by P M Cole
*****
The journey to Pimlico was decidedly shorter than the one to Whitechapel, but equally as slime ridden. Colin took the lead, with myself, Olivia, and two others. A girl, named Estelle, who I was sure was a few years younger than I, despite her wise demeanour, and a young man around Colin’s age named Vernon, who looked as if he spent his life on the docks carrying heavy loads. Before we set off, Colin assured me these were the two best fighters he had. ‘Nobody else is becoming a statue,’ he forthrightly said. It was obvious he blamed himself for what had happened, especially to young Fisher, but the truth was, it was I who was responsible.
Estelle and Vernon were both sporting weapons, she a bow, with a quiver on her back and Vernon a large stone hammer, which he carried as if it was a mere twig.
“Warwick Street is right above our head. That’s as close as we can get,” said Colin. He nodded to the girl, and she effortlessly climbed the ladder and dislodged the sewer cover at the top. “Can’t see more than ten yards,” she said to us below. “Wait here.” She then slipped out and was gone into the mist.
I looked at Olivia who looked anxious. “Are you OK?”
She feigned a smile in my direction. “Just want to get this over with.”
“How long has it been since you have seen Mr Hayward?”
“Umm… over ten years.”
A sound came from above our heads and the girl’s face reappeared. “Looks clear.”
We all climbed up the ladder and out to the street.
Estelle was correct, the fog was as bad as I had seen it, and I could only just about make out the path myself and Mr Brooks had walked some days before.
We set off across the road and were quickly approaching the Haywards’ residence when Olivia stopped me. “It might be a good idea if you knock first, and try and tell Berna… I mean Mr Hayward some truth of the situation. We will wait close by if anything untoward should happen.”
“OK…”
I took a deep breath then marched to the door, lifted the knocker and let it drop a few times. As before, footsteps heralded the door opening, and the same maid looking at me. At first, her expression was blank, but then quickly changed. “Why are you here? You must go!” She started to close the door, but I placed my foot on the threshold.
“I cannot! I have to talk to Mr Hayward. It is of the utmost importance!”
The door was still heading towards me when a noise came from the hallway, and disappointment flowed across the maid’s face. She turned around informing whoever was there of my presence, then stepped back, pulling the door open in silence.
“Did you find my items?” Mr Hayward remarked.
I went to reply but stopped on realising he had stopped looking at me.
“Liv?”
“Hello, Bernard…”
Bernard quickly turned to face the maid who was standing a few feet inside. “Go upstairs, make sure Mrs Hayward does not come down.”
The maid hesitated.
“Now!” He then turned back, his face one of concern. “Why are you here?”
“We need to talk, Bernard. Finlay is after this girl. She’s got the ‘gift’.”
His eyes widened and he took two steps forward looking around the street. “Quickly, inside.”
Olivia and I moved into the hallway and he closed the door.
“Who was that?” shouted Mrs Hayward from somewhere on the second floor.
“Just a chimney sweep, dear! They will soon be gone.” He hurried us along the hallway to a door under the stairs, which he opened and ushered us inside of.
“Make sure he doesn’t get soot everywhere like last time!” said Mrs Hayward.
We stepped down the narrow staircase, which turned at the bottom and stepped out into a small hallway. Mr Hayward opened the first door revealing a small kitchen with a door to the garden. He ushered us inside then closed the door. “Someone needs to explain what’s going on.”
Olivia looked at me, so I did my best to relay the events of the last few days, including my previous visit and the encounter with Finlay the previous evening. I hesitated on mentioning the fact of two young people becoming statues until Olivia nodded to me and I then told everything.
She then looked at the bald-headed man who had remained silent. “Well? When I was here, you would have nothing to do with Finlay, has that changed?”
“No, but he hasn’t stopped trying.”
I looked between them both. “I don’t understand…”
Bernard looked at me directly. “I don’t know what Finlay’s interest in you was or is, but I can tell you what that must mean. That you are part of something much larger than just yourself, young lady. And until you understand why he wants you, you will not be able to defend yourself. You say there was some kind of demonic woman there, who turned the two young men to stone?”
I nodded. “I think it was the woman who brought us in, the house mistress, Daria Thorton.”
Bernard scoffed. “So that’s what she goes by these days.”
“You have met her before?” I said.
“Only once, but I did not know what she was when I did. She ran a brothel in the north of the city. I umm… it was a place I frequented in my younger days.”
Olivia frowned.
“She always wore these strange glasses. So nobody ever saw her eyes. The grounds of the house she owned was filled with the most detailed of human statues. There were rumours that clients that were harmful to the women there would be turned to stone. We all laughed at that of course, and so did I until one of my friends went missing one day, and the next, a new statue took pride of place in the lobby of her establishment. The resemblance to my friend was uncanny. That was the last time I ever stepped foot in the place. I then started to look into this woman, her name was Martina Seymour at the time, but could find no records of any standing that she even existed. Having the knowledge that I do of the antiquities, I started to wonder if she was indeed something else from ancient times, something not entirely human. That was before I knew of the world that existed in the shadows of this city…”
He looked at me.
“You say she had a key-shape scar on her hand? Like a branding?”
“Yes, they both do.”
He nodded to himself. “I don’t recall seeing any such mark when I knew her, so it must be a new addition. And she was taking orders from Finlay?”
I went to answer when Colin knocked at the external door making each of us jump slightly.
“Who is that?” said Bernard alarmed.
“He’s with us. That’s Mr Colin Murphy,” said Olivia. “There’s two more with us as well.”
Colin entered. “There’s some strange looking fellas approaching the front of the house.”
“You expecting anyone?” I said.
Bernard shook his head. “No.”
“You want us to take care of them?” said Colin.
“No, no, I’ll go upstairs and see what they want.”
“What if it’s Finlay’s men?” said Olivia.
“I’ll take precautions. Lock the door behind me.” And with that, he was gone. We secured the door.
Olivia looked to Colin. “Go down the side alley, keep an eye on them men. Maybe Estelle can follow them?”
Colin nodded and was gone as well.
As we waited, my mind thought of penny dreadfuls and the monsters that dwelt within their pages…
A loud pop came from outside and my heart sank. I knew the sound, it was ingrained in my soul. It was gunfire.
Olivia sprang to her feet. “We have to leave.”
I went to move towards the kitchen door.
“No, this way, through the garden.”
“But we don’t know what happened, Bernard might be hurt?”
“Colin will take care of it, but we can’t be here.” She pulled the outside door open and we moved onto the damp steps, and then ran up to the rear of the three-storey home. A beautiful lawn, bordered by winter flowers receded into t
he mist.
Estelle came running around the corner. “One of them is hurt, the other ran off, the coppers will for sure be coming.”
“Is Mr Hayward OK?”
Estelle nodded. “He’s fine, he said come by the museum tomorrow and that we have to go.”
Colin appeared with Vernon.
“Bernard said there’s a sewer entrance at the bottom of the garden!” said Colin.
As we all headed across the wet grass and into the fog, a woman could be heard shrieking from the house behind us.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“You can’t be seen in the shop,” said Colin.
We all sat and stood in Olivia’s modest living space. A young girl walked between us offering us a small bowl of broth from a larger cauldron over the fire.
“Nobody knows I’m there anyway. I keep to myself.”
“But even if there’s a chance…”
Olivia looked at him. “She doesn’t want to leave her home, you of all people should understand that. No, we will post some of the Ratters in Fray Street, keep an eye on things.”
“But he’s going to find her eventually…” he continued.
I nodded. “Colin’s right. I can’t keep to the sewers for my entire life, and even if I could, I’m not going to.” I looked at the mostly young faces around me, lit by the fire and another single oil lamp. “And I won’t be driven from my home by the likes of him.” I noticed Olivia smiling. “I lived on the streets for six years, I’m not going back to that.”
“Then what?” said Colin.
I paused in thought. “All of this is because Finlay knows I’m different. He wants to use me, or for me to work for him, who knows, but if we can learn why, like Mr Hayward said, then maybe we can stop him… somehow…” Even I wasn’t sure of my argument, but it was something.
“You can turn him into a frog,” said Vernon in his deep voice.
I smiled. “I’m not sure I can do that, but I can try out on you if you—”
The young man’s eyes widened in shock.
“Calm yourself! I’m joking!”
He sighed, his shoulders relaxing. The others laughed.
I looked down at the mass of metal that had previously been currency.
“I’d appreciate it if you could turn that back into pennies and shillings!” said Colin. More laughter rippled around the room, although it was gallows humour and the smiles quickly faded.
I put my small bowl on the floor. “I better be getting back to the shop, Mr Gladwell will wonder where I have gotten to.”
Colin stood. “I’ll go with you.”
We traipsed through the tunnels, Colin’s oil lamp leading the way.
“What did Liv mean when she said, ‘you would know better than most about leaving your home?’”
“Oh… ah, there’s nothing worth talking about with that story. The past is the past.” I noticed he quickened his pace.
Soon we were back at the Fray Street sewer, and I peered through the grating to my home which was shrouded in dark. I then stepped back and examined the wall. “How hard would it be to drive a small hole here?” I pointed at the damp bricks.
Colin laid his fingers on the wall. “Vernon could probably be through it in a matter of minutes!”
“Hmm… I’d need to cover it with something on the other side. Maybe some kind of door mechanism, so Mr Gladwell did not become aware. There’s also the problem of the noise.”
“Can you not just lay your hands on it and make it break or something?”
The thought had not occurred to me. Nothing about my so-called magic ability made any sense to me, so maybe he was right.
I looked at him, then placed my hands on two parts of the wall, a foot apart and conjured an image of a neatly cut hole…
“Are you trying?”
“Yes, I’m trying, give me a minute…”
I redoubled my focus. “Ugh…”
The unbroken wall looked back at us.
Colin patted my shoulder. “Magic be a fussy maiden. You should practice.”
I agreed although I wasn’t sure what that meant. Practice doing what? Melting pennies and door knobs?
We walked to the ladder and I climbed, pulling the cover off. What light there was left of the day, was already being snuffed out by the thick blanket of fog.
“I’ll be here at 10 a.m., be ready!”
“I will.”
I made my way along the alleyway, feeling the walls and wooden fences to make sure of my route, and unlatched the back gate. Pulling the gate open I stopped in the threshold. The windows in the back room were dark. My view immediately switched to the second and third floors. They were also full of shadow. I hesitated to move any further and looked back the way I came, at the sewer entrance. Could Finlay have found my home? The thought sickened me to my stomach.
I felt the inside of my coat for my crossbow then instantly remembered it was out of bolts.
I slowly placed one boot in front of the other, being alert to any untoward noises around me, and made it to the rear door where I looked through the glass. Inside was only gloom. I quietly pulled the iron handle down, and pulled the door open, wincing with every creak, and moved inside. The room was dark but undamaged. I stood near the sheet between the rooms, but again only silence came from the shop. Lifting the sheet revealed nothing out of place.
I turned, opened the door to the basement and descended slowly.
I was sure I would have noticed movement when I looked through the grating, but I moved carefully in case I missed an assailant. On getting to the bottom of the stairs, I quickly twisted the brass knob on the gas lamp and my underground home came into view. There was no-one there, but there was something different. On my worktop was a folded piece of paper.
I quickly unfolded it.
‘Dear Cog, Please excuse this sudden announcement, but I have had to take leave and visit some old acquaintances.’ For all the years I had known him, he had never talked of his past. I wondered who these people could be. “I will be gone for a few days, but I know the shop will be in good hands. This does mean of course you will need to be shop keeper and clock repairer! But it is high time you improved your social skills anyway. There are some eggs in the pantry. I will be back soon. Mr Gladwell.”
I sat heavily on my stool and sighed.
“Social skills?” I said. “How’s that going to help me against Finlay!”
*****
I allowed the egg to solidify in the pan, then quickly scrambled the result. A knock came at the shop front door.
7 a.m.
Newspaper.
I removed the pan, placing it on the stove and moved into the shop. Outside the window, the scene was the same. Omnibuses and other coaches passing by, and on the pavements clerks hurrying to work. If one of Finlay’s men was out there, there was no way to pick him out from the crowd of grey coats.
I walked back to the other room, grabbed my scarf and wrapped it around my face, so only my eyes were visible, then opened the door.
Mrs Ballingsworth was hitting her blankets with a large wooden stick. I quickly grabbed the newspaper and stepped back inside. Leaving the closed sign where it was.
Instinctively I unrolled the newspaper and placed it on the counter. I then went to walk away when something drew me back. I turned and looked over the front page…
My legs felt weak at the headline.
‘The strange tale of the Agatha Hoxteds’ I didn’t want to read on. “Today, four young women, all with the name Hoxted, first name Agatha were abducted from their homes and places of business almost at the same time across the capital. Each woman was blindfolded and taken by ‘a cart or carriage’ to an unknown location, where they were held in silence for a few moments, then travelled again and ejected onto the street with no explanation for their strange ordeal. Police are currently investigating. If your name is Agatha Hoxted and you have not been abducted, please contact this reporter at their offices in…”
If I ne
eded proof Finlay was looking for me, here it was in black ink. My heart felt heavy for the young women involved. Just a random selection of first and last names had resulted in strangers lives being disrupted. At least none had been seriously hurt.
I returned to the kitchen and downed my breakfast with some tea. I checked the time and, after writing a quick note, copying most of Mr Gladwell’s words, which I placed in the front window, I left by the rear, making sure everything was securely locked and was soon descending into the sewer. I was pleased to see the same four faces from yesterday waiting for me.
“The tunnels run under the museum?” I asked Colin.
“Good morning to you too!”
I smirked.
“A few of them do,” replied Estelle. “It’s not far.”
They went to set off when I handed Olivia the morning newspaper, my finger lingering on the offending story.
Her eyes widened. “This was the name you gave to Thorton?”
I nodded.
She handed it to Colin to see. “No stone unturned.”
“This needs to end. He needs to end,” I said, trying to dull the desperation in my voice.
Olivia placed her hand on my shoulder. “If there’s a way to do that, we will find it. Perhaps by the end of today, we will know.”
We left Vernon behind. Colin said the young man had work to do, and we moved through the tunnels. Our breath made small puffs of smoke in the chilled air, while rodents as big as cats scurried away. The journey was short though, and soon we arrived at a shaft larger than most.
“This should take us into the boiler room under the museum,” said Estelle. I briefly looked at her bow. A number of improvements were possible…
She quickly climbed the ladder and pushed the cover free. Clanks and a continuous chugging noise came from the hole, as well as distant voices.
“Come quickly,” she whispered to us.
I climbed the ladder and emerged into a wide space full of hulking machinery, some of which was vibrating. Iron plates and rivets sat across iron cylinders as big as a coach, which hissed and groaned. I marvelled at the engineering on display.
