by Edward Carey
‘Good, my lad! You are coming to see a little clearer now!’
‘Uncle, I am fearful.’
‘You should be, Clod, they’ll murder us if we’re not smart. They’re already at it. And not all of us are like to survive this next removal; they are upon us, and will take us down bit by bit. Which Iremonger shall die this night?’
‘Will we die, even tonight?’
‘Some of us shall, they are that set upon it!’
‘They are so cruel!’
‘Yes! Oh yes, you must strike at them, Clod, and kill them here and there. You’ll not let them murder us, shall you?’
‘No, well, no, Uncle, I should not want them to.’
‘And there’s music to my all-hearing ears! So get you ready, Clodius Iremonger. Two nights is all you have! Now, Ifful, business done, pack away the night a little won’t you, love? So that the boy may dress himself for to step upon Lungdon and so feel it under his heels.’
Aunt Ifful seemed to breathe in then, and to put the night back up deep inside her, and soon it was dark but a much lighter darkness, and Ifful lit a gas lamp. There she was in the centre of the room, there was Uncle by her side. The leathers were all in their former places but were moving their heads a little from side to side, as if they were looking for something.
‘Well done, my bucket of blackness, ta and ta and ta again!’
‘That, nephew,’ she said, the thick blackness all swallowed away, with a little burp in conclusion like a sudden gust of fog, ‘that is what I do. I done it to you once before now too – I was the black smoke that led you down and down in Bayleaf House, the thick black smoke that saved you and guided you to the train.’
‘I am impressed, Aunt, that was … very something!’
‘Yes, I do do the night well, though it can leave one a little out of breath. I must call on the city Lungdon now after my lungs have dunged on it.’
‘We shall be sending you out very soon, Ifful.’
‘Yes, to darken the path further. So that we may walk unseen. Is all ready?’
‘Let us hope, Clod, that we are not too diminished with this outing.’
A knocking on the drawing-room door.
‘Come then Clod, put on hat and coat, come now tread on, be my eyes a little, lead me, child.’
My Family are in the Hallway
We went then into the hall, where my family were ready; so many of us, all lined up the stairway, all ready, family and servants, all nervous and whispering: soon, soon, it must be soon. So many of us holding cardboard parcels, suitcases, satchels, small trunks. But none holding their birth objects, no sounds from them, no names. How underdressed they all seemed. Aunt Rosamud, no doorhandle in hand, came blurting forward.
‘Oh Idwid, there you are, dear fellow,’ she wept. ‘You’ll let me keep him, won’t you? You won’t have Binadit left here all alone?’
‘Should never have brought him here,’ some aunt called from further back.
‘Not safe to move him now.’
‘He’ll have us drowned dead.’
‘He’s my son, my own son!’ called Rosamud.
‘You threw him out – best thing you ever did!’
‘Leave him behind!’
‘Lose him.’
‘He’s nothing to us.’
‘You monsters!’ cried Rosamud, striking around willy-nilly. ‘You’ll murder me first! Cowards! Cripples!’
She swung out and in response many of the Iremonger aunts hit back at her, kicked her and cursed and caused a general horrible wailing of womankind.
‘Ordure! Ordure! I will have ordure!’ came the very special Iremonger cry, delivered only on most particular occasions, and this being heard and coming from Idwid, caused a general quietening up and down the lines. ‘Hush, hush, my lovelies, we are a family, are we not, we are a people, a fine people, we are not animals. Let us remember ourselves.’
A general calming among the frocks.
‘Now, now, ladies, most beloved sex, come, there is no need for this. All will be well, all of us, every last Iremonger shall be counted out and looked after, there’s no need to fear, all is safe as louses. Now, concerning young master Binadit …’
‘My son, he is my son!’
‘Yes, yes, so he is. Congratulations once again! But your loving son does so pull all with him, so very popular he is with all the bits, such a cumbersome fellow, all in all, it must be said though. Best we leave him here for now.’
‘NO! NO!’
‘Rosamud, I will not have you shrieking!’ snapped Idwid. ‘Listen, and be sensible. If he comes along with us now then he’ll give us all away. Let us leave him here …’
‘MY BIN!’
‘Just for a little. Then when all is safe we shall come and find him again.’
‘You’re leaving him to be murdered!’
‘No, no, Muddy lady, listen to me. He’s safer here than ever he’ll be out on the streets. Let us keep him here a while where he is safest, he shall drown out there, the poor lad. Consider, they may never find this house, and even if they do, there’s every chance they’ll not look down there for him in the deepest cellar, besides which he is most able to disguise himself. He’s a very capable young man, your own son is, remember how he survived on his own for years? He was safer that way and shall be again. It is his family who endangers him; let him alone a little, just a little.’
‘It’s all because of your brother Timfy,’ wept Rosamud.
‘Tattletale Timfy telling on us,’ took up another aunt.
‘Betraying us all,’ came one more.
‘Now, now, ladies, we do not know that Timfy has told.’
A general muttering of misery from the aunts and cousins, even uncles, spitting out Timfy’s name.
‘Now, let us speak quietly,’ cooed Idwid. ‘Do attend and wait your turn. Umbitt and Omaball Oliff are already gone and with them the senior servants and governors and Iremongers of great import and all our birth objects in safety. Now that some decent time has passed between their leaving, now, I say, now it is time for others of us to be off and safe. It is all just a precaution, my dear ones, just in case.’
‘In case your brother squeals, you mean.’
‘Indeed, yes, just in case.’
‘Let us on then!’
‘First shall be all the adults remaining and the youngest in their care, and with them their servants, and then, a little after, it is time for the oldest children Iremonger, those who are our swiftest and sharpest. Unry and Otta are abroad and they do watch this street with great caution. When the word is given, then we shall be from here and walk like we are true Lungdoners out into the night. So now come forward my officers from Foulsham, then behind them be ready the House Aunts and Uncles, then all other Iremongers in trousers and dresses, then the children at the back, all the pretty children, all those rosy cheeks. Now, now, darlings one and all, my little blood dumplings, we must wait a little, and in good cheer. Wait, only wait for the word. If we all rush out together we shall make a great spectacle of it. Safer to trickle, a swift trickle, bit by bit by bit all in different ways. Scattershot us Iremongers, hither and thither and in between.’
So did we wait all close and clammy and clammed in, cousins with cousins, aunts breathing uncles and uncles aunts, all so thick and huddled together listening to the drum-drum-drumitty-drum of our fearing hearts, breathing, breathing in the dark.
‘How much longer?’
‘Hush now.’
‘We’re rats in a trap.’
‘Hushabye.’
‘We shall all suffocate in one another.’
‘Twinkle, twinkle, my fat hen,’ whispered Idwid, an old Iremonger nursery rhyme.
‘We’ll drown here amongst ourselves.’
‘Stayed nice and cosy in his pen.’
‘They’ll set fire to the building and all shall perish!’
‘When the fox came for to eat.’
‘We are done for.’
‘Our hen ate fox from
head to feet.’
‘I need to get out.’
‘Need to breathe!’
At last there came a faint scratching from the door. It was opened a crack and a huge fat rat tumbled in, a brass ring around its neck. The rat, coughing, tugged the ring free and then, spinning, tossing and looking like it was in horrible pain, the creature shifted and tumbled, grew and lurched itself upwards and came out at last my shifting Cousin Otta.
‘Well girl, keen blood, what’s the news?’ spilled Idwid.
‘Time to get us gone, swift as cholera. They’re coming, they’re coming for us. I found two leathermen gutted down the road. They’re coming, coming ever closer, time to shift!’
What screams followed the news.
‘Ordure! Ordure!’
‘Where’s Unry?’
‘Keep down your spleens!’ called Aliver.
‘He’s about three streets away, he’s watching the coppers. There’s more and more of them coming in, trying to surround us we reckon, not sure where they’re all coming from. Some in uniforms, some in plain clothes. I think they’ve smelt us. Coming together, getting closer, ever closer I say! You must get out!’ cried Otta.
‘All right, Otta, for this many thanks, get you gone.’
All panic then, all screams, and calling back for order and order, each to their places.
‘Let us get at the run!’ said Idwid. ‘We meet again two mornings’ time. On the eighth of February 1876 that is, on Westminster Bridge. Gather there all of you that may, that is our grouping come together then. Repeat it. When do we meet?’
‘Two mornings’ time.’
‘Eighth of February.’
‘1876.’
‘But where, where my pasties?’
‘Westminster Bridge.’
‘Yes, yes, yes again. At eight of the clock.’
‘But what shall we do now?’
‘Where shall we go?’
‘Help! Help us!’
‘No time! No time, my lovelies, my sweet jellies!’ yelled Idwid. ‘No time for that now. You’re Iremongers, you are to a man, so act Iremonger, be strong and be brave. Be of Lungdon hue, fit in, sink in, grow into Lungdon people, be invisible. Use your cleverness, use your dirty magic, destroy them, bring them down, make them cry out. For two more nights, two nights alone, we go our separate ways and then, when all is done and ready, we come back together in a rash of great blackness. Filled with a blossoming of blood, we collect, we Iremongers, we collect our dues, our debts, our deaths on Westminster Bridge. There to Iremonger itch and irritate, there to bite and burst. Go then, my blessings on you. All be safe, my children! Come, Gorrild underling, get me moving; come Ifful. Pinalippy, are you all primed?’
‘Yes, Uncle!’ called Pinalippy.
‘You know your place I believe?’
‘Yes, Uncle, surely!’
‘Then good luck to you. Moorcus, you are in charge now, you and your prefects … I do mean officers. And when you have dispersed all, look to your duties and to Clod and Pinalippy.’
‘We are most ready and eager!’ answered Moorcus, dressed for the occasion in the uniform of a London firefighter.
Such a rushing of Iremonger officers, all dressed like Idwid, all gathering around him.
‘Be good, my boy,’ Idwid said to me. ‘You’re an Iremonger, you are.’ He slapped me hard around the face. ‘Use your ears! Keep Pinalippy close by! Look after each other.’
And Ifful on her way out stamped hard upon my feet. ‘Earn your blood!’
They were outside.
‘All now be safe, my children! Flee! Flee! Flee for your lives!’
Now there was such light gone from the corridor – the more senior uncles and aunts having taken what lights, lanterns, shielded torches they had for themselves – and we were left in a general panic with only a few candles lit betwixt us.
Then Moorcus and his fellow officers, Stunly and Duvit, let all the remaining adults out, some taking the youngest children with them, and among them went Rosamud weeping for her son, but pulled onwards by some fellow aunts. And where was Rippit in all the turmoil? I had not seen him, I supposed he must have gone away with Grandfather, and I was not sorry at that. And so there were only we older children left then. There was Bornobby, there was Foy still holding on to her great ten-pound weight, her birth object, which must have been so heavy it had not been taken away. There were Pool and Theeby, holding hands. There was Ormily, and with her a sorry grouping all huddled around. I knew those ones, those were all lost Tummis’s sibs, there was Gorrild and Monnie, Ugh, Flip and Neg. Like seeing Tummis’s face rearranged on different shoulders, young and older. Dear Tummis’s people.
Bottleneck of the older Iremonger children, not quite adult yet, nor entirely children either, all in a terror.
‘Quiet, you scum!’ shrieked Moorcus. ‘Quiet or I’ll shut you up for good and all.’
He had two pistols out and was waving them around, pointing them at all the children, enjoying himself.
‘May I have my gun back, Moorcus?’ asked Duvit. ‘It was supplied to me.’
‘I shall keep it for you. Be quiet will you!’
‘I should like a gun myself,’ said Stunly.
‘Well you can’t,’ said Moorcus. ‘There’s hardly enough to go around, and I must be properly armed, the better to instruct my family! I could shoot you, I could very well. I’ve half a mind to do it. Just give me a quarter of an excuse and I’ll see your brains on the wallpaper. No one to stop me now, is there? Just me – who’s to tell? So shut right up and listen hard!’
That quietened all. Then Moorcus, pointing one at a time – indicating a person by shaking a pistol in their direction – let the cousins out into the night, one by one. There went Pool and Theeby, off went Ormily and her crew, bye to Foy and to Bornobby, off went Muckliss and Orry and Itchul and Orman and Ayte and Mirk and Oizy and Eeza and Iburta and Spitt, but still Pinalippy and I had not been called. There were ever less and less of us there. When Moorcus’s own younger brothers Doorcus and Floorcus were called out he thumped them hard in the chest before sending them off. It was after they had gone that he whispered something to his fellow officers, Stunly and Duvit.
‘Are you sure, Moorcus?’
‘Do it, Duvit, move yourself.’
‘Really, Moorcus,’ said Stunly, ‘must we?’
‘You must, lily-livered, it’s an order all right, I am the highest ranking officer here, now get to it.’
As more cousins were let out, Stunly and Duvit went into the drawing room. I couldn’t think what they were doing in there until there was a general sound of upheaval and other voices came talking.
‘What?’
‘What?’
‘What?’
‘Get up, get going, you horrid sacks, shift yourselves!’
‘What?’
‘What?’
‘What?’
Stunly and Duvit were upsetting the remaining leather people, they were waking them, pushing them, herding them. Soon enough the prefects had seven or eight of them out into the hallway.
‘What?’
‘What?’
‘What?’ they kept saying.
‘Listen up, you great dolls, listen to me,’ barked Moorcus.
‘What?’
‘What?’
‘What?’
‘Be quiet, will you! Cease your whattings. Listen, I’m the boss here, I give the orders. Look at me, look at my uniform, look at my medal.’
‘Medal.’
‘Oh, medal.’
‘Nice medal.’
‘Look at my shiny hat!’
‘Hat.’
‘Hat.’
‘Shiny hat.’
‘Hello, sir, sir with medal, I’m Irene Tintype, how do you do?’ This came from a young girl leather.
‘I’m Arthur Pencase.’
‘I’m Jocelyn Bookplate.’
‘I’m William Waxcrayon.’
‘Shut your bloody traps, or I shall shut the
m for you. Permanently. Now, listen will you, you new people, I don’t care an empty wallet for your names, I’ve no use for them. You’re only half done, aren’t you, in all the rush? Not enough breath put inside you; you’re not quite fully cooked. Still, you must do. Listen now, and listen good, I’m going out now with my friends here, and with this fool I’ll acknowledge mine.’
‘So good of you, what a blessing!’ said with all sourness Rowland Cullis the Toastrack by Moorcus’s side.
‘Silence! Now people, new people, behind you in the hallways are these two cousins left. See them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘There they are now.’
‘Good, very good. It is your job to keep them here. It is your job not to let them out. Whatever they say to you, keep them in this house. I’m going out now with my people, I shall lock the door to keep you safely inside. But don’t whatever you do, don’t let them out. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘We understand.’
‘They shall stay in.’
‘With us.’
‘With us.’
‘With us.’
‘But, Moorcus!’ cried Pinalippy. ‘This was not agreed upon.’
‘Shut up, Pinalippy, or I’ll silence you now! God knows I’d like to.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes.’
‘He would.’
‘Like it.’
‘Very much.’
‘It was agreed! You are to shelter us!’ cried Pinalippy.
‘Not any more!’ he spat. ‘Sort yourselves out!’
‘It’s murder!’ cried Pinalippy.
‘Call it any name you like: that’s the plot. Understand, you pillows! Keep this door locked!’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes.’
‘Very good. Goodbye then, one and all. You deserved this, Clod. I’ve been so looking forward to just such a moment. My only regret is I shan’t be here when the constabulary arrives; I’m sad to miss all your weeping. I’ll hear the gunshots most likely though, and I’ll be thinking of you, you can be quite certain of that, as you slump towards the ground, as you become dead matter one and all, heavy filth. So then, come Stunly, come Duvit, come Toastrack even. Farewell, scum! This is your end. How it fits you!’