by Tim Hehir
‘It’s like a dream,’ said Emily. ‘Everyone’s so beautiful. I want one of those clockwork fings.’
They came to a crowd around a shopfront. Its sign read:
Papa Putching—Toymaker
Winding—1 penker
Repairs, and alterations, trade-ins, spare parts
People sat on benches, chatting and admiring one another’s automatons while they waited to have them wound. A boy sat on a stool outside the shop winding the automatons one by one with a large key
‘Mr ’iggins wouldn’t like this,’ said Emily. ‘They’re all too cheerful.’
No, he wouldn’t, Higgins.
Julius looked for a grumpy old man in a black frock coat. Is this where Tock had taken him?
The town rose up from the beachfront and spread out over a hill. The houses were all brightly painted. Flags waved on spires and the trees rustled in the breeze.
‘I don’t think were in the right place,’ said Julius. ‘It’s too nice to be Tock’s realm.’
Julius heard a sound from inside the toymaker’s shop—the chink of a tea cup on a saucer perhaps? Snatches of a conversation wafted through the open door. He recognised one of the voices.
‘Grandfather?’
‘’e’ can’t ’ear you,’ said Emily.
Julius stared through the door at Mr Higgins. He was sitting by a woodstove with a cup and saucer in his hand and an anxious expression on his face. An old man sat on a stool at a workbench by the window—Papa Putching, he presumed.
‘Yes. Well, I prefer a good book, myself,’ Mr Higgins was saying.
‘Ah, yes, the delights of the written word. I concur, sir,’ said the man at the workbench. ‘But, aah, the delights of clockworking.’
‘Quite,’ said Mr Higgins.
‘Why, look around you, sir,’ said the man, waving his hand towards the shelves of clockwork toys. ‘The precision, sir. The hours of toil. The mysteries of gearing ratios. The illusion of life created from the correct combination of rods and pinions, cogs and flywheels, and then there are the gyroscopes, perhaps the greatest discovery yet? They produce independence of movement you see—unpredictability. When that is achieved, well…’
‘Yes, quite,’ said Mr Higgins. He folded and unfolded his handkerchief anxiously. He did not appear to be listening.
Emily tugged at Julius’s sleeve. ‘Told you ’e wouldn’t be ’appy ’ere.’
‘He looks ill,’ said Julius. ‘We have to get him home.’
‘Wot can we do, ’iggins? ’ow can we get your grandpa back?’ said Emily.
‘I’m thinking. He can’t see us or hear us because we’re not really here.’
‘At least it’s nice ’ere,’ said Emily. ‘Maybe ’e could set up a bookshop and—’
‘Grandfather’s going to have an apoplexy if we don’t get him home,’ said Julius.
He looked at the pocketwatch. The cogs and wheels were spinning faster than his eye could see.
‘Wot are you thinking, ’iggins?’ said Emily.
‘I was thinking that the pocketwatch could make us materialise, if I knew how to ask it.’
Julius peered closer into the spinning mechanism.
How did you put the professor in the Grackack realm?
‘We have to find somewhere quiet,’ said Julius. He looked around. ‘Over there.’ Julius and Emily ran into the shade of an alleyway and made sure no one was looking.
Intuitively, he placed the tip of his finger on the side. It immediately stopped spinning but remained bobbing in the air. Emily gripped his arm again. Vibrations from the pocketwatch ran through the tip of his finger and through his body. His skin tingled and erupted into goosebumps.
‘Cor,’ said Emily.
‘You can feel it?’
‘Yeah,’ said Emily. ‘It’s like a mob of ants is trying to tickle me to deaf.’
‘Hold still, I think we’re doing the right thing. It feels right.’
Julius felt an almost imperceptible change in the vibrations coming from the pocketwatch. A slight slowing of the speed, but a shifting too, a shifting in the layers beneath. The vibration spread throughout his body, through his bones, his mind, to the tips of his eyelashes.
Suddenly, the pocketwatch closed up with a snap and fell into his palm.
Julius looked around. The blue dome was gone. He ran out of the alleyway and stood among the strollers and their pets.
The sea breeze blew stronger against his face. The sun felt warmer. The air was fresh and salty, making him almost hungry to breathe it in.
CHAPTER 14
Saturday 20th January 1838
2:43 PM
Emily held her face to the breeze and closed her eyes to feel the sun on her eyelids. She was dressed in the same style as the people they had passed—yellow and white stripes with wide skirts and white petticoats. Perched on her head was a wide-brimmed sun hat with a yellow ribbon hanging down the back. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her pale skin had a light summer tan.
She looked down at her new dress and her hands smoothed out the folds as if she was trying to believe it was real.
Julius was wearing a summer suit of pale green with dark green pinstripes. Under his chin was a canary-yellow cravat.
‘Don’t we look a picture?’ said Emily.
She noticed her refection in the workshop window and flicked her hair over her shoulder. The toymaker saw her and waved. Emily waved back.
‘They can see us, ’iggins,’ she said.
Julius was already at the door. He slipped inside.
‘Young Caesar!’ exclaimed his grandfather, spilling tea on his waistcoat. ‘What in Heaven’s name is going on?’
‘Hello. Welcome,’ said the man at the workbench.
He looked to be about the same age as Julius’s grandfather. His head was completely bald but for a few wild strands of white hair sprouting from behind his ears. His blue eyes were magnified by thick lenses in silver-rimmed spectacles.
The toyshop smelled of sawdust and creosote. The walls were lined with shelves of clockwork toys. And an untidy array of clock parts, tiny pots of paint, tools and notebooks lay scattered across the workbench. A wisp of steam rose from the spout of the kettle on a stove in the middle of the room.
‘Please, take your time,’ said the old man. ‘Only the finest automatons, all good little machines. So lifelike you could almost forget to wind them. All made on the premises.’
Emily whistled her approval. Mr Higgins tried to mop up the spilt tea with his handkerchief.
‘Do you ’ave any clockwork ponies, sir?’ asked Emily. ‘I’m partial to a pony.’
The man put a finger to his lips to help him think as he ran his eyes along the shelves. ‘I don’t think I do,’ he said.
‘Well, thank you for the tea, sir. Most obliged,’ said Mr Higgins.
He got up, looking for a space to put his cup and saucer down. In the end he handed them to the toymaker.
‘Do come again, sir,’ said the man. ‘We could talk more of cog ratios, my favourite subject.’
‘Yes quite,’ said Mr Higgins. He turned to Julius. ‘Young Caesar, let’s be off.’ He strode past Emily and out of the shop as if she was not there.
‘I’ll be back about the pony,’ said Emily.
Julius and Emily looked at each other and then ran to catch up with Mr Higgins as he hurried along the promenade. He was mumbling to himself and polishing his spectacles with his handkerchief.
‘Are you all right, Grandfather?’ said Julius.
‘No. I’m not. And what is that child doing here? I specifically banished her from the shop.’
‘We’re not in your poxy—I mean, I’m not in your lovely shop,’ said Emily.
Mr Higgins adjusted his spectacles on the end of his nose as he hastened along. ‘I think I might have had a turn, young Caesar. It happened to your great-uncle Ned, you know.’
‘What are you talking about, Grandfather? What happened?’
‘
Nothing happened, I imagined it all.’
‘Imagined wot?’ said Emily.
‘All this,’ he replied and waved his handkerchief about. ‘Oh, my poor heart. It’s…it’s overwork, and too much butter, that’s what it is.’
‘How did you get here?’ said Julius.
‘Here? But I’m not here. I’m at home in front of the fire, sound asleep. Oh, wake up, wake up, you old fool.’ Mr Higgins punched his sides.
‘Grandfather, wait. Did Mr Tock visit you?’ said Julius.
Mr Higgins stopped. He looked into Julius’s eyes. ‘What do you know of Tock?’
‘He left a calling card.’
‘I threw that in the coal bucket. The man’s a scoundrel.’ Mr Higgins stared out across the sea. ‘He came to the shop again, all sugar and syrup, he was. He apologised for the previous “misunderstanding”. Said he wanted to know how his gift was faring. Wanted to know if I’d watered it and kept it warm. I told him I gave the dratted thing away. Then I told the fellow to leave. He must have mesmerised me.’
‘What happened then?’ said Julius.
‘I imagined we walked through the wall of the parlour. Mr Higgins stared into the distance as if reliving the experience. ‘He had a box of glass vials. He broke one of them against the wall and it hissed like acid. It must have been some sort of narcotic. That’s it. I’ve read about that sort of thing.’
‘Wot happened then?’ said Emily.
‘The fellow took my arm and it felt as if we stepped right through the wall into this…this seaside dream. The fellow said that I should stay here. I told him I had a business to run…I…I had deliveries, orders to fill. But he laughed. And he disappeared through the wall and left me here.’
Mr Higgins hurried away. He removed his spectacles and polished them again. Suddenly, he stopped.
‘What day is it?’
‘Saturday,’ said Julius.
‘Good gracious, I must wake up. I should be in the shop. What will my customers think?’
‘It’s all right, Grandfather. I dealt with the morning rush,’ said Julius.
‘Did you? I knew you were a good boy, Julius. Even if it’s just a dream.’ Mr Higgins smiled for the first time. ‘The nice gentleman in the toyshop offered me a cup of tea. Under the circumstances I accepted his offer. Tea can be very restorative when there is no brandy to be had.’
They stopped at the spot where Julius and Emily had entered the realm.
‘You think that pocketwatch can get us back, then, ’iggins?’ said Emily.
‘What is that appalling child talking about?’ said Mr Higgins.
‘Don’t get vexed, Mr ’iggins, I’m only trying to ’elp.’
‘It’s difficult to explain, Grandfather,’ said Julius. He spun the pocketwatch in the air. ‘You’ll have to trust me.’
‘Trust you?’
‘Steady on, Mr ’iggins. It ain’t good for a man of your years to get too excited,’ said Emily, and she patted the old man’s arm.
Mr Higgins glared at her. ‘That’s it. I’m fetching a constable.’ He looked around anxiously.
Julius tapped the pocketwatch. It opened out and the cogs spun.
‘Hold my hand, Grandfather. We’re going back to the parlour,’ said Julius.
‘No we’re not,’ said Mr Higgins. ‘What nonsense.’
He began to stride away in search of a constable. Emily jumped into his path. ‘Oh. Beg pardon, Mr ’iggins,’ she said.
‘Get out of me way this instant,’ said Mr Higgins. He ripped his spectacles from his nose and began to polish them again as if his life depended on it.
Julius placed the tip of his finger against the side of the pocketwatch and took his grandfather’s hand.
‘Take my ’and too, Mr ’iggins,’ said Emily.
Mr Higgins did not notice her hand slipping into his as he stared, dumbfounded, at the pocketwatch bobbing in the air. Emily and Julius led him in a clumsy dance to turn back to face the wall.
Julius felt the vibrations coursing through his body.
‘Good Heavens,’ said Mr Higgins. ‘I’m having palpitations.’
‘I bleeding ’ope not,’ said Emily.
‘What did you say?’
‘Naffing…Oh, look.’
Blue light shone out from the pocketwatch. It grew to form a dome over the three of them.
‘Good gracious,’ said Mr Higgins, as a ghost-like image of their parlour appeared before them.
‘Time to wake up, Mr ’iggins,’ said Emily and she led the old bookseller through the gossamer wall into the parlour.
When they were all inside Julius tapped the pocketwatch and the blue glow disappeared. It closed up and fell into his open palm.
The parlour was dark and cold. They were in their London clothes again.
‘Great Heavens above,’ said Mr Higgins, as he stumbled into his chair. He stared at the fire. It had all but gone out. The travel between realms had rendered him speechless.
‘I’ll see to the fire,’ said Julius.
‘Yes. Very good,’ said Mr Higgins, as if in a trance.
Julius removed the guard and snapped some kindling. ‘I’ll make us some tea as well.’
‘Tea, be damned,’ said Mr Higgins.
He staggered to the cabinet, poured himself a large brandy and drank it down in one.
‘Ahhh. That’s better,’ he said. He poured another and returned to his chair, cradling his glass. He took out his watch and squinted through the gloom to compare its time with the clock on the mantel.
‘It’s well past five o’clock, young Caesar. I must have slept all afternoon.’
‘Yes, Grandfather,’ said Julius. ‘You probably did.’
‘Did you say something about working in the shop this morning?’ said Mr Higgins.
‘You weren’t well. You slept here by the fire.’
‘Yes, of course, now I recall. I dreamt about…Oh, never mind.’
Mr Higgins settled back into his chair. Then he noticed Emily. ‘Julius, what is that appalling child doing here. I told her never to set foot in the shop again.’
‘She was helping me.’
Emily smiled sweetly, as if she were one of the better behaved angels in one of the more refined regions of Heaven.
Mr Higgins was not convinced. ‘Did Mr Trollop come for his order?’
‘Yes.’
‘And that scoundrel, Thackeray?’
‘Yes,’ said Julius.
Mr Higgins looked at the growing fire with satisfaction. ‘You’re a good boy, Julius.’
He took a sip of his brandy and let out a long tired sigh. Then he noticed the tea stain on his waistcoat. Julius watched his grandfather’s face as he tried to make sense of a stain appearing in the real world when the spill had occurred in his dream.
‘Grandfather,’ he said. ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Higgins, as he touched the stain with the tip of his finger.
‘About my mother…’
Mr Higgins looked up. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I want to know what happened to her. What was her name?’
Mr Higgins drank the last of his brandy and went and poured another. ‘Did Mr Gissing come in?’ he said. ‘I got his damned poetry book.’
‘Did you hear what I said, Grandfather?’
Mr Higgins swirled the brandy in the glass. Julius waited.
‘She’s gone,’ said Mr Higgins.
‘Dead?’
‘No. Not dead. Gone.’
‘Was her name Clara?’
Mr Higgins winced.
It was Clara, Higgins.
‘Where did she go?’ said Julius.
‘How the blazes should I know?’
‘Why did she leave?’
‘Did young Mr Dickens come in? You didn’t give him credit did you?’
‘Please, tell me.’
‘There’s nothing to tell. She was here and now she’s not. She’s gone.’ Mr Higgins swallowed the brandy in
one gulp.
‘Why did she leave?’
The words made his grandfather jump and stare. Julius and his grandfather glared at each other. Then Mr Higgins spoke. His words were slow and measured, as if Julius was a disobedient dog.
‘Julius. There is nothing to be gained by—’
‘Please, tell me, Grandfather. I only—’
‘Be quiet,’ shouted Mr Higgins. ‘I will not be harangued like a common criminal in my own home.’ He appeared to be frightened by his own outburst. He looked at his glass, contrite, but still angry. ‘Your mama was a disgrace to her family,’ he said, quieter this time. ‘It is best for all concerned that she is gone.’
Mr Higgins seemed to shrink, folding in on himself. ‘And now,’ he said, ‘I would rather be alone. Perhaps you could walk that child home and see that she does not return.’ The words were slow and carefully pronounced. The conversation was at an end.
Emily sat on the edge of a chair, as still as a stuffed bird.
Julius buttoned his coat and made for the door. Emily jumped up to follow. But Julius lingered, wanting a final word from his grandfather.
With exaggerated deliberation, Mr Higgins poured himself another glass, and walked back to his chair. He sniffed as if to show that he had finished with a tiresome topic. He turned away to face the fire, and let out a long sigh. Julius pulled the curtain aside and went into the cold, dark shop, fumbling for his key. Emily followed him.
On the floor in front of the door a pale rectangle caught his eye and he stooped to pick it up. It was a note, with his name written across it in pencil. It was too dark to read in the shop and, in any case, he wanted to be out of there. And he did not want to return.
He rattled the key in the lock and opened the door. At the end of Ironmonger Lane he opened the note.
Julius,
No one home when I called. I’ll be at Bedlam tonight to see Mr Darwin. He has agreed to speak to me, as Abberline has told him about the orchid Tock gave you. I’ll stop by tomorrow and tell you what I learned.
Yours
Danny Flynn
P.S. Abberline said Mr Darwin was raving something about an orchid-hunter called Skinner being in London. Did you come across his name in the diary?
Julius felt an icy shiver run through him.