‘It’s no good, Sid; you’ll have to come with us. We don’t stand a chance of getting Sam out of Wandsworth Prison, but we might be able to save him later. Right now our first duty is to save ourselves; we can’t help Sam at all if we’re in the nick and Wandsworth is the first place Sussworth will look for us. We’ve got no food, no catapults, no knives, no raincoats, no nothing. We’ve got to get all those things first, then we can help the horse.’
Sydney sniffed and pushed the wet hair out of her eyes. She looked at the faces of her friends, waiting faithfully for her in the middle of that London night and she tried to smile. ‘What you say is right enough; it’s just that I hate to think of Sam in the hands of Sussworth and Hanks, let alone him going to the slaughterhouse.’
‘We’ll get him back,’ said Twilight. ‘We did it before and we’ll do it again, we promise you.’ And seizing Sydney by the hands and arms her companions dragged her across the main road at a run and the whole band of Borribles disappeared into those silent side streets where the dawn is always late in coming.
5
Through all that remained of the night, strung out in single file, the Borribles marched and ran. They left the common by way of Narbonne Avenue, Hambalt and Abbeville and it was as they turned into Abbeville that Stonks, who was keeping the rearguard, noticed that he was being followed. He gave a low whistle of warning and it was relayed ahead until everyone in the long line of fugitives had taken cover behind the nearest wall or in the nearest front garden.
Stonks crouched by the side of a dustbin and waited until he saw two small figures run quickly past him. As soon as they’d gone by he emerged from his hiding place and followed. The next in line was Vulge and he did what Stonks had done and when the intruders had overtaken the third Borrible, who was Torreycanyon, they were attacked and brought to the ground, swiftly and silently.
‘Give over,’ cried a voice. ‘We’ve been trying to catch you up. It’s Ninch and Scooter.’
Stonks gave the word and Ninch and Scooter were allowed to get to their feet. ‘How did you find us?’ he asked.
‘The Buffonis let us out right after you,’ said Ninch. ‘When we got to the top of the stairs we could see you across the common, by a lamp post. We just came after you … The others have been clipped.’
Stonks nodded. ‘That’s tough,’ he said, ‘but there’s no time for talking now. We have to be off the streets by daylight. There’ll be Woollies everywhere, so get moving and follow the others.’ And then he gave another whistle to denote that all was now well.
In no time at all the Borribles were once more on the move, travelling carefully, keeping away from the main roads and using parked cars to camouflage their movements. In this manner they quickly crossed Clapham Park Road and entered a maze of tiny alleys which ran through a red-brick estate of little maisonettes and flats; into Triangle Place, into Nelson’s Row and out on to Haselrigge Road, running faster and faster now because the heavy clouds of night were lifting and a greyness was creeping down from the sky and into the littered streets.
Knocker glanced upwards. ‘Got to find something soon,’ he said to himself, and as he did he emerged from a passageway that had led him behind a block of sleeping houses, and found himself looking at a three-storey school with wire over its windows. He read the notice on the high brick wall that protected the playground. ‘Aristotle Road School’, it said, ‘Keep Out’. Knocker smiled. This was just the place, a school that was no longer in use.
The Adventurers had no difficulty in making their way into the building and they installed themselves for the day in a small office on the top floor. At first they slept, for they had travelled far and undergone much in the previous forty-eight hours, but they could not sleep for long—their hunger was too acute and the school was without heating. Soon they were shivering with cold.
They were indeed in a sorry plight: they had lost all the equipment they had brought from Battersea; they had no iron rations, no protective clothing, no catapults and no knives. They were defenceless, and what was worse they dared not even venture into the streets to look for food; they knew that Sussworth would have policemen everywhere searching for them. Every suspicious child would be arrested, especially if seen stealing.
‘We have to go to ground,’ said Stonks. ‘“Better a day without grub than a life without ears.” ’
The Borribles heard the wisdom of the proverb and tried not to think of food, snuggling closer together to keep out the cold. Through the day they dozed and coughed and sneezed. Now and then they talked, wondering if the SBG had any idea of their escape route, if Sussworth really intended to have Sam slaughtered; but above all they asked themselves how Sussworth had known that the Borribles had been hiding in a circus on Clapham Common.
‘Well it’s obvious,’ said Napoleon, screwing up his face and looking in turn at everyone in the room. ‘Someone told him … and more than likely it was someone here. One of us is a traitor.’
‘It can’t have been,’ said Orococco. ‘You can’t suspect us.’
‘I suspect everybody,’ said Napoleon proudly and dug his thumb into his chest. ‘“The Borrible who ain’t suspicious long ain’t long a Borrible.” ’ He looked at Ninch and Scooter, who sat together on the floor, leaning against the wall. ‘What about them?’ he said, pronouncing every word with emphasis. ‘We don’t know them much, do we?’
There was silence and the Borribles stared at the two circus acrobats.
Ninch leapt to his feet. ‘I’m as Borrible as you lot,’ he cried. ‘Leave it out. I’m a Borrible I tell you, look at my ears; you don’t get ears like that without being a Borrible. And look at Scooter; you never saw anything more like a Borrible in your life.’
‘Yes,’ said Scooter, ‘we’re Borrible all right, else why did we come running after you tonight? To join up with you of course. Borrible should help Borrible.’
‘What about the others, then?’ asked Napoleon with a sneer in his voice. ‘Where are they then? What happened when Sussworth took you away on your own?’
Ninch looked quickly from Napoleon to Knocker and then to Chalotte. ‘They interrogated us,’ he said. ‘Knocked us about. They clipped the ears of the others: Matzo, Sinbad, Duster, Frisby, Flapjack and Lobda … all of them. Hanks did it; you can see he likes doing it … you can see.’
‘It’s daft, anyway,’ said Torreycanyon. ‘How can they be traitors when they got captured with us and nearly lost their ears into the bargain?’
‘We can’t go back to the circus even if we wanted to,’ said Scooter. ‘Even if the Buffonis get clean away before Sussworth knows which way they’ve gone he’ll still find them in the end and if he finds us with ’em it’ll be snip, snip, snip.’
‘Snip, snip, snip is right,’ said Ninch. ‘I tell you it wasn’t us who gave you away.’
Napoleon did not look convinced. ‘Someone did,’ he said, ‘and if I find out who it was I’ll skewer him up. I say this: we need a new rule until this is over, the rule of Aristotle Road.’
‘What rule?’ said Stonks.
Napoleon looked round the room. ‘This rule,’ he said. ‘No one goes anywhere on their own. There’s always got to be two or three together.’ He straightened his arm and pointed a finger at Ninch and Scooter. ‘Especially them two; I don’t trust ’em.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Scooter, ‘we only just missed having our own ears done. Hanks would have too only Sussworth was called away to see a bloke from Scotland Yard. Hanks swore he’d clip us in the morning, then he threw us back in the cell.’
‘I don’t care if they nearly chopped yer head off,’ said Napoleon, the anger and impatience getting stronger in his voice. ‘You accept the rule or I’ll know what to think.’ He looked at the others. ‘It’s better than being shopped again, and whatever you say someone shopped us, you can’t deny that. Who agrees?’
Bingo raised his hand immediately. He was Napoleon’s special friend. ‘I do,’ he said.
Then Knocker rais
ed his hand and, slowly, everyone in the room followed suit, even Ninch and Scooter. The Aristotle Rule was adopted.
All that day the rain slanted across the sky and fell on the black slate roofs and black tarred roads of the city. It fell on the dead gardens of winter; it fell into the chimneys. It ran down the grimy windows of the shops and across the pavements and into the gutters. The drains and sewers of London were full of rain water and all this time the Borribles rested behind the blank walls of Aristotle Road School. They were starving but they were safe. Not once did they hear a police siren, not once did they hear a caretaker. They just waited for the hours to pass and the daylight to fade. When it was dark again they would journey on towards Brixton and, they hoped, some food, even if it was only the scraps in dustbins.
Then it was night-time. Knocker stood and stretched. He went to the window and looked down at the street lights and the cars passing in Bedford Road. ‘We’ll give it until the pubs close,’ he said, ‘and then another hour after that. Might as well be as careful as we can. Sussworth took my map away but if I’ve got it straight that railway line over there will take us right into Brixton … It’s only a couple of miles off.’
On the stroke of midnight the Adventurers left the school, crossing the road one by one and moving like shadows into a builder’s yard that lay deep in darkness. On the far side of it they came up against a steep embankment which they climbed to the railway line. They halted there and listened; all was quiet and invisible, there was no moon and no stars.
‘Tread very careful,’ said Knocker, ‘and keep yer ears open. I never saw a timetable for this line so if you hear a train coming get off the rails sharpish, and don’t step on the live one by mistake; you’ll be burnt to a crisp if you do.’
It was not a long march to Brixton, just about two or three miles as Knocker had said. On either side of the railway lay long rows of tear-raced houses where not one light shone. All was asleep and the weight of sleep bore down on the whole city, and nothing moved in the backyards save for the feral cats stalking mice across the mounds of rubbish.
Halfway through the march the railway line dropped to street level and the Adventurers passed under an old iron footbridge which joined one dead end street to another. It had been scrawled over in white chalk and paint and its side had been covered in wire to prevent children throwing bricks down on to passing trains.
Twilight stopped for a moment to read some of the messages there and discovered a ‘Borribles rule, okay’ and an arrow pointing towards Brixton. ‘That’s good,’ said the Bangladeshi, ‘it means there are some Borribles round here after all.’
‘Yeah,’ said Bingo, ‘and let’s hope they turn out sweet and gentle, like the Wendles.’
It was about two in the morning when the Adventurers finally reached Brixton railway station and Knocker climbed on to a parapet to look down into the emptiness of Brixton Road. ‘It seems all right,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s get down there and find some food.’
After a short search the Borribles found the station entrance and scrambled without difficulty over the gate that barred it. They then found themselves at the top of two frights of stone stairs and having descended these they saw, by the light of a solitary and dismal lamp, that they were in a low railway arch that led to the streets.
Knocker told his companions to wait and crept to the end of the tunnel and peered out. He could see no one; the street was empty of any human movement. All that remained of that day’s market was the deep litter strewn across the pavements. Knocker glanced up and read the road names: Atlantic Road, Electric Avenue. He beckoned to the others and they joined him on the edge of the deserted street. A car went by on the main road but it wasn’t a police car.
‘What we’ve got to do,’ suggested Knocker, ‘is have a quick butcher’s at this rubbish and see if we can’t find something to eat, just to keep us going.’
There was fruit aplenty in that market and a couple of damaged loaves. Some dented tins of beans had been thrown into a cardboard box and there was a crate of overripe bananas that had not been sold. There was a feast there, almost more than the twelve runaways could carry.
‘Come on,’ said Bingo, who was now acting as lookout, ‘we’ve got more’n enough. Quick, let’s go down here.’ Always light on his feet the Battersea Borrible led his friends into Electric Lane, away from the market area and towards what he hoped would be quieter streets, streets with a few derelict houses in them maybe, and a Borrible or two with a cup of tea ready.
Just as he was enjoying these thoughts Bingo suddenly felt his feet kicked away from underneath him. He was tipped heavily to the ground and a dirty cloth went over his mouth. Bingo fought but there were too many holding him now. A knee hit him in the kidneys, hard, and all the breath left his body and he let it go slack.
‘You keep real quiet, Honky,’ said a West Indian voice, ‘otherwise I’ll tear your head off.’
Bingo did as he was told; he could do nothing else. He heard the sounds of rushing feet, a few cries and even the noises of a few blows, then there was complete silence again. The voice above Bingo spoke once more.
‘I’m going to tie you up now, Honky, and if you struggle I’ll strangle you anyway and then rope you to a bus … They keeps stopping and starting all day.’
Once his arms had been tightly tied behind his back Bingo was dragged to his feet and pushed forward. He could see that he was surrounded by four or five figures; their faces were black and blended with the night. Beyond them shapes moved indistinctly in the darkness. He heard a cry followed by a blow.
‘Why don’t you leave us alone?’ said Bingo. ‘We ain’t harming anyone, we’re just travelling through.’
‘That’s right,’. said the same voice as before. ‘You’ll be travelling through so fast your feet won’t hit the ground, but every other bit of you will.’ Bingo was struck between his shoulder blades. He swore and he stumbled. He heard Napoleon shout, threatening someone with violence. There came the sound of a blow and Napoleon was silent.
The captives were not taken far. Before they reached the end of Electric Lane they were made to turn back into Electric Avenue. Here they passed beneath an arcaded walk of Victorian design, the arcade being held aloft with delicate cast iron columns. About a hundred yards into the arcade, at the centre of a covered market and between two shopfronts, was a narrow entrance, locked, barred and chained. At least it appeared to be. In fact there was a panel in the face of a heavy door and that panel swivelled on hinges to allow the passage of one person at a time, provided he crawled through on his hands and knees.
‘Okay, Honky,’ said Bingo’s guard. ‘Follow me.’
It was difficult for Bingo to negotiate the entrance, especially with his arms tied behind his back, but he managed it eventually and found himself in a narrow corridor. That was all he could tell; it was pitch black in there and his captors, though close, were invisible.
One by one the prisoners were gathered together with their guards, and as soon as all were present more orders were given.
‘Okay,’ said the voice again. ‘You’ll go upstairs now. I’ll switch on one torch … but don’t try nothing.’
The Adventurers followed the light to the end of the corridor and began to climb some bare wooden stairs. Up they went and on what seemed to be the top floor of the building the stairs widened into an extensive landing with doors leading right and left. Here the prisoners were taken into a room and made to squat in a row, on the floor, their backs against a wall.
The torch beam flickered here and there over the darkness as people came and went and the Borribles waited. Bingo heard people stalking in a language he could not understand. He tested the strength of his bonds but they would not shift an inch. Then, without warning, the lights went on.
Now Bingo could see the whole line of his captive friends. They were still together but all of them bore marks of the struggle. Napoleon had a cut over one eye and blood ran down his face. Stonks was covered in traces of
market filth where he had rolled on the ground fighting, and Scooter had a black eye.
Bingo next looked at the people who had set the ambush. There were about fifteen in the room, half of them girls. Outside on the landing, Bingo could see many more people staring. They were without exception black, and as far as Bingo could tell, all of them were Borribles.
The Adventurers continued to wait and wonder. Then there was a movement at the door and the Borrible who had spoken to Bingo in the dark came into the room followed by some of his henchmen. He wore an enormous bulging cap, and it drooped to one side of his head; on the other side dreadlocks hung down to his shoulders. The cap was black velvet but the rest of his clothes were in bright and shiny colours: orange trousers with blue leg-warmers over, a plastic jacket of green and a mauve jumper under that. His lips were big and expressive, powerful and generous; his strong teeth protruded slightly. He looked cheerful and when he saw the prisoners he laughed delightedly and slapped hands with his friends. There were about thirty people in the room now and the only whites were among the Adventurers.
Bingo glanced at Knocker and Knocker licked his lips. ‘We don’t want any trouble,’ he said, ‘we didn’t come looking for it.’
Black-Hat dropped his smile and prodded Knocker in the chest with his foot, hard. ‘You can’t give us none, Honky, we’ve got you tied up. You’re trespassin’ on our manor … you’re the one in trouble.’
Chalotte jeered at Black-Hat: ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid,’ she said. ‘We’re Borribles, just the same as you are.’
Before the Brixton Borrible could answer Orococco scrambled to his feet and began to speak, but not in a way the Adventurers had ever heard him speak before. He was using a West Indian dialect which the blacks only spoke among themselves and Black-Hat and all his friends listened to every word, not interrupting once, though they turned to stare occasionally at the captives, sometimes looking serious, sometimes smiling and shaking their heads.
The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis Page 10