“A nail, or something,” said Ned.
“Maybe it’s part of a door,” said Miley.
She moved her hands up and down and over the wall. The feel of bricks gave way to something smoother and colder. Wood perhaps, held together with bands of metal. Then: “I think I’ve found a handle,” said Miley.
She tried turning it but nothing happened.
“Locked,” said Ned. “We’re still trapped.”
“I hear something,” said Miley.
“Is it Bacon?” said Ned, frightened. “Has she woken up?”
“Maybe she has,” said Miley. “But that wasn’t the noise I meant.”
She put her ear to the door.
“Voices,” she said. “Outside.”
Chapter 17
“Quick, run!” said Ned. “Back to the dormitories.”
“Then we’ll run into Bacon for sure,” said Miley,
very calmly and sensibly. “Let’s carry on the way we
were going before we found the door. The handle is on our left hand side so, if we go on a little way ahead, when the door opens we’ll be hidden behind it.”
Miley paused, her ear still pressed to the door.
“They’re coming closer, whoever they are. Hurry, Ned!”
Ned scuttled forward, Miley close on his heels.
Just in time they faded into the darkness between boxes and wall. Just in time, because they heard a scraping sound like a key turning and the door in the wall opened, letting in light from a lamp held aloft by whoever was outside.
“Now we just have to wait for our chance to escape,” said Miley.
Chapter 18
At first Miley and Ned couldn’t see what was happening on the far side of the door. They just had to guess that the person holding the lamp had come into the factory, followed by goodness knows how many other people. Probably not many, Miley decided.
Boxes began to be taken away. After a while Miley
and Ned could see, through a gap in the pile, that there were only two men in total. One was busy packing the small matchboxes into the larger boxes and putting those boxes into the gaps from where the filled big boxes had been taken. The other man was doing the taking away.
Then Bacon appeared.
“I overslept,” she said grumpily. “My sleep was disturbed the night before. We thought that a child or children were on the loose. Not that they could have escaped.”
“We haven’t seen anyone tonight,” said one of the men.
“Good,” said Bacon “Well, be sure to secure the door when you leave. I’ll make you a cup of tea in the meanwhile.”
“We could murder a cup of tea,” said the man.
Bacon went to the kitchen. The men continued their work.
“They don’t care that children are imprisoned in the factory,” Miley said. “That makes me so angry. Listen, Ned. As soon as the man taking the boxes has gone
outside and the man filling the boxes has gone to fill
some more – when both those things happen at the same time – then we’ll make a run for it. We can easily skirt round the door now there’s some more space, and get outside. Okay?”
Ned nodded. He realized that Miley could not see him nodding so he whispered a reply: “Yes.”
Chapter 19
They had to wait another ten or fifteen minutes before both men were far enough away. It seemed the longest number of minutes either of them had ever had to wait.
“Now!” said Miley. “Let’s do it!”
They dashed down the passageway as far as the open door. Miley paused briefly to be sure that the man packing the boxes had his back to them before she grabbed Ned’s hand and fled from the hateful match factory.
The man heard them. He turned round and cried out, but he was too late.
Miley and Ned raced past the second man who was tottering under a pile of big boxes beneath a sign that read: Outward Goods Only. As she dashed past him,
Miley nudged him with her elbow and he
staggered, dropping the boxes and spilling their contents over the cobbled laneway. He, too, yelled at Miley and Ned to halt, but of course they ignored him and continued to run as fast as they could.
They were in another darkened laneway, lit only by pale, flickering lamps that were just about running out of fuel.
“Where to now?” said Ned.
“I don’t know,” said Miley. “I guess one way is as good as an other.”
They ran round a corner where they were both suddenly brought to a stop by a large object that gripped them firmly, each by one arm, as if it would never let them go.
Chapter 20
Miley looked up in horror! Ned closed his eyes. They were caught before they’d had time to escape anywhere.
Miley could have kicked herself.
Bacon would not want anyone to find out that she
was making kidnapped children work for her in a
match factory. Miley should have guessed there would be a third person on the prowl. It must the night watchman who had them caught fast.
The man was none other than the big-waisted man who had bumped so rudely into Miley, the day she had found her way into the cellar of the Devil’s Element. Only then, she hadn’t known he was match factory’s night watchman.
As it turned out, she still didn’t know who he really was.
Chapter 21
“Miley, is that you?” asked the big-waisted man.
“How do you know my name?” Miley asked, completely flabbergasted. “And how do you know the right way to pronounce it?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” he said. “We all have. Your family and me. The constabulary, too, of course.”
“But who are you?” said Miley.
Ned had, by this time, opened his eyes. He was
looking from Miley to the man, and back again. Ned
was as mystified as Miley.
“I’m your Uncle,” said the man. “That’s how I know your name and how to pronounce it. I’ve been staying in your room. I was told you had run away from home because I was coming. I felt very bad about that. Apparently I made you cry.”
“We’ve never met,” said Miley, “but you still recognized me.”
“Your parents showed me a photo of you, of course.”
“What are you doing here in the middle of the night,” Miley asked.
“I’ll tell you,” said Miley’s Uncle. “But not right now. It’s obvious that you are escaping from somewhere, for I can hear the sound of urgent footsteps approaching and the cries of angry voices. I suspect they may be voices of people who have been unkind to you.”
“It’ll be the two box-men and maybe Bacon and Pork Pie as well,” said Miley. “They kidnapped us! I thought you were another one of them. The night watchman.”
“Certainly not,” said Miley’s Uncle. “Follow me. I’ll
take you home.”
“Ned must come as well,” said Miley.
“Of course he must,” said Miley’s Uncle.
As they hurried from the laneway, the voices of their enemies faded into the background.
Much sooner than Miley would ever have thought possible, she was home again.
Chapter 22
Miley’s parents had been sleeping fitfully for days on end, sick with worry about Miley. When Miley’s Uncle woke them they nearly fell down the stairs in their haste to embrace their lost daughter. Miley’s big sister sobbed great, big tears, hugging and hugging her dear sister so closely that Miley could barely take a breath.
“Tell us everything that befell you!” they all clamored, so as soon as hot chocolate and cold meat pies (not pork pies) were brought out Miley told her story. It took a long time and it was hard to get everything in the right order but Ned helped in the telling.
“But we still don’t know what brought my brave,
kind-hearted Uncle to the laneway so late at night,”
said Miley.
“I woke up with a hunch,” Miley’s Uncle expla
ined. “When I first saw your photograph I thought I recognized the face on the photo. But where had I seen it before, I asked myself. Then at last I remembered. (I have been known to be forgetful, that’s why it took me so long to work it out.) It was in that very laneway when I was making my way to your home. A child bumped into me without apology. What a rude child, I thought at the time, catching a glimpse of her face in the rain. She has no manners.”
“But you bumped into me!” said Miley. “And you didn’t say sorry, either.”
“Well, we were both at fault perhaps,” Miley’s Uncle agreed. “At any rate, the face I had seen came back into my mind’s eye and suddenly I knew who it was. I knew it was your face I had seen, Miley. I didn’t want to unduly raise the hopes of your dear parents and
sister so I slipped from the house this very night and retraced my steps to the laneway. And lo and behold!
There you came running. You and this lad called Ned.
And the story ends happily.”
“That must be the police,” said Miley’s Papa, as a
loud hammering sounded at the door. “I sent for them
immediately.”
“Let them in,” said Miley’s uncle. “They have some work to do, rescuing more unlucky children from the clutches of Bacon and Pork Pie. Except, now, they will be lucky children instead, and the Devil’s Element will be toast.”
“We must also let Ned’s father know that Ned is safe and well,” said Miley.
“Indubitably,” said Miley’s Uncle.
Chapter Fifteen
The following day, the door to Emily’s room was open and Uncle Raymond called out to Emily as she went past.
“Did you finish?’” he asked.
“I have some loose ends to tie up,” said Emily. “But, thanks to you, Miley and Ned have escaped and the police are on their way to rescue the other children. The factory is going to be toast, I think.”
“Hmm,” said Uncle Raymond. “Perhaps a rather too drastic solution. I think we’ve had our share of fires, you and I Emily, don’t you agree? Better that it just closes down.”
“Hmm,” said Emily. “How are you getting on?” she asked.
“I find myself in the same state as before,” said Uncle Raymond. “An ideas-free zone. However, with respect to my grumpiness, I have decided to try and smile a little more by remembering nice times. And, one day soon, a smile may lead to laughter.”
“Well,” said Emily, “while I’ve been finishing my story, I’ve had two ideas to help you.”
“Indeed,” said Uncle Raymond. “Do tell.”
“Our teacher always says that we have to polish our stories until they shine,” said Emily. “I’m not very good at polishing. It hurts my arm.”
“I understand completely,” said Uncle Raymond.
“I though we could polish The Devil’s Element together,” said Emily. “That way, you could get used to writing again.”
“Do you think two grumpy, but hopefully not as grumpy as before, people could work successfully together?” asked Uncle Raymond.
“We could try,” said Emily.
“Hmm. Well, without a doubt, your story will need some polishing. And what is your second idea.”
“I’ve had an idea for a brand new story. You gave me the idea to begin with so it’s only fair that we write it together. If you want to.”
“I don’t write juveniles,” said Uncle Raymond. “As I explained, I simply don’t have the necessary competencies.”
“This will be a story for all ages,” said Emily. “And you have to start writing something or you’ll forget completely how to do it. My idea is that we write
about a ghost. A real ghost this time. Not a metaphorical one. And what if the ghost meets an Ancient Roman? On another planet? Maybe we could make the story really dreadful by having another Barber Surgeon in it. Not like the one in your Penny Dreadful, but a modern sort of hairdresser with curling tongs and straighteners and all sorts of sprays and smelly perfumes. Poisonous ones that attack people’s Achilles Heels. And what if there’s a fox terrier called Bertie in the story who comes to the rescue . . . ”
“You’re getting rather carried away, I fear,” Uncle Raymond interrupted her.
“It’s just a place to start,” said Emily. “I’m just asking writerly questions. What ifs?”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” said Uncle Raymond. “What might this book be called?” he asked, after a few moments further thought.
Emily chewed her lip. “I thought we could call it Emily and Uncle Raymond’s Penny Dreadful,” she said.
“Hmm. I’m not sure about the title,” said Uncle Raymond. “Or, rather, the order of the names in the title. Why don’t we wait and decide on those details
later on.”
“So we’ll write the story together?”
“Well, I suppose we could give it a try,” said Uncle Raymond at last. “As you say, it’s a place to start. And all writers have to start somewhere, don’t they?”
“Indubitably!” said Emily.
The End
Emily's Penny Dreadful Page 8