“But that’s exactly the point,” said Honey Peppers. “Don’t you think the Daddio realises that? If you were to be beaten, that would only add to your mystique. I’m sure you could take the punishment in silence, and the myth would grow, about how Captain Wedderburn can take whatever is thrown at him. The Daddio knows that, Captain. That’s why he has brought all these people here to watch you being fucked by the mandrills. Because after that, people won’t speak in awe of you behind your back. They’ll pity you. They’ll laugh at you. They won’t fear you so much.”
She held her hands beneath her armpits in imitation of a monkey. “Ook ook eek” she said.
I was terrified, I don’t mind admitting it. She was right. I could take pain. What I couldn’t take was the humiliation.
“Okay, Honey Peppers. I understand. The Daddio has made his point. I won’t do it again.”
“Oh, Captain. Can’t you take your punishment like a man?”
The crowd laughed at that.
“Honey...”
“Honestly Captain, what’s the problem? This is what happens to your whores every day, and you make money off them as a result. Well, you’ll be just doing the same as them!”
“There’s a difference,” I said. My mind went back to Miss Merchant on the Writing Floor. Why was everyone suddenly having a go at the honest businessman? “They made the choice to work that way. This isn’t my choice.”
“They made the choice? Really, Captain? I don’t know. I’ve noticed that when people talk about choices, it’s usually the people who are in charge who are setting the alternatives. Do you think your women would have chosen to be whores if they had another alternative?”
“I didn’t make the world the way it is,” I said.
“Enough talk,” said Honey Peppers. “Throw him in the cage.”
NINE
THE SEWERS OF DREAM LONDON
DON’T BELIEVE THE lies you might have heard about me ending up in that cage. I know there are people who will say that I was in there for an hour, but, trust me, that’s not true. As you might expect, I managed to talk my way out of trouble. Captain Wedderburn has still got a honey tongue when he needs it.
I’ll skip how I did it though. You’ll want to get on with the action.
“Okay, Honey,” I said. “We’re even now. I guess I’ll be on my way.”
Honey Peppers shook her head, those delightful blonde curls bouncing.
“Not yet. You see, Captain, despite everything, the Daddio still believes in you.”
“He does?”
“He really does. The Daddio still believes you’re a valuable man. You know what he says about you?”
“No. Tell me.”
“The Daddio says ‘He’s not to be trusted, but he’s competent enough. Not as good a leader as he thinks, but it’s amazing what you can get away with when you’re as good looking as he is. We could have chosen someone more suitable, but they wouldn’t have his charm. The looks won’t last, but people will rally around him for long enough to achieve our objectives.”
“Oh.”
“The Daddio believes in you, and those the Daddio believes in become valuable in the eyes of others. Even after this.”
I looked away from the laughing, pointing crowd. Standing there, naked and scratched, sore and bleeding, I have never felt less valuable in the eyes of anyone.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” I said.
“Here,” said Honey Peppers. “Put these clothes on.”
The reluctant Quantifier brought me a green uniform jacket with gold braid across the front, a white shirt and breeches, and pair of long leather boots. The outfit was just like the clothes I usually wore, but of better quality. I pulled them on, covering my shame.
“See?” said Honey Peppers. “Every inch the dashing hero. The Daddio looks after his own.” The crowd didn’t think so; they still pointed and spoke about me behind their hands. “And now, something to eat, I think.”
She nodded to the side of the stage, and a man in black came forward. He was holding something in his hand. Something red and round and shiny. An apple.
Honey Peppers took it from him, polished it on the front of her cream dress, and then handed it across to me.
“There you go,” she said. “Eat it all up, Captain. Nice and healthy.”
I took the apple. It looked so nice and shiny, banded in red with russet lines of longitude focused on the green stalk. I felt my mouth begin to water, and I raised the apple to my lips. And stopped. I looked again at the apple, wondering at the flicker of movement. Had the apple really just opened its eyes to look at me?
“What’s the matter, Captain? Come on. Eat up.”
“I...”
The two eyes in Honey Peppers’ tongue were watching me. So were the eyes in the reluctant Quantifier’s. I looked back down at the apple.
“I... I’m not hungry.”
Honey Peppers’ expression hardened. “Eat it!” she said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Eat it, now.”
I drew back my arm and made to throw the apple as far away as I could. The Quantifier caught my hand in his manacle grip and slowly bent it around.
“You have to eat the apple,” said Honey Peppers, “to show that the Daddio can trust you.”
The apple opened its eyes, now that there was no need to hide. It stared at me with the same cold, dead stare as the eyes in the tongues of all those present.
“Let go,” I said.
Honey Peppers nodded and the Quantifier released me.
“Captain Wedderburn,” said Honey Peppers. “I get the impression that you aren’t entirely on our side! If that’s so, you only have to say so. You can always go back in the mandrill cage. For good, this time.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll try to see the Daddio’s point of view.”
I polished the apple on the front of my new green jacket, all the while looking around. There was nowhere to run to. I was surrounded by ill-wishers, all gazing at me with eyes in their tongues. And now I had to eat the apple and join them. Either that, or face death in the mandrills’ cage.
“Oh, I’ve had enough,” said Honey Peppers. “Make him eat it.”
The Quantifier seized hold of my neck and my hand. He began to force the apple towards my mouth. I tried and failed to struggle against the inexorable force.
“Leave me alone.” I spat the words against the cold silky flesh of the fruit. “I’ll eat it!”
“Too late, Captain,” said Honey.
The apple was forced between my lips. Another Quantifier stepped forward and forced my teeth together. The apple didn’t so much crunch as ooze like toffee down my throat, and stop there. I began to gag, to choke on it. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to struggle, but I was only held tighter. I tried to gasp out words – which words, I don’t know – but I couldn’t.
And then, all of sudden, the blockage in my throat vanished. The Quantifiers released me and I fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
“Well done, Captain Wedderburn. The Daddio will be pleased with you.”
At that the crowd in the bleachers stood up and applauded.
I felt my throat, I smacked my lips, I rolled my tongue. What had happened to the piece of apple? Everything felt so normal.
“The first bite is always the hardest,” said Honey Peppers. “Perhaps you can finish up now?”
She held the apple in front of me, a white flash in its side where I had taken a bite.
I looked at the apple. It didn’t look back at me. Had I eaten the eyes?
“Come on,” said Honey Peppers. “There’s a good Captain.”
She pushed the apple closer, and I looked at it, unable to take it.
What was I to do?
And then I heard a voice, the last voice I expected to hear.
“Mr James! Over here! Run!”
I didn’t have to think, I just had to run. Run straight to Mr Monagan, who had surfaced from the pool and was now looking at us f
rom the edge of the stage that half covered the water. How long had he been there, watching?
I felt the big hands of the Quantifier fumble at my jacket as I ran. I let go of the apple, skidded and dropped into the water by Mr Monagan, pale orange skin naked in the pond.
“Take a deep breath, Mr James,” he called. “Take the deepest breath that you can!”
The water was cold, and it was difficult to move in my sodden clothes. Mr Monagan took my arm as I gasped for air and then I felt myself being pulled down. I half felt, half heard a splash behind me, but I didn’t look back. Mr Monagan was pulling me towards the dark space that lay at the side of the pool, some sort of drainage vent. I made to pull away, but he was surprisingly strong and far more agile than I in the water. I relaxed, allowing him to guide me down into the hatch, and then pull me along a narrow passage to a much larger pond next door. We surfaced, me gasping for air.
“Mr Monagan! What are...”
“Save your breath, Mister James! You’ll need it for the tunnel!”
“What tunnel?” I asked, but I saw the answer already. The pool into which we emerged was home to seals and sea lions. Most of them sat on the edge of the pool, watching us with black eyes like sunglasses. Some of them, however, had swum to the bottom to investigate the dark hole where Mr Monagan had pushed aside a manhole cover.
“Oh no,” I said. “I can’t swim down there. Not in this condition. I’m... I’m not well, Mr Monagan.”
“I estimate it will take only forty seconds, Mr James. That is, if you don’t struggle. Can you hold your breath for that long?”
“I don’t know...”
“There he is!”
The voice was followed by a bubbling eruption from the crowd from next door. They rushed to the edge of the pool, some of the more adventurous jumping in. Their eyes were full of angry amusement, full of the joy of the chase.
“Now, Mr James!”
And so I allowed Mr Monagan to pull me down into the tunnel. We travelled through blackness, I don’t know for how long. My arms and legs ached: I was sore and bruised inside.
My lungs were starting to ache. I was losing the energy to kick. I felt Mr Monagan grip me tighter and begin to pull with more urgency...
... then, suddenly we burst out into open space and I was gasping for air.
“Mister James! Mister James! Are you okay?”
Weakly, I managed to raise a thumb. I was still gasping, coughing, spluttering.
“Let me pull you to the side, Mister James. There is a ledge where you can get your breath back before we go on again!”
Go on again? I was too weak at the moment to care. Now, however, my eyes were growing accustomed to the strange green illumination of the space into which we had emerged.
“Wh... where are we?” I gasped.
“Beneath Dream London, Mr James!”
“I know that, but where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere not too far from the zoo.”
“What is this place?”
“I don’t understand, Mr James. Surely you have seen the underworld before?”
“No,” I said. “Never!”
It made sense, though. As above, so below. Just as Dream London was changing above ground, so it was down here. Someone had been blowing great bubbles in the earth and lining them with green tiles. Stone statues of naked men and women stood waist deep in the water, green lanterns hung from the ceiling to illuminate the black reflective surfaces beneath.
“This wasn’t here in the past,” I explained. “Everything is changing. We didn’t build this place. We humans, I mean.”
“Oh,” said Mr Monagan. “Oh ...good. I wouldn’t like to think that we humans are responsible for some of the things I saw on the way here.”
“Things? What things?”
“Oh, perhaps I shouldn’t speak of them, Mr James. Now, I see you have your breath back. Perhaps we should get moving. There may be other things following us through the waters now.”
“Other things? Like what?”
“Only thirty seconds this time. Now, take a deep breath...”
AND SO WE made our way through the dark waters beneath Dream London. I was aching and short of breath, but Mr Monagan was patient and gradually we made our way back home. Well, not home. We climbed back above ground near Belltower End.
“But I don’t think we should go there, Mr James. It might still be burning! Perhaps we should go to my – to your place.”
“No,” I said. “That’ll be the first place they look. There’s only one place they can’t find us.”
“Where’s that?”
And that’s why, half an hour later, Mr Monagan half carried me through the door of The Poison Yews. The sound of a cornet playing ceased as I approached the house, and Anna appeared in the doorway.
“I thought you’d run out on us,” she said coolly. “Perhaps you hadn’t heard that Father has lost his job? Something is happening at Angel Tower. The bank has frozen Father’s account. Mother says there was even an assessor from the workhouse at the door earlier on...”
Her voice trailed away as she took in my appearance.
“What happened to you?” she asked, peering closer. It was the first time I had seen her lose her composure.
“I want a bath,” I said.
“You’re bleeding! Your trousers are covered in blood...”
“Just get me to a bath.”
Anna nodded and ran upstairs.
A door opened and Alan shuffled into the room. There was no sign of Shaqeel.
“You’re back,” he said, despondently. “Have you heard?”
“Can you tell me later, Alan?” I said. “I’m soaking wet. I’ve been swimming through shit to get here.”
“It’s all going wrong,” said Alan. “They know. They know about us.”
“They’ve always known about us,” I said. “I’m going for a bath.”
I could hear the sound of running water coming from upstairs. I headed up there, supported by Mister Monagan.
I STAYED IN the bath for what seemed like hours. Mister Monagan kept knocking at the door to check that I was alright. From downstairs I could hear the sound of the door, of people entering and leaving the house. I thought I heard Bill’s voice. I didn’t care. I didn’t really care what was happening in Dream London any more. It all seemed to be completely beyond my control.
As I lay in the bath I felt the weight of my tongue in my mouth. What was in the apple that Honey Peppers had forced upon me? Had I eaten enough to grow a set of eyes in my tongue? Would I end up like Luke Pennies: one of Daddio Clarke’s Wailers?
I finished my bath and went to my room where I dressed in a plain white shirt and dark trousers. Hesitantly, I stuck my tongue out at the shaving mirror and I examined it closely. My tongue was darker than before. I looked carefully – there seemed to be two slits at the end. Nascent eyes.
I turned away from the mirror and something lying on my bed caught my eye. A scroll. The fortune that Christine had bought for me. How on Earth had that got here? I was sure it had been left behind with my old clothes in the zoo. My new clothes, the ones that Honey Pepper had given me, had been taken outside by Mr Monagan to be burned. Who knew what power the Daddio might have over them?
That fortune. They wrote them on the Writing Floor of Angel Tower.
I had a sudden inkling that my future was held in that scroll, not because the scroll saw the future, but rather because the future was being written by the same people who had written on its yellow parchment: a group of well-mannered men and women who sat on the 839th floor of a building that had grown up in the middle of the Square Mile and was casting its shadow over this world. A group of people who thought they knew the way the world should be run.
I carefully unrolled the scroll across the bed, and for the first time I read its full length.
You will meet a Stranger
You will be offered a job
You will be offered a second job
; Go to the inn to meet a friend, one who will betray you
Go to the docks and meet your greatest friend, the one you will betray
Count the colours in the numbers, count the numbers in the words
Avoid the Monkeys in the cage
Attend the meeting at the tipping point of the world
You’re everywhere and nowhere, baby.
Be reminded of the fact that the answer is always love...
Love. The answer is always love. I let go of the scroll in disgust and watched as it rolled back up.
The answer is always love. That’s what you get when you write a fortune. If you don’t look beyond your own experience then all you ever get is what you are and this is what you end up with. Clichés and homilies.
I sat down on the bed feeling something close to despair. The room around me was taller and thinner than ever, stretching its way up to some future where people screwed and drank and recited poetry and sang songs in crowds, and then returned to sit alone in places like this.
A future where people just looked on the surface and disregarded the fact that underneath it all we were just stinking, damaged people who traded each others’ lives whilst reeking of monkey semen.
I hated myself.
There was a knock on the door. I didn’t answer.
Anna pushed it open.
“They’re all downstairs,” she said.
“Who are?” I asked.
She gave me a cool stare.
“Go and see. It’s beginning to move at last. We’re approaching the tipping point.”
“I don’t care,” I said.
“I think you do,” said Anna. “The meeting starts in five minutes in the dining room.”
She walked off, leaving the door open.
The scroll creaked a little on the bed as it rolled itself a little tighter. A line of text sat in plain view.
Attend the meeting at the tipping point of the world
PURPLE
THE MEETING AT THE TIPPING POINT OF THE WORLD
Dream London Page 19
