Pastworld

by Ian Beck

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, and nodded to Caleb, who sat staring blankly after her as she walked away. Bible J said, ‘Do you know something? A while ago I would have made a play for that nippy – not now though. I think she likes you. You could be in with a chance there, smudger.’ He waited for a response from the boy – nothing.

  Bible J took his cap off the back of the chair and sat idly spinning it on his finger. He finally managed to blow a wobbly ring of cigar smoke, which hovered in the air between them. Caleb watched the smoke as it grew gradually ragged at the edges until finally it faded out altogether. Bible J smiled and put the cap back on to the chair.

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘bull by the horns, first things first. Tell me your name at least, mate.’

  ‘My name is Caleb, Caleb Brown.’

  ‘I get the picture,’ said Bible J. ‘Post finance crash, parents scared shitless, back to the fundamentals, big religion, new puritans . . . See, I know all about that, on account of my own given name.’

  Caleb nodded his head, not really paying much attention to what Bible J was saying. The waitress brought the two tankards of beer. Bible J pushed one of the foaming tankards across the white tablecloth.

  ‘Thirsty?’ he said.

  Caleb took the tankard with both hands. He felt a sudden sensation in his fingers, a prickling on his skin from the cold glass.

  ‘Seeing as we’re on names,’ said Bible J. ‘I’m called Bible J, also known as J the dip.’ He put his tankard down and mimed taking something out of a pocket. He looked around for a moment as if half expecting someone to notice this mime.‘Yeah, Bible J, that’s me, and I’m the best at it,’ he said quietly. ‘I am quite well known. You’ve really lucked in asking me for help, and standing me a meat dinner too, mate. I am a “tea leaf” about town and at your service. I never forget a bloke that’s done me a good turn,’ and he smiled his very friendly smile and reached across the table to shake Caleb’s hand. Caleb brought his own hand up and then nodded his head. Bible J nodded back at Caleb and they shook hands.

  The waitress brought the food, and the table was soon full of plates. ‘Tuck in. I hope you’re hungry,’ Bible J said. Caleb looked up and smiled nervously at Bible J for the first time.

  Bible J looked round the busy restaurant, and under the cover of all the noise he said very quietly. ‘Something really bad has happened to you tonight then?’

  Caleb said, ‘Yes,’ and nodded, and opened his mouth. Bible J watched a bobby walk in through the heavy door, trailing in some wisps and tatters of fog. Bible J held his finger up against his lips. ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘I see trouble. Heads down, eat up and you tell me in a minute.’

  Bible J drank some more of his beer. Caleb looked over at the bobby in his blue uniform and his crested helmet. The bobby was mopping his red face with a handkerchief and chatting and smiling to one of the waitresses.

  ‘Here, have some of these.’ Bible J passed a plate of the fried potatoes across the table, and added a generous dollop of brown sauce.

  Caleb speared one with his fork and ate it automatically.

  ‘That’s better, that’s the way,’ Bible J said. ‘I know you’re on the run, so no need to say anything, just nod. Do you need somewhere to go, a safe place?’

  Caleb nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said Bible J quietly, ‘then perhaps you would do me the honour of accompanying me to my own very special place of refuge.’

  Caleb nodded and then suddenly stood up as if they were to go at once. He pushed his chair back, which squealed loudly on the tiled floor like a fingernail on a blackboard. The restaurant went suddenly quiet. The bobby looked over at Caleb and frowned. After a moment someone laughed and the clattering and the conversations quickly resumed. Caleb sat down again.

  Bible J beamed at Caleb across the table, ‘I should leave the old bill out of it if I was you. Can’t trust ’em. God, you’re that pale though, smudger. What’s happened to you to make you into such a ghost? You’d better tell me now and be quick.’

  Caleb leaned forward on his elbows, shielding himself from the view of the bobby. ‘Well first,’ he said quickly, ‘I saw a man killed, stabbed right in front of me in the street when we were robbed. They killed the blind man and then they blamed me, accused me, pointed me out to people in the street. They hit my father, they punched him and he fell, and I ran away,’ he added, and then he slumped back in his seat, looked across the table at the greasy plates and the fresh, harsh hot tears burst from his face, and his nose ran with snot.

  Bible J said, ‘It’s serious that, blaming you. Did anybody else hear them?’

  ‘Everybody heard,’ Caleb said. ‘The whole street.’

  Bible J let out a low whistle. ‘That is serious. If they think you killed someone in here you know what can happen.’ Bible J put his hands round his neck and mimed a hanging action.

  ‘I know,’ said Caleb quietly. ‘I know.’

  He turned to face the pretty waitress, who had come up to the table.

  ‘Is he all right,’ she said concerned, ‘your friend?’ and she put a piece of paper down on to the table.

  ‘He’s all right, miss. A bit too much to drink at the Halloween party tonight, that’s his trouble, see,’ he said, nodding over at Caleb. ‘Told him to line his stomach first, but he wouldn’t listen to me, would he?’

  ‘It’s a shame,’ the waitress said. ‘Tell him to come back sometime if he feels like it, when he’s better.’

  Caleb had put his head down on his arms.

  The bobby finished his drink, called out a cheery, ‘Good night, all,’ and left.

  ‘Come on then,’ Bible J said. ‘Time to go.’ They stood up to go and Bible J paid the bill. It came to one shilling and sixpence, in old cash money, for both of them. They pushed open the door and went out into the cold night.

  The night streets were still busy with late Gawkers drifting back to their lodging houses and hotels. They were mostly drunk, with their Halloween masks slipped halfway down their faces, or dangling loose around their necks, their costumes all over the place.

  Bible J knew every twist and alley, every twitten. Caleb hardly noticed where he was going; he just allowed himself to be led. He walked with his head tucked down. The snow had almost melted, but the fog remained, and with it a heavy wetness in the air. Bible J sized up the stragglers pretty well. He tapped some of them for a few pennies, engaged their attention, diverted them, and then rifled their coat pockets with the skills of a conjuror. Caleb watched in a daze. Bits of jewellery, scarves, wallets, even a roll of expensive Pastworld authentic bank notes, were all extracted with a flick of the wrist and ended stuffed inside Bible J’s or Caleb’s coat pockets.

  ‘My father told me to run,’ Caleb suddenly said out loud to Bible J.

  ‘What?’ Bible J replied.

  ‘I said my father told me to run.’ Caleb stumbled forward, turned and then he suddenly broke away and ran off. Bible J called out after him to stop, but Caleb ran headlong straight into the fog and the darkness. Bible J hesitated. He should just let the boy run off, but he knew he couldn’t and he set off after him.

  He ran across the cobbles and down some steps. He could hear Caleb’s boots clattering ahead of him. The steps followed the wall of a church and ran beside the churchyard. A string of wet paper lanterns in the shape of skulls hung from the railings, their candles extinguished. Bible J caught up with Caleb. He reached out, and grabbed Caleb’s jacket so hard, that he slowed him down. Caleb twisted round suddenly and they almost fell together across the cobbles.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Bible J said, out of breath.

  ‘My father said I should run and I ran. I left him lying in the dirt with his face punched in.’

  ‘He told you to run because he didn’t want you to get hurt. It’s not your fault. If anyone believes that you killed the other bloke, then you are in real trouble like I said. It’ll do you no good running off like this, you need protection. You won’t get any help or justice from the
police, so you’d best stick with me for now.’

  ‘Where will we go?’ Caleb asked.

  ‘My guvn’ors gaff, like I said before. It’s a walk from here so we’d best get a move on.’

  They walked on through the still busy streets as the sky lightened just a little; a winter dawn was being faded up. There was the occasional street sweeper among the revellers.

  Two men had their arms across each other’s shoulders and were singing something raucous about ‘ghosties’. Bible J lowered his head and slid between them as if to join in. He adjusted to their rolling drunken walk. He momentarily reached his hand into the nearest coat pocket and felt a cold leather wallet against his finger tips, but drunk number two noticed him and, in the way of drunks, lurched suddenly and grabbed tight hold of Bible J’s collar. The Gawker shouted out, his speech slurred with too much cheap Pastworld gin.

  ‘Officer, hey, officers, wherever you are. Over here. I’ve got a thief, a bloody little thief!’

  Bible J pulled hard and tugged himself free. He felt the collar of his coat split as he spun himself round. He called out to Caleb and they set off together fast, putting some distance between themselves and the drunken Gawkers. He heard them call out ‘Stop’ but no one made much of an effort. The straggling crowds dressed up in their fancy halloween costumes were all in too good a mood to stop any running boys. The street was soon full of shouting as one set of well-off drunks called out to another.

  ‘Must be losing my touch,’ Bible J called out as they ran.

  They turned a corner down a walled alley near the Strand and the next thing they knew two red-faced bobbies were standing in front of them looming out of the mist, blocking their way.

  The boys slid to a halt. ‘Now, now, you two, stay right where you are,’ one of the officers said. ‘We have had a report of a series of robberies, dips off of Gawkers in fact, and there has been a killing, a murder. A boy of about your age has been reported as a suspect. We shall need to see your papers, lads.’ Caleb looked blankly back at the policemen. He shuffled himself back a little way and pressed against the alley wall. He reached out to it for support. He heard the distinct jingle and rattle from his coat pockets which had been filled with jewellery and other stuff by Bible J.

  ‘You all right, son?’ said the policeman.

  Caleb looked distressed. The policeman unhooked his lamp and held it closer to Caleb’s face.

  ‘You’ve got your papers then?’ the other policeman said.

  ‘Of course we have,’ Bible J said, brushing himself down. ‘We’re legitimate visitors, give us a chance; they’re just here in my pocket.’

  ‘With respect, all of you lot try that one. If you really are innocent Gawkers, then I need to see the proof.’

  ‘I’m just trying to find the proof.’

  ‘You don’t look very like visitors, especially you. Gawker’s are always clean, with respect,’ the other constable said.

  Caleb watched the exchange between them.

  ‘Wait on,’ said the nearest policeman. ‘Don’t I know you?’ And he shone his lantern directly at Bible J.

  ‘How would you make that out?’ Bible J said, drawing himself up straighter, as if that might confer a little more respectability. Then suddenly he kicked out straight at the nearest policeman and caught him hard in his plump stomach. The constable dropped his iron lamp and doubled over.

  ‘Come on,’ Bible J shouted and he ran straight out into the road, among all the early morning traffic and horses. Caleb froze. ‘Run, you idiot. They’ll lock us up and throw away the key. Come on.’

  ‘That was a serious assault,’ the other policeman said unhooking his truncheon and aiming a swift blow at Caleb.

  Caleb ran.

  .

  Chapter 22

  He followed Bible J and they ducked and dived through the clattering traffic. They ran on together, hidden by the bulk of a horse-drawn omnibus. They heard a police whistle, a piercing shriek. Bible J seemed to take that as his cue and he called out for Caleb to jump and they leaped for the platform by the outside staircase of the omnibus. They landed and clung on to the stair rail. Caleb balanced himself, breathing fast as the omnibus bumped over cobbles and potholes. The policeman blew his whistle over and over, as he pushed his way through the crowds of pedestrians, looking for them.

  The bus conductor made his way out to the platform. ‘Hold on very tightly now, please.’ He noticed the two boys, and the pursuing policeman’s whistle and said in a quieter, and much less friendly voice, ‘You’ve got five minutes to work this lot, and then you’re off. You can do the downstairs, then hop it, quick.’

  The early morning passengers either stood, bumping against one another with the unsteady movement of the bus, or sat on the slatted wooden seats. Bible J pushed between the standing passengers, a fixed, smiling expression on his face.

  ‘Please, sir,’ he said, to a red-faced man in a tweed cape, ‘could you spare a poor lad a penny?’

  One of the other passengers groaned, ‘Oh no, not more of them,’ but the red-faced man fished in his pocket and then held out a great meaty handful of coins. He spoke through his beaming smile in an American accent. Caleb looked back nervously through the window for signs of a police pursuit.

  ‘Now, which of these things is a penny, my lad? I never can seem to get used to your money here,’ he said and he laughed.

  Bible J pulled a bright new penny out of the cluster of coins, and held it up for the man to see.

  ‘OK, so that’s a penny. Help yourself, kid. Maybe you can buy yourself a little soap.’

  The woman sitting next to him muttered, ‘He don’t smell too good.’

  ‘That’s the idea,’ said another passenger. ‘It’s authentic,’ and they all laughed. The boys made their way further between the seats. Bible J collected coins from two more of the Gawkers. Caleb turned to go back to the platform when a hand grabbed at his wrist.

  ‘Hey, you,’ said a man wearing a black suit and a high white shirt collar. Caleb tried to pull his hand away but the man gripped him harder.

  Bible J recognised the plain clothes copper and stepped back and hid himself among the standing passengers. The man’s great round moon face came close to Caleb’s and he breathed sickly sweet minted breath at him as he spoke.

  ‘I’ve seen you. I know all about you and your sort. Perhaps you might show me your accreditation?’

  The omnibus slowed and stopped. ‘Farringdon Road,’ the conductor shouted and rang a bell. The man stood up abruptly and pulled Caleb after him towards the platform. One or two of the passengers applauded.

  ‘I’ve done nothing,’ Caleb called out as he was dragged past the conductor.

  The conductor raised his hands and rang the bell. The man pulled Caleb with him down onto the pavement. Caleb turned his head and looked up at the windows of the departing omnibus. Bible J looked back at him through the window. Bible J held up his hand palm outwards and showed Caleb that he had hold of the watch, his father’s watch. Bible J pointed at the face of the watch and nodded, and mouthed ‘Wait’ to Caleb as he was led off among the crowd.

  M

  Excerpt taken from the Little Planet Guide to Pastworld.TM London

  M

  People visit Pastworld for a variety of reasons. For most it is a trip into the past to experience a way of life and an atmosphere of free and rumbustious living that had, until Pastworld’s completion, all but vanished. The great city of London was chosen, after the apocalyptic financial meltdown at the start of the new century, to be ‘reverted’. The city was retro-fitted and restored to the condition of its great Victorian heyday. The opening ceremony took place at the re-dedication of the once vandalised and destroyed Euston Arch, and an emotional day it was for those who cared for the architecture of the old city.

  Travellers though should be aware of all the legal anomalies and pitfalls. The Buckland Corporation turned back the legal clock too. Old statutes were brushed off and brought back, forced through in
a special Act of Parliament by a panicked government terrified of losing the huge financial patronage of the Buckland Corporation. A man, woman, boy or girl can be hanged for certain crimes, and this brings a frisson of danger to daily life. It’s irresistible to some visitors, risk takers, thrill-seekers or voyeurs.

  There are those who would enjoy watching capital punishment carried out in front of them. There are those who would pay to watch the Ripper disembowel a victim or two, or who wish to witness any number of brutal and psychotic events. Look for instance at the popularity of the bootleg murder tours . . .

  M

  © Little Planet Guide. All rights reserved.

  .

  Chapter 23

  Sgt Catchpole’s spirits lifted. He was back in Pastworld, and this time with a mystery to solve, a proper mission to complete. He left the office at police headquarters and made his way through the night streets to the lodging house he had used many times before. The landlady happily welcomed him back, despite the hour. She fussed over him, made him a nightcap cup of strong tea laced with a little whisky.

  He settled himself down in a comfortable button-backed armchair in his rooms by his landlady’s good coal fire, and began to read the dossier that the Inspector had given him. While he read, he was comforted by the thought that no telephone would ring, no text alert buzz him. There would be no emails to attend to, no screens to monitor, just the crackling of the fire and the rustle of real sheets of paper as he turned the pages and read the file.

  The notes were written in longhand on neat lined pages.

  .

  FILE: The Fantom

  .

  Strictly Confidential

  .

  Subject: The Fantom. AKA The Gentleman.