by Tim Hehir
When they came to the Orchid House they hid themselves in the ivy growing up one corner of the building. Julius tried to see through the condensation dripping down the windows.
‘I can’t see naffing,’ whispered Emily.
Julius edged along the front. Splinters of light escaped through the foliage inside, giving nothing away.
‘Can you ’ear anyfing?’ whispered Emily.
Julius shook his head. They crept towards the door where the closed sign still hung. Emily turned the handle but it did not give. She began to rummage through her purse again and took out her lock picks.
‘Let’s look round the back first,’ Julius whispered. ‘We might be able to see inside from there.’
Emily frowned. Julius turned away before she could object and made his way through the tangled ivy. At the next corner, he peeped around. More light spilled out through the glass at the back. It shone on an empty wheelbarrow.
Emily edged past him to see for herself. Muffled sounds came from inside, as if someone was throwing something around. Julius looked through the window and found a gap in the foliage. A brown-coated figure moved past. ‘It’s Baines,’ he whispered. ‘We’ve found them.’
‘Ace,’ whispered Emily.
‘I can’t see what he’s doing,’ whispered Julius.
‘We might be able to see from up there.’ Emily pointed to a ladder going up the side of the glass house. Ivy covered most of it. ‘It probably leads to the roof. We can look down on ’em from there.’ She already had her foot on the first rung. A loud noise inside the Orchid House made Julius turn back to the window. Baines was lifting a large steel trapdoor and throwing a birdcage down a hole.
He spun around to tell Emily and bumped into something large. It smelled of dried sweat and bad breath.
Julius looked up. Edward Rapple leered down at him. His left cheekbone and eye were still swollen and bruised from the punch Mr Flynn had given him on the Bermondsey wasteground.
‘Want to have a closer look?’ he said.
‘I…I…’ stammered Julius.
Rapple stopped smiling. He grabbed Julius and dragged him to the back door of the glass house and opened it.
‘Mr Baines,’ said Rapple. ‘We have a visitor.’
He picked Julius up by his lapels and pushed him backwards through the open door. Julius fell landed on his back. He looked up at the glass ceiling. Emily’s face was looking down through a windowpane. He shook his head.
Don’t come down, Emily.
Blue, white and yellow orchids surrounded him, entwining themselves around the wrought-iron posts holding up the glasshouse. The air was hot and moist, like in Brazil, but it stank with a rank odour that made Julius’s eyes water.
Baines kicked him in his side, knocking the wind out of him. Julius rolled over and curled up into a ball. ‘Where’s Flynn hiding?’ said Baines.
Julius did not have any breath to speak.
‘There’s no one else out there,’ said Rapple.
‘How do you know?’ said Baines.
‘I have eyes and ears, don’t I?’ said Rapple. ‘It’s as quiet as a dead fiddler out there.’
Julius clutched his stomach. Rapple and Baines leaned over him forming an ugly, rotten-toothed canopy.
‘What’s he up to?’ said Baines to himself. He reached down and hauled Julius up to within an inch of his face. One of his eyes was still purple and swollen from when Mr Flynn had punched him too.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said. ‘Who are you working for?’
Julius fought to breathe.
‘I think the lad’s shy, Mr Baines,’ said Rapple.
‘I think you’re right, Mr Rapple,’ said Baines. ‘He’s a touch on the delicate side.’
Julius gulped in some air at last but then retched at the smell of Baines’s foul breath.
Baines chuckled. ‘I wonder what Mr Tock will say, Mr Rapple?’ he said.
‘I wouldn’t like to be in your skin when Tock finds out you’ve been spying again,’ said Rapple.
‘Still,’ said Baines. ‘You won’t be keeping your skin for long.’
He threw Julius into a pile of empty birdcages.
‘Careful, lad,’ said Rapple. ‘You’ll pay for any breakages.’
Julius lay among the birdcages. He glanced up. Emily’s face was gone. He looked at the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it?
But before he could move Baines hauled him out from among the birdcages and towards the open trap door and pushed him down a spiral staircase.
Baines laughed. ‘Down to Hades, we go.’ With a firm grip on the back of Julius’s neck, Baines pushed him further down the stairs. The sulphurous stench grew stronger with each step. Julius tried to get some air into his lungs and arrange his thoughts in his head. Soon, he saw light below. The spiralling stairs led down to an underground sewer.
Baines threw Julius down the last few steps. Julius managed to stop himself from falling into the river of putrid water. His eyes and nose strung from the stench.
‘Mr Tock, sir,’ said Baines. ‘We found the boy lurking outside. It’s the one from the bookshop.’
Tock was sitting on a stool on the bank of the sewer with a child’s fishing net in his hand. They were in some sort of maintenance area. There were wide banks on each side of the sewer and three tunnels leading off. Oil lamps hung from nails on the brick walls, giving everything a sepia tint.
Abigail crouched behind Tock with two legs on each bank. Her claws were poised as if ready to attack. She almost filled the space, all the way to the vaulted ceiling. A hundred or more birdcages were stacked around the walls—all crammed with rats writhing around each other, screeching and flicking their tails through the bars.
Tock stared at Julius. His mouth was agape, but in a few seconds it stretched into a sinister smile.
‘You have caught us fishing for blood and bone, young man,’ he said. He swept the fishing net through the viscous brown river. ‘What can be more restful than fishing?’ said Tock. ‘What? What?’
Abigail followed the progress of the net with her one eye.
The pole jolted. Tock lifted the net out and plunged his hand onto it. He pulled a squirming rat out by its tail. Then he thrust it onto a bucket of water, sloshed it around and then held it close for inspection.
‘Hmm. A little sickly,’ he said. ‘We only use the finest specimens for our fertiliser. Only the finest.’
He swung the rat by its tail, dashing its head against the edge of the bank. On the third stroke the rat was dead. He tossed it onto a large pile of dead rats. Then Tock smiled up at Julius. ‘You will tell me what you are doing here. You will. You will.’
Julius’s stomach clenched. He leaned over the river of sewage. His stomach emptied itself in two full-bodied heaves. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and groaned.
‘Oh dear,’ said Tock. ‘Was it something you ate? Was it? Was it?’
‘I don’t feel very well,’ said Julius.
Rapple came down the stairs with his arms full of cages.
‘That’s nearly all of them,’ he said to Tock.
‘We’ll need more,’ said Tock. ‘Lots more.’
Julius looked at the hundreds of caged rats.
How many soulcatchers does he have to feed, Higgins?
‘Now, young man,’ said Tock. ‘Begin to talk and do not stop until I am satisfied. Or terrible things will happen.’
Julius tried to appear befuddled. ‘I…I…er…’
Tock came face to face with him. His blue eyes held the cruel curiosity of a child who had found a butterfly stuck in a spider’s web.
Julius’s knees weakened. He tried to brace himself.
‘I’m going to give you to Abigail,’ said Tock. Abigail lifted her head at the sound of her name. ‘Or, perhaps I’ll give you to my soulcatchers.’
Julius’s mind spun like the cogs of the pocketwatch, searching for something that would seem like truth.
‘I spoke to Mr Darwin,’
he said. It was the only thing he could think of.
Tock’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did you?’
‘He…er, he said you had a plan to grow the soulcatchers in London.’
‘What a nosy fellow Darwin is,’ said Tock. ‘He should have been the one seeded, you know. Not poor Mr Skinner.’
‘Mr Darwin said you didn’t have a soul,’ said Julius.
Tock laughed. ‘Darwin’s correct,’ he said. ‘Would you like a surprise before you die? Would you? Would you?’
Julius stared at Tock. He had nothing to say.
‘Watch this,’ said Tock. He clasped his face in his hands and pulled it off.
Julius gasped and fell back.
The faceless Tock leaned over him. His glowing blue eyes were surrounded by clockwork. His false teeth were two lines of ivory beads set amongst the brasswork of his jaw. They moved as he spoke.
‘I’m the finest in the shop,’ he said. ‘The very finest.’
Julius stared at the Tock’s eyes in the clockwork skull. The wheels and pinions turned and brass rods shifted as his expression changed.
‘You’re…you’re an automaton?’ he said.
‘What a clever fellow you are,’ said Tock. ‘Yes. I’m a good little machine.’
‘So that’s why you don’t have a soul,’ said Julius.
Julius thought he saw sadness in the clockwork expression—a slight dimming of the eyes. Then the wheels and pinions spun faster and the eyes glowed brighter. The small teeth ground together.
‘I shall have all of your souls though,’ he said. ‘The soulcatchers shall trap them and I shall have them all forever.’
He belongs in Bedlam, Higgins. Even if he is a machine.
Julius looked at Rapple and Baines. They stood nearby, watching. Their faces were as blank as workhouse walls. He tried to recall what they’d said about a Pacific island.
‘Are you going to let this happen?’ he said to them.
‘We’ll be long gone,’ said Baines. ‘Living like kings.’
Tock gripped Julius by the collar and pulled him close. Julius could smell the watch oil and hear the soft tick of the wheels. ‘Abigail can have you,’ he said. ‘She likes tearing things apart.’
‘Oi!’ shouted Emily. The sound rang through the sewer, echoing off the walls.
She glared at them all from the spiral stairs.
‘Leave ’im alone,’ she said.
Julius felt Tock’s grip loosen as he turned and looked up at the intruder. Julius pushed him away. ‘Run,’ he shouted to Emily.
Julius leapt across the river of sewage and fell against the wall. Emily disappeared up the stairs. Rapple was already climbing after her.
‘Get the boy, Abigail,’ shouted Tock.
Julius ran into the nearest tunnel. Behind him the screech of iron rang out as Abigail squeezed her way through the tunnel after him. Julius held his left hand to the wall as he ran. Hopefully he could keep from plunging into the sewer. Abigail roared, making the tunnel quake.
The wall on Julius’s left disappeared. He stopped and turned back to grope for it. It must be a junction, Higgins. He placed his palm firmly on the left wall and continued along the left fork.
Behind him, the sound of Abigail grinding against the sides of the tunnel stopped.
Can she see in the dark, Higgins?
Julius looked over his shoulder. The red eye shone, searching the different tunnels. It looked down Julius’s tunnel, lighting it with a dim red glow. She advanced on him.
Yep, she can see in the dark.
Julius ran on, terror giving him speed. He came to another junction. If you turn left again you’ll be going a circle, Higgins. Abigail was gaining.
He fumbled though his pockets for the watch and spun it in the air. He could barely see in the dark but he managed to tap its side and blue light shone out. Julius held his palm under the bobbing pocketwatch and kept running. The watch stayed above his hand as if it was tied to it.
Julius raced full pelt along the bank of the sewer. Behind him, Abigail scrabbled through the tunnel. Her back scraped the arched ceiling, sending out sparks like a grinding wheel in a foundry.
She was gaining on him. Even if Julius came to a ladder or a doorway he would only have a few seconds to use it—that was not enough time. He made a decision. He tapped the pocketwatch again. The top and bottom opened out.
It’s working, Higgins.
Abigail was almost upon him. He only had seconds to do an emergency time-jump. But, where to? Did it matter? Anywhere was better than this.
Take me somewhere safe.
The ticking of the pocketwatch turned to a polyrhythm. The volume increased. Abigail was only yards behind. All the competing sounds combined in a deafening din.
Julius jumped to the other bank. Just as his foot touched down he felt a blow to his shoulder. He missed his footing and banged his shin against the sharp edge of the sewer bank, and he fell into the putrid water. The animal urge to live surged through him, and he hoisted himself out of the sludge. Pain shot through his body.
He rolled up onto the bank and looked up. ‘No,’ he cried.
Abigail’s claw of forks closed around the spinning pocketwatch. Shafts of blue light shone out between the fork bars of the claw cage as she peered at it. Her hand of mirrors fanned and tilted to capture its movements. Julius imagined her tearing it apart.
‘Wait,’ he shouted. But the cacophony of the pocketwatch’s cogs and wheels as it banged and rattled against the claws drowned him out.
He gritted his teeth against the excruciating pain in his shin and pulled himself up. He waved his arms to get Abigail’s attention. Her eye turned to him and the claw of knives lifted and swept him away.
Julius fell back against the wall. One of the shillings Mr Flynn had given him for his cab fare fell out of his pocket.
He had an idea.
He grasped the handful of coins and fought to get to his feet, crying out in agony as he put his weight on his injured leg. Abigail rattled the spinning pocketwatch in her claw cage, appearing to grow impatient with it.
Julius shouted, trying to get her attention. He pushed forward, flinging the coins at her face. They bounced off her razor scales, breaking her concentration for an instant. Julius lunged for the pocketwatch. He slipped his hand through the gap between the fork-bars of Abigail’s claw and tapped the edge of the spinning watch.
Julius tumbled uncontrollably, trying to gather his thoughts as he orbited the giant pocketwatch hurtling through time and space. Each tick of the watch resounded across the universe. He tried to see whether he had brought Abigail with him into the galaxies.
A fork flew past, just missing his ear, then another one. When he landed he would have to run as fast as he could, before Abigail re-assembled.
Julius felt himself falling. He hit hard ground. It felt like cobblestones. He flinched as he heard the jangle of cutlery falling around him. The pocketwatch spun an arm’s length away. He reached out and it flew to him.
He leapt up. The time-jump had healed his injured leg and cleaned the sewage off him. He had landed in a street between rows of small, red-brick houses. A circle of forks lay on the cobblestones. He looked around. Everything was unnaturally quiet. Where was the rest of Abigail?
He picked up one of the forks.
Overhead, dark-grey clouds hung low in the sky. There was not a soul in sight. Not a child at play or a stray dog to be seen. Many of the windows of the houses were smashed and pieces of broken furniture lay on the street.
A sound made his ears prick up. What was it? Something was scrabbling over roof tiles—something small and metal. Julius looked up at the gutters of the houses.
Cripes!
A spider-like creature the size of a cat appeared over the edge of the gutter.
It was made of metal.
CHAPTER 20
Wednesday 23rd September 1846
3:53 PM
Julius backed away from the metal creature, trying not to m
ake another sound. The creature felt along the edge of the gutter with its long, many-jointed legs and numerous antennae.
Julius kept his eyes on it as he took two more steps back. Its legs found the drainpipe. It scrambled over the edge and climbed down it. It was larger than a cat and even more agile.
Julius looked for somewhere to run. The door of one of the houses was open. He slipped inside and closed it. Before he could put his hand over his mouth the smell hit him. It was damp-rot and with something sickeningly sweet mixed in.
He looked up the stairs and down the passage towards the kitchen. Something jangled outside. He bolted the door and peeped into the parlour. Cobwebs hung everywhere. A patina of mould grew up the walls and enveloped the chair by the fire. Julius heard the jangling sound again, then a grinding noise. He slipped into the parlour and edged along the wall until he came to the window overlooking the street. He peeped around the edge of the curtain.
The metal spider was examining Abigail’s forks. Julius watched it run its appendages along the fork handles and between the prongs. It tested the forks’ strength and malleability and tapped them against each other and on the cobbles. Julius realised that it could not see—it was exploring the forks by touch. He felt his shoulder relax a little. He turned to find a way out the back and knocked over a vase on a table. It smashed on the floorboards.
Julius froze. The sounds outside stopped—the creature could hear.
A second later, long thin copper legs appeared at the window. Julius tried to crawl behind the fireside chair. As long as he didn’t make another sound he would be all right.
The metal legs felt their way along edges of the window and began to hit at the panes. The glass shattered and fell into the parlour. The spider-like thing sprang up onto the windowsill and stretched its legs and antennae between the shards of glass. It was close enough for Julius to see that it was made from thousands of washers and nuts all screwed together at odd angles.
Julius saw the poker by the fireplace. He picked it up, but as he readied himself to spring on the metal spider creature a loud hissing erupted.
