by Edward Carey
‘Must you go?’
‘Kiss me, Clod.’
I kissed her upon the cheek. Coming close to her I felt suddenly so complete, like I was all of myself again. That was so peculiar, such a feeling of togetherness I hadn’t felt since I’d had James Henry with me. How odd it was that kissing Pinalippy made me feel like that. Quite the shock.
‘Bye, Pin. Promise you’ll be back.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Take good care.’
‘Shall try, I do assure ye.’
‘Keep clear of any flames, they might be Rippit, he does love them so.’
‘Bye, my Clodman, think of me a little,’ she said, and then her head came close to me, closer and closer, that head of Pinalippy, and she kissed me full on the lips.
‘Oh,’ I said, when she had withdrawn.
‘Well, then, I must be off.’
‘I’ll sit up here to watch you go.’
I sat there, my fingers on my lips, feeling so hot, feeling heat rising all around me. I must be ill, I thought, or it must be Pinalippy. But it wasn’t either of those – it was flames, nearby.
23
FOLLOWING THE TRAIL
Continuing the narrative of Lucy Pennant
Took me all of two hours to find Connaught Place. Didn’t know where to look. Running from the policemen I think I ran helter-skelter in the wrong direction. I just ran, and as I ran all I saw was the underbutler and his blood and the white linens caught in the wind, rushing around his bulleted body, like the cloths were dancing around him, like they were happy he’d been shot. Round they skipped, the linens, till the police trod them in the mud. I didn’t stop for ages, thought I’d be shot if I did, took me so long to slow down and catch my breath and everywhere was so dark, shadows of people moving in the fogged streets. I lost my bonnet back there somewhere, hadn’t done it up properly after untying it for Piggott, but I was in a good dress now, newish shoes, never been so grand. If you run like that, Lucy Pennant, they’ll know you’re running from someone and they’ll wonder why and they’ll wonder who and they’ll know something’s wrong with you. If you walk slow and act like you belong and look people back in the face then they’ll ignore you and won’t think you’re anything special.
So I slowed. So I stopped. So I brushed myself down a bit. Tried to tame my hair a little, but the damn stuff was wild again and stuck out every which way. So. I took a deep breath and turned about. And the people, they didn’t look at me so much afterwards and if they did, well then I spoke back at them double quick.
‘What are you staring at?’
‘Nothing at all, I’m sure.’
‘See that you don’t.’
Or when I saw a plump fellow gawping:
‘You got a problem?’
‘What, me? No.’
‘It’s rude to stare, I was taught.’
‘I didn’t mean to, I beg your pardon.’
‘Something wrong with me?’
‘No, no nothing at all.’
‘I’ve the same right to this street as you, I reckon.’
‘Yes, yes, course you do.’
‘I’ve slapped a person for less.’
‘Please, please, I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Shouldn’t have looked then, should you. I’ll give you one chance.’
‘Yes, yes, what?’
‘Where’s Connaught Place?’
But he had no idea and I’d already quite frightened the life from him. So then I let him go and later I tried asking people but none of them knew what I was on about, they asked me what it was near and I couldn’t say. I was beginning to wonder if Piggott had given me the wrong words all together. But then, dumb Lucy, I just stopped, put my hands together and blew. It was worth a go, surely. Took a while for the right noise to come, but then I had it once more and called and called. Then waited and waited. Well it was nonsense, wasn’t it, just as I thought, boys’ foolishness. But I blew again several times for good measure.
I stood there in a muddy lane, blackness either side of me, under a streetlamp giving off its weary hope, cooing and helplessly cooing.
I hadn’t heard him coming, hadn’t seen him either. But then came a pigeon whistle back.
‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Link boy?’
Another pigeon whistle, in reply.
‘Hello, there, I need showing someplace, can you help?’
Another load of gurgling coos.
‘I do hear you well enough,’ I said, ‘but I don’t see you.’
‘Then come out of the light,’ a voice cursed, ‘you flaming loon, and do it quick or I’ll blow your own lights out.’
I stepped away from the lamp.
‘Over here.’
There was a moving shadow, I went over to it.
‘Hullo,’ I said.
‘Shut your trap!’ he snapped. ‘And quick, wear this.’
He handed me his own headgear, a filthy cap.
‘No, ta,’ I said.
‘Wear it fast or I’ll bloody kick you, I swear I will.’
I put it on.
‘There then, now we can talk.’
‘I need to find …’
‘Now I can talk to you. Whatever do you mean, running around with your hair out like that?’
‘No law against it that I know of.’
‘They’re looking for you, you bloody eejit.’
He shoved a bill poster in my face:
WANTED BY POLICE
VAGRANT FROM FOULSHAM
YOUNG WOMAN 15 to 18
MARKED PARTICULARLY BY HER UNKEMPT
AUBURN HAIR
I pulled the cap down.
‘Is that me?’
‘Yes it bloody is.’
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘“Oh”, she says,’ said the boy in the dark, ‘you’re a bloody lamp yourself, aren’t you. You’re the whole Fire of London in a dress. Why didn’t you just run screaming, “Here I am! Here I am! The Monument gone walkabout!”’
‘Well I’m sorry, I was running from the police.’
‘No kidding.’
‘I’m Lucy Pennant, hullo, thanks for the hat, who are you?’
‘I’m bloody Arnold Pettifer, Holborn Link Boy. We’ve only been trying to track you all bloody day. We got the word come from the Mill Bank links that we were to find you and hide you double quick before someone else gets to you first. They’re postering these bills all over London walls. Quite famous, aren’t you?’
‘I suppose I am!’ I said, but then, ‘Hardly good news, is it.’
‘Well then, let me finish, won’t you? Then there comes another call, and some more business regarding you, old flametop, old redmop.’
‘That’s enough.’
‘They’ve found someone, the links have, someone you’re looking for. Clot, something like that.’
‘Clod! Clod! You’ve found him!’
‘Yes, yes I said so haven’t I? Will you stop your shrieking!’
‘Where is he?’
‘I’m coming to that, if you’ll give me half a chance. It was the Bayswater Links that done it. Stowed up with a load of others in a house on Connaught Square. Ill-looking fellow, he was seen last night by one of the links, with some tall fellow, moving things, without somehow touching them.’
‘That’s him! That’s him!’
‘Well then we’ve got him!’
‘Then let’s go, come on!’
‘No, no, we’re supposed to hide you, we are, keep you somewhere out of sight. I know a good stow for you. You shouldn’t be on the streets, not with hair like that – they’ll find you quick as lightning.’
‘I’m wearing your cap now.’
‘Yes, it’s my bloody cap, and I’ll want it back.’
‘Arnold, is it?’
‘Yes it is, Arnold bloody Pettifer.’
‘Well, Arnold bloody Pettifer, I’m obliged to you for your hat, and I need you for something else: I need you to guide me, quick as you can, to Connaught Square.�
�
‘I was told to get you hidden, I was told that most particular.’
‘I’m sure, and I do thank you, but I need to get to Connaught Square. I need to find Clod.’
‘Oh do you?’
‘Yes, yes I do.’
‘And you don’t know the way there without help?’
‘No, I don’t. And I’ll pay you for it. Here, silver.’ I handed him one of Piggott’s silver spoons. ‘Real silver. See, I must get to him, I beg you, I need to find Clod!’
‘Well, well. I’ll take this for now, not saying that I’ll keep it, but for now it can take temporary accommodation in my pocket. Cheers.’
‘Can we go then?’
‘If you keep my cap on.’
And off we set.
‘How are my friends at the candle factory?’ I said as we marched along. ‘Are they all safe?’
‘I heard nothing about them.’
‘I’m sure they’re safe, aren’t they? What do you think? And any news of the ones they took in the Mill Bank Prison?’
‘Nothing, I heard nothing on the subject.’
On we went.
‘What’s so special about this Clop anyway?’
‘Clod, he’s called Clod.’
‘Fancy man, is it?’
‘Mind your own.’
‘Is he in trouble and all?’
‘What’s it to you?’
‘Cos all of the Connaughts – Connaught Place, Connaught Square, Connaught Street – is lousy with peelers.’
‘They mustn’t find him.’
‘The links won’t tell, and they’ll be keeping an eye out, you can be sure of that.’
‘They’re shooting Iremongers, the police are! I’ve seen them do it!’
‘Well, yes … it’s true. Since you know. Anyone from Foulsham.
I didn’t like to say, on account of it not being very encouraging.’
‘They’ll be safe in the candle factory, shan’t they?’
‘Links won’t tell on them.’
‘Can we run? I can’t bear to walk.’
‘We can speed it up a bit, but we shouldn’t seem in too much of a hurry, people have been stopped for less today. Crikey, but they’re all grown very nervous! Let’s be as invisible as we can.’
So on we went, at quite the clip, fast but not running.
‘This is Tyburn,’ the boy said. ‘Just here’s where they hanged people, don’t do it here now, do it in the prisons, more polite in every way. I seen six hangings, all told.’
‘Have you really?’
‘I’ll take you some time if you like.’
‘No. Thank you.’
‘Only being polite.’
‘Even so.’
‘Where else then? What’s your fancy? Boxing ring, music hall? I seen such a funny fellow in at Wilton’s, made me cry tears in joyness, how about …’
‘Arnold Pettifer, are you trying to sweet-talk me?’
‘And making scant progress at it.’
‘There’s no future in it, I’m already taken.’
‘All right then, we’ll keep it as it is, purely professional.’
‘I appreciate it.’
‘Only thing is, if your fellow lets you down, and many do, that’s all I’m saying, your un may be a good un, he may be, but many turn out to be rotten even though they always had seemed so promising, it’s the way of the world, you see, and if your fellow turns bumpy on you, well then, call on Arnold, I should. He’ll steer you right.’
‘Thank you, Arnold.’
‘Any day of the week.’
‘But I am quite spoken for, I’ve given my heart completely.’ And in that moment I so knew it to be true.
‘Well I hope he treats it nice.’
‘I do think he will. Should he ever get the chance.’
‘Well then, here we are, Connaught Square.’
‘Here?’
‘Close as we can get for now, it seems.’
‘Oh!’
‘You may well say it, “Oh!”’
‘OH!’
It had all been blocked off. There were firemen’s wagons all around, pumping water into the buildings, but the flames were so tall and fat that it seemed the whole square had gone up in flames.
‘Oh what do we do? Is Clod in there? Stuck in the flames?’
‘Not much we can do, missy, not now. Best let the firemen do what they do, that’s best I reckon.’
‘But he’s so close, so near now, I must get to him, I must!’
‘Best not, all in all, on account of the temperature.’
‘Oh Clod!’
‘Don’t go calling that out, it shan’t profit you any.’
‘Coo,’ said a young boy, sidling up.
‘Coo?’ asked Arnold.
‘Never could whistle, could I?’
‘Oh hello then, what’s the news?’
‘Who’s that with you?’
‘It’s her, the redtop.’
‘She’s supposed to be under cover!’
‘I know that! You don’t have to tell me! You try controlling her, she won’t be told, I tell you, she’s like wildfire. Oh, sorry, that last, probably not so appropriate after all, given the … accurate maybe, appropriate it’s not.’
‘Tell me, please, please,’ I begged, ‘what’s the news?’
‘Well you can’t get in, I can say that much, miss. The square’s up in flames, no one can get through.’
‘Oh Clod! I can’t bear it!’
‘Steady, girl, steady.’
‘Have you seen him? Seen Clod?’
‘Yes, I’ve seen him, well enough I’ve seen him with my own blinkers. Not a half-hour ago, before the fire sprung up terrible sudden. He was up on the roof.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Smallish fellow, big head, dark hair in a parting. ’Bout five foot three, I’d reckon.’
‘Yes, yes, that’s him. Only a half-hour ago? If only we could get through!’
‘That’s my report. Girl he was with was taller.’
‘Girl?’
‘Dark hair, dark dress, wealthy looking.’
‘That must be Pinalippy.’
‘There was another lady too.’
‘Another?’
‘Oh dear,’ whispered Arnold, shaking his head and looking at me with great concern, ‘here we go.’
‘Yes, now this might sound a bit odd. That woman, she, well she kept twisting and twitching, and changing she was, back and forth, into things. That doesn’t sound right, does it? Well it’s what I seen. She seemed a woman and then, well then, she was a whole load of different things … couldn’t believe it really and then, last of all, she comes a seagull, truly, and then, well, she flies from the roof and leaves them two there, your fellow and the lady.’
‘Have you been drinking, young un?’ asked Arnold.
‘I’m same age of you, and no I bloody haven’t. I do think I saw all that, I do think so, I know it doesn’t sound likely but then what is these days?’
‘I believe you,’ I said.
‘Well and the light wasn’t so good, was it, so who knows. It’s better now with all them flames … oh, sorry.’
‘You saw him,’ I said. ‘He was alive, then.’
‘Yes, I saw them, up there on the roof afterwards, the boy and the lady. And I saw them kiss and all.’
‘Kiss? Are you sure?’
‘I saw them.’
‘Bad light, wasn’t it?’ said Arnold.
‘No, they kissed, I saw it!’
‘All right, don’t overdo it.’
‘They did, I swear it!’
‘Terrible bad light,’ said Arnold, ‘can’t trust it, all the shadows moving, could’ve been anything, could’ve been. In this sort of light any moron would think a seagull a big woman.’
‘It’s all right, Arnold,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’
Clod was on the roof, kissing someone. That didn’t quite make sense, did it? Could he? Why would Clod be kissing a
person? Had he forgot me already? He loved me. He said as much. There must be some explanation. Course there was. If only I could get to him. He’s not burning now, is he? As I stand here? He’s not flaming up? So close, so close, Clod, my Clod.
‘Oh,’ said the boy, ‘have I said something untoward?’
‘Not much, you haven’t,’ put in Arnold.
‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s no matter.’
‘You’ve gone and upset her!’ said Arnold.
‘No, no, I’m all right.’
‘Look at her,’ said Arnold. ‘I suppose you’re proud of yourself.’
‘I was only reporting. I was told to keep a watch.’
‘I’m sure he’s a good un,’ said Arnold. ‘I’m sure he is. Course he is. No doubting. It’s the weather, I reckon, does funny things to a person.’
‘Yes, yes,’ I whispered.
‘Well in truth,’ said the boy, ‘it wasn’t much of a kiss. Just a peck on the cheek, see, over in a little moment.’
‘Well then,’ said Arnold, very angrily, ‘whatever are you making such a commotion about it for?’
‘It may be that I didn’t see it after all; that light, you know, it wasn’t good.’
‘There we are at last! He is a good un, course he is.’
‘Second kiss though, that one was lips …’
‘Enough, you pilchard!’
A grey city fox was trotting down the Bayswater Road where we stood, like it all belonged to him, a big ugly brute of a thing, it stopped right before us, it looked up at me, I swear it did, and it screamed.
‘Go on, vile thing!’ cried Arnold. ‘Get! Get!’
One of its paws flashed a little, there was a band of metal.
‘What a creature!’
‘What a business!’
It seemed to spit on the ground, the hideous beast, and then ran off.
‘Well then, miss, nothing doing here I reckon, not till they get the fire controlled and they shall for sure, soon as soon. Meanwhile, we’d best get you under coverings. Come along, no good in staying, the Bayswater Links will keep an eye out, shan’t you. Nothing to see here.’
‘A very good eye out. We’ll keep watching.’
‘And you can have your spoon back if you like,’ said Arnold.
‘No, it’s all right,’ I murmured. ‘You keep it.’
‘Well, just to please you. Come along, nothing we can do here. Come on, we’ll head back to Holborn, it’ll be safer there.’