Elephants and Castles

by John Patrick

Miss Pewtersmith despised mornings. And once out of bed she would spend most of her day dreaming about getting back into it. Now that her boss Mister Jarvis was out of the way, she certainly wasn't going to be getting up early. She stayed submerged deep in the luxury of the soft mattress and crisp sheets on the four-poster bed and indulged herself late into the morning. Every now and again she would open one eye, smile to herself and vow to stay exactly where she was.

  This gave Mary and Samuel the chance they needed. They gobbled down a token amount of breakfast before hiding the rest in their clothes. Samuel grabbed a jug of water and they headed out to the carriage house. Mary hesitated as she neared the top of the ladder; would Shipton still be alive? She peeped anxiously over the edge of the attic.

  The horse blanket lay in a crumpled heap by the straw bed. The cup lay empty on its side but there was no Mister Shipton.

  Samuel ran across and lifted the blanket up to check underneath. 'Wow, it worked!' He kicked at the pile of straw. A rat dashed out and disappeared behind a wooden beam. A concerned look appeared on Samuel's face. 'You don’t think it... you don't think it turned him into a rat, do you?'

  Mary shook her head.

  There was a knock. Shipton was sitting at the opposite end of the loft tapping the red stone on the floor. He was leaning against the frame of the window, a small opening at floor level containing no glass, just a wooden shutter that was wide open and looked directly onto the house.

  'Wow Mary, it sent him over there!'

  'I had to get air.' whispered Shipton. He at least looked better than the day before but he was still pale and breathing quickly.

  'No! You can't sit there, she'll see you!' Mary rushed across to him. 'You've got to get away from the window!' Mary grabbed his hand and started to pull.

  'Stop!' Shipton winced. 'I'll move, just wait.'

  Shipton gritted his teeth and shuffled along the floor away from the window, stopping every few seconds to clutch at his abdomen. Eventually he was several feet away and out of sight. He was gasping for air.

  'We brought you food.' Mary knelt down and placed chunks of bread and some under-ripe apples onto his lap. Shipton made no acknowledgement.

  Samuel poured water into the cup and held it up to Shipton's dusky blue lips. Shipton swiped it away, splashing water over them both. Samuel jumped back.

  'Sorry, I thought...'

  'No boy...' Shipton wheezed 'I…I need.... a minute… to breathe....I'm sorry.'

  Samuel picked the cup back up. The stone lay in the straw near the window. It was immersed in the orange early morning light that was flooding in through the open shutters. It sparkled amidst the straw and dirt. Samuel seized it and took it back to Shipton. 'Did it work? Did it make you better?'

  Shipton laughed then grabbed his side again. 'I don’t know,' he grunted 'maybe it’s started... but I wish it would ...damn well hurry up and finish.' He hungrily sucked air in again. 'Look, I’m… I’m sorry. You know... 'ow I was t'you both...at my place. I didn't mean no 'arm… I'm real grateful for your help.'

  'You should be' pointed out Samuel 'you weigh a bloody ton!'

  'That's alright.' reassured Mary. 'We couldn't leave you there now could we? And you did come to our rescue too so I guess now we're even. But you can't stay 'ere long. If the cook finds out we'll all be chucked out! Any'ow, what's this stone about? Why's everyone want it? How did you get it?'

  'I didn't nick it. I won it, fair and square, playin' cards. Some new people. Never seen 'em before. One from Scotland.' He paused and looked for the cup. 'Here, Simon,' he puffed 'I’ll have that water now.'

  Samuel refilled the cup. Shipton sipped and then coughed and winced again. He took a deep breath.

  'We’d ‘ad plenty of ales so it's a bit hazy. I was havin’ a good night. I’d cleaned this Jock right out. He was gettin' proper sore. I even won a couple o' pistols - you know - like I had in that alley.'

  'Shame you didn’t know ‘ow to use it.' added Samuel.

  'Yeh, well... Any'ow, I won lots of stuff from 'im and he started gettin' real upset. Said he had to win it all back but he had nothing left to bet. Not a thing ‘cept the grubby clothes ‘e was wearing and I didn’t want them. So in the end 'e pulled out that stone. He'd been hidin' it. He told some long story 'bout where it come from.'

  'Well' said Samuel eagerly, 'where did it come from?'

  'I dunno. I'd 'ad too much by then. All I can remember was 'e said it was called somethin' like Motherly Stone, or somethin'. He said it could do all sorts of things. Said it was worth thousands.'

  'Thousands! Wow! What sorts of things can it do?'

  'Everythin' 'e reckoned, tell the future, cure the sick, make it rain - stuff like that. But he’d been drinkin' an’ he was tryin' to convince me so who knows? Might o' been talkin' shit.'

  'But why Motherly?' Mary asked.

  'Dunno. But I 'eard next day when 'e went and told 'is boss what he’d done there was big trouble. I 'eard his boss is tryin' to find me to get it back. They say he wears a skirt an' has a huge dagger. They say it’s as sharp as a razor and does terrible things with it. Say he pulls it out an' 'as sliced you like meat before you know he's even there!'

  'So what are you gonna do?' Mary asked.

  Shipton shrugged. 'Well, that man, the one who was standin' by my 'ouse. That’s 'im. It’s gotta be. I don't know any other blokes who wear skirts. 'E’s found where I live so I can’t go back there. Not ‘til I know he’s left London or I’ll end up like up like a piece of mutton. But don't worry. I'll be 'out of 'ere as soon as I can walk. I just need a few days an' I’ll be right.'

  'So all that stuff you said ‘bout tellin’ the future?' asked Samuel

  'Yeh, well...kind o' made it up. Sorry. Look, I 'ad all this stuff... it was just a bit o' business that's all.'

  'And our money?' asked Mary.

  'Oh, that. Sorry. 'E took it, me landlord. I'll pay you back, when I can, I promise.'

  'And is your name Shipton?'

  He paused. 'No, it's not. It's Scroggs. Alan Scroggs.'

  Samuel looked at him with contempt.

  'Look, you wouldn’t pay to see a fortune-teller called Alan Scroggs now would you? It was like me stage name.' he paused to nibble on the bread. 'Look, there’s a place I can go...maybe in the next few days when I'm stronger. A place where no one will find me. It’s just a storage place near the river where they keep stuff from the ships. Nothing's comin’ in no more so the place is quiet. I'll be out of your hair an' you can forget you ever met me.'

  ‘Fat chance. And not 'til you paid us back.' muttered Samuel.

  'I just need the key. It’s at my ‘ouse. I put it somewhere safe. You get me that key and I’ll be gone from ‘ere before you know it.'

  'But we can't go off again. If old Miss P finds were missin' she'll go mad.' replied Mary.

  'I ain't goin' all the way down there again!' moaned Samuel. 'An' what about that man in the skirt?'

  Shipton shrugged. 'He'll 'ave cleared off soon as 'e knew I wasn't there. Anyhow, it's up to you. You wanted me gone...'

  'Well, I suppose if we went now, while Miss P's still asleep... We'd 'ave to be real quick. Where abouts in your 'ouse is it?'

  'Yeh, well that's another problem. I was a bit ... you know... unwell when I 'id, it an' I can't remember where I put it. But it's not a big 'ouse, is it? I'm sure you smart kids would find it.'

  Samuel sighed.

  'An' while you're there just 'ave a look see if there's a bottle o' port in the cupboard, or wine. Even just half a bottle.'

  Chapter 13