Oy Yew (The Waifs of Duldred Trilogy Book 1) Page 13

Bram jumped suddenly and lifted a rat out of his boot by its tail. His boots were an odd, patched pair, widening at the top like funnels. ‘Survivin’ ways,’ he mused, ‘sounds like you need ‘em right now.’

  Oy nodded, then he told Bram about his promise to Linnet.

  ‘I might be able to help. As soon as they put me in that factory I started watching and listening. I got to know everything that went in and out of that building and at what times and where it was headed. I knew exactly where everybody was and what they were doing, and I found the one path through it all. That’s what you got to do, find the system’s weak spot.’

  ‘Has the factory still got a weak spot?’

  ‘As far as I know. I found two ways out but I was too big for one of them.’ Bram smiled to himself. ‘Are they all like you up there, so little and shy?’

  ‘No, they’re all bigger and cleverer than me.’

  ‘I think I like you, Oy. I’ll make sure the ways are still open and we’ll meet up again. You down here regular?’

  ‘I might be from now on. Master don’t rate me very high.’

  ‘There’s worse places than sewers. I’ll tell you about them some time. Tell you what, get copper salts from the laundry. If you need me, throw some on one of the fires at first light. The chimneys will smoke blue, and I’ll know to wait for you at the overflow.’

  Oy shook his hand and Bram started to walk away. Oy looked around doubtfully. His brain raced with hope and excitement and it muddled him. ‘Bram,’ he called, ‘Where is the overflow?’

  Bram laughed. ‘Can’t even find your way out of a sewer. Is that where you came in?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Left, left, right, left, right, left.’

  Soon Oy was back in the wide, dry tunnel; but where he expected a clear circle of daylight the grating was down and locked fast. He held the bars and rattled them. He called to Raymun, but heard only birdsong. Looking out he could see a grass bank sloping away and a squat bush. He couldn’t remember seeing that bush on the way in. And the grass where it grew long over the bottom of the grating, it looked like it hadn’t been disturbed in years. He checked the oil in his lamp – enough for about an hour’s light. He would go back to where Bram had left him and start with right, right. After the fourth set of branches he was loster than lost. And then it started to rain.

  ‘Eleven,’ said Raymun. ‘One missing.’ He looked to Lucinda.

  ‘Let’s try again,’ she said.

  ‘Nine, ten, eleven,’ they finished together.

  ‘Who’s missing?’ said Lucinda.

  ‘Where’s Oy?’ said Elyut.

  ‘Where is Oy?’ said Alas. ‘What was on his schedule today?’

  ‘He was on sewers,’ said Raymun. ‘I let him in the main drain about noon. I would have gone back to check on him, but Master sent me on a herrand, said I hadn’t been out in a while and I deserved an airing.’

  Alas turned pale. ‘I know what this is. Oy’s done no wrong. I’m going out to look for him.’

  ‘You can’t do that. I’m all locked up,’ said Raymun.

  ‘I don’t care. I’m… Have it your way,’ Alas backed down suddenly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alas.’ Raymun put his hand over the keys hanging from his belt. ‘I’m trusted. Master will very likely send me out to search anyway.’

  ‘We’re your people, Raymun, not him. It’s us you should be loyal to, but… go on, on your way.’

  Raymun slipped out. Alas listened keenly. ‘Curse him, he’s drawn the bolt.’ More curses followed Raymun to the drawing room where he collected himself and tapped on the door.

  ‘Come,’ called Jeopardine. ‘You seem troubled, Raymun. Is everything alright?’

  ‘Only eleven in, sir. There’s one missing.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Oy Yew, sir.’

  ‘That would be Drains?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Last seen?’

  ‘Main overflow at noon, sir.’

  Jeopardine carried on scanning the pages of the catalogue in a leisurely way.

  ‘Sir, I apologise for asking, but what’s to be done, sir?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing can be done tonight.’ He sipped his drink. ‘We’ll get a team to fetch him out in the morning. You can go now.’

  Raymun wanted to obey, so much so that his body slanted, but his feet found fault with his master and they would not budge.

  ‘Well, is there something else?’

  ‘Sir, Alas is saying… the rest of ’em are saying that they want to go out and look for him.’

  ‘The sweep again. Quite the little meddler. Come, I’ll see you out. I’ll check for myself that the main entrance is secure.’

  ‘I hope you can trust me to do that, sir.’

  ‘Even so.’

  They crossed the wide atrium with its diamond-chequered tiles spiralling out to blank-eyed statues, larger than life. Jeopardine turned towards the door. Something less than life pulled his eye.

  A tiny figure stood wet, shivering and smelling faintly of sewage.

  ‘Cursed – how did you…? Where have you been boy?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I got lost in the drains.’ His voice was no more than a shaped breath. His words barely stirred their eardrums.

  Jeopardine and Raymun waited for the sense of it to come to them. It looked as though Oy were about to speak again but Jeopardine raised his hand. ‘Never mind. Raymun take him out to the pump, wash him down quickly, then lock the lot of them in. And bring me a brandy. I’ll address this in the morning.’

  ‘Raining frogs ’n’ dogs,’ said Molly cook with a worried frown, as she buttoned her coat and lit the oil lamp. She paused at the door. Needles of rain bounced from the gravel, making lakes in the hollows. She turned. A soggy sloshing sound came from the scullery. Molly went to see what it could be.

  ‘Why Aunt, where have you been? I was just going to look for you, and why come through the back? I wouldn’t lock up without you.’

  Mrs Midden sloshed through the kitchen her skirts mopping the floor. ‘I’ve been to talk to my Aunt Bill if you want to know. Goodnight to you.’ She headed for the stairs. Her clothes were so heavy she had to pause on each step and haul her skirts behind her.

  ‘To the graveyard? On a night like this.’

  ‘She listens,’ Mrs Midden called back over her shoulder.

  Raised voices filled the basement. No one noticed when Raymun pushed Oy through the door and locked it behind him.

  Alas’s voice rose above the rest: ‘We can’t just leave him to die!’

  ‘If he’s stuck down there he’s drowned already,’ said Kurt. ‘I’m not saying I’m pleased about it, but there’s nothing you can do. Nothing you can do about anything. I’ve had enough of you making out you can.’

  Alas swung at Kurt. Lucinda dodged between them. ‘Stop it!’

  Lizbuth and Elyut had that look: the way waifs looked when they weren’t crying. Their chests moved up and down and they held their mouths small and tight.

  Oy tugged at Alas’s sleeve. Alas shrugged his arm away.

  ‘I’m here!’ It was the first time since leaving the factory that Oy had shouted.

  ‘You are,’ said Alas, ‘you’re here.’ He lifted Oy and looked him over, checking that he really was unharmed. ‘You got a survivin’ streak in you after all. How did you get out?’

  ‘There’s a lot to tell,’ Oy said.

  22 Crossing the Line

  Molly cook stood behind Mrs Midden’s chair in the little parlour they shared between their two bedrooms. She struggled to pull the pink rubber cap over her aunt’s hair. As one side went in the other side furled back. Losing patience she tugged it roughly and let it snap back on Mrs Midden’s forehead. Mrs Midden shot her an accusing glance in the mirror.

  ‘Sorry, but you shouldn’t go out in a storm if you want to keep your curls.’ Molly pulled the wet grey locks through the beautywaver. ‘I don’t suppose you were anywhere near the overflow?’<
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  ‘I told you I was with my Aunt Bill.’

  ‘All that time?’

  ‘We had a lot to talk about.’

  ‘Did you see anybody else out there?’

  Mrs Midden shook her pink rubber head. ‘What you so concerned for? Shame he got out if you ask me.’

  ‘Oh, Aunt, what’s Oy done to you?’

  ‘Tried to poison me, that’s what.’

  ‘Who told you…? Inch? I thought I smelled that green baccy of hers the other day. Well she heard it wrong. Oy was trying to make you well and it worked.’

  ‘Siding with the waifs again. I blame myself. I’ve been too soft on you. My Aunt Bill was hard but she got results. She had me on pastry for three years. I still remember what it was like watching her taste my pastry every day, and every day she’d pull a face and drop it in the swill tub. Then one day I put my pie in front of her, all fluted and golden and perfect-looking, and I steeled myself to see it go the way of the others. She tasted without spitting, tasted again, looked thoughtful, laid her fork down slowly and says – gently for her, “That’ll do Ruby cook, that’ll do. We’ll finish this one and send the other up to the Master.” I have never been so proud, nor will be again I suppose. And then, to have all that put aside as worthless; you don’t know the hurts I’ve been through these past months, and it’s all down to him. I stand by what I say. It’s a shame he got out.’

  Molly looked at her aunt in the mirror as though she’d never seen her before.

  Raymun handed Alas his schedule nervously as though he was offering a treat to a snarling dog. ‘I noticed you been restless lately,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen it before. Once they get close to the line, there’s some what can’t hardly wait to go. Makes ’em all stirred up. Well this’ll cheer you, Alas. There’s a measuring next Mammonday. It’s been brought forward as we’ve got visitors from Lackland who want to see how it’s done.’

  The basement became very still. The waifs exchanged glances which were far from cheery.

  ‘Mammonday,’ Lucinda said. ‘That’s definite is it?’

  ‘Definite,’ said Raymun with an encouraging smile, but no one smiled back. He left muttering something about young waifs and bad attitudes.

  ‘Is it too soon, Alas?’ said Lucinda as soon as Raymun had gone.

  ‘No, now it’s decided I’d rather get it over with – less time for worrying. Did you all hear?’ he addressed the other waifs. There were a few grunts as they carried on buttoning their boots and straightening their clothes. ‘You got to be with us on this,’ he said.

  ‘Five is all we need to set up,’ said Lucinda, ‘a sixth to wait tables. Raise hands if you’re willing.’ Five hands were raised, then seven, eight.

  ‘What if it goes wrong?’ said Jakes.

  ‘If it goes wrong we’re in the worst trouble, so we ain’t forcing anybody into this.’

  Kurt spoke up. ‘Them signs after our names. You got no real idea what they mean. It’s no more than guesswork.’

  ‘Gert, tell Kurt what Molly said about exile,’ said Alas.

  ‘If they’re rich enough, prisoners with a death sentence can pay to be exiled. They get left in the mountains or desert with no supplies or money,’ Gertie explained.

  ‘You got no reason at all to think that’s what happens to us.’ Kurt turned to Alas. ‘She reads too many stories and you’re so suspicious you look behind you before you sneeze. I should have gone at the last measuring but you talked me out of it. Now you want to cause upset at the next measuring and spoil things for me again.’

  ‘What about you, Jakes?’ Lucinda asked.

  Jakes’s face was all jaw; he ground it slowly while thinking. He moved his oily black hair aside. ‘Same as him. I say the same as him.’

  ‘If you ain’t with us will you at least stay out of the way?’

  ‘That I can do,’ said Jakes.

  ‘Well out of the way,’ said Kurt. ‘And blight me if this ain’t my last week as an underwaif. Ha-ha.’ It was a discord of a laugh.

  In the evening Kurt lay on the floor with Billam at his head and Jakes at his feet.

  ‘Keep pulling,’ said Kurt. ‘I can feel it working. Alright, let go. I’ll be over the line. Certain.’ He looked at Alas defiantly.

  But Alas’s eyes were blank. He had other things on his mind.

  ‘I only hope we’ve thought this through enough,’ said Lucinda. ‘It’s come on us so quick.’

  ‘Can’t be too soon for me,’ said Gritty. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’

  ‘Either you ain’t got nerves or you ain’t got imagination,’ said Lizbuth. ‘I just keep thinking about all the things that could go wrong. It’s giving me a belly ache.’

  ‘What about these visitors? Don’t that make it trickier?’ said Elyut.

  ‘Trickier for Jep to slide out of, I’d say,’ said Gertie.

  ‘He might change the routine. Shouldn’t we wait for the next measuring?’ said Lizbuth.

  ‘Alas?’ said Lucinda.

  ‘No, we can’t afford to wait.’

  ‘Right, let’s go through it again.’

  Six days later Jeopardine entered the Boot Room followed by Miss Spindle and Mrs Rutheday. A shabby crowd of visitors pushed in behind them and jostled for space.

  ‘Good afternoon everyone,’ Miss Spindle said recovering her breath. ‘I’m sorry to keep you all waiting, but we had to divert to take Dr Sandy to an emergency. He sends his apologies. I’d like to introduce some friends from Lackland. They’re interested in setting up a waif labour system for themselves and want to see how it’s done. Mrs Whiskers, I’m afraid, is incommoded by swim-eye.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ whispered Gritty.

  ‘Got the swim-eye and fell off the privy I should think,’ Gertie hazarded.

  ‘So Mrs Rutheday has come to assist. You all remember Mrs Rutheday from the factory don’t you?’ The woman’s eyes flicked over them like a lizard’s but the face moved not at all. ‘So, we’re all old friends together. Let’s relax and get this measuring done properly. We’ll start with our washerwoman. Blinda Donjon. Mrs Rutheday, if you’d like to measure.’

  ‘Four thighs, twenty-nine oggits, six hairs.’

  ‘Good. No change. Alas Ringworm.’ She turned to the visitors. ‘Alas is our little sweep. A hard job I know, but when the Master is kind it makes all the difference. Wouldn’t you say so, Alas?’

  Alas gave a pained smile and grunted. He felt the marker settle on his crown, and slackened his knees. Mrs Rutheday noticed. She rapped his legs with the calibrator.

  ‘Straighten up.’

  The marker rose slightly. Alas looked quickly at Lucinda. He could tell by her face that he was very near the line.

  ‘I’m giving it five thighs, nine oggits, eleven hairs, but I’ll take a second opinion.’

  Miss Spindle stepped forwards. ‘The glass please, Mrs Rutheday.’ Alas could see Miss Spindle’s giant eye, magnified and liquid behind the glass. ‘Eleven hairs it is. You won’t be leaving us just yet. Gertie Garnet please. Gertie peels for us.’

  ‘Four thighs, twenty-nine and six again.’

  Some strands of Gertie’s hair got wrapped around the marker. Mrs Rutheday ripped them out. Gertie walked away rubbing her head.

  ‘Goodness me. Gertie you’ve grown a full oggit,’ said Miss Spindle.

  Jeopardine frowned his disapproval. The queue moved quickly on.

  ‘Kurt Mutton. A good strong boy, he looks after Duldred’s impressive array of windows.’

  Kurt took his place. The marker came down like a guillotine.

  ‘He’s over,’ said Mrs Rutheday.

  Jeopardine pursed his lips.

  Miss Spindle leaned across to check but there was no doubt. ‘Confirmed.’ Her voice rose and fell in solemn rhythms as she read the leaver’s rights: ‘Kurt Mutton, your term in waif service is now over. On Affland’s soils you have grown, and in payment you have laboured for Affland. All debts on either side are now settled. You came from the se
a and you will be returned to the sea. You are expected to reside here and continue with your duties until the date of the next sailing. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes’m.’ Kurt strutted past Alas.

  ‘Raymun Dun. Raymun holds the record in terms of length of service.’

  Raymun flourished his red handkerchief, polished his pate and stepped up. Mrs Rutheday lowered the marker. Raymun had noticed the little signals and whispers passing between the other waifs, the softening of the knees. That shrinking he’d done last time had doubtless made them all jealous and they were out to mimic him, steal his glory. Instead of standing proud as usual, he clamped his gums together and flattened his head like a dog waiting to be stroked.

  ‘Four hairs below.’

  ‘I’m as shrunk as I was before then?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Miss Spindle made a little motion of applause.

  Raymun smirked and swaggered back to his place.

  ‘How many leavers at the factory?’ asked Jeopardine.

  ‘Just eleven this time.’

  ‘That’s better.’ Jeopardine smiled slyly.

  ‘Somewhat baffling though,’ said Miss Spindle. ‘I must speak to you about it later.’

  ‘A fortunate blip no doubt. Lucinda, lead out and prepare to serve our guests.’

  The visitors gathered around the measuring line. Miss Spindle began to lecture: ‘The art of measuring requires both precision and accuracy. Are we all clear on the difference between those two terms?’

  As Lucinda passed Alas, she reached out and touched him. It had come. Five waifs stampeded down the corridor towards the Mirror Room. Alas turned in the opposite direction and walked out of the annexe door.

  The waifs put the finishing touches to the table. ‘Only one spoon here,’ said Lucinda. ‘Move those flowers further down. What are you doing Elyut?’

  ‘Laying a fire.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  He put his hand over his mouth. ‘I forgot.’

  ‘How could you forget,’ she hissed, shaking her head in disbelief.

  ‘Candles,’ said Blinda.

  Lucinda’s hand shook as she lit the candles. She stood back. ‘All ready now?’