by Tim Hehir
‘That’s it, Tock,’ he said. ‘It’s all over.’
‘No it’s not,’ said Tock. ‘I still have one little friend left.’
Julius saw the remaining soulcatcher. The cage was on its side. The orchid looked beaten and bedraggled, but it was still alive.
Tock made to push Emily over the edge.
‘No,’ screamed Julius.
‘You’ve forgotten one bleeding fing, Tock,’ shouted Emily.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Tock. ‘What is that? What? What?’
‘Who’ll wind you now?’ said Julius. ‘You’re stuck here in this realm and you’ve haven’t got a key.’
Tock loosened his grip on Emily. She slipped her hand inside his coat again. His dislodged face took on an almost comical expression of childlike indignation.
‘But I don’t want to wind down,’ he said. ‘I don’t. I don’t.’
Darwin lunged at Tock. He threw him aside and lifted Emily off the railing just as a crocodile surged up and snapped the air where her head had been.
Clara looped her still-tied arms around Emily’s neck and held her tight. Julius’s knees gave way and he knelt on the marble floor.
Tock fell against the wall and stared around him as if he could not quite believe what was happening.
‘But I don’t want to wind down,’ he said.
Julius picked up the cage holding the last soulcatcher. Its damp tendrils flicked half-heartedly at him.
He flung it into the crocodile enclosure and watched it disappear below the black water.
Tock’s expression changed into one of simmering hatred. His blue eyes glowered at Julius. He tried to straighten his face but lost his patience with it and tore it off to reveal his clockwork innards. The cogs turned as his two rows of small teeth ground against each other.
‘You’ll be sorry for that,’ he said to Julius. ‘I’ll come back and make you sorry. I will. I will.’ He pushed Darwin aside and looked at each of them in turn. ‘You’ll be sorry,’ he said. Then he walked through the door and was gone.
Mr Flynn made to follow, but Julius stopped him.
‘Let him go,’ he said. ‘He’s winding down. No one can punish him more than he’s being punished right now.’
‘But he has my diary,’ said Darwin. ‘I must have it back.’
‘No ’e don’t,’ said Emily. ‘I nicked it back for you.’
She slipped out from Clara’s arms and held out the dripping diary to Darwin.
Julius felt Clara’s wet arms wrap around him. She held him tight as if he might try to escape. He didn’t. The hummingbirds flew down and flitted around them.
‘I came to ask you to tea,’ said Julius, when she let him go, at last.
Clara laughed.
‘Will you come home, Mama?’
‘For tea?’
‘No…forever.’
Clara cradled his face in her bound hands.
‘That would be very nice,’ she said.
CHAPTER 26
Monday 5th February 1838
2:34 PM
Two weeks later, Julius sat in a corner of the King’s Library in the British Museum. He had just finished telling his story to Professor Fox and the other ten members of the Guild of Watchmakers. He told them everything, from his stealing the pocketwatch, to the time-loop he had made and his time-jump into the future.
The professor sat in an old armchair. He weighed the pocketwatch in his hand while he considered Julius’s tale.
‘Thank you, Julius,’ he said. ‘Be so kind as to fetch Mr Flynn and Emily.’
Julius found them seated at a table at the far end of the library leafing through books about orchids.
‘’ow did it go, ’iggins?’ said Emily.
‘Not very well, I don’t think,’ said Julius. ‘They asked me to get you both.’
When Julius returned the Watchmakers ceased their whispered discussion and waited while Mr Flynn and Emily sat down.
‘Well, well, well,’ said Professor Fox. His steel-grey eyes moved from Julius to Emily. ‘Quite an adventure. You and Emily showed great courage and ingenuity. You saved our timeline from the soulcatchers and for that we, the Guild of Watchmakers, thank you.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said the other Watchmakers, quietly so as not to disturb the readers in the library.
‘But’—the professor’s eyes rested sadly on Julius again—‘you stole the pocketwatch. That cannot be forgotten. Added to that, you altered the past in this timeline, and so you have altered its present and its future—who knows what the consequences might be? The question is, can we still offer you a place with us? A Watchmaker must have the trust of his brothers. Can we trust you, Julius?’
Julius swallowed. He felt Emily’s hand squeeze his.
Beneath his coat Julius clutched Harrison’s diary. He had brought it with him to tell the truth about that too—that he’d had it all along.
If you tell them you stole Harrison’s diary now they’ll never make you a Watchmaker, Higgins
He said nothing.
The professor sighed. ‘Perhaps I was too hasty in choosing you,’ he said. ‘You showed such promise.’
Julius felt his cheeks burn with shame.
The professor’s face softened. ‘The Guild of Watchmakers will consider the matter.’ His reluctant tone didn’t give Julius much confidence.
The professor shifted in his chair. He looked very tired, but he was trying not to show it. ‘Thank you, Julius…truly,’ he said. ‘Whatever our decision, you have our gratitude, and our friendship.’
Julius, Emily and Mr Flynn walked through the vast entrance hall of the British Museum. No one had spoken since leaving the library.
Julius felt Mr Flynn’s hand on his shoulder. It lifted his spirits a little. But he felt like half a person without the pocketwatch. The thought of never holding it again left him with a feeling of loneliness he felt would stay with him for the rest of his life.
But he knew he didn’t deserve to be a Watchmaker, not if he couldn’t tell the truth to his friends. Harrison’s diary burned his side but, still, he held it secretly to him.
He tried to turn his mind back to the bookshop. His mother and grandfather were continuing with their excruciatingly awkward politeness towards one another. Julius was partly amused by it but wondered whether it would end and they could be at ease with each other.
Mr Flynn and Mrs Trevelyan were coming to tea. Julius hoped they would help to hasten the thaw in the parlour. Clara had sent an invitation to Darwin too, but he had not replied. None of them had seen him since they had all walked out of the hothouse and across the snowy parkland to tell Abberline that Lord Bloomingbury had been eaten by his favourite pet.
‘Come on, ’iggins,’ said Emily. ‘Let’s say ’ello to Mr Tock.’
A group of boys crowded around a statue on plinth. As Julius, Emily and Mr Flynn drew nearer they could read the sign pinned up nearby.
Automaton found in Shorditch. Could the owner please make himself known to Museum staff. If not claimed within one month this automaton will become the property of the British Museum and may be auctioned to fund further building works.
Julius had read it on his way in but had been too nervous about his meeting with Professor Fox to give it much thought.
‘They say there was loads of keys in ’is pockets,’ said one of the boys. ‘And more scattered on the ground when they found ’im.’
‘’e was probably trying to find a key to wind ’imself wiv,’ said Emily.
The boys laughed.
Julius looked into the automaton’s dead eyes. Tock’s hand was reaching out as if he was about to implore a stranger for help. Even now that he could never move again he still made Julius’s pulse quicken.
‘Oddest thing, don’t you think,’ said someone. ‘No one would believe us if we told them the truth about Tock. They’d haul us off to Bedlam.’
Julius turned to see Mr Darwin.
‘I just did, and I got laughed at,’ said Emily.<
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Beside Darwin stood another man. He was wearing a beekeeper’s hat and veil.
Darwin glanced at the group of boys surrounding Tock. ‘Let’s talk outside,’ he said.
Julius, Emily and Mr Flynn followed Darwin out onto the steps of the museum.
‘Can’t be too careful,’ he said, when they gathered around him.
Julius looked at the man beside Darwin. The veil was too thick for him to discern anything under the brim of the hat.
Darwin smiled at his confusion.
‘You don’t recognise our old friend?’ he said.
‘Mr Skinner?’ said Julius.
Darwin patted Skinner’s shoulder. ‘The very one,’ he said. ‘The veil is to avoid any unpleasantness. People wouldn’t understand.’
‘Understand wot?’ said Emily.
Darwin glanced around to make sure no one was looking. He rolled up the veil. Julius saw Skinner’s gaunt face. There were dark circles around his dead, staring eyes. Withered soulcatcher stems and dried flowers hung from his mouth and tangled in his beard. It was if he was wearing a garland of dead weeds.
‘His mind is completely gone, poor fellow,’ said Darwin. ‘But my experiment was successful. Complete, unrelenting darkness killed the soulcatcher, as I predicted it would.’
Darwin smiled uncomfortably at his companions. ‘I’m glad I ran into you, as a matter of fact,’ he said to Mr Flynn. ‘When we parted on that dreadful day I was determined to put something else right. I’ve been working on my plans night and day ever since.’ Darwin patted Skinner’s arm. ‘Mr Skinner caused quite a sensation with the museum’s funding committee. I’ve just come from my final meeting with them: they have agreed to pay the cost of my return expedition to the Village of the Soulcatchers.’
‘Why are you going back there?’ said Emily.
‘We’re going back—Skinner and I,’ said Darwin. ‘I mean to use the darkness cure on the village children. If the soulcatchers are not too advanced in their life cycle, I am confident I can save the children—and their minds. I mean to take them away from the village to somewhere they can have new lives.’
Darwin dropped the veil and stirred up some forced jollity. ‘At least that is my hope,’ he said. ‘Well. We must be off. Lots to do. Lots to organise, aye, Skinner? Please give my apologies to you mother, Julius—I won’t be able to come to tea.’
Darwin was about to leave when Julius stepped forward.
‘Mr Darwin?’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘I wonder? Could I ask…’
‘Yes?’
‘The picture you drew of those two native children?’
‘Yes?’
‘Could I have it?’ said Julius.
Darwin recoiled as little as if he had been struck.
Julius looked down to cover his embarrassment, but looked up again immediately.
‘I know it means a lot to you, sir,’ he said. ‘They did save your life after all. But, you see, I’d like to have a keepsake of our adventure.’
Darwin’s hand went protectively to the diary. His expression showed a battle between his reluctance to part with it on one hand and his gratitude to Julius and his friends on the other.
He pulled the diary from his pocket. It had been dried out but it still looked very tatty after all it had been through. The spine creaked when he opened it at the picture. Carefully, he tore it out. ‘Here. It’s yours, Julius,’ he said.
When he held it up he saw the portrait and Julius both at once for the first time. Before he could look too closely, Julius reached out. He took the picture and held it to his chest.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
Darwin stared at Julius for a moment and then dismissed all the fanciful ideas that were forming in his mind. The similarity between the boys’ faces was purely a coincidence. What other possible explanation could there be for a rational person?
He nodded a goodbye to Julius, tipped his hat to Emily and Mr Flynn, then guided Skinner down the steps.
Julius watched until they reached the bottom and were lost in the Sunday crowd. Then he held the page out to Emily. She looked at the drawing of the pretty, smiling girl and the anxious but handsome boy. The edges were crinkled and a little stained from the black water that had drenched Tock.
‘Keep it,’ said Julius. ‘So even when you’re old and grey you won’t forget that once upon a time, you and I went time-travelling together.’
‘Don’t you worry, ’iggins,’ said Emily. ‘I won’t never forget.’
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
There really was a policeman named Fredrick Abberline. He lived some years after this story takes place. He investigated the infamous Whitechapel murders in 1888.
Lord Bloomingbury is based on a Victorian eccentric named William Buckland, who kept an extensive menagerie in his house and regularly fed specimens from it to his dinner guests.
The phenomenon orchidmania was rampant in Victorian England. Fortunes were won and lost and unspeakable crimes committed, all in pursuit of the rarest and most exquisite orchids.
New Bethlem Hospital was a lunatic asylum, known as Bedlam for short. Consequently, the word ‘bedlam’ became synonymous with chaos and confusion.
Luckily, Charles Darwin’s diary was not really stolen. He wrote a book based on it called The Voyage of the Beagle. It was published in 1839 and is still in print today.
There was an orchid hunter called George Skinner, although he collected his orchids in Guatemala, not Brazil.
Surrey Zoological Gardens was as it is described in this book and would have been a wonder to see. There really were thylacines in captivity in London at this time.
Rapple and Baines are loosely based on the Resurrectionists Bourke and Hare. In Edinburgh, in 1828, they murdered people to sell to their bodies to medical schools for dissection—it was easier than digging up corpses.
And finally, Tock. There was an expectation among philosophers, at the time, that as machines grew more and more complex, consciousness would arise within them. The most famous example of a supposedly conscious automaton was the Turk, who travelled Europe and the Americas playing chess against baffled opponents including Napoleon Bonaparte. They could not understand how a machine made of cogs and wires could win every game. What they did not know was that there was a chess master hiding inside, who operated the automaton’s arms.
