Snap

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Poppy sat down with a plop. “That’s weird.” She didn’t have the beautiful cloak to sit on anymore as Alice was wearing it, but she was getting used to the hard ground. “Wish I could go back to my house for a day or something, and collect paper and clothes and chocolate and stuff, and bring it all back for you. But then I’d want to go straight back to Granny’s again. It’s much, much nicer. I think living in a cellar is dark and horrid and boring.”

  Peter looked quite hurt. “I’m happy here. It’s warm and secret. I like it.”

  “Pooh,” Poppy exclaimed. “Wait till you go and live in Alice’s house. It sounds big and grand and comfy.”

  At that same grand house in Bishopsgate, the baron and his brother glared at each other over the huge dining table.

  “The brats have brought some fool lawyer into the business, and a judge too, by the sound of things. This blasted lawyer came to visit me this morning, officious little idiot. Now you’re going to have to marry the Alice girl quick and smart. No time to wait.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do,” objected Edmund. “I started to negotiate with the young lady, and I believe she’ll comply willingly. I’m prepared to wait.”

  “No, you’re not,” roared the Baron, refusing to be contradicted. “Tried to fool you, did she? Probably said she’d wed you if you got rid of me. Oh yes, I know you, Ned. Bribed you, did she? Well, you’re a fool to believe any of it. She’d run out on you at the church porch just as soon as I was gone.”

  Edmund blushed since this was exactly what he and Alice had arranged. “Said she’d be happy to marry me.”

  “Lying brat.”

  With exaggerated shock, Edmund said, “She’s the daughter of a lord. I’m quite sure she wouldn’t lie.”

  “Nonsense,” retorted the baron. “Everybody lies. I am a lord, and I lie. You’re an idiot and you lie too. You’ve been lying now, to cover up the plan you’ve had with that lying child.”

  “What did the lawyer say?” demanded Edmund, hurriedly changing the subject. “And I hope you sent him packing.”

  “Humph,” snorted the baron, settling back in his chair. “Of course not, fool. I was exceedingly polite, gave him good wine and pretended that all I hoped for was the truth to be discovered.”

  “So you lied.” Edmund smiled into his wine cup.

  “Naturally.” The baron clasped his hands over the extensive rise of his stomach. “They’ve discovered my wife’s last testament, though I’ve no idea how. I shall make my own lawyer pay for that, since it was supposed to be kept under lock and key. And this new lawyer has seen there’s an ink blot over the name of the proposed guardian. He believes the blot covers that idiot Margaret’s name, and her husband Henry, who are Alice’s next of kin.”

  “We know that.”

  “Of course we do,” glared the baron. “But we don’t want it brought into court. I’d be thrown out without a penny. And you, dear brother,” his glare turned to a sarcastic smile, “would have even less. You might even have to go and get a paid job. I can just imagine you cleaning the privy.”

  “No judge would uphold a decision against you, Hugh.” Edmund’s face was flushed bright red. “You’ve bribed or threatened every judge in London.”

  Sighing, the baron slumped down, shoulders hunched. “It could happen, Ned. There’s new court rulings under this blasted king Richard, and new judges with absurd ambitions to do the honest thing. As if the country needs honest judges. We could end up in no end of trouble with such an absurd idea.”

  Edmund’s scarlet cheeks suddenly turned white. “You mean we might actually lose.”

  “I mean we find the silly girl as soon as possible, force her into the chapel with my priest to stand witness, and marry her.”

  “She’ll squeal.”

  “I don’t care,” said the baron. “With a priest and a baron as witness, including her legal guardian, no one would question it. Then we keep her quiet for a year or so until the scandal dies down, and we kill her off.”

  Edmund smiled widely. “Good,” he said, the colour reappearing in his cheeks. “So I don’t have to put up with her forever. I can find someone as a second wife. Someone I like. Nice and pretty and plump.”

  “And rich.”

  “Of course, Hugh. You and I will live comfortably and wealthy for the rest of our lives.”

  The baron stood suddenly, tossed aside the skirts of his satin coat, and stomped to the door to call for a page, more wine, and some quince tart, which was his favourite. “But,” he said, “we have to find the brat first. She and her urchin friends were living in a warehouse down by the river, but they moved. I’ve no idea where they live now. But I want her, and I want that nasty brat of a boy too.”

  “The one who pushed you in the river?” Edmund tried to hide his smile, but the snigger burst through, and the baron eyed him with a grimace.

  “Yes. Him,” said the baron through gritted teeth. “I’m going to abduct that loathsome boy, tie him in the dungeons, and thrash him till he begs for mercy. But he’ll get no mercy from me.”

  “I shall come and watch,” offered Edmund. “Most diverting. And I shall beat Alice too, but not until I have her safely as wife. Then I can do what I want.”

  ‘So we spend the next week searching for this wretched female. There’s no time to wait.”

  Edmund stood with a smug smile, his thumbs tucked into his belt. “Well now, dear brother. Not as clever as you think you are, are you! Let me tell you exactly how we catch her, and no need to wait a week. You know this lawyer she’s visiting? You know his name and where his chambers are? Well – that’s where we go. Alice will visit there often, I imagine, and we’ll be waiting just around the corner.”

  “With a sack to throw over her head.”

  “And a horse and cart to bundle her off and out of sight.”

  In Bandy Alley, the smith had finally turned up. Nathan was still waiting, and immediately hurried over. He did not live above his business, but arrived marching through the long shadows, appearing from the Tower end. Since the alley was remarkably narrow, it was almost constantly in shade from the rooftops on either side, but Pimple had managed to find one small angle of sunshine, and was standing, pulling on his tether, outside the smithy.

  Grandpa Octobr, smiled at the ramshackle horse, and patted its neck. “Well now,” he said, looking over to Nathan, “reckon you both have questions for me, then?

  Nathan was much too intrigued to laugh. “It’s urgent,” he said, half under his breath in case of arriving customers. I really need to know about the Hazlett twins and Lashtang. And about your name too.”

  “Now that, laughed the smith, “is no secret. My name is William October. My Pa was William October and his Pa was William October. But now I’ve a parcel of little grandchildren, and they call me Grandpa October, so everybody else has copied it. What’s so mysterious about that?”

  He strode into the shop, flinging wide the doors and heaving up his enormous wood and leather bellows, while Nathan stood back, watching. The explanation of the name seemed a little disappointing, but Nathan was sure there was something missing. October was not a common second name, but he wondered if it could have passed down over the centuries in just this one family. That would mean that the smith was his own great, great, great, great grandfather, with a lot more greats thrown into the title. But it didn’t quite fit. Nathan scratched his head as his sun-streaked hair fell into his eyes.

  He said, quite suddenly, “I live with my grandma. She’s called Grandma October.”

  The smith turned, squinting in the smoke of his furnace. “Fancy that,” he said, rather softly. “Maybe we’re related.” But he winked, and Nathan knew something more was being kept secret.

  “Alright then,” he said, “what about Lashtang?”

  And once again the smith began to sing. His voice was deep, and the tune he sang was slow and mournful. As he listened, Nathan felt dejected, as if the song made him miserable.

  “Over
the horizon, to where the mountains soar,

  Wander Lashtang snow and ice,

  Explore the forests and the fields,

  But see your world no more.

  Over the horizon to where the cliffs rise white,

  Lashtang valleys call to you,

  The moors and boggy streams,

  But this is nightmare, not delight.

  The throne of Lashtang standing cold,

  Is occupied as ever,

  Its brilliance is forever bright,

  But blinds you, binds you, all freedom sold.”

  “That’s – sad,” mumbled Nathan. “So where is this place? And why do you sing of it?”.

  “If you have to ask,” smiled the smith, “then you’ll never find it. ‘Tis those that know already, will find the land in their dreams. But you visit once, and you’ll never want to go back again.”

  “Dreamworld? Only dreams? But the Hazlett twins are real. I’ve met them both and they weren’t dreams.”

  Grandpa October frowned, looking back over his shoulder. “Ignorant boy. Don’t you know that all dreams are real?” Then he grinned suddenly. “Though, of course,” he added, “that depends on what you mean by real.”

  It was John hurrying up with an armful of hay for Pimple that interrupted the conversation. “Gonna help me?” John asked.

  Nathan reluctantly followed him, but as he looked back, he saw that the smith was standing still, gazing after him. “Fancy a balloon ride one day?” called the smith. “Oh yes, I know what they are. I’ll take you on a trip you’ll never forget.”

  “That’s exactly what’s already happened. Nathan paused, frowning. “Could you take me to Lashtang?”

  Cackling, the smith shook his head. “Fire and ice, lad. No one survives Lashtang.”

  “What was you talking about?” enquired John, frowning. “Sounded mighty queer.”

  Nathan thought a moment. “I need a knife,” he said. “That baron is dangerous, and after falling in the river, then he’ll hate me even more. I might have to protect myself.”

  Grinning, John began laying down the hay for Pimple, adding a fat turnip to the top of the heap. “Too right,” he told Nathan. “You needs a good belt and a good knife to stick in it, and I reckon the rest of us could do wiv that too. Go back and tell that smith what we wants.”

  “I will – tomorrow,” muttered Nathan.

  At the Whistle and Wherry, Uncle Henry had walked to the inn’s stables with Alice, ordered the horse saddled, and had ridden off towards the Ludgate on his journey home to Hammersmith Village. Bending down to say goodbye, he assured her, “I shall be back, my dear, and will bring your Aunt Margaret with me next time. We need to finalise this business, and Lawyer Weeks wants us back in his chambers in three days from now. He thinks he’ll have good news by then.”

  “I shall certainly come with you, uncle,” smiled Alice. “I shall look forward to it. You, uncle dear, and Lawyer Weeks are both so good to me. I feel so much better, almost as though I am back home already. Nothing can go wrong now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Having been so determined to dream of Lashtang, Nathan was startled to dream instead of his grandmother.

  “Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, answer me.”

  “Yes, Granny. I want to come home. Help me come home.”

  Her eyes were wide and desperate. “You don’t realise your own danger, Nathan. Do as I tell you and come home.”

  “But how do I do that?” the dreaming Nathan begged. “Without the balloon, how do I come back to my own time?”

  Granny October banged both hands flat down on the kitchen table, which shook. “Don’t be a fool, Nathan. You turn around three times, click your heels and wish yourself back here. And make sure you bring Poppy with you. She’s too young to look after herself. Remember, there’s no place like home.”

  It was after he had woken up that Nathan realised the dream was just silly. Clicking heels and wishing himself home was just what happened in the films. He didn’t believe it at all, but he told Poppy all about it. She laughed. “So let’s try, just in case.”

  They stood together, holding hands and laughing, as they clicked their heels. “We want to go home. There’s no place like home. We want to go home. There’s no place like home.” Nothing happened. Taking a deep breath, Nathan said, “It was just a dream. And Granny said you were too young to look after yourself. She’d never say that really. She always calls you the practical one.”

  Poppy changed laugh to glare. “Of course I can look after myself, and you too. I’m the sensible one and I’m top of my class and you don’t even go to school if you can help it. I’m the clever one in the family.” She looked quite cross, but Nathan just grinned.

  Although his dream had not been a serious one, Nathan couldn’t get Granny October’s voice out of his head. He kept thinking about her and the smith, and wondered what significance there was to October.

  But now it was April, and spring was the one thing that seemed the same across the centuries. The weather was erratic, with some days sunny and mild, but others wet and windy. The trees were fluttering their new leaves, wildflowers were growing along the hedgerows and blossom budded thick and perfumed on many bushes.

  Alice bought new clothes for Poppy, which caused much laughter and much excitement. Eventually, as all the boys were ordered to wait outside in the street, Poppy stripped off her school uniform and Alice stared at every piece of cloth that Poppy was dropping on the floor.

  “What’s that?” Alice gasped.

  “A zip. And that’s elastic. Don’t you have those things?”

  “Not at all,” Alice was amazed. “They’re magical.” She pointed at Poppy’s school blazer, now lying in a heap on the ground. “What’s that coat of arms?”

  “The school’s arms,” Poppy said, holding it up where it was embroidered onto the front pocket.

  “And you have all these useful little hiding places.”

  “Pockets.”

  “That is a very, very good idea.” Alice was impressed. “I’d like a puckett too.”

  “Pocket.”

  Poppy quickly dressed herself in a long linen shift like a petticoat, a long gown to her ankles in pretty pink linen with a border of embroidered flowers on the bottom of the skirt and the wide hem of the sleeves, and a cloak of oiled blue broadcloth. She had a narrow belt, and a small leather purse tied to it, and a pair of little brown leather shoes. Instead of the woolly stockings sold in the shops for women, Poppy kept her own woollen tights, which Alice said looked like men’s hose.

  “You don’t need to tie up your hair,” Alice said, “because you’re not a married woman and you’re very young.” She passed the comb that was shared by the whole group, and watched as Poppy dragged it, wincing, through the knots. “You have nice sun-streaked hair like your brother, all brown and pretty yellow,” Alice smiled. “But you should wear a little hat if you want to look respectable.” Poppy didn’t like the hat, but she wore it to please Alice, with every intention of losing it at some time soon.

  Nathan whistled when he came down into the cellar and saw his sister dressed in the simple fashions of the late 15th century. “Wow. Never seen you look like that before.”

  “Nor you like that.”

  Hoping to meet up and talk to the smith again, Nathan spent a lot of time walking up and down Bandy Alley, but the smithy appeared to have completely shut down and even the hot wall down in the cellar began to cool off.

  Then on the third night, Nathan dreamed once again of Granny October. But this time it was different. Almost as soon as he cuddled up under his blanket and cape, still using his pyjamas as a pillow, Nathan saw Brewster Hazlett in his dream. But this time Brewster was arguing with Granny. She was shouting at him, and he was spitting and screeching in fury. Nathan could not hear one word of what they were saying, until the other Hazlett brother appeared at the window. “Danger,” screeched Wagster “He’s coming.”.

  Then suddenly the walls of
the Hammersmith house fell away, and a great countryside of cliffs, rivers, ice and clouds swept across the horizon.

  Both Brewster and Wagster, staring up, crept into the shadows and their shrill and furious voices faded.

  Then the thing appeared and blocked out the sun, the light, and the beauty of the country. Blackness swelled up like two enormous wings, vast as the mountains, but there were no feathers. These were the wings of a bat, leathery and spiked in swooping opaque black, but with a hundred sections, each divided by a thin sliver of crimson bone. Where each narrow bone peaked, it rose in a scarlet point topped with thorns. The thorns curled, reaching down. Clawed feet stretched from beneath, and from the shadow of the wings emerged the head. The narrow eyes were deep glistening red, like bleeding wounds, and the nose was a bat’s nose, snubbed with wide flexed nostrils, the mouth was open, dripping pale grey slime between sharp white teeth. The slime coiled, snake-like, and slivered from the twitching mouth to the flat chin and then oozed down to the outstretched claws of the feet.

  The creature filled the sky, peering down, and Granny October fled, running towards the distant hills.

  No name had been given to the thing, but Granny, Brewster and even Wagster had been terrified. None of them had faced the thing. Nathan, although he had seen it only in a dream, was equally terrified and he heard his heart thump like a drum beat, until it hurt. He woke shaking, as if frozen. It was sometime before he was sure he was awake, and that the thing could not appear again.

  He spoke quietly to Poppy. “I dreamed. It was horrible.”

  “So did I,” Poppy whispered, “of Granny in a strange land, and talking to someone who shouted at her. Then it all went black and there was this dragon thing with dreadful eyes and slime in its mouth.”

  “Same dream,” muttered Nathan, taking a deep breath. “Now that sounds dangerous.”

  Needing a distraction, he was pleased when Alice asked him to accompany her to see her lawyer. “I think we should all go,” she said. “I won’t be long in there, but I want him to meet you all so he knows we are friends, and he’ll recognise you if ever another one of us goes to him, he needs to listen. Then afterwards we can go shopping.”