Oy Yew (The Waifs of Duldred Trilogy Book 1) Page 17

  He found his old sleeping space: last row, three in from the end. Oy had better night sight than most and the moonlight from the window showed him that his old place was taken by a girl. Linnet should be there next to her. He looked into a face, troubled in sleep, thick hair fallen across the eyes, a streak of dirt running from the mouth to the ear. It wasn’t Linnet. Till then Oy had not been afraid. Suddenly he felt very small and alone. He walked along the length of the wall under the window and peered with growing despair into each face. Some had their heads part covered, others, who faced into the shadows, were hard to see. Away from the window it was much dimmer.

  He stood beneath the windows and surveyed the rows of sleeping bodies. What if she had been moved to another shed? Bram would be starting to worry. Did he dare fetch his lamp? As his eyes roved slowly over the rows, he remembered how he had felt the first time she looked at him and spoke to him. He had been a scrap of nothing, blown about, unseen by anyone. And then all at once he had a friend. In his mind he went back to the times when it was too noisy to talk and he remembered Linnet’s scent. It wasn’t any scent that could be described. People scent never was. He stopped at the end of a row, his eyes wide in the dark, his chest filling and lifting, his nose sifting and searching. He breathed deeper and deeper until he caught something. He moved back two rows, breathed again, moved forwards one row and in three.

  There in the middle of the third row was a paler patch. With the special relief that comes when something very dear is found, Oy stepped lightly over heads and arms. Then, placing his limbs carefully, he got down on his hands and knees and looked into Linnet’s shadowy face with the white hair spread all around it. He watched her sleep with warm recognition. A hole at his centre filled and closed over. A distant bark troubled him. He shook her shoulder gently, but Linnet lay like the dead. ‘Linnet, wake up,’ he shook her again more roughly. Linnet came close to waking, muttered something, then sank determinedly back to sleep. Another bark, louder and closer. ‘Sorry,’ Oy whispered, as he slapped her face.

  Linnet opened her eyes. ‘Go away,’ she began, then she raised herself up on her elbow.

  ‘It’s me, Oy.’

  Linnet sat up and gripped his arms. ‘What… what…?’ she croaked weakly.

  ‘Ssh, I’ve come to get you out.’

  ‘How did you get in? What’s that smell?’

  Oy put his finger to his lips. ‘Later. I heard you been sick. Are you strong enough to come with me now?’

  ‘Course.’

  ‘Come on then, quick.’

  Waifs began to stir around them. Oy stood up and beckoned silently. As they sneaked out of the shed, Linnet trod on someone’s finger. A hand slapped out in reflex, catching her ankle. They leaned on each other and giggled through the fear. ‘I got to say it, Oy, you stink,’ she said. They laughed again.

  Outside they stopped and stared at each other, wide-eyed. They could hear footsteps, slow and heavy, mixed with some brisker scuffing sounds, then a voice:

  ‘What you sniffing round there for?’ Come on, let’s get back while my bed’s still warm.’

  ‘Just stand still,’ whispered Oy, very low.

  Gruff would not be distracted. The houndheart swelled in him. In seven years of walking round the compound twice a night, only once had there been a real hunt. With every nerve converging in his nose he’d tracked the prey to the loading yard and then the scent had run out, but Gruff had stored it in his memory. Now from the folds of Oy’s clothes a few molecules of Bram’s odour drifted out on the black night air and dissolved in the film of moisture on Gruff’s nose. A shock ran through his body. His ears laid back and he hurled himself at the compound gates so they bowed inwards and the chains rattled. Gruff’s rope ran through Wally’s hands burning his skin.

  ‘Whoa, steady. What is it boy?’

  Gruff scrabbled and barked and raked at the wooden gates.

  ‘Hold on, stop that racket and I’ll get my keys.’

  Oy retrieved the lamp. ‘In the hole quick,’ he said, triggering another cascade of barking.

  Oy followed Linnet into the hole as the gate chain slithered loose.

  ‘Help me move the cover back.’

  Four small hands dragged at the iron slab.

  ‘How did you move this on your own?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Gruff leapt maddened through the gates driving a thick splinter of wood deep into his pad. He yelped, hopped on three-legged, then stopped. When it came to pain Gruff was tender as a pup. He sat down and nosed his paw pathetically, looking up at Wally with mournful bloodshot eyes, while the iron cover jiggled into place unnoticed. Wally carried the massive dog back to the watch-house, its ears and legs dragging on the ground.

  Oy coaxed Linnet through the narrow parts of the sewer. When she had grown used to it they started to laugh and chat as though they were on a pleasant day trip. They were still talking when they emerged into the tunnel where Bram waited.

  ‘I heard you coming a while back,’ said Bram. ‘I had no idea you could be such a windbag, Oy. A lot to catch up on I suppose.’

  Oy looked abashed and introduced Linnet. They checked the watch. Bram said they would have to hurry if Oy was to be back at Duldred by sunrise.

  They started off at a good pace, but the faster Oy and Linnet talked the slower they walked. Bram turned and waited for them. ‘Clock’s ticking,’ he said. ‘Keep talking but keep up.’

  Oy and Linnet obeyed. They were quiet for some time though they looked at each other often in the shifting lamplight. Linnet broke the silence. ‘Your hair is long, don’t you get shaved so often up there? I got moved to finishing. I have to wear a cap in there so’s my hair don’t get caught in the machine.’ And so they went on, talking without pause through mile after mile of sewer. ‘I ain’t made no more friends since you left, still scaring people off with my…’ Linnet bent over holding her waist.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Oy.

  ‘Just need to stop a minute, get my breath. Not used to walking and talking you see, tied to that machine all day.’

  ‘Bram,’ called Oy, ‘wait a minute. Linnet’s not well.’

  ‘I’m alright, really. Just… my breath.’

  Bram came back. ‘This is not the place to take bad.’

  ‘I’m better now. Let’s go on.’

  ‘We’ll go steady and no more chat. I’ll carry you when we get out of here. That way there’ll be no trail for the hounds to pick up.’

  The sewer opened into scrubland. They took deep draughts of fresh air. Bram checked the time again. Linnet swayed on her feet and sat down.

  ‘Now we got a choice,’ said Bram. ‘Leave Linnet here while I take you to Duldred, Oy — I don’t suppose there’s any hope of you finding your own way is there?’ Oy shook his head. ‘Or do we take Linnet back to my place first and get her settled.’

  ‘I won’t leave her here,’ said Oy. ‘The dogs might come.’

  ‘Right,’ said Bram, hoisting Linnet onto his back. ‘We’re cutting it fine though.’ Linnet hung around Bram’s neck like a limp white-haired doll.

  As they walked, Oy watched for her arms loosening as she slipped in and out of sleep, and steadied her with his hand against her back. He asked Bram what hope there was for all the waifs escaping together. Bram said that he’d already given it some thought and told Oy how it might, with considerable luck and planning, be done. The scrub gave way to trees. They tramped on through the damp, night-smelling forest with its squeaks and hoots and scutterings. At last Bram stopped and lowered Linnet to the ground.

  ‘Here we are. Welcome to my humble home,’ said Bram, standing aside.

  ‘Where is it?’ asked Oy.

  ‘Clever ain’t it?’ said Bram. ‘Allow me.’ He drew back a curtain of hanging vines and pushed against the woven branches.

  Oy and Linnet stepped in. Bram quickly lit the candles. The earth was covered in rushes and rush mats lay over the top. The floor was springy underfoot and every ste
p released a sweet green smell like hay in the sun. The entire den was built around two bird-cage trees. They could see how the branches arched up and then came down like the bars of a cage, burrowing into the ground and fusing with other branches to make a strong frame. Bram had woven all the spaces with rushes. There was not a breath of draught. There were logs to sit on. Chipped pots and dented pans were stacked in a corner.

  ‘If you look through that arch, you’ll see where I sleep.’ A hammock was strung across the other room. ‘I got deep rushes on the floor in there ’cos I’m a rough sleeper. I tends to bounce out of the hammock in the night, but the ground’s so kind I never even wake up. You can take the hammock Linnet, since I… since I end up on the floor anyway.’ Bram stopped and stared at Linnet’s face.

  Linnet covered her face with her hand.

  Oy looked from one to the other.

  ‘What do they do to you in that place? Come here, let me see.’ Bram held his candle higher.

  ‘I always look like this, don’t I, Oy? I’ve got no colour in me. It’s a family thing.’

  ‘Well I apologise then,’ but he continued staring.

  ‘No,’ said Oy, as the candlelight fell full on Linnet’s face, ‘that ain’t your usual colour at all. You’re awful grey, and blue as anything round the nose and lips.’

  ‘You’re about the colour of a blewitt stalk,’ said Bram. ‘I seen a lot but I ain’t never seen anything like that before.’

  ‘There’s a lot looks like this at the factory,’ said Linnet, ‘not as bad as me o’course, ’cos I ain’t got no colour to start with. It’s since the water started tasting bitter. Some of ’em took to drinking rainwater where it runs off the roof.’

  ‘Well if that’s what it is we’ll soon get you well. The water here is fresh off the mountains. Come on, let me show you my bathroom.’

  As they scrambled down a slope the smell of watermint came up to meet them.

  ‘Here we are, luxury bathing on my doorstep.’ Bram led them over some trampled reeds to a small pool. ‘Just rinse that sewer sludge off, Linnet. I got to get Oy back to Duldred sharpish.’

  The friends looked sadly at each other. Oy’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. It was a rare expression for him. ‘You will get well won’t you?’

  ‘I feel better already.’

  Bram started to lead Oy away, but Oy hovered uncertainly. ‘You got to eat, and rest and, I wouldn’t leave only…’

  Linnet swallowed.

  ‘Look, Oy,’ interrupted Bram. ‘You’re taking a big risk going back there. If you’ve been missed – well, you know better’n I do what might happen. You two, you been apart long enough. That watch is worth enough to get us all back to Poria or anywhere else you fancy and we could live like lords.’

  Oy gave Linnet a long look. She shook her head.

  Oy took a breath and continued as though Bram had never spoken. ‘I’ll be back before long, no matter what, so do as Bram says and…’

  Bram slapped Oy on the shoulder. ‘You’re right. I should know better. Well, I wouldn’t mind catching an hour’s sleep myself tonight. You ready then, Oy? I’ll make sure Linnet gets strong and rested and I’ll teach her some survivin’ tricks.’

  They called goodnight until they could no longer hear each other. Linnet crouched in the green water feeling the pond weed feathering her ankles. It was cool and soothing, and now that she was alone she had time to be astonished, absolutely astonished to be free, and yet she felt weak, so weak. A tear dropped from her chin, its heat and salt lost instantly in the cool water.

  Raymun hung the lamp over its hook and stood in the middle of the basement handing out the schedules. ‘All very cheerful and busy in here this morning. Oy, where’s Oy?’

  ‘Didn’t you see him, he just ran past you on the stairs.’

  ‘I never see’d him.’

  ‘Oy’s like that, like a little shadow. Blink and you miss him,’ said Lucinda.

  ‘Where’s he gone then? He needs his schedule,’ said Raymun.

  ‘He had belly cramps last night,’ said Elyut, ‘I’ll bet he’s at the privy. I’ll take his schedule for him.’

  The wheels of Raymun’s mind turned while he held tight to the schedule.

  A shadow was flitting over the dawn-grey lawns, passing over the flags of the kitchen, up the stair and along the passage.

  ‘Here he is,’ said Lucinda.

  Oy was dripping from the pump and even paler than usual except for dark rings under his eyes.

  ‘Feel better now, Oy?’ said Elyut.

  Oy nursed his stomach and nodded.

  ‘Get started on your schedule,’ said Raymun, ‘and when Mrs Midden rises ask her for some peppermint water. That always does the trick. Belly aches is the downside of drains.’

  That night Gritty and Gertie pulled Oy forwards to tell his story. ‘Come on, we’re all dying to know. Did you rescue the maiden?’

  ‘Yes, I got her out.’ A cheer ran round the basement.

  ‘It’s like the goatherd story,’ said Henret.

  ‘I got her out, but she’s weak. Worse than I thought – the colour of blewitt stalks she is.’

  ‘She’ll pick up,’ soothed Gertie. ‘Leave it to Bram. We ain’t met him yet, but he sounds wise. Whatever can be done he’ll do. She’s away from that factory and whatever was causing the illness. That’s the main thing.’

  Henret went to sit beside him. ‘Look at me. It only took a week to get my colour back. It’ll be the same with Linnet.’

  Oy did not seem convinced.

  ‘Henret’s right,’ said Lucinda. ‘It takes a lot to keep a Porian down. Now tell us everything.’

  Oy was always ready to believe that others knew better than he did, and he tried to put his worries aside. The short time with Linnet had loosened his tongue. They all laughed as he told how he had lifted the heavy drain cover by pretending to be Sly. He did a strong man pose, tensing the bicep on his frail arm. ‘And,’ he said, ‘you won’t believe how sharp Bram is. That’s how he survives, he says, by staying a step ahead of everyone. He’d already thought of a plan for getting us out of Duldred. First, we got to get into the main overflow without being seen. We need a padlock to lock it down from the inside so’s the hounds can’t follow. Then we make our way through the sewers till we’re under Glumedge Lane. He’s even done a map for us.’ He handed a piece of paper to Alas, who unfolded it and looked at it closely.

  Just then Raymun arrived to count in. Alas slid the map into his pocket. Raymun counted to twelve without mistakes, looked distinctly pleased and delivered some news. ‘There was a rumpus at the factory last night. First escape in years and the last person you’d expect according to Mr Gurney. Tiny scrap of a girl, and sick too. Master’s not best pleased.’

  ‘She got clean away did she?’ said Lucinda.

  ‘Far as I know,’ said Raymun. ‘Winked out like a spark on a bonfire.’

  There were many sighs of relief as Raymun left them. Alas called for a candle and straightened the map. Oy took up where he had left off and explained what they must do:

  ‘There’s a way out of the sewer there. Bram will wait for us with a horse and cart. There’s a problem. We got to get a horse and cart and a raft from somewhere. One of us would have to drive the cart to Drowning Bay.’

  ‘And at the bay?’ said Blinda, looking queasy.

  ‘We take the raft,’ said Oy.

  ‘Not a raft again.’ Blinda held her hand out to Lizbuth. The two of them had nearly died on the journey from Poria. They had crawled up the Afflish beach together like two salt-crusted ghosts.

  ‘We got to get hold of one first,’ said Lucinda.

  ‘And a cart,’ said Alas, rubbing his chin.

  ‘We can ask Molly,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Has anyone driven a cart before?’ asked Alas.

  ‘I have,’ said Gritty, ‘our pa was a carter.’

  Gertie looked at her with raised eyebrows. ‘I ’member you sitting up front with Pa and holding
the reins, but you weren’t exactly driving.’

  ‘I got the feel though. There’s nothing to it. What you looking so doubtful for? Trust me.’

  ‘There’s something missing,’ said Lucinda. ‘The raft, where is it going?’

  ‘Once we get past the rocks the currents sweep us down to Lackland,’ explained Oy. ‘And we hope to wash up there.’

  ‘And if we don’t?’ asked Lucinda.

  ‘After that there’s Lastland, and after that, nothing.’

  ‘Nothing at all?’ said Henret.

  ‘Only the storm wall, Bram says, where the weather’s made. If you sail east, very far east, there’s a black wall rises out of the sea. It runs from one horizon to the other. It’s like a boiling black mist. No ship can pass it. Some say there’s other lands beyond and sometimes the seas around are littered with strange things, branches of trees, bodies of birds, not like the ones we know and sometimes they just rain out of the sky.’

  ‘Like that saying,’ said Gertie, enthralled, ‘raining frogs ’n’ dogs.’

  In their minds they opened the pages of a story book telling of a grand adventure, only now they were in it.

  28 Detective Spindle

  All the candles were out; a single log glowed red underneath. Within seconds of laying down their heads they were sinking, sinking – a rattle, a shuffle, light steps. Heads were raised reluctantly. They looked through the arch to the stairs. Long oyster silk slippers appeared in a soft halo; next a wrinkled stocking, a hitched up nightgown.

  ‘Miss Spindle?’ Lucinda said. Other heads lifted. Eyes were shaded from the growing lamplight.