Under Gornstock

by Clive Mullis

  ‘Good idea,’ replied Tiffany. ‘Suddenly, I’m not that sleepy.’

  Chapter 17

  ‘I wonder what sort of night our three friendly feelers have had?’ mused Rose as she put a mug of coffee down on the bedside table.

  Cornwallis lifted himself up on one elbow and reached out for the mug. ‘Hopefully, we’ll find out soon. Oh, you’re already dressed.’ He sounded disappointed.

  ‘I am; so no morning exercises for you, tiger. I’ll wait downstairs; Frankie and Maud should be in soon.’

  Cornwallis sighed a wistful moan as he put the mug down and rolled back over, staring at the ceiling. As Rose walked out, he lifted the blanket and shook his head ruefully.

  Maud had already begun work but Frankie hadn’t yet made an appearance. The secretary fiddled with some files, trying to make some sense of them after Cornwallis had tried to search for something. She tried not to sound exasperated as she transferred various sheets of paper back into their correct location.

  ‘I really wish he’d ask me for what he needs. It’ll make things so much simpler.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ responded Rose sympathetically. ‘You try living with the man, he’s worse than a two-year-old. Never puts anything back; then moans he can’t find things when he needs them.’

  Maud nodded and smiled knowingly.

  ‘Isabella has the same problem with Frankie,’ continued Rose. ‘I’m not sure whether they do it on purpose so that we have to do everything for them.’

  ‘Tradition has a lot to answer for,’ said Maud. ‘The Morris were bastards for that and they perpetuated the ethos of male superiority.’

  Rose raised her eyebrows at Maud’s swearing. She never swore as a rule. ‘But you go to a Morris re-enactment club.’

  ‘I do, but it’s a bit of light relief and I meet some nice people; doesn’t mean I agree with what they did and stood for. We’re moving into modern times now, throwing off the yoke of oppression, leaving the old ways behind and moving forwards. The trouble is, we’re having to drag the male of the species through the mire that they made. We give in now and they’ll never get out of the habits of old.’

  ‘There is that to it,’ said Rose. ‘Perhaps I’ll have another word with Isabella.’

  ‘It’ll do Mr Kandalwick good, and Mr Cornwallis, if you don’t mind me saying. They both need a bit of a kick up the arse.’

  ‘Morning,’ cried Frankie, as he breezed into the office. ‘I see most of us are up and ready for the day, where’s his nibs?’

  ‘His nibs will be here shortly,’ replied Rose, turning to look at him.

  Maud did likewise.

  ‘What?’ asked Frankie after a few moments, their expressions indicating that he had done something wrong. ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  ‘No,’ said Rose pointedly. ‘That’s the problem.’

  Frankie looked from one to the other. ‘You’ve lost me there.’

  Rose sighed. ‘It doesn’t really matter. Maud and I were just talking about some things and you came through the door at the wrong time.’

  ‘Oh, and what were you talking about?’

  ‘Men.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘No, you don’t, that’s the problem.’

  Frankie scratched his head and looked confused. ‘Which problem’s that?’

  Rose sighed again. ‘Empathy, consideration, equality, understanding, thoughtfulness. Do you want me to go on?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Frankie. ‘You’re listing all my good points.’

  ‘For your information, I’m listing all the points that you, and men in general, lack.’

  ‘Never,’ responded Frankie. ‘I got it all in bucket-loads. You just ask Isabella.’

  ‘We have,’ said Rose and Maud together.

  Another few moments of silence.

  ‘You’re ganging up on me, ain’t you? I seem to recall having similar slights made against my person in the past.’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t listen.’

  ‘I always listen.’

  ‘Maybe, but you never hear.’

  ‘That’s what I like to see,’ said Cornwallis, stepping in. ‘Healthy debate and a friendly exchange of views first thing in the morning, sets you up nicely for the day ahead. Get the arguments over with early, is what I say.’ He clapped his hands and rubbed them together in a brief display of enthusiasm.

  ‘Bloody hell, Rose,’ said Frankie in shock. ‘You slipped those happy pills into his coffee?’

  ‘No,’ replied Rose. ‘But maybe I should give him the other ones.’

  ‘Just trying to relieve the tension that obviously pervades this establishment this morning,’ answered Cornwallis, walking over to the coffee pot and showing his disappointment by pulling a face when he found it empty. ‘There’s no coffee.’

  ‘No,’ said Maud, picking up a sheet of paper and giving it a short sharp shake.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you haven’t made it yet.’

  ‘I’ve only just walked in. The agreement is that the first one in puts the pot on.’

  ‘And who is the first one in, most of the time?’

  ‘Er, you are, Maud.’

  ‘Exactly, Mr Cornwallis. If it’s not me then it’s Miss Morant. It’s never you or Mr Kandalwick. Today I am putting my foot down. I’m going on strike.’

  ‘Strike?’

  ‘Yes, at least as far as the coffee is concerned.’

  Cornwallis scratched his head. ‘I’ve never heard of the thing. Rose?’

  ‘Don’t look at me, I’m with Maud.’

  ‘What’s brought this on?’

  ‘You have, the pair of you,’ replied Rose, suppressing the grin. ‘I’ll tell you what, I’ll show you how to make the coffee; then you’ll have no excuse.’

  ‘Wha…? I make the coffee, sometimes, and so does Frankie.’

  ‘Emphasis being on the sometimes, and never in the morning.’

  Cornwallis sighed. ‘Great; Frankie, put the coffee on,’ he ordered.

  ‘Whoa, Jack.’ Frankie held his hands up in defence. ‘I think Rose indicated that as you is the last one in, you should, and anyway, I’m the one who had to get out of me own house.’

  ‘And where have you relocated to?’

  ‘That’s beside the point.’

  All four took a moment of contemplation.

  ‘Okay,’ conceded Cornwallis in the end. ‘I’ll make the bloody coffee and then perhaps we can get to work.’

  Rose and Maud exchanged grins of victory.

  ‘One point to the girls,’ said Rose triumphantly.

  ‘I heard that,’ said Cornwallis warningly.

  With the coffee sorted, the focus turned to the main business of the day. The cat and feelers were yet to report in, which meant that something must have happened. The initial morning banter ground to a halt as the time wore on and a few worried frowns began to appear, not least from Rose, who felt that she should have been with them on their night-time vigil.

  ‘I feel guilty,’ she announced. ‘I shouldn’t have gone down the pub with you.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Cornwallis. ‘They’re feelers, they know the streets. They will have been in worse situations, plus they have the cat with them.’

  Frankie nodded. ‘Yeah, I hate to admit it, but that cat is worth more than two young yobs any day. He’d rip ‘em to shreds if they gave him even a little trouble.’

  ‘See,’ said Cornwallis. ‘No need to worry. They’re just a little late; they could even be at the Yard processing them. We’ll hear soon.’

  ‘That’s not good enough,’ said Rose sighing. ‘I’m going to look for them,’ she added, coming to a decision.

  Cornwallis and Frankie exchanged a look as Rose stood up.

  ‘We’ll all go,’ said Cornwallis as she began to walk towards the door. ‘Just hang on a minute.’

  Rose stopped, turned and crossed her arms, her impatience indicated by the tapping of a foot. Cornwallis ignored the obvious signs and
finished the dregs in his mug before standing up and adjusting his trousers. Frankie mimicked the actions which elicited a deep sigh from Rose.

  ‘They’re doing it on purpose,’ observed Maud. ‘In retaliation for earlier.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ agreed Rose. ‘They’re just being petulant little brats. However, if they keep this up, then one of them will be sleeping in the spare room.’

  Cornwallis’ head shot up. ‘Er…?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘Come on, Frankie, can’t take all day, you know,’ said Cornwallis, afraid that rationing might come into play. ‘Hurry up.’

  ‘I’m coming; I’m just waiting for you.’

  Cornwallis flashed a big beaming smile and walked towards Rose.

  Rose shook her head sadly and then reached for the door. She snatched the handle and the door flew open revealing a little ball of fluff sitting on the mat.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ said Fluffy. ‘I ain’t even announced my arrival.’

  The three heads of the detectives stared down at the ginger menace.

  The brief moment where nobody moved and nobody spoke flittered by, like a tableau, caught in a lightning strike.

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Rose, the first to react. ‘Where are the others?’

  Fluffy held up a paw. ‘Nuffing, they’re keeping an eye on the little bastards, that’s all. I’m ‘ere to get youse lot, so stop buggering about and come wiv me.’

  ‘Really,’ exclaimed Maud from inside the office. ‘That cat’s language just gets worse.’

  Chapter 18

  He hammered the last nail in with a flourish, sighed heavily and then began to climb down the ladder. He’d now erected the shed and even if he said so himself, he could feel proud of it: it was a shed built to last; a shed of elegance; a shed that anyone gazing upon it could look at it and nod knowingly, knowing that nothing could compare to this shed; a shed built with his own hands, designed and constructed with the finest of materials; the shed of sheds, he even may go so far as to say, the king of sheds; just one more thing to do and it would be finished. He bent down to the precious object nestling in a soft blanket and lovingly unwrapped it. Solemnly, he ambled over to fix it to the side of the shed. He pulled the last nail from his pocket and placed it in the little hole he’d drilled earlier. He raised the hammer and smacked the head of the nail, driving it into the wood. “Tikits,” said the plaque he’d just nailed up, written in fine squiggly writing. The poshest of signs now adorned it, setting the shed off perfectly.

  And then the arsonists decided to strike.

  The oil-soaked ball of rags bounced down the steps from the entrance and rolled forwards, flames were already licking and flicking, but unaware, the dwarf looked upon his shed with pride. The ball rolled on remorsefully, its momentum carrying it along until it came to rest in the little gap between the floor and the shed. It fizzed and sizzled, hidden from plain sight.

  The dwarf sniffed as he opened the door to gaze at the shelves and cubby holes; there were cheering sounds coming from upstairs but he ignored these, instead, he just gazed lovingly at the thing he had created. He’d taken time to carve the intricate shapes of the various drawers and had greased the runners so that they would slide silently and smoothly. He sniffed again as he stepped inside and opened up the hatch where folk would stand to buy their tickets. He tried the little seat with the soft cushion and sighed as he lowered his backside down to test the upholstery. He grew concerned that the smell could be coming from somewhere close and he scratched his head in puzzlement as his nose twitched at the acrid whiff.

  A frown creased the dwarf’s brow as he looked down. Little tendrils of wispy smoke rose up from between the planks of wood, turning corkscrew as they wafted up towards the roof. He stroked his beard, bent down and peered closer, just as a lick of flame shot out of the gap, catching the hairs, singeing them, turning the ends into crispy frazzles. His eyes widened.

  ‘Fire!’ he bellowed as the realisation dawned that a dwarf’s worst nightmare could be coming to pass: an uncontrolled fire in the tunnels.

  ‘Fire!’ he yelled again, then shot out of the shed and knelt down, peering into the gap.

  The little ball of rags blazed nicely, getting up to maximum temperature with the fire grabbing hold of the wooden fuel. Draughts of air wafted through the gaps, sending flames shooting out of the side.

  ‘Fire!’ shouted the dwarf again, and then shortly he could hear the patter of tiny but heavy feet.

  ‘What’s that you yelling,’ said a dwarf, coming around the corner.

  ‘I said “Fire.” You brought any water?’

  ‘No, just wondered what all the fuss was about. Looks like your shed’s on fire.’

  ‘Really? I would never have known. Perhaps we should get some water on it, in that case.’

  ‘Now, no need to get like that; where am I goin’ to get enough to put that out, eh?’

  ‘I hoped you weren’t on yer own. Bucket chain would be good.’

  ‘Everyone’s too far away; anyway, looks like yer shed’s had it.’

  The fire gave a roar and the base of the shed collapsed bringing the sides down with it. With the absence of the sides, the roof collapsed too, in an almighty crash and a shower of sparks and flames.

  Another dwarf came jogging around the corner and this one carried a bucket of water.

  ‘Heard someone yell “Fire,” he said as he skidded to a stop. ‘Oh,’ he added as he looked at the shed. ‘Might be a bit late now.’

  The dwarf gazed at the bucket then looked again at the shed and sort of shrugged his shoulders. He threw the bucket over the fire, which hissed momentarily as a bolt of steam shot up and then carried on burning regardless.

  ‘Oh, well, I tried,’ said the dwarf with the bucket.

  ‘You tried?’ exclaimed the first dwarf. ‘That was my sodding shed!’

  ‘Yeah, nice bit of filigree on that bit there. Take you long to do that?’

  ‘Take me…?’ Like his shed, the dwarf steamed nicely.

  Cornwallis, Frankie and Rose rushed through the streets chasing after Fluffy, his little legs pounding the pavement as he skidded and dodged the legs of the crowds.

  ‘C’mon,’ yelled Fluffy, to the bemusement of the pedestrians, who looked everywhere but down as they tried to discover the origin of the calls. ‘This way.’

  The three detectives followed the cat as he dived into an alley. They pounded down the unsavoury looking thoroughfare and emerged at the bottom, unscathed but with their noses twitching.

  ‘Nice place for a toilet,’ observed Rose.

  ‘Makes you proud to know the citizens like to keep the turds out of the midden,’ replied Frankie. ‘That’ll be blocked off soon by a wall of shite.’

  They emerged into Collider Square and then elbowed their way through the massed ranks of ne’re-do-well’s, spongers, beggars and the occasional honest burgher going about their daily business to the far side where they found Felicity hopping impatiently from foot to foot.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked Cornwallis as he stood next to her.

  ‘They’ve gone down there,’ she said pointing to Pickalilly, ‘I can just see Tiffany.’

  The three turned to look and could just see Tiffany’s head bobbing up and down like one of those toys you get where you hit a figure on a spring with a mallet.

  As they walked towards Tiffany, Felicity brought them up to date with what had happened during the night and so far this morning, all the while keeping an eye on the bobbing head.

  ‘Where’s Dewdrop?’ asked Frankie, scanning the crowd when they came up to Tiffany.

  ‘Over there,’ said Tiffany, indicating another crowd of people by the dwarf entrance. ‘I think there’s something going on.’

  Cornwallis saw the body language of the crowd and felt the hairs prickle on his neck. ‘There’s definitely something wrong there, can’t you feel it?’

  Rose nodded. ‘Yes, they’re up to no good. Look at them; they’
re spoiling for a fight.’

  ‘Then let’s give them one,’ suggested Frankie. ‘Especially if those two little shits are in there.’ He flexed his fingers before balling them into a fist. ‘A nice little ruck will do me no end of good, the way I’m feeling.’

  ‘I think it would be best to find out exactly what’s happening first,’ said Cornwallis, casting an eye Frankie’s way. ‘There could be an innocent explanation.’

  ‘There could be, but I doubt it.’

  ‘Emphasis on could. Now, where’s that bloody cat gone now?’

  ‘He’s over there,’ said Rose taking a step towards the crowd. ‘I think he’s looking for Cecil.’

  A cat disappeared beneath the feet of the gathered crowd, wriggling through a gap until the tail vanished from view with a determined flick.

  ‘Oh, great. We’re going to have a flat cat to deal with now,’ observed Cornwallis.

  Frankie chuckled. ‘I thought you knew that feline. If anything’s going to get flattened, I tell you, it ain’t gonna be Fluffy.’

  A hoarding caught Rose’s attention out of the corner of her eye: an advert for The Pipe. A happy rosy-cheeked family holding baskets as they sat in a carriage pulled by an equally rosy-cheeked dwarf wearing a big wide smile with a rope attached to his waist. “Tomorrow’s future today,” proclaimed the headline, with the subtext saying, “The Pipe, coming soon.”

  ‘Your man is starting to earn his dollars then,’ said Rose, jabbing Cornwallis in the ribs and indicating the ad.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Cornwallis as he turned his head and gave a self-satisfied smile at the hoarding. ‘They’re going up all over the city.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ said Frankie, now grinning. ‘They all got that extra bit too?’

  ‘What extra bit?’

  ‘That bit,’ said Frankie, pointing to the dwarf’s nether regions. ‘He’s normally got that bit tucked away in his trousers.’

  Cornwallis took another look. ‘That’s only been up a couple of days, it doesn’t take the artists long to add their additions, does it?’ he said ruefully.

  The noise of the crowd rose up a few decibels before dropping away to an unsure murmuring. A hesitation then seemed to drift over it as if someone had thrown a blanket of uncertainty over it all.