Oy Yew (The Waifs of Duldred Trilogy Book 1) Page 21

  My son, it is my hope that you never need to disgrace my name by revealing this secret to the world. If you do, I comfort myself that in your heart at least will be pride and appreciation. In the end, if it saves the Jeopardine fortunes I rest easy, and I confess it amuses me to think that the world will know at last how cleverly I played the game.

  Signed and sealed,

  Jeremiah Francis Jeopardine

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said the Doctor, removing his glasses and smiling wryly.

  ‘Just to be clear,’ said Sly, closing one eye, ‘does that mean what I think it means?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Dr Sandy.

  Molly helped him out. ‘Sly, it means that you hold the waif labour rights, by law. Even better, we can prove that Jep knew about the cheating, so all the wealth that’s come from the waif labour is yours too.’

  ‘There could be legal complications but that sums it up,’ said Dr Sandy.

  Sly whooped and grabbed Molly’s middle. ‘All mine.’ He swung her round. ‘To think I’ve been living like any common servant. All that, “Yes sir, no sir,” when I was really the master. He should have been bowing and scraping to me.’

  Dr Sandy handed the scroll to Sly. ‘Can I see that bottle now, Alas?’ The Doctor held the bottle to the light, loosened the glass stopper and sniffed. His eyes wandered about the ceiling. ‘Familiar. Takes me back to my training. Smells like…’ He gazed beyond the room. ‘Damn him. It smells like tricarbyl-R-triximigitate. But there’s a trace of something else.’ It was everyone else’s turn to look impressed. He took a phial from his bag and poured some of the liquid into it. ‘I’ll analyse it tonight.’

  ‘And what does that do, Doctor, that tribble army tititate?’ asked Sly.

  ‘It’s a growth inhibitor, used to treat giantism. It can be fatal if you don’t get the dose just right.’

  ‘What would the Master want with that?’ Sly rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘I think we can guess,’ said the Doctor.

  ‘Jep ain’t no giant.’ Sly looked baffled. Molly whispered in his ear. ‘Ah, yes, that’s what I was thinking,’ he said, winking at her knowingly.

  ‘Now, the other matter,’ said the Doctor. ‘Sly, we’ll need those chain-cutters. Alas, will you lead the way?’

  ‘What’s this all about?’ Sly asked Molly as they made their way to the Basalt Stair. She shrugged. Sly let them into the Bone Room with his own keys. Alas quickly broke into the smaller room. ‘Well, you little knave,’ said Sly. ‘I wouldn’t have slept easy in my bed if I’d have known you could pull tricks like that.’

  ‘Is that it?’ said the Doctor, pointing to the trunk.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alas, hanging back.

  ‘Can you open it, Sly?’

  ‘Let’s see,’ he lifted the heavy chain. ‘I should think so.’ Sly hefted the heavy chain-cutters and sliced through the metal. The chains ran and rattled to the floor.

  ‘And the padlock,’ said Dr Sandy, looking from Alas to Sly.

  ‘Still my department I think,’ said Sly, stepping forward again and snipping off the lock. ‘Bit quicker than your sneaky pins ain’t it?’ he jibed at Alas.

  ‘Right,’ said Dr Sandy, ‘let’s take a look.’ He raised the heavy iron lid of the chest and took out a long thin box. ‘Meringian ostrich,’ he read. He looked at the long, thin bone inside. ‘Quite likely.’ He picked up a smaller box. ‘Esseni rat tail. Another extinct species.’ The Doctor continued emptying the chest and reading out the animal names. ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘What is it?’ said Alas, tensing again.

  ‘It’s a human tibia, but, ah: it’s a wonderful example of a condition called glass bone. Look how the light comes through it. I’ve never seen one without multiple fractures. It must be extremely rare.’

  And the Doctor dropped it. The bone shattered into shards. Molly tittered.

  ‘Pity,’ said the Doctor. ‘A fine research specimen. However, there’s nothing here that need concern you, Alas. No waif remains. The bones are museum pieces and may well have been acquired illegally, but that’s for someone else to take up. Can you tidy up here, Sly?’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’

  ‘What’s our next move, Doctor?’ asked Molly.

  ‘That’s for Sly and his mother to decide.’

  ‘What’s the usual thing?’ said Sly.

  ‘There is no usual. My advice is to instruct a lawyer immediately.’

  ‘Won’t that mean expensive litigation?’ said Oy.

  Molly immediately got the giggles. Dr Sandy caught it, but Sly simply looked askance at Oy which made Molly worse.

  ‘Oy, where did you, how did you...?’ Molly broke down again.

  ‘It’s what they say in the news sheets,’ said Oy. ‘I got it wrong, I suppose.’

  ‘No, Oy, you’re right,’ said Dr Sandy, when he had recovered himself. ‘It’s a good question. This is legal dynamite. It will be the biggest case Crust has seen in my lifetime. If any lawyer gets wind of it they’ll be beating a path to Sly’s door. They’ll be happy to work for the prestige alone, at least to start with. But I recommend Mr Maundry. You have five days until Master or, should I say, Mr Jeopardine returns. Act as soon as he gets back. Surprise is the key to your success. He must be as little prepared as possible. He’ll try to get the documents from Makins, but you’ve enough here to convict. I wish you luck.’ He looked seriously at Sly. ‘I hope you’ll be a good master.’ He walked ahead with Molly. ‘Do what you can to influence him,’ he said. ‘He thinks a great deal of you.’

  34 The Cart Before the Horse

  A circle of waifs sat in the glow of the fire, their larger shadows on the dank walls behind them. They waited for Alas to speak.

  ‘It’s all gone well,’ he said. ‘Doctor thinks the legal case is good. Sly’s going to claim his rights soon as Jep gets back. Now we got some choices to make? Molly thinks we should stay and try our luck under the Ruthedays. I want to know what you all think.’

  ‘At the factory there was hundreds of us and one Viniga,’ said Gertie. ‘You could go for days without feeling the poker. Here we’d have our spines smacked to powder in no time.’

  ‘And that ain’t good for growing,’ said Billam.

  ‘I ain’t got far to grow,’ said Jakes, wavering.

  ‘I’m four oggits under,’ said Lizbuth, twisting her thin hair. ‘I’m for leaving.’

  ‘I want to go but I’m no swimmer. That Drowning Bay skitters me, the thought of them great walls of water,’ said Henret.

  ‘That’s what fears me most,’ said Blinda, ‘but that Ma Rutheday, she took against me ’specially at the factory, always laying into me she was. Oh Lor’, if I drown I drown.’

  Elyut coughed and hit his chest. ‘This mouldy old, dark old basement. I’ve had enough.’

  ‘What do you say, Oy?’ Alas asked.

  ‘I got to go,’ said Oy, solemn and certain.

  ‘We go then?’ said Alas, putting his hand into the circle. Another hand covered his and another until there were ten joined in agreement. For some reason Lucinda hung back. ‘Cind?’ said Alas. Lucinda put her hand in. Alas continued to watch her for some moments then he put his other hand firmly on top of hers. ‘We’re all together then,’ he said. ‘The Ruthedays is our leaving present to Jep. Right, you all know the order we go in, and the route. If Raymun should spot us you’ve got your excuses ready. Go calm and steady, any sign of nerves and you’ll spook the beaks. We go at six. Upservants won’t stir before that with Master away. Did you check again with Molly, Oy, about the cart?’

  ‘We got a cart alright. Horse is to follow.’

  ‘You should never put a cart before a horse, my ma said. It’s bad luck,’ said Lizbuth.

  ‘Lor’, I hope not,’ said Blinda.

  Mrs Midden sat rocking in front of the fire in the Cook’s Parlour, framed by flowery cushions. She rocked back and stayed there. Her neck flopped to one side as though it was broken. She roused and straightened it whereupon
it flopped backwards instead. The cushions held it there. Molly sat on the other side of the hearth deep in thought. Every now and again a snaggly snore made her look into her aunt’s open mouth and upturned nostrils. Molly made a decision. She shook Mrs Midden awake. Mrs Midden looked at her as though she were a stranger, smacked her lips and wiped dribble from the corner of her mouth. ‘Shake ’n’ wake,’ she said weakly, hauling herself up. ‘I’ll get into bed while I still can.’

  ‘Wait a minute, Aunt. I need a favour. Could you manage without me tomorrow for an hour or two?’

  ‘What for this time? I’m overworked as it is.’

  ‘Something I need to do in Crust. We’re quiet here with Master away.’

  ‘So you thought you’d go off on a jolly like the rest of ’em.’

  ‘I’ll pay you back.’ Molly’s eyes were thoughtful. ‘You might as well know, Aunt, there’s a change coming. Don’t look like that, there’s nothing to fear.’ Molly pulled her chair over and sat fiddling with her ring. ‘Did you ever hear a rumour that a long time ago the Jeopardines cheated the Ruthedays out of the waif labour rights?’

  ‘I’ve heard of it. It’s a nonsense and long past.’

  ‘Maybe not. There’s a letter you see, from old JFJ to his ancestors, admitting he cheated. Sly’s the rightful master.’

  ‘That’s all wrong. There’s people born to be masters and Sly’s not one of them. Start tinkering with the order and everything breaks down. Them that’s at the bottom creeps up and them that’s at the top falls down.’

  ‘And them that’s in the middle?’

  ‘It could go either way, but I prefer to stay safe as I am.’ Mrs Midden rocked with agitation, she looked as though she would get up, then she stayed where she was. She looked at Molly in exasperation, then she looked away. ‘And what’s your part in this? It sounds to me like you’re all for it.’

  ‘You know I don’t like how Master treats the waifs, and you’d be better treated under Sly.’

  ‘What about Viniga, that stony thing?’

  ‘You’re a match for her I reckon.’ Molly put her arms around her. ‘Oh Aunt, you know Sly, he’s a pie man through and through, and the more eyes it’s got the better. You could make stargazies twice a day and Sly would think he was in heaven.’ Molly felt her aunt relaxing. ‘One more thing. All this that I’ve told you must be kept secret. Sly’s lawyer says any leaks and the whole thing could backfire. Master would stop at nothing to cover his tracks.’

  Mrs Midden stiffened. ‘Lawyers. It’s serious then.’

  Molly nodded. ‘Sly’s instructed a lawyer. They’re coming to see Master soon as he gets back.’

  Mrs Midden wrung her pinny. ‘I shan’t be here to see it. I’m due a holiday and don’t count on me coming back.’

  ‘Yes, but don’t forget, I need a day off first.’

  Mrs Midden looked fit to burst. ‘Selfish! Selfish, selfish, selfish.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like…’

  But Mrs Midden had gone to her chamber. Molly sank into the cushions and rocked herself to sleep.

  At dawn, crumpled and unwashed, Molly went to hire a horse. The only one to be had looked like her old toy wheely horse. Its front end didn’t match its back, there were bare patches over its rump, and its eyes were milk-rimmed with secret flickers. The owner assured her it was a “smart mover” if “tret right” – whatever that meant. She tracked Bram down at the Carter’s Inn to make the final arrangements.

  In the afternoon Mrs Midden departed. She had decided to go to her sister’s in Kipper Row, not five minutes from Cousin Mair’s and Mair was an awful gossip. Molly’s heart sank but there was nothing she could do.

  It was near dusk on Mammonday when the tradesman’s gate swung open and a woman stepped inside. The woman kept her head low and pulled the hood of her cloak close about her face. Locking the gate behind her she hurried towards the house. She was seen of course: by Duff, the groom, as he exercised the horses; by Chibbs, the dairyman, as he rolled churns across the yard; by Curzon and Pashley, as they had a breather out back with one of Master’s cigars; and finally by Inch, who naturally followed her.

  ‘Evening, Mrs Midden,’ said Inch to the figure in the corridor, though there was nothing to be seen outside of the cloak but a pair of high-laced black boots, and bunched fat knuckles, ready to knock on the study door.

  Mrs Midden flinched and threw back the hood of her cloak.

  ‘I thought you was off on your hols,’ Inch went on.

  ‘And so I am, and I’d thank you to respect the fact that I ain’t here. Not in any way what concerns you.’

  ‘No good knocking. Master ain’t here.’

  ‘I know that. It’s polite to knock anyway. Now you,’ Mrs Midden made a flapping rush at Inch, ‘go and point your pointy nose somewhere else.’

  Mrs Midden shrouded herself once more and entered the study. Once inside she wrote a note in her slow, heavy hand and signed it, your ever loyal servant, Ruby Midden C.C. (Champion of Champions). She addressed it f.y.e.o. (for your eyes only) Master J. Jeopardine.

  And Mrs Midden returned to her sister’s having slightly eased her bitter heart.

  35 Escape from Duldred

  The waifs took breakfast as usual. But they did not feel as usual. Shapes and tastes and smells all stood out clear: the smell of Duldred bread, the cold rim of the metal beakers on their lips and the soft scrubbed wood of the table. Molly cook moved behind them in her wide starched apron. She would be missed, nothing else. The sky began to lighten. They raised their beakers to each other, and washed down the last dry crumbs. ‘We better sort our packs,’ said Alas. ‘Elyut and Blinda, you go first.’

  ‘I’ve got something to say about that,’ said Molly. She was interrupted by a clattering from the yard and raised voices.

  Raymun came running in. ‘It’s Master, they drove all night to get here early, couldn’t stand any more of the treatments. Upservants are half asleep and no Mrs Midden. Gert, Oy; help Molly get breakfast for Master and Mistress – fresh pullet eggs he wants, soft scrambled; his throat’s scorched he says. Lizbuth, Blinda; dress the table and air the beds. Elyut, come and help me see to the horses.’

  Elyut looked back helplessly as he followed Raymun.

  Alas thought quickly. ‘We go later,’ he said, ‘when they all sit down to dine.’

  Inch appeared in the doorway fastening her apron strings. ‘Out! It’s bad enough being roused at this hour without the sight of you lot.’

  The waifs did not budge. They looked back at her with flat, hard eyes.

  Birkin pushed past her and slumped in a chair. ‘Brandy and early mornings don’t go well together.’

  ‘Where’s the rest of ’em?’ said Inch.

  ‘Sozzled,’ said Birkin. ‘I knocked off at three, but they kept on drinking.’

  Sly’s voice carried from the kitchen. ‘Did you hear what he called me just now? I won’t stand another day of it. I’m off to fetch the lawyer.’

  Inch swivelled around; her arms and legs and nose were like antennae. ‘What lawyer?’ she demanded of Molly as Sly slammed out of the kitchen.

  ‘Loyal,’ said Molly. ‘Name of his new hound.’

  Molly followed Gertie and Oy to the perchery. Grain rolled underfoot and feathers floated in the nesty warmth. From a high perch bright eyes peered curiously at the top of their heads. Molly looked around and pulled the door shut behind them.

  ‘Did Sly mean it just now?’ said Gert.

  ‘He did,’ said Molly.

  ‘We’d best go soon as the lawyer gets here,’ said Gertie. ‘How long for Sly to get to Crust and back?’

  ‘Maundry’s down at the lodge already,’ said Molly. ‘He’s come to brief us, but I was trying to tell you. There ain’t no need to go anywhere. Sly’s asked me to marry him, and I – I said yes.’

  ‘You did!’ said Gertie. ‘Pardon me, Molly, but why?’

  ‘It seems to me that there’s two paths ahead of me. One way, I become like my Au
nt Midden, who became like her Aunt Bill, who followed her Aunt Trudge. That path is lined with pots and pans and rolling pins and not much else, but it’s a clear path and at the end of it I hand the rolling pin on to my own niece. The other way, I join myself to a man I don’t love. That path is rocky, it goes up mountains, it goes through mud and sometimes it disappears and I get lost. But if I’m lucky there are prizes on that path: babies perhaps; my husband learning some kindness maybe; and now, if matters fall out as they ought, the chance to do a lot of good.’

  ‘Molly, you ain’t just doing this for us?’ said Gertie.

  ‘Gert, it’s a relief. I got no taste and no talent for cooking. But the main thing is, you can stay. I told Sly there’ll be no marriage unless he follows my ways. What is it, Oy?’

  ‘What about Linnet?’ said Oy.

  ‘Linnet can come here, and welcome,’ said Molly.

  Oy and Gertie smiled at each other. ‘What about Sly’s ma?’ said Gertie.

  Molly frowned. ‘I see battles ahead, but Sly is her weak spot. Between us we’ll keep her in line. Go on Oy, go and tell Alas.’

  Gertie and Molly watched from the kitchen window as Sly, Viniga, and their lawyer, Mort Maundry, advanced along the flintway. The three walked abreast, stepping in time, with Viniga a nose ahead of the other two. The men were like soldiers advancing behind the shield of Viniga. Sly’s nerves showed in his roving eyes and twitching lips. Viniga’s face gave nothing away. Molly noted with a frown how Sly clung to his mother.

  ‘You could churn butter in here,’ she said, rubbing her stomach.

  Oy found Alas at the Breakfast Room hatch. ‘I can’t believe it’ll work out so straight and easy,’ said Alas when Oy told him the news. ‘Jep’s wriggled out of one bad situation; he might do the same again.’

  Voices drew them to the spyhole. It gave a narrow view so the middle of the table could be seen but not the diners at either end.

  ‘One more treatment, could you not have borne it, if only for my peace of mind?’ said Gwendalyn.