and Mould.” She smiled at them.

  “Thank you, Anna.” Lily kissed her cheek.

  “Not at all,” Anna said. “I hope I can drum up something useful.” She turned to Robert and gave him a big hug. “Robert, I’m so sorry for your loss. I hope you find safe harbour and good advice with Lily’s godfather.” Finally, she leaned down and scratched Malkin’s ears. “Take care of them both, Malkin. Goodbye and good luck. I shall see you all soon.”

  They unwound the ship’s metal ladder and Lily fastened Malkin in her coat once more before beginning her descent. Robert followed behind, with the box and their few other possessions strapped to his back in the blanket sling.

  He was getting used to the up and down of air travel much more now. He still felt a little vertigo, but his da had been right – with practice, the panic did subside. He wondered if his deep sense of loss would fade the same way over time, or whether it would be with him always? And what was he going to do if Lily’s godfather couldn’t take him in? Then he’d be alone in the vast grey city.

  They reached the bottom rung of the ladder, and jumped the last few feet to the ground. Anna stood in the aperture of the doorway above waving at them. They smiled and waved back, and Malkin poked his head from Lily’s jacket and gave her a loud yipping howl of thanks.

  As Anna pulled up the ladder, and closed Ladybird’s door, Lily undid her jacket and let Malkin jump out. Robert decided he would miss the aeronaut. “I’m afraid we’re on our own again,” he sighed.

  “Not quite,” Lily said. “Help is at hand and, in the meantime, the three of us still make a team.” She took his arm and, with Malkin trotting beside them, they stepped from the mouth of the alleyway and set forth into the bustling streets of London.

  The search for the professor’s house proved to be more complex than they had imagined and took most of the morning. It was easy to get lost in the hubbub of Chelsea. Away from the smarter suburban streets, the main roads were like mechanical rivers. An endless stream of carts and wagons, trams and double-decker omnibuses, steam-drays and clockwork carriages chugged along, spitting out smoke. Clamour and shouting emerged from every alley, while hawkers with handcarts wove about the pavement, and the stench of oil, gas and manure filled the air, suffusing everything.

  Malkin led the way, claiming he’d memorized the route after a quick glance at Anna’s map. Despite his bravado, his dithering gait did not inspire much confidence.

  Very few of the streets were signposted and, after they’d been walking for a good twenty minutes, Robert wondered if the mechanimal knew where he was going at all. So he began stopping passers-by to ask for directions.

  That got Malkin rather huffy. “Tell him, Lily,” the fox grumbled, “how John’s mechanicals never get lost.”

  “Tell him yourself,” Lily said. “I’m busy.” She consulted a squiggle on the map. “I wonder if we have this up the right way?”

  When they finally found it, the street – Riverside Walk – turned out to be a tree-lined avenue, filled with detached houses with long drives, tall iron railings, and large gardens that backed onto the north side of the Thames, all the way along to Battersea Bridge.

  Lily found number nine and pushed open the gate. But, as they walked up the drive and approached the house, she stopped and said something so quiet Robert almost didn’t hear.

  “We used to live here.”

  “Are you sure you lived here?” Robert gazed up at the facade of the professor’s house. It didn’t look much like a family home. The front was so encrusted in ironwork, a demented architect might’ve stuck the fireguards on the outside by mistake. At the corner of the roof, a fat grey chimney, with four stubby pot-shaped fingers, reached out, grabbing at the iron sky.

  “I think so.” Lily seemed uncertain now. “All that decoration wasn’t here, admittedly, but it feels the same.”

  They climbed the marble steps to the front door and Lily banged the silver knocker, shaped like a leaping salmon. “That wasn’t here either,” she whispered.

  “It’s easy to change things,” Robert said – her confusion had made him slightly uneasy. “But you could be mistaken.”

  They waited.

  Eventually footsteps approached. The door opened a crack and a smart mechanical butler, all spit-polished brass and oily gold hair, peered out. “Yes, may I help you?” he asked.

  “We’re here to see the professor,” Lily told him.

  The butler gave a steely sniff. “I’m afraid Professor Silverfish is not in the habit of entertaining each passing ragamuffin who darkens his door.”

  “I am not a ragamuffin.” Lily squared her shoulders and stood up straight. “I’m Miss Hartman. Professor Silverfish’s god-daughter. He told me if I was ever in trouble I could call on him.”

  “Miss Hartman?” The butler looked her up and down, examining her barrow-boy apparel.

  “I’m in a sort of disguise,”
she explained.

  “I see,” he said, though he clearly didn’t. “Do you have a visitor’s card?”

  “Do I look like I have a visitor’s card?” Lily snapped.

  Robert could feel her growing frustration. He nudged her on the arm. “Lil, you have his card, remember.”

  “Of course!” Lily fumbled through her pockets and produced Professor Silverfish’s card.

  The butler took it distastefully in his white gloved hands, turned it over and examined it. “I will tell him you’re here, Miss Hartman. And Master…”

  “Townsend. Robert Townsend.”

  “Very good.” The butler stepped aside. “You can wait in the hall. Not your mechanical dog though. I can’t have mechanimals in the house. You’ll have to leave him outside.”

  “I’m not a dog, I’m a fox,” Malkin growled, baring his teeth. “And I’m perfectly house-trained if that’s what you’re worried about. I won’t be dropping any cogs on your carpet.”

  Lily bent down and whispered to him. “Please, Malkin, do as he says, we won’t be long, I promise.”

  The fox nodded. “Don’t be,” he said and slunk off to sit under a holly bush in the flower bed.

  The butler watched him with distaste. He held the door open for Robert and Lily, who stepped across the threshold and found themselves in a grand atrium.

  “This way,” the butler said, turning on his casters and ushering them across a chequerboard marble floor. It was lit from above by a bright glowing chandelier – that made Robert think of a thousand glass stalactites – each one burning with a flameless light that must’ve been electricity.

  The butler jerked to a stop at the foot of a grand staircase. “Wait here a moment,” he said and disappeared down the hall.

  Lily gazed past the chandelier at the ornate ceiling, where a fresco depicted a map of seas and continents, ripped away to reveal the world’s internal clockwork mechanism. “I don’t remember any of this,” she whispered. “The hallway was different.”

  Robert shifted the bundle on his back. “The thing is—” he said, but he never had time to complete his thought, because he was interrupted by a big expansive voice echoing along the corridor.

  “Show them in, you foolish mech…oh never mind, I shall do it!”

  Professor Silverfish appeared from around the corner. He greeted Lily with a warm hug and Robert with an enthusiastic handshake. “Master Townsend, a pleasure to meet you, and, Lily, so good to see you. I was worried sick after our last meeting: leaving you in the hands of your dour guardian. I felt terrible. I’m sorry I didn’t return and check on you. I meant to, but I’ve been so unwell.” He tapped the centre of his chest, which gave a metal ring; when he leaned forward Robert saw he had a complex machine attached to his body, under his jacket.

  “How is your heart, Sir?” Lily asked.

  Professor Silverfish laughed. “Much better now I see you, dear child. But, tell me, what on earth has been happening?”

  “All sorts of things.” Lily shook her head wearily. “I still haven’t found out what happened to Papa, and I need your help more than ever.”

  Professor Silverfish scratched his head. “It’s quite the conundrum. Does anyone know where you are? Your guardian?”

  “No one,” Lily said. “Men were chasing us and we had to run. Awful things have happened, and we’re in the most terrible trouble, aren’t we, Robert?”

  “Come, come.” Professor Silverfish put a hand on each of their shoulders. “It can’t be that bad, surely? I feel certain we can solve your problems. Why don’t you join me for a spot of lunch? Nothing seems so bad after a hearty bite to eat!” He looked them up and down. “But perhaps you want time to recuperate from your journey first, hmm? We can eat a little later, if you desire? In the meantime, you can have a wash, and a rest, and my mechs will find you some clean clothes. What do you think of that plan?”

  Robert nodded. He suddenly felt he would very much like a moment to himself, and perhaps a little sleep.

  The unfriendly butler led them along the polished parquet of the first-floor landing and showed them to two adjoining rooms. “You may relax here for a time,” he said. “Luncheon will be served in an hour.”

  Lily nodded her thanks. Taking her bundle from Robert, she flashed him a reassuring look and disappeared inside her chamber.

  Robert waited on the landing for a moment, glancing about. The house was overwhelmingly grand. A corridor ran along three sides of the mezzanine, above the massive atrium. Behind the hanging chandelier there was another set of stairs at the far end of the hallway that led up to a second floor. It had looked like there was a basement too, for he’d noticed stairs on the ground floor leading down. Momentarily he wondered if he should go and explore, but there’d be time for that later, after a rest. He could hear Lily wandering about in her room, and he turned and stepped through the door into his own.

  It was the most opulent chamber he’d ever set foot in. The walls, panelled in green velvet, matched the curtains that surrounded a floor-to-ceiling bay window, and against the nearside wall stood a comfortable-looking four-poster bed.

  There was even an adjoining bathroom with a sink but no bath – instead there was a strange glass-sided cubicle, with two gold taps set into a marble-tiled wall, and a brass pipe that looped down from the ceiling and ended in a head that looked like a petal-less sunflower.

  Robert stepped into the cubicle and tried the taps and then jumped back in shock, for a sudden shower of hot water rained down upon his head. He barely had time to undress before his clothes were soaking wet. Then, in a wall-sunk marble shell, he noticed a bar of soap.

  When he stepped out of the cubicle after washing himself, he saw a thick white towelling dressing gown hanging on the back of the door. He put it on and, picking up his wet clothes, wandered back into the room.

  The mechanical butler had left a smart-looking suit on the corner of the bed. He tried it, and found that the trousers, pristine white shirt and jacket were an exact fit.

  He looked a new man in the mirror, and he wished his da was there to see him. But Da would never have been able to afford such clothes, Robert thought sadly, and when he looked again he barely recognized himself. It was like he’d left too much of his past behind already.

  He took off the clothes and put his own damp things back on again. Then he lay down on the bed. There was a lump digging painfully into his chest. He fished the object out of his pocket. His penknife, the one Da had given him – he’d almost forgotten about that. He tucked it into his sock – a far better place for it. Then he curled up into a ball, shut his eyes, took a sharp, deep, sob-filled breath, and fell asleep.

  He was woken by the tinkle of a bell somewhere far off, and for a second, as he lay with his eyes closed, he thought it might be his da opening up the shop for the day. But then the tinkle went on for too long and he realized it was not.

  There was a knock at the bedroom door, and he opened his eyes and sat up, remembering where he was.

  Lily peered in. She wore a beautiful silk dress, her hair was pinned back and her face looked clean, scrubbed of the road dirt. She pushed the door open wide and he saw that she carried the box under one arm. It was no longer wrapped in its blanket.

  “You look different,” he said, as he stood and stretched his tired legs. “Is that a new dress? It looks…I mean, you look…pretty.”

  She smiled. “You mean I didn’t look pretty before?”

  “No… I… Don’t you think it’s odd here?” he asked, changing the subject. “Almost too quiet.”

  She shrugged.

  “Did you remember anything else about this house, from the old days?”

  “Not really,” she said. “It does seem familiar somehow, but all of that was so long ago. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe, it’s just this week, everything from the past being dredged up… Who knows… Still, it’s a relief to get out of those dirty clothes, though this is possibly not what I would’ve chosen.” She straightened the front
of her dress, then stepped towards him and leaned in. Robert thought she was going to give him a peck on the cheek, but she raised a hand, conspiratorially. “The mechanical maid told me she was sent out to get this from the haberdasher’s down the road as soon as we arrived. A little too formal, don’t you think?”

  He didn’t know what to think; his face felt hot. He brushed the dry sleep from his eyes. “Was that the bell for lunch?” he asked. “I’m starving.”

  It took the whole meal for Lily to explain to Professor Silverfish what had happened to her and Robert, and while she talked the professor listened attentively, making little sounds of encouragement and shock.

  Meanwhile the shiny mechanical butler whirred softly across the ornately patterned carpet, bringing in endless courses under silver domes and placing them down on the long mahogany table.

  Robert sipped from a crystal glass full of lemonade. He was only half-listening to the conversation. He had enjoyed the starter of cold tomato soup, and then a meltingly light Dover sole, which came with butter sauce and mashed potatoes. But now they were onto the main course, a massive haunch of roasted venison, he was beginning to feel rather ill. He had trouble working out which of the remaining cutlery he was supposed to be using. He was accustomed to simple meals at home with Da; here he didn’t have a clue. And despite all the delicious things he’d eaten, he still could not shake the feeling that there was something odd about the house. Time drifted past too quietly. If any work took place, he wasn’t sure what it could be. There were no clocks, he realized suddenly – that’s what it was, and the only ticking in the room came from the professor’s strange heart.

  The pudding arrived: a wobbling, jellified rich chocolate cream, served on a silver platter. Robert took a small slice, and when he’d finished eating, he looked up to find Lily had reached the end of her tale.

  Professor Silverfish sat back and lit a cigar, then he examined John’s letter. “My dears,” he said, “you’ve been through the most terrible strife. If only you’d telegrammed, I feel sure I could’ve helped sooner.”