Under Gornstock

by Clive Mullis

  Cornwallis shook his head. ‘No, it may go against the grain, but we’ll stick to this. Even Frankie would be able to follow it. Can I have a copy?’

  Goodhalgan moved over to another table and picked up a scroll. ‘Here, have this one. We’ve got a couple more,’ he said, handing it over.

  ‘Thanks, I’ve got an idea: we make it smaller, then print it and stick it up in the carriages. By the way, has anything else happened? I mean like Sigi’s encounter.’

  Goodhalgan shook his head. ‘No, not yet, but I’m not optimistic about it continuing like that.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because of these.’ He turned back to the table and picked up some scrunched-up bits of paper. ‘They keep getting thrown into the entrances.’

  Cornwallis unscrambled a bit and read. “Stop The Pipe.”

  ‘And this,’ said Goodhalgan handing over another.

  “Scummy Dwarf bastards.” Cornwallis read.

  ‘And this.’

  “Short arses go home.”

  ‘Nice,’ observed Cornwallis. ‘Not exactly eloquent. I thought you said nothing had happened?’

  ‘Nothing has. We get these sort of things all the time, but it seems to have increased a bit over the last few days.’

  ‘You think because of The Pipe?’

  ‘Yes, but that ain’t going to stop us.’

  ‘No, but maybe…?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, the cabbies are setting up in competition. They plan to start an above ground sort of Pipe. They’re going to call it a bus service.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘We might have an interesting couple of weeks ahead of us.’

  Chapter 14

  Rose made her way through the streets accompanied by the catcalls, whistles, suggestions and downright lewd comments that generally followed a girl in Gornstock. Strangely enough, it didn’t happen as often when accompanied by either Jack or Frankie.

  Long ago, she decided to embrace her femininity and appearance and not hide under layers of clothes or to stay behind locked doors only venturing out when she had a chaperone. It wasn’t her fault that she looked the way she did; she knew other girls had the same problem, all of whom suffered from the sexist one-dimensional attitude of an egocentric narrow-minded bunch of imbeciles whose minds and thoughts originated from just below the waistband of their trousers. It wasn’t her fault that society had taught male superiority over females since the founding of the city or even further back than that, despite proof to the contrary. The system continued to teach boys to be bastards, while the girls were still taught to be meek and compliant; but that should be ancient history now — rising from the ashes of the past, modern Gornstock should flower and embrace the changes in society.

  Since the police force had recruited women, society had begun a sea-change. More and more women were asserting themselves, and the right to be themselves, demanding the long-overdue respect that they deserved; Rose could feel it in her bones that the change would actually happen; it might take a while but in the end, women will get there, treated as equals with men.

  She headed for the Assembly, the place where she hoped to find the information she sought: the owners of the two empty houses.

  With a great deal of willpower, she managed to ignore the temptations wafting on the air as she went past Sal’s Sizzler. Frankie’s mum owned the best street stall in the city and she rarely passed up an opportunity to indulge, but this time she just gave a cheery wave from the other side of the street and promised herself she’d make use of it on the way back.

  Two Morris guards stood sentinel at the ornate entrance to the Assembly, resplendent in traditional uniform of knee-breeches with white shirts and dark waistcoats. Bells tied to their knees tinkled and they wore dark hats with colourful ribbons dangling and catching in the wind. They held their batons upright, ready to defend the Assembly from attack by a rampaging populace. Onlookers paused, looking on admiringly, waiting for the next ceremonial changing of the guard.

  However, being female, she couldn’t use the main entrance; she had to go around to the side to an unobtrusive door.

  The side entrance may have been unobtrusive, but it was made of stout oak with an inner lining of solid iron, belying its appearance: this door was not for the faint-hearted, it was the women’s entrance.

  The hatch slid open at her knock and two beady eyes scrutinised her. Somehow, she managed to suppress the urge to poke an eye with her finger and waited until they had seen what they wanted to.

  ‘Cook, clean or the other?’ the male voice enquired.

  ‘None of the above,’ replied Rose evenly.

  There were a few seconds of contemplative silence. ‘I grant you don’t look like a cook or a cleaner, but you look pricey. Inner Circle?’

  Rose sighed. ‘If you must know, the Earl of Bantwich.’

  ‘Ooo, lucky old earl.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  The hatch slid shut and the door began to rattle as the locks were drawn. The door swung open and Rose stepped inside.

  Unlike the guards at the front of the building, this one dressed in plain dark garb with a short, presumably sharp, sword hanging from his waist.

  He looked her up and down, several times.

  ‘Look, I’m off in half-an-hour, when yer finished with his earlship, perhaps… you know? I’ve done a bit of overtime an’ can afford to splash out a bit. What do you say?’

  ‘I’d say no,’ replied Rose, knowing that to reply in her normal manner would prevent her from seeing the earl. ‘Besides, the earl can be very demanding.’

  ‘Oh, oh well, perhaps another time then.’

  Rose just smiled and waited while the seconds ticked by.

  ‘Right, I’ll send someone up,’ the guard said eventually.

  ‘Perhaps that’s the best thing to do,’ replied Rose sweetly. ‘Can’t keep him waiting, you know.’

  The guard poked his head through the connecting door. ‘Oi, Dobbie, there’s a girl out ‘ere for the Earl of Bantwich: blonde and expensive. Go give ‘im the nod, will yer.’

  The guard turned back and renewed the leer.

  Rose returned the look evenly and felt her hackles begin to rise.

  ‘Now, sweetheart, you’ll be waiting here fer a few minutes, so…’

  Dobbie returned a while later and let her through.

  ‘Oh, what happened here?’ he said looking towards the floor.

  Rose regarded the guard lying prostrate with his legs drawn up, moaning softly. ‘Nothing really, must have the gripes.’

  ‘Yeah, lot of it about,’ he replied, looking at her warily. ‘Come wiv me and I’ll show you up,’ he added as he cast a last look at the guard on the floor.

  The earl sat in his office surrounded by paperwork, a flunkey darted in and out adding to the piles as Rose stood at the door. The title “Minister without Portfolio” meant, in his case, that he was the Wardens deputy, just one step away from supreme power in the city.

  ‘Ah, come in, my dear. I wondered who wanted to see me. The description passed to me gives no justice to your finer points.’

  Rose raised an eyebrow. ‘They being?’

  ‘Beauty and intelligence, as well as a fair degree of brute force and artifice.’ He smiled and indicated that she should sit down.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said sweetly.

  ‘Now, what can I do for you?’

  Rose pulled out a piece of paper with the two addresses on it. ‘I need… we need, to find out who owns these places.’

  ‘Do you? A bit of detectoring is it?’

  ‘You could say that. Two young men ran into them. The same two men who had just lobbed a brick through Frankie’s window, which landed in Tulip’s cot, a brick which had a message attached which said, “Stop The Pipe.” Frankie had just lifted Tulip out of the cot, as she couldn’t sleep. You can imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t.’

  The earl looked aghast. ‘Oh gods,’ he exclaimed.

/>   ‘We think the two men had keys to the houses.’

  ‘Willy,’ he yelled at the door.

  A head appeared shortly after. ‘Yes, sir?’

  The earl proffered the piece of paper. ‘Find out who owns these places, but first, get some coffee in here.’

  ‘Yes, sir, right away, sir.’ He disappeared back out the door and then a few moments later he returned. ‘Will that be coffee for two, sir?’

  ‘Too bloody right it will. Now, shift your arse, this is important.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The earl leant back in his chair. ‘He’ll get onto it right away. Willy is very good at ferreting stuff out.’

  Rose raised an eyebrow.

  The earl grinned. ‘It can be fun when you get someone to shout out that they need a Willy quickly.’

  Rose smiled. ‘I’m sure it’s very appropriate sometimes, especially in this place.’

  ‘You can be sure of that. Won’t be a minute, I just have to sign this pile and then I’m all yours.’

  The earl began to scribble away and Rose took the opportunity to regard him for the umpteenth time. Suave, sophisticated, debonair and handsome; he was definitely Jack’s father. She looked at the man that Jack would become in thirty years’ time and hoped she would still be around to see it. Jack would become the earl and if by then they had married then that would make her… what? A countess? It didn’t bear thinking of; Jack hated titles, he should be a Lord, by rights, but he said life is easier when he just stays an Honourable. She studied the earl’s face as he concentrated. The salt and pepper hair still luxuriant and shiny, sun-tanned face with character lines etched in; a striking-looking man, she could see how women fawned over him. She knew he took advantage of that, but only up to a point. He’d flirt, but he never took it further than that nowadays.

  ‘Right, that’s all done now. Where is that coffee?’ said the earl looking up.

  The rattling of the cups wafted through the air and shortly a woman appeared pushing a wheeled trolley.

  ‘Here we is, me dearie, nice pot of your strongest. Can’t let you fall asleep on the job now, can we?’

  Rose raised her eyebrows: A woman, in the upper offices, working?

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Piperly, that would be most welcome and do I see a few little accompaniments?’

  ‘Of course, sir. I knows how you like a little nibble now and again.’

  ‘Oh, I do, I do, Mrs Piperly.’

  ‘Same as my Stanley, sir, ‘e especially likes it in bed, always wants a nibble, does Stanley.’

  ‘Does he indeed,’ said Rose, a hint of a smile on her lips.

  ‘Oh, yes, ducks, but the bloody crumbs get everywhere, if you know what I mean. Some days my arse looks like it’s been sandpapered.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Piperly,’ said the earl jumping in. ‘If you just leave everything on the desk you can go and see to the others.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. You’re my favourite gentleman, you is, sir.’ She turned to face Rose. ‘You be gentle with ‘im, miss, you know how the old ‘un’s think that they’re still young ‘un’s.’

  She turned and wheeled the trolley back out, the cups rattling nicely.

  ‘Er…’ said the earl. ‘She sometimes gets the wrong end of the stick,’ he explained quickly. ‘Let’s be honest, most of the members here take advantage of their position and there’s a fair rate of grunting coming from behind locked doors. I reckon the Assembly could count itself the biggest brothel in all of Gornstock.’

  ‘You do surprise me,’ said Rose laconically. ‘I suppose, looking at some of them, they’d be hard-pressed to get it any other way.’

  ‘Too true,’ replied the earl. ‘The irony is that it all goes down on expenses, so the bloody city ends up paying for it all.’

  ‘I thought you had put a stop to all that some time ago?’

  ‘I did, for a while, but it creeps back and there has to be some things which you have to turn your back on. This is one of them. We know it goes on so we can control it and we use it to exert a little pressure now and again. A bit of lee-way makes them more pliable when certain occasions arise. This is politics, you know.’

  ‘Glad I’m not involved then.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish I weren’t’

  ‘And Mrs Piperly?’

  The earl smiled. ‘She’s the result of the good commander recruiting women to the police force. The Warden decided to allow some of your gender to rise up from the basement. We now have tea-ladies on all the floors, instead of them making it downstairs and letting a man bring it to the offices, which is an improvement because now it’s hot.’

  ‘A revolution then.’

  ‘It is for this place, but the good part is that there are going to be discussions on allowing some women to actually be more than just cleaners and tea-ladies. There might be women secretaries and assistants soon.’

  Rose’s eyes widened. ‘Well, that will cut down on expenses, then.’

  The earl thought for a moment and then twigged the implication. ‘Possibly, but that will probably bring me more problems to deal with. As I said, some members think that they’re entitled to do what they want to women, up to now they’ve got away with it. I hope things will change when we actually employ them in responsible positions.’

  Rose barked a short laugh. ‘That remains to be seen, but I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you.’

  ‘Little acorns, don’t forget.’

  ‘I hope it’s going to be crushed nuts, actually.’

  The earl pulled a face. ‘Ooh, that sounds quite painful.’

  ‘Nothing less than they deserve.’

  ‘True, too true. Now, tell me what else has been happening.’

  The next twenty minutes brought the earl up to speed with the latest developments and state of play with regards to The Pipe. The cabbies starting a bus service was new to him, though sometimes things took a while to filter down, especially if it’s only a proposal. The guilds only ever sounded out those who were likely to agree with them.

  Willy knocked briefly and then entered, handing over the sheet of paper in his hand.

  ‘That will be all for now, thank you.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Willy as he retreated.

  ‘Now, let’s see what we have here,’ said the earl, unfolding the sheet with a flourish.

  Chapter 15

  Big George, the brown bear, pedalled furiously, turning the fan which wafted the fug of alcohol and stale tobacco out of the open door of the Stoat. The miasma had been building up for days now and although many welcomed the atmosphere, the arrival of Isabella and Tulip had forced Eddie’s hand. Dwarfs, animals and older humans could breathe the fetid air without it affecting them, but he couldn’t force a baby to breathe in the stench, it went beyond the pale. It had to go and George made sure it went.

  Frankie sat on a stool at the bar with a pint in one hand and flicked some beer mats with the other, stacking the mats one by one until the layers built. He flicked a seven stack and lost concentration, shooting the mats in all directions at once. Millie, the barmaid, wasn’t impressed as she fished out an errant stray from the front of her blouse.

  ‘Sorry,’ apologised Frankie with a weak smile.

  ‘You’re bored, aren’t you?’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Not used to sitting on me arse doing nothing. I mean, I do enjoy sitting on me arse doing nothing when I have something to do, but it’s this hanging around that gets on me nerves, doing nothing when I’ve got nothing to do.’

  ‘There must be something not to do?’

  ‘Nope, I ain’t allowed. Isabella won’t let me help sort everything upstairs and Jack won’t let me loose out there. So for once in me life, doing nothing is what I gots to do.’

  ‘There’s a load of glasses to wash behind here—‘

  ‘Hang on, steady, girl,’ replied Frankie, interrupting her and holding up a hand. ‘There are limits, you know.’

  Eddie walked in from outside and took a deep breath, o
ne that turned his chest into a big round ball. ‘Ah, that smells better. Shame about the piazza though, like walking through a lace curtain out there. Never mind, it’ll waft away soon, hopefully towards the Duke and then they can’t complain I never give them anything.’

  The Duke was the pub on the other side of the little square.

  ‘They’ll always find something to complain about,’ said Frankie, taking a slurp. ‘I were in there a couple of weeks ago, had to, because of work,’ he added as he saw the look on Eddie’s face. ‘They looked at me as if I were a dog turd on the end of a boot, then I looked down and found there was a dog turd on the end of me boot. I wondered where the smell came from.’

  ‘So they were right,’ said Millie.

  ‘Gods no, I mean they looked at me as if I were the turd. They ignored the actual turd itself.’

  ‘No accounting for some folk, is there,’ said Eddie. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Wiped the shit off on their rug, the good one, you know, then ordered a pint and then pinned a shyster up against the wall.’

  ‘Bit radical just because they looked at you funny.’

  ‘No, ‘e were the one I were after; didn’t reckon on getting caught with his hand in the till, so to speak. He were syphoning off money from his employer to fund the lifestyle he wanted to aspire to; hence I were in the Duke.’

  Big George climbed off the seat of his pedal fan and stretched the aching muscles away. He slowly walked over to the bar and downed the pint that Millie had poured for him in one.

  ‘Needed that, Mr Kandalwick, works up a thirst, does that.’

  ‘I just have to walk in a pub to get a thirst on. Don’t need to do all that pedalling just to get nowhere; beats me why someone would invent something like that.’

  ‘It clears the air, Mr Kandalwick. Does a grand job, it does.’

  ‘Ah, Frankie,’ said Cornwallis as he stepped over the threshold. ‘One pint pronto, if you please, and by the way, have you farted out there? Stinks like shit and you can’t see your hand in front of your face.’

  ‘Blame George here, he just fanned the pub clean.’