Pastworld

by Ian Beck

  ‘No, I haven’t. You’re not that important to me.’

  ‘I wish I could believe that of you. I think I am very important. I am sure that they are all out there looking for me right now. Trailing me the best they can, which is not very well. On the Outside they would find me in an instant, but not in here. I think that they never want to find me at all. I am a major attraction in this benighted city of yours, am I not? If what was supposed to happen actually happened as it was meant to, I would be the biggest attraction in this place, and I am sure your Mr Buckland would just love it.’

  A group of ragged men had gradually assembled at the back of the ticket hall. They watched the exchange between the Fantom and his mysterious prisoner for a minute or so, and then one of their number stepped forward into the brighter light. The Fantom turned and looked the man up and down.

  ‘Are you standing so near me for a bet? Well, I am afraid you have lost. I’m busy.’

  ‘No, sir, I’ve something to tell you.’

  ‘It had better be worth the risk you’re taking,’ the Fantom replied, moving closer to the shivering man.

  ‘I’ve found out where Jago’s Pandemonium Show caravans are parked up.’ His sudden smile showed his crooked yellow teeth.

  .

  Chapter 39

  Inspector Lestrade arrived at the lodging house and asked for Sgt Catchpole. The landlady showed him into the cosy drawing room, where Catchpole was reading. He looked up.

  ‘Good evening, Inspector,’ Catchpole said. ‘What brings you here at this hour?’

  ‘Good evening, Sergeant Catchpole,’ Lestrade said. ‘Mr Buckland himself asked me to bring this over to you at once.’ He handed over the envelope. ‘It seems a local station picked up a particular felon, the very youth that you are looking for as part of your investigation. The youth was signed out on a corrupt surety bond. All the details and the address and so on are in there.’

  ‘You bring this now at this hour?’

  ‘Yes, I am sorry for the lateness. In this case I am simply the messenger,’ said Lestrade.

  ‘Does Buckland have police records delivered to him regularly?’ Catchpole said, puzzled.

  ‘Buckland has a whole roster of tame policemen. Did you read the files?’

  ‘Of course,’ Catchpole said. ‘Is there any more you want to tell me?’

  ‘I wish I could take you into my confidence, but I report only to Abel Buckland. I cannot divulge more. You will eventually find out everything, I have no doubt. I will say only that I have been given permission at last to move against the ragged men. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a cab waiting. Good night.’

  ‘Good night, Inspector.’

  After he had gone Catchpole opened the envelope. Inside was a bleak little arrest photograph of a frightened-looking youth with a shock of dark hair. An arrest record number was chalked on a slate around his neck: 19248.

  The arrest card’s scant details were all filled in in neat copperplate. Caleb Brown. It was him all right; the running boy. There was a release sheet giving an address of a Mr William Leighton at 31 Fournier Street, signed for by Japhet McCreddie of the same address.

  .

  Chapter 40

  The next morning Catchpole was out early. He walked through the crowds and made his way over to Fournier Street. He banged on the door of Number 31. A woman in an apron answered.

  ‘Sergeant Catchpole of Scotland Yard,’ Catchpole said with a smile. ‘I have come to see Mr Leighton.’

  There was no returning smile from Mrs Boulter. ‘Just wait in here if you would, sir.’

  Catchpole was shown into a lavishly furnished drawing room. Mr Leighton was plainly either a wealthy man who enjoyed all the tax privileges that residency allowed, or some sort of master thief. The table in the centre of the room was piled with guns and holsters and ammunition belts. He picked up one of the guns, an authentic service revolver. He was turning it in his hands when William Leighton swept into the room, his white shirt billowing.

  ‘We are expecting trouble, officer. I suppose one of those damn fools from last night has reported our little robbery problem.’

  Catchpole inclined his head, while Leighton stuck out his elegant hand to be shaken. ‘William Leighton,’ he said with a firm grip.

  Catchpole decided to play along with the confusion. ‘So, sir, about last night then?’

  ‘I was giving a scientific demonstration when we were invaded and attacked, inside this very house, and robbed, all of us.’

  ‘They seem to have left quite a lot behind, sir?’ said Catchpole, indicating the precious-looking contents of the room.

  ‘They were in and out very quickly. They took the small stuff, cash, and jewellery, straight from the pockets and from round the necks of my guests. There was nothing I could do despite having arms in the house, and before you say anything about that, they are all strictly under licence.’

  ‘I don’t doubt it, sir, but why didn’t you raise the alarm yourself?’ Catchpole asked.

  ‘I would have reported it but I reasoned, what would be the point? I know who did this. I intend to protect myself and my future clients in my own way. I shall not be relying on the incompetence and corruption of your Scotland Yard, no offence.’

  ‘None taken, sir,’ said Catchpole with a friendly smile. ‘Who was in the house at the time, sir? Apart from your guests, that is?’

  My housekeeper, Mrs Boulter, who admitted you, my assistant, Mr McCreddie, and my houseboy, nobody else.

  ‘Could I speak to them?’

  ‘Mr McCreddie and the houseboy are out at present. They will only confirm what I just told you.’

  ‘Even so, I think I will come back later and speak to them.’

  ‘That is your choice, sergeant. Look, all I can tell you is that there were three or four of them, the Fantom’s stooges, the ragged men, as they are known. They were armed and dangerous. One of them had a heavy revolver pointed between my eyes. I hardly saw the others. They robbed me and my guests and left quickly using a hansom cab.’

  ‘Nothing else?’ said Catchpole.

  ‘There was the woman who left early,’ said Leighton dismissively, ‘a woman who got upset, a typical Gawker. She left my scientific meeting just before the raid. My houseboy showed her to the door, but that was all. I am a very busy man and I am in a hurry. I really can’t add anything to what I have already said.’

  ‘So do you think this guest, the woman who left early, was working for the ragged men?’

  ‘I have no reason to suppose that. It is odd that the ragged men knew exactly when our meeting was to take place, admittedly. The meetings are very private and very discreetly arranged only for the best clients, but I have my own theory as to how they knew.’

  ‘Do you want to add anything else?’

  Leighton said nothing. He just shook his head, then he rang a hand bell and the housekeeper appeared. ‘This gentleman is leaving now, Mrs Boulter. Be so good as to show him out.’

  ‘As you wish, sir,’ she said, and so Catchpole took his leave and allowed himself to be shown out of the house.

  It had not been possible to see the boy Caleb yet. He had at least been mentioned indirectly. Catchpole decided he would watch the house and wait for the boy and any other developments. The ragged men had moved against Leighton, robbed him, and just last night. Catchpole was getting a sense of a bigger picture. Perhaps something was happening. Were any of these things linked to the boy and Brown?

  After a while he saw the housekeeper leave carrying a provisions basket on the crook of her arm. A ragged man stopped her and they had a conversation which went on for a while. Eventually, he saw the ragged man put a package, something wrapped in sacking, in her shopping basket very discreetly. Then the ragged man moved off. Catchpole decided to follow him.

  He walked fast and purposefully. He stuck mostly to the main streets, the ones most loaded with visitors and Gawkers. Yet he didn’t bother any of them for money. He slipped between them, so fas
t that Catchpole had a job to keep up with him.

  They were heading towards the river, south of the cathedral, when Catchpole turned a corner and the ragged man was suddenly gone, vanished. The street was empty. It was just a road, with no cuts or alleys or other ways out. Catchpole walked slowly up and down the street looking at all the buildings and entrances carefully. One of them had the markings of an old twentieth-century Underground station exit sign still just visible on the stonework. These ghostly echoes of the old system had mostly been thoroughly removed, but sometimes traces remained. Had the beggar gone underground? Catchpole walked up to the entrance way, which was all boarded over. The boards themselves were densely covered with a variety of posters, mostly advertising the ‘Grand Demolition’ only a few days away now. Catchpole didn’t want to test the boards covering the entrance way, didn’t want to draw attention to himself, but he noted the possibility. He walked to the end of the street and then turned to go back and wait for Caleb.

  .

  Chapter 41

  FROM EVE’S JOURNAL

  .

  Bible J came round to see me after the performance this afternoon and several strange things happened. Linked things, and in a way inexplicable things. Firstly, he had someone with him. They were both dressed in what Bible J called the ‘house uniform’. Long navy frock coats with metal buttons, waistcoats and white shirts. He was with Caleb, the boy he had found on the street.

  Caleb put his hand out and I took it, and looked at his face properly for the first time. I shook suddenly, my arm jerked upwards, and when I let his hand go it was as if I had been stung. I looked at him intently.

  ‘Have we ever met before?’ I said.

  ‘No, I’ve never seen you before today,’ Caleb said. ‘I’m sure . . .’

  ‘Only I felt something very strange then,’ I said. ‘When I shook your hand, there was something odd, a connection between us. I feel those things sometimes. And your eyes are like mine.’

  Caleb shrugged awkwardly as if he was not sure what to say, but I wondered if he had felt something too. It looked to me as if he might have.

  ‘Now stop that talk, you two, or you’ll make me all jealous,’ Bible J said. ‘Much more of that spooky stuff and Mr William will put you into one of his scientific meetings.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of those meetings of his,’ I said.

  ‘You wouldn’t have liked it last night, would she Caleb?’

  Caleb shook his head.

  ‘What happened,’ I said, still wondering about Caleb. There was something.

  ‘The house was raided by armed ragged men halfway through the meeting. They robbed everyone, took all the Gawkers’ entrance money and jewellery.’

  I felt suddenly protective of Bible J. I wanted to put my arms around him and hold him close, make him safe. My heart beat a little faster. The thought of guns pointing at Bible J made me cold suddenly, and it all seemed personal too. If they had attacked the home of Bible J, someone known to me, it seemed that they might just have been trying to get to me, even though there was such a small connection between Mr Leighton’s house and myself. I was troubled by the thought and also by the presence of the boy Caleb, with his eyes that were so like mine.

  Jago came over and Bible J introduced Caleb to him.

  Bible J told Jago all about the robbery.

  ‘Mr Leighton’s packing all the house up, putting everything into boxes. It’s all going into a warehouse. He’s not taking any chances. He thinks Caleb should lose himself somewhere else for a few days too.’

  ‘I am intending to go out of Pastworld, for a day or two,’ Jago said. ‘I have been planning to go out of the city altogether to spend some quiet time in the big forest.’

  My mind suddenly filled with orange and yellow leaves, and I smelled a particular burning smell, in memory. The forest. I remembered a forest . . . I wanted badly to go there.

  Bible J said, ‘You could take my friend Caleb here with you, Mr Jago. Mr Leighton wants him safe. I’ve got to help pack the house away.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jago, ‘I imagine there must be quite a lot to pack away. I’ve heard about your Mr Leighton and his collections. I don’t know about taking your friend here. No offence, but I don’t know him. Can I trust him?’

  ‘Thing is,’ said Bible J, ‘they’ve got a warrant out for him, a Wanted poster and everything. He’s an innocent Gawker, see, but they think he shivved an old bloke. It was the ragged men that did it. They blamed him in front of witnesses, that’s all.’

  I said, ‘I think we can trust him, Jago. I just know we can.’

  ‘You seem very sure, Eve,’ Jago said.

  ‘I am.’

  So the boy Caleb and myself were to be taken out to the forest. Bible J was anxious for me. He looked once at Caleb and at me standing together and I saw a troubled concern cross his usual happy face, a look I had never seen on him before. In that moment I felt something for him, something so strong that I wanted to throw myself in his arms and kiss him.

  .

  Chapter 42

  They travelled out through no-man’s-land. They passed whole suburban streets of abandoned houses. Their windows were all blocked off with special grey construction boards pierced with ventilation holes. Weeds and buddleia grew in profusion from the cracked roofs and chimneys. This, Jago said, was the dead zone, the area between the edges of Pastworld itself and the forest buffer areas.

  The dismal streets stretched all along the northern route. They waited until it was dark and then they set off towards an old construction site entry barrier which was covered over in faded signs and notices that read NO ENTRY, and BUCKLAND CONSTRUCTION ONLY. Jago got down and raised the barrier, using a hand winch. The barrier itself was camouflaged with a carefully arranged tangle of briars and weeds. After driving the wagon through, Jago got down again and winched the barrier closed, tucking the weeds and thorns carefully back into place.

  ‘This,’ Jago said, ‘is the secret route out. No surveillance, but we can’t be too careful.’ They travelled for a while along a bleak road until they came to a very different kind of barrier. A solid wall of once sleek silver metal. It rose up at least a hundred feet into the air. As they neared it, Jago became nervous. ‘This is the dangerous place. We never know if they will discover that this area of the perimeter is in need of maintenance, or that the security camera is broken.’ He pointed at a small silver box mounted on a support pole. ‘Smile,’ he said, ‘we might be on camera. Look up when we pass the barrier and you’ll see the edge of the skydome.’

  It was true, a huge wall of darkened glass stretched up above the barrier. It went hundreds of feet up into the air and it was impossible to see where it stopped. The surface just reflected the sky and so as it went higher it became less visible until it faded out altogether.

  Jago drove the wagon down a slope and into a long maintenance tunnel. The tunnel was lit with a series of overhead strip lights that gave off a dim, bluish glow. Caleb noticed that Eve looked up at the lights above them in astonishment, her mouth open.

  ‘What is it, Eve?’ he said, wondering if he was missing something obvious about the roof of the tunnel.

  ‘Those lights,’ she said.

  ‘Those, you mean?’ Caleb said, pointing up. ‘They look like low-level halogen security lights.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Eve, ‘they are so beautiful, aren’t they?’

  ‘Before you answer, young Caleb,’ Jago whispered, ‘it is worth bearing in mind that Eve has never been beyond the barriers of Pastworld in her life. Pastworld is all she knows, and has ever known.’ He raised his voice again. ‘There’s a lot more to see, Eve, believe me. Wait until you see the forest.’

  Eve and Jago slept in their usual places in the wagon. Caleb tried to sleep in the seat tucked under a velvet drape. He thought about Eve. She was a strange girl, properly old-fashioned, polite, and as far as he could see, really sweet-natured. He did feel something when he first met her. Her eyes really were
like his, and he was struck by her beauty too. She reminded him of one of those perfect Victorian porcelain dolls that you might see in a museum or an antique shop.

  Jago had said it was best to wait out the night rain and leave it until it was almost first light to negotiate the main road. With no traffic, there would be less chance of being seen. Caleb drifted off finally, listening to the rain, just beyond the tunnel exit, a sound he hadn’t heard for a while.

  Jago was up just before dawn. He brewed some tea. There was a milky light now at the end of the tunnel. He said, ‘I’ve just realised something, Eve. This will be the first natural outdoor sunrise you have ever seen in your life.’

  Eve stood up suddenly in her fine white dress, looking not so different from how she did when walking on the rope in the circus.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘I want to see it. Come on,’ and she set off running down the tunnel.

  ‘See if you can catch her?’ Jago said to Caleb.

  ‘She’s mad,’ said Caleb.

  Jago answered, ‘I know.’

  Caleb trotted after her down the dank service tunnel. He found her eventually standing in the middle of what was once a motorway. Four lanes wide and all empty. The smooth tarmac was still wet, glistening from the overnight rain. The sky was lightening above them. Eve looked up and saw a high blue colour, and a sprinkling of white clouds. A breeze ruffled her hair.

  ‘No cobbles, Caleb,’ she said, her face still raised upwards. ‘Why?

  ‘The roads outside are smooth. The only place that still has cobbled roads is Pastworld.’

  They stood together, both looking up into the sky, which was growing lighter every second.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Eve said.