The Society of Thirteen

by Gareth P. Jones

  ‘How will this help me find my aunt?’ asked Tom.

  ‘The Earthsoul knows all,’ said Mondriat. ‘The lifeblood held in this cauldron contains all of time and space. The past dwells with the present. The present mixes with the future. Nothing is impossible and no question is unanswerable, but the answers must come from within.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘You must drink the potion.’

  ‘Drink it?’ said Tom. ‘Drink my own blood?’

  ‘This is not your blood,’ replied Mondriat. ‘This is a potion made from the pure moisture of the Earthsoul. You must drink it then hold the question in your mind.’

  ‘I have no cup.’

  ‘The cup,’ said Mondriat, hopping along the branch. ‘I always did forget the cup.’

  Tom dropped to his knees and crawled tentatively towards the bubbling liquid. It smelt strange. He cupped his hands and lifted a handful of the liquid to his mouth.

  To his surprise, it was the most exquisite thing he had ever tasted. He lapped up more, then dropped down and pushed his head into the hole, not caring that the liquid splashed around his face. He greedily guzzled it down. When he had drained the hole of every drop he rolled over and looked up at the overcast sky. Mondriat was speaking but he could no longer hear what he was saying. The clouds shifted, creating shapes as the bright sun eagerly sought a way through. These were the shapes of nature. This was the Earthsoul speaking. The clouds swirled around and formed a child’s face he knew to be his mother. He watched her age and grow. A second figure appeared, a faceless man who took Tom’s mother in his arms. Tom wanted to cry out but there was a flash of light and the sound of screaming. His mother reappeared, alone again. He watched her belly swell as a child inside grew. With another dramatic swirl of clouds, she was holding the baby in her arms. The baby became a boy and he recognised himself, but the image of his mother faded into the background and he saw his aunt standing behind him in her place. She placed a hand on his shoulder and led him away.

  Tears obscured Tom’s vision. The image moved further and further away, as though he was flying up into the sky, until he looked down on London. He saw the curve of the river, the living snake-heart of the city. Forever flowing. He saw every living, breathing thing, moving like ants on the ground, going about their business, unaware of their insignificance. Tom could have identified the position of anyone or anything, but there was only one who mattered.

  Tom sat upright and looked at Mondriat.

  ‘Well?’ asked Mondriat.

  ‘I know where she is,’ he replied.

  Chapter 45

  Pendant

  Esther had always been quick on her feet, but now, with every sense heightened, she could have navigated the busy market with her eyes closed. The calls of the stall-owners echoed in her ears. Whereas once she had taken great comfort from such hustle and bustle, today it only reminded her of her isolation.

  She stopped next to a fruit stall where a woman was carefully considering every piece of fruit in minute detail, much to the stall-owner’s annoyance. Esther noticed her purse poking out of her basket. Taking it would have been the easiest thing in the world. Even without magic Esther could have snatched it and vanished into the throng before the woman knew it was gone.

  The woman turned around and saw her standing behind her. Esther saw the flash of fear in her eyes as she looked for her purse and the relief that swept across her face when she found it still there.

  Esther left the market and walked up Bushfield Street where there were more stalls, selling jewellery, brushes and combs, snuff tins and other knick-knacks. She approached one filled with silver and gold necklaces. The owner was an oriental lady wearing an exotic red and gold blouse.

  ‘You see something you like?’ she said.

  Esther’s eyes were drawn to a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a hanging pendant.

  ‘You like this one?’ said the stall-owner.

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Esther.

  ‘This one is very special necklace. Look.’ The stall-owner pressed the side of the pendant and it clicked open. ‘Inside you can put a picture of a loved one … or leave as is.’

  The lady turned it around to reveal a tiny mirror inside.

  ‘Take a look.’ She handed the necklace to her. She showed no concern that Esther might run away with it. ‘No one is as important as the one you see in there.’

  ‘How much is it?’ asked Esther.

  ‘For you, special price. For you, five shillings,’ said the woman.

  Ever since Hardy had counted out the money earned from the robbery of Lord Ringmore’s house she had wanted rid of it. It was a reminder of the betrayal. There was no question of haggling for a better price.

  She paid and the oriental lady handed her the necklace. ‘It will bring you luck.’

  Esther put the chain over her neck then tucked the pendant out of sight. She felt its coldness against her skin as she headed towards Brick Lane. There, she found a quiet corner where there was no one around and pulled out the pendant. When she opened it she saw her face reflected in the tiny mirror. There had been no mirrors in the orphanage. Mother Agnes had called them ‘windows of vanity’. Esther looked into her own eyes, so unfamiliar, so strange, and so full of fear. In her right hand, she felt her staff move, scratching the shapes into the dirt.

  The world melted around her. Or was it she who was melting? For a moment, Esther was utterly alone, then, she saw a woman standing where her reflection had been. She had dark hair and eyes as black as the night. She stared back at Esther. She scrutinised her. She examined her.

  ‘Who are you? demanded Esther.

  The woman did not reply but threw her head back and laughed. Frightened, Esther stepped back, stumbled and tripped.

  ‘You all right, love?’

  She was back in the street again, sitting on the ground. A cloth-capped man, pushing a large cart of lemons, had stopped upon seeing her fall.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ she warned.

  ‘Only being friendly, weren’t I?’ he replied.

  Esther stared at him until he shrugged, mumbled something under his breath and walked away.

  Her hand found the pendant. It was still open. She lifted it again and looked into the mirror. This time she saw only her own face reflected. The dark-haired woman, whoever she was, had gone from the mirror, but the sound of her laughter still rang in Esther’s ears and the image of her face remained imprinted on her memory. She looked at the back of her hand. The wart had gone. She snapped the pendant shut and tucked it out of sight.

  Chapter 46

  Collapse

  The vision in the clouds had revealed to Tom that his aunt lived in a cosy-looking cottage, halfway up Highgate Hill, with a small neat garden and flowers in the window. It was not what he had expected. He knew his aunt had only given him up because she couldn’t afford to keep him, so how could she be living in such a place?

  Tom had felt groggy after drinking the potion, but the journey across London gave him time to clear his head. Mondriat had respected Tom’s wishes and was keeping his distance. He landed on the cottage roof as Tom pushed open the gate and walked up the path.

  A neighbour, washing her doorstep, stood up to peer over the fence. Tom stared back until she looked away and returned to her work.

  When he banged on the door a baby started crying inside.

  ‘Who is it?’ cried a female voice.

  Tom didn’t know how to answer, so he said nothing and knocked again.

  ‘Hold on. I’m coming.’ His aunt’s voice was harsher than he remembered, but he was in no doubt that it was her.

  The door opened and she appeared, exactly as she had looked in the vision, except that she held in her arms a screaming child. ‘Yes?’ she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

  ‘I –’ Tom began.

  ‘It had better be important,’ she interrupted. ‘I’ll never get her down again now you’ve woken her up.’

  ‘I�
��m Tom.’

  ‘Tom? I don’t know any Toms. Are you one of them kids from number thirty-nine? Locked yourself out, have you?’

  ‘I’m your nephew, Tom,’ he said.

  ‘My nephew … ’ She laughed at first, but slowly the laughter fell away and the colour drained from her face. ‘Good God. How the devil did you find me?’

  ‘Does it matter how?’ asked Tom.

  ‘It matters to me,’ she snapped. ‘They said you wouldn’t be able to find me. They promised.’

  ‘Things have changed now,’ said Tom. ‘I’ve changed. I can look after us now.’

  The baby choked on its own screams. ‘Don’t be so stupid, child. I don’t need you to look after us. I’ve got a family. Can’t you see?’

  A boy appeared by her legs, staring sullenly at Tom. ‘Who is it, Mummy?’ he asked.

  ‘No one,’ replied his aunt.

  ‘I ain’t no one,’ said Tom.

  ‘You can’t be here,’ she said. ‘My Charlie will be back soon. He won’t want to find you here and you don’t want to be found here by him, neither.’

  ‘I understand why you had to leave me,’ said Tom. ‘You couldn’t afford to keep me, but it’ll be all right now. We’re family.’

  ‘I left you because Charlie didn’t want to bring up my sister’s runt. And why should he? I did what I could for you.’

  ‘You washed your hands of me!’ exclaimed Tom.

  ‘And now you’re back, knocking on my door, making a scene.’

  The neighbour had stopped all pretence of scrubbing the doorstep and was blatantly staring over the fence at the scene.

  ‘Who is he, Mummy?’ asked the little boy.

  ‘I told you. He’s no one,’ said Tom’s aunt.

  Tom looked at the child. ‘I’m your cousin, Tom.’

  ‘Don’t you listen to him.’

  ‘How old is he?’ asked Tom.

  ‘Never you mind.’

  ‘I am five,’ said the boy, proudly.

  It was the age Tom had been when his aunt had left him on the doorstep of the orphanage. The anger bubbled up inside of him. Esther had been right all along. His aunt didn’t want him. She had never wanted him. Raw pain tore at his insides.

  The boy was crying now too.

  ‘What you doing with that stick?’ demanded his aunt.

  Tom looked at his right hand. His staff was moving.

  ‘When my Charlie gets here … ’ The rest of his aunt’s threat was drowned out by the blood pounding in Tom’s ears. ‘There was always something wrong about you … ’ she said. ‘I was glad Charlie made me give you away … You hear that, Tom? Glad.’

  Tom looked at his aunt with renewed clarity. He raised his left hand and touched the doorframe. The shaking that had filled his body moved through his fingertips into the walls of the cottage. His aunt looked up, terrified, as the building began to shake. On the roof, Mondriat flapped his wings and flew to a nearby tree.

  ‘What’ve you done, Tom? What you done?’ demanded his aunt. She pushed past him, holding the baby in one arm and dragging the other child behind her.

  ‘Goodbye.’ Tom turned to leave. He didn’t need to stay to watch the huge cracks snake through the building, sending shards of glass flying from the cracked windows. He didn’t need to see the building crumble to dust while the children screamed and the neighbours rushed out to stare. He didn’t need to take in the magnificence of what he had done. Why would he need to see it when he had so perfectly imagined it?

  Chapter 47

  Split

  By the time Esther arrived on Highgate Hill, clouds of dust were billowing out from the collapsed cottage. All around, people were coming out of houses and shops to witness the spectacle but, in spite of the hysterical cries from Tom’s aunt, no one believed that the cause of the disaster was the thirteen-year-old boy walking away.

  Esther stood in front of him, blocking his way, searching his face for a sign of remorse.

  ‘She deserves no better,’ said Tom, before she could say a word.

  ‘We both got left, but we found each other, didn’t we?’ replied Esther.

  ‘It’s not the same.’

  ‘You can’t swap lives with anyone else. The way it is for you is the way it is,’ said Esther.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Then no more of this. Please. That woman, she ain’t your family any more. You and me, we’re the only family we got.’

  Behind them, the crowds were finally taking notice of this woman’s hysterical cries and turning to look at Tom.

  ‘Come on, let’s go,’ said Tom.

  A bus was rumbling past, heading down Highgate Hill. The orphans ran after it, leaping onto the back and hitching a ride as far as Archway, where they jumped off and continued on foot.

  ‘We can both do as we want from now on,’ said Tom. ‘We can finally live how we always dreamed we would. Better even. We’ll have it all.’

  ‘It scares me when you talk like that,’ said Esther.

  ‘Did you see those people’s faces? If folks are scared of you they’ll give you most anything.’

  ‘I don’t want anyone to be scared of me,’ said Esther.

  ‘Well, I do,’ replied Tom.

  ‘Is that why you destroyed the cottage?’ asked Esther. ‘Because you want your aunt to fear you? You want her children to grow up having nightmares about you?’

  A well-dressed nanny, pushing a pram, nervously glanced at them as she passed.

  Tom noticed Esther’s wart-free hand. ‘You’ve done the Mirror Spell?’

  ‘Yes. But it wasn’t me. I saw another face, a woman I didn’t recognise. I don’t know what it meant. It scared me. All of this scares me. We have to get out before it’s too late,’ Esther told Tom. ‘We should leave this city, get away from Hardy and Ringmore. Leave the lot of them behind. That’s why I came to find you.’

  Tom stopped dead as a thought struck him. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘You ain’t exactly hard to find. You destroyed a house, Tom,’ replied Esther.

  ‘I could have been anywhere in London.’

  ‘What’s it matter?’

  ‘How did you find me, Esther?’ he repeated.

  Esther tried to look away but she knew she had to tell him the truth. If they had any chance of starting afresh she had to be honest. ‘I knew where your aunt lived because I overheard Mother Agnes one night. It was after you’d been misbehaving. She said to one of the other nuns that she had a good mind to drag you up Highgate Hill and deliver you back to your aunt’s doorstep.’

  ‘You never told me,’ Tom whispered.

  ‘Like I said, when people leave children at the orphanage they don’t want to see them again. None of them,’ said Esther.

  ‘You knew.’ This time Tom screamed the words, drawing the attention of more people passing by.

  ‘I didn’t know any more than that. Please, Tom. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get hurt. Look what happened when you found her. I told you no good would come of it.’

  ‘Yeah, you told me just like you tell me everything. But things have changed. No one gets to tell me what to do any more. Not the nuns, not Ringmore, not Hardy, not you.’

  ‘We need to stick together.’

  ‘All this time, and you never told me,’ said Tom. ‘I can’t forgive you for that.’

  The orphans stood glowering at each other, clutching their staffs. Esther understood that all was lost now. Tom’s eyes revealed pure hatred. As far as he was concerned, she had betrayed him. She may as well be dead. Esther moved her staff in the dust and vanished into thin air.

  Chapter 48

  Cyril

  Sir Augustus Tyrrell spent precious little time in his inherited family home. The mansion was unnecessarily large for his bachelor needs and, for such a confirmed city dweller, the seemingly endless acres of Sussex countryside that surrounded it were terrifically dull. It was only its proximity to his nephew’s boarding school that made him suggest it as
a suitable location for the next meeting.

  As the remaining Society members stood on the steps in front of the grand building, Clay pointed out that the approaching coach had a distinct lean, the cause of which was revealed when Sir Tyrrell’s nephew stepped out.

  ‘Cyril, my boy,’ said Sir Tyrrell. ‘How very kind of you to join us.’

  ‘Hello, Uncle Gus,’ said the boy.

  ‘The boy’s name is Cyril Tyrrell,’ Mr G. Hayman muttered in Clay’s ear, making him smirk.

  ‘I say, Uncle, what’s all this about?’ asked Cyril. ‘It’s quite a welcoming party!’

  ‘Let’s call it a scientific experiment,’ replied Sir Tyrrell, patting his nephew’s back affectionately.

  ‘I should hope it is important. I’m having to miss Sports for this.’

  ‘You like sports?’ asked Clay, glancing at Mr G. Hayman.

  ‘I like boxing,’ replied Cyril. ‘Say, I know you! You’re Harry Clay. I went to see your show last Christmas.’

  Clay bowed graciously.

  ‘Very amusing, I must say, but I saw through every one of your tricks,’ said the boy. ‘It’s all stooges and trapdoors, isn’t it?’

  ‘What a sharp-minded boy you are,’ said Clay, through gritted teeth.

  ‘Do you have a show on at the moment?’

  ‘Once we are done here I’m taking the train back to London for the first night of my new run.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll come to that one too.’

  ‘Please let me know if you can come along,’ said Clay. ‘You could come up on stage and look for trapdoors. Maybe I could make you disappear.’

  Lord Ringmore laughed and placed a hand on Clay’s shoulder. ‘Come now,’ he said. ‘Let’s to our business.’

  ‘Does our business involve cake?’ asked Cyril, walking up the stairs to the front door. ‘I’m famished.’