The Mud Rose

by Renee Duke

  Granddad did so. He then helped the African Mission out even more by paying for his grandchildren to try every attraction the fête had to offer. By the end of the afternoon they had had their fortunes told, acquired small prizes from the lucky dip, bowled for a real live pig—which, to Dane’s disappointment, none of them won—and tossed hoops at the hoopla stall where Paige did win a tiny music box. She also won a bottle of bath salts in a raffle, and the boys both knocked down coconuts at the coconut shy.

  Though Jack declined to enter the children’s races, Dane easily claimed the Victorian shilling bestowed on the fastest runner in his age group, and Paige netted herself a Victorian sixpence for coming second in the egg-and-spoon race. Neither placed too well in the sack race, wheelbarrow race, or three-legged race, but had fun nonetheless.

  So did Granddad, who, despite his wife’s protests, went in for a couple of the adult races and the men’s tug-of-war. His team won that test of strength, and he received a special oldest competitor prize of a picnic basket that his wife immediately appropriated to carry the various items she had purchased from the White Elephant stall.

  When the Rolls Royce returned for them, young and old piled into it feeling pleased with themselves.

  “Had a good day then?” Mr. Dexter asked, seeing all their loot.

  “Lovely,” said Granny. “Quite reminiscent of the fêtes of my childhood.”

  “Really? Wow, I didn’t know you were that old, Gran,” Paige teased.

  “Things like fêtes didn’t change much between the Victorian era and the first half of the twentieth century, dear. Ours were much like that one. Bouncy castles and other modern fripperies didn’t come in until much later.” She sighed. “It’s nice to go back in time occasionally, isn’t it, Avery?”

  Granddad shot the children a conspiratorial look, and agreed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  By the time they got back to Windsor, Granny had changed her mind. The tug-of-war had put a strain on Granddad’s back and he was feeling the effects of using muscles that gentlemen approaching seventy-one did not often use.

  His wife found it impossible to refrain from comment as Mr. Dexter helped him out of the car. “I told you not to do it, you silly man. Why can’t you listen? We must get you straight upstairs to bed.”

  The children were supposed to stay with their grandparents overnight, and Granddad refused to change this arrangement. As Granny bustled about getting him a hot water bottle and a cup of tea, Paige rooted around in a wardrobe in the master bedroom until she found the pouch of Victorian banknotes he had stashed there.

  She was just handing it to him when Jack came in with an envelope Uncle Edmond had left on the kitchen table while they were out. It contained a To Whom It May Concern letter from Clive Hollingsworth promising Barnardo’s a sizeable donation, and giving three progressively educated young people full authority to act on his behalf. It also asked the recipient to accede to any requests these young relatives might make in regards to a certain pair of orphans.

  “As you can see, you’ve all become Wolvertons. Uncle Edmond’s got a lot of old Hollingsworth diaries and other personal papers. In going through them, he discovered Clive Hollingsworth was Rosalina Wolverton’s godfather. I’ve already told the governor you’re relatives, but another connection won’t hurt. Someone reading that might be aware the two families were on good terms.”

  Paige studied the letter. “Hmm, copperplate handwriting. I didn’t know Uncle Edmond had copperplate handwriting.”

  “He doesn’t—but his computer does. With the help of a scanner, he was even able to cut and paste Uncle Clive’s authentic signature. The paper and envelope are genuine Victorian era reproductions from a specialty shop. The printer probably didn’t like them much.”

  “It looks great,” said Dane. “I’m glad Uncle Edmond doesn’t have our mums’ aversion to using modern technology. You don’t either, do you, Granddad?”

  “Liking the past doesn’t mean you can’t move with the times. I’m not quite as computer savvy as he is, though. That’s why I got him to do the letter.”

  “I suppose you know you could both be had up for forgery,” Paige said, a little disapprovingly.

  Granddad was unrepentant. “We could? How? Back when it’s going to be used, we haven’t even been born yet. And while it would never fool an expert from this time period, the people it’s intended for shouldn’t notice anything amiss. Besides, it’s just a back-up. We thought you should have something that would give you some standing if I couldn’t go back to help you deal with the authorities. In view of what the governor said, I want you to wait until I can. I’ll be right as rain come morning.”

  He wasn’t. After breakfast, Granny showed the children a near-empty bottle of liniment and gave Paige some money to go into town for more.

  “I know your parents don’t really like you out and about on your own here, but there are three of you, and Jack knows his way around Windsor, even if you don’t. This liniment’s been known to help your grandfather when he wracks himself up, Almost all the chemist shops carry it. Can you remember the name, or shall I tear off the label?”

  “We’ll remember it,” said Jack. “Leastways, I will.”

  “We’ll take the label,” said Paige. “There might be six different kinds.”

  There were, and the first pharmacy was out of the one Granny wanted. The second one had it, and they were on their way back when, just as they were coming up to Windsor Castle, Jack stopped. And stopped so suddenly that Dane and Paige both ran into him.

  “Don’t do that!” Paige said irritably. “I almost dropped the liniment.”

  “Say the rhyme,” Jack commanded.

  “What?’ his cousins replied in unison.

  “The connecting rhyme. Say it, Dane. Say it now. Right now.”

  “But we’re not in London,” said Dane, fumbling for the medallion.

  “And we’re not dressed Victorian,” said Paige.

  “Just do it!”

  They materialized at night, and all three gasped as their bodies reacted to a sudden drop in temperature.

  Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Jack looked around.

  “There,” he said, pointing.

  Hetty and Pip were across the street, the dark shape of the castle looming above them. As the others ran to meet them, they shrank against the wall looking terrified.

  “Oh, it’s you!” Hetty sounded relieved. “That’s a bit of luck. Where’d you get them rummy-looking togs?”

  “Never mind our togs,” said Paige, giving everyone a push into the shadows to discourage attention from curious passers-by. “What are you doing in Windsor? And how did you get here?”

  “Harry dropped us off. He had a delivery somewhere here abouts. I remembered you saying as how you lived in Windsor, so we come here to find you. Been looking all day. We couldn’t wait around in London. T’nt safe for us there no more.”

  “Why not? Did the Barnardo people try to separate you?”

  “Nah. They was right good to us. What’s up with him?”

  Having hurtled through time without his travel bands, Jack was pale, and feeling nauseous.

  “He’ll be all right in a minute. We’re more interested in what’s up with you. What’s happened?”

  “It’s that Ripper bloke. We seen him. Least, I think we has. And he’s seen us.”

  “You saw him murder someone?” Paige was aghast.

  Hetty shook her head. “He were running when we saw him. But he had blood all over him. He grabbed at us saying, ‘No witnesses! No witnesses!’ I kicked him in the family jewels and we scarpered. Next day, we heard some poor doxie’d been murdered close to where he near slammed into us. And another a bit on from there. Two in one night!”

  “What were you doing out so late?” Paige was now shivering as much from horror as from the temperature change. “I thought Pip was in hospital. And that you were staying with him.”

  “Yeah, well, he got bett
er, didn’t he? I told Old Rosie where he was at, and she come to see him. Turns out she is some kind of auntie to us. The Barnardo people got her to sign summut so’s we could go to what they called a foster home. She were all for that, but wanted us to stop with her while they were finding a good ’un. Everything were okay until we went round to see some mates in Whitechapel. We got to talking and, well, long and short of it is, we stopped longer than we meant to. ’Twere real late afore we headed home, and…and…” She faltered, overcome by the memory.

  Paige put her arm around her. “It’s all right, Hetty. You’re safe enough here for the moment. But you’ve got to go to the police.”

  “Think I haven’t? They didn’t believe me. Told me to clear off. Said they had better things to do than listen to the daft prattle of mucky little guttersnipes.”

  “Did you tell anyone else what you saw?” asked Dane. “Old Rosie, or some other grown-up the police might pay attention to?”

  “Being grown-up don’t mean nothing. Not if you’re what they considers the dregs of society. A mad old bat’s what they called Old Rosie when she went in. That were over a month ago. There’s been no more killings of late, but he might just be lying low, thinking we saw him. We know he’s looking for us. Some mates told me a strange cove’s been asking questions about two kids what sound like us. They kept their gobs shut, of course, but we’s really scared now.”

  “I don’t blame you!” said Paige. “Maybe you should get someone of influence involved. Someone like Dr. Barnardo. The police will listen to him.”

  “They won’t! Some of ’em think he’s the Ripper.”

  Paige laughed derisively. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Well, he do often go wandering round Whitechapel at night.”

  “Of course he does. He’s looking for kids. Homeless kids.”

  “I knows that, and you knows that, but the peelers don’t believe it. He’s been ‘helping them with their inquiries’. And right put out he is about it too, according to the lads at the Stepney Home.”

  “There must be someone you could go to,” said Jack. “What about the solicitor whose bag you found? He seemed nice. Perhaps he’d believe you.”

  “Tried him yesterday. He weren’t there, and that Jenkins bloke just chased us off. Then I got to wondering if maybe your granddad or uncle, or whoever he is, could help us. But I didn’t know where to find him, so we come here looking for you.”

  “Uncle Clive! There’s a thought,” said Dane.

  “Not a good one,” Paige retorted. “Our version’s laid up, and the other’s a known eccentric. People wouldn’t take him seriously either. Not about something like this.”

  “We’ll just have to do something ourselves, then,” said Dane.

  “Such as?”

  “Such as getting Hetty and Pip back into the care of Dr. Barnardo and out of the country as fast as possible. The child migration programme might be a step into the unknown, but at least it’ll put thousands of miles between them and the Ripper.”

  Hetty’s brow crinkled. “You saying we should go to Canada, like Min and Noll?”

  “Yes,” said Jack. “It’s far, far away. You’d be safe there.”

  “Maybe.” The far, far away aspect seemed to be giving her pause. Then she brightened. “Be nice to see them two lads again.”

  Paige wasn’t sure she liked the idea. “I doubt you’d be anywhere near them, Hetty. Canada’s a really, really big country. And like we told you before, not all kids go to good places.”

  “But some does. We might be lucky. If not, we’ll put up with what we has to and wait for a chance to sort out summut else. If the Ripper gets us, we won’t be going nowheres.”

  She and the boys looked at Paige.

  “We do have that letter Uncle Edmond did for us,” Dane reminded her.

  “That’s right,” Jack chimed in. “We can say Uncle Clive thinks Hetty and Pip should to go to Canada. And that he wants us to go with them to make sure they get a good place. That should give us some control over things.”

  “It might,” Paige conceded, “but we’d have to go get it. That means leaving Hetty and Pip here alone.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” said Dane. “You and Jack can stay with them. I’ll go back for it. I’ll pick up our good clothes and the money as well.”

  “What are you going to tell Granddad? You know he doesn’t want us doing this on our own. And now that Jack the Ripper might be involved…”

  “I won’t go into that kind of detail. I’ll just say Jack’s had one of his feelings, and if we want to help Hetty and Pip, it has to be now. With you two already back here, he’ll have to let me rejoin you.”

  “What about the time gap?” Jack wanted to know. “Granddad said we could make specific arrangements.”

  “That’s right, we can. Okay, just think of me as being back in about ten minutes, and I’ll do the same.”

  Much of this exchange was lost on Hetty and Pip, but they asked no questions. Even when Paige handed her brother the liniment and started muttering, “Ten minutes, ten minutes, ten minutes…” they only gave her an odd look.

  Dane fixed the stipulated time in his mind and walked around the corner to say the connecting rhyme. Exactly ten minutes later, he returned, dressed in his Victorian coat and suit and carrying his grandfather’s large carpet bag.

  “Blimey, you were quick,” said Hetty.

  “Did you get everything?” Paige asked, pulling her own Victorian clothes out of the bag.

  “I think so. I told Granny we wanted the outfits so we could take some period pictures by Queen Victoria’s statue. I brought your travel bands, too, Jack. I thought you might want them for the boat as well as the trip home.”

  “Thanks. I probably will.” Then, taking Dane aside he said, “Any problems?”

  “Some. Granddad didn’t want me to connect again until he could come with me. It seems the medallion works differently if a user returns to the present and leaves other users in the past. Sort of the reverse of when we all return to the present and time moves on for the people we’ve connected to. He said, since I had the medallion, the ten minutes we specified would still be ten minutes for you, regardless of how long it took for me to get back to you. But it could be days before his back’s better. There’s no way you and Paige could be gone that long without your absence from our time being noticed. I told him Granny would freak out over you not showing up within the next hour, never mind a week or so. That pretty much ended the argument.”

  “But he’s not a happy bunny?”

  “No, he’s not a happy bunny.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  They passed the night in some bushes down by the river. No one slept. Hetty and Pip because they were too nervous, the others because, in their own time, they had only recently got up. In the morning, they went to the train station to purchase tickets back to London. Thanks to Barnardo’s, the little mudlarks were now plainly, but respectably dressed, and did not look out of place amongst the other passengers.

  Neither did the three more smartly attired children. It was the absence of an adult escort that drew comment from the ticket master.

  “Going up on your own, then, are you?” he said, sounding surprised.

  “We’re being met,” Jack told him. “Nanny says it’s an adventure.”

  “Is that so? Have to be telling her all about it when you get home then, won’t you?”

  Much to Paige’s annoyance, he handed the tickets to Dane, even though she had been the one to ask, and pay, for them.

  “He probably thinks a mere girl would be silly enough to lose them or something,” she muttered as they moved toward the steam train waiting at the platform.

  Dane shrugged. “Men, and boys, of this time are expected to take charge of everyday things so little ladies like you don’t have to bother their heads about them.”

  “Men and boys take charge of all the important stuff as well, so what are little ladies supposed to bother their head
s about? Tea parties?”

  “That’s all some of the high and mighty ones bothers about,” said Hetty. “The rest of us go round fixing what gets mucked up because blokes was in charge of it. And that’s a full time job, innit, Paige?”

  “Yes, it is,” said Paige, somewhat mollified to have found an ally.

  Hetty and Pip had never ridden in a train, and the Victorian version was a novelty for the other three as well. Each compartment had its own outside door and passengers sat in upholstered seats that faced each other.

  Pip almost fell off his seat when the train pulled out with a jolt.

  “This thing don’t half move,” Hetty said after the train was well underway. “I likes it, though. Quite the life we’ve been living of late, titch. First a growler, and now a train.”

  On the outskirts of Windsor, Pip pointed out the window. “Look, Hetty! Horses! You think a horse could run faster than this here train?”

  “Dunno. Them ones is too busy eating grass. Leastways, I think it’s grass. That’s what Harry said it were, coming in.”

  “Haven’t you ever seen grass before?” Jack asked in astonishment.

  “A bit, here and there. Is that out there what they calls a pasture?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thought so. Alf says when Malachi gets too old to work, he’ll put him out to pasture. He will, too. He’d never sell him to the knacker’s yard, like a lot of ’em do.”

  Pip nodded approvingly. “Malachi’ll like having grass.”

  After a while, the pastures disappeared and the train began to pass by the bleak warehouses and dingy streets of industrial London. The onset of rain made the scene even more dismal.

  Outside the train station, Dane hailed a cab and told the driver they wanted to go to the Dr. Barnardo Home at Stepney Causeway.

  “Long trip, that,” said the driver. “Fare’ll be at least a guinea, and two shillings for the bag.”

  “It won’t!” said Hetty. “We’s just kids, with most of us under ten. And the bag’s coming inside with us, so it’ll be five bob, and not a farthing more. I knows about how far it is, and your rates is right there on the side. We can read, you know. You overcharge the young gentleman here, and I’ll have him report you.”