Oy Yew (The Waifs of Duldred Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  ‘My dear, you seem to think that massage with giant snail slime is merely unpleasant; what the Doctor omitted to say was that the snail itself would be doing the massage. First there is the unique sensation of something suckered to the back of one’s legs. Looking back I catch sight of its wafting antennae, I feel the muscles of the thing contracting all down its foot, and the creeping cold as it looses its slime. It is indescribably horrid. And the smell. There,’ he threw down his fork, ‘my appetite is gone.’

  ‘But one more treatment – just to be sure,’ said Gwendalyn.

  There was a clatter of china. Jeopardine came into view. ‘I have never felt better. Look.’ He leapt clicking his heels in the air. ‘See.’ He executed a high scissor kick. ‘I have springs for joints.’ He arranged himself soberly. ‘And now I have an estate to run, a leaving to arrange, and most importantly, an election to win.’ He flexed his hands in front of him. ‘So no more time-wasting.’ He straightened his collar and made for the door. ‘I’ll be in my study.’

  Alas pulled Oy behind him. ‘Come on, we’ll keep watching.’

  They saw Jeopardine write a hasty letter. He sealed it and rang for Birkin. ‘Take this to the Carter’s Inn. Make sure you hand it over yourself. Have any more catalogues arrived for me?’

  ‘There’s a foreign packet, sir, came by special courier, and a letter, hand-delivered by the looks.’

  ‘Good. Now hurry with that message.’

  ‘Sir.’ Birkin bowed out.

  Jeopardine threw the letter to one side as though he feared it contained something bothersome. Instead he turned with a schoolboy’s enthusiasm to his bones and then to a news sheet which held the latest election gossip.

  There was a tap at the door. Firkin announced them through his moustache: ‘Sly to see you, sir, and…,’ Mrs Rutheday knocked him aside and closed the door.

  Jeopardine sat in one of the high-backed chairs in front of the fire. Only his crossed legs were visible, and one hand where it held a news sheet.

  ‘Come in, Sly,’ he said, continuing to read the latest election gossip.

  Sly, Viniga and Mort moved as a unit further into the room, then, turning sideways, they edged between the furniture to line up in front of Jeopardine.

  ‘It’s not just me, sir,’ said Sly.

  ‘Never mind the sir,’ said Viniga.

  ‘My ma’s here and this is my lawyer, Mr Maundry,’ Sly said.

  Jeopardine lowered the news-sheet, a terrible chill on him, like bathing in snail slime. ‘Yes, we’re acquainted.’ He rose to shake hands with the lawyer and swayed involuntarily as if suddenly light-headed.

  ‘We’ll sit,’ said Viniga, and the three of them squeezed onto the opposite sofa.

  Jeopardine sat on the edge of his chair. ‘Mr Maundry, perhaps you would have the good manners to explain the purpose of your visit.’

  ‘You must’ve known it would come out some day,’ Viniga interrupted, ‘you cheating dog. My son’s here to claim what’s his.’

  ‘Mrs Rutheday, if you’ll allow me to earn my fee.’ Maundry smiled.

  ‘By all means. No need for fancy legal talk. Tell him straight. He’s got what’s ours. We want it back!’

  ‘Indeed, if eight words can sum it, then that is the sum of it. Mrs Rutheday refers to the waif labour rights granted to your grandfather, Jeremiah Francis Jeopardine, and to your family in perpetuity. A letter has come into our possession…’

  Jeopardine rose abruptly. ‘This interview goes no further. Madam, this gives me the excuse I have long sought to rid myself of your lazy, incompetent son.’

  Viniga felt for her poker but she was held by Sly and the lawyer.

  ‘Leave my house and grounds immediately, and Sly, make sure you take all your belongings with you. Mrs Rutheday, you will clear your office at the factory.’

  ‘I take no orders from you. That whole factory will be mine before long, and I’ll be coming back here as mistress.’

  ‘Before long – you really think so? You don’t know much about the law. A case like this will take years, decades even, to settle.’ Jeopardine laughed. ‘And think of the cost, you’ll be ruined long before that. What fees have they clocked up so far, Mr Maundry?’

  Viniga looked to Maundry who avoided her gaze. Sly nudged his mother.

  ‘We’ve taken all we want for now,’ she sneered, ‘and that includes your cook.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Molly,’ said Sly. ‘She and me are getting wed.’

  Jeopardine looked drained as he turned to Mr Maundry. ‘I never wish to see your clients again. All communications will take place through Mr Baracula’s office in Crust.’

  Maundry bowed and steered Viniga towards the door. They had not reached the end of the corridor before Jeopardine broke.

  Alas saw him crumple and heard the muffled whine of a child in the most acute distress. Jeopardine was on his knees, his face buried in the chair cushion. He lifted his head and tore at the edge of the cushion with his teeth. ‘Nnnh, nnh,’ he snarled and snuffled. His face was dark and wet with tears and spit. He limped across the room and rang for Raymun.

  ‘Master,’ Raymun was speechless for a moment. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Betrayed,’ said Jeopardine. ‘They’ve all betrayed me. Have the men take Sly and Molly Midden – they shan’t have time to collect their things, I want them thrown out of the gates immediately.’

  ‘Sir, sit a minute. Let me help you.’

  ‘Now, Raymun, do it now! Then come to the Bone Room – quickly.’

  Sly would rather fight than talk, any day. As the upservants approached him he held a heavy laundry paddle two-handed, one end close to his ear, ready to strike. Birkin swallowed and moved closer. ‘I need you with me, not behind me,’ he said to Firkin.

  ‘My head’s thumping already,’ said Firkin. ‘T’ain’t my job to get knocked around like a skittle. I want some danger money for this.’

  ‘One more step and I’ll have your head right off,’ said Sly. ‘Me and Molly are going anyway so save yourself a cracked skull.’

  ‘Well, hurry it up then,’ said Birkin.

  ‘Yes,’ Firkin spoke over Birkin’s shoulder. ‘Hurry it up if you don’t want things to get rough.’

  ‘If you ain’t gone by noon we’ll be back.’ Birkin took Firkin’s arm and began to move away. Sly lowered the paddle. ‘I’ll bring him down, you sit on him,’ said Birkin in a low monotone. The two men rushed Sly. Birkin locked his arms around Sly’s knees and tried to unbalance him. Sly brought the paddle down hard on Birkin’s shoulders and then again in the middle of his back. Birkin lost his grip and Sly kneed him in the mouth. A broken tooth stuck to Birkin’s lip.

  ‘Let it go,’ Firkin advised Birkin from a distance.

  ‘Maybe I don’t want to let you go,’ said Sly, and he gave chase. Firkin was not a fast mover. Raymun glimpsed the tail-end of the chase but he was too upset by events to feel much satisfaction.

  Alas had rounded up the waifs. Some were hiding by the waste heap. The others were in hasty conference with Molly. They were interrupted by Raymun. His colour was high as though he had a fever. ‘Master wants Oy. Is he here? Oy, Master wants you in the Bone Room. Oooh…’ Raymun’s knees wobbled.

  Molly pulled a chair out and made him sit down. ‘You’re not well,’ she said. ‘Here,’ she gave him water. Raymun drank to hide his emotions.

  ‘Now, what’s it all about?’

  ‘Master – I know what you done to him, and it’s turned him, turned him strange. He’s up there,’ Raymun pointed upwards, ‘in the gallery. He’s got the cloak on, the hawk feather cloak; swooping about, perching on rails, talking to himself, saying all kinds of things: terrible things.’

  ‘What things?’ said Molly.

  ‘Speaks to his ma’s picture: “Am I your dearest one,” he says, “your best, beloved Meregon? Would you like to stroke my wings?” He puts his head on one side like a bird. “Shall I show you how I rip and tear?” Then he tells me
get Oy. “Bring him to the…”’ A sob snagged his words. ‘“To the Ossiquarium.” I can’t do it. I ain’t never disobeyed before, but don’t go, Oy. I’ve seen this – when he was a boy, same thing happened. It was weeks before he was well again. It was me what found him with the hawk. I took it away, cleaned the blood off him, covered things up. I’ll find the Mistress. We’ll send for the Doctor.’

  ‘Oh, Raymun,’ said Molly, but he was already running away. She turned to the waifs. ‘Sly says it could be years before this gets sorted out; it was silly of me to think otherwise and now it sounds like Master’s lost his mind.’

  ‘Ain’t nothing else for it then,’ said Alas.

  ‘No,’ said Molly. ‘Come here,’ she gathered as many waifs as she could get in her arms. ‘I did my best for you,’ said Molly. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t turn out.’

  ‘Molly, ain’t no call for sorrying. We’ll never forget you or what you done,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Go get the others, Gert,’ said Alas. ‘Right, first two ready? Got your bundles?’

  ‘All clear,’ said Lucinda, pushing Elyut and Blinda out of the door. As soon as they were in the cover of the orchard, Alas called, ‘Next two.’ Henret and Lizbuth stood on the threshold. Just as Elyut and Blinda arrived at the overflow and stepped inside, the fourth pair set off from the kitchen. Gritty sped away with Jakes, behind her.

  Out on the lake the iron-beaks had begun to muster. Drak, the largest and oldest, had caught the scents of fear and madness and something else. Drak didn’t know the scent of hope. He did know that waifs should not be streaming away from the house like that, reeking with fear and the other smell. He stepped up onto a rock and slapped the water with his wings. Crowds of iron-beaks materialised from the dark places among the rushes. They followed Drak up the bank and along the orchard path. The fear vapour was stronger there. It drew them on and inflamed them.

  Gritty heard the cackling and began to run. One determined bird stayed clamped to her leg. Gritty twisted its neck till it stumbled brokenly away. ‘Sorry,’ she shouted hysterically, ‘I ain’t staying here, no way, I ain’t, I ain’t,’ then she sped on, her elbows pumping like pistons. Jakes was slower to react and was quickly surrounded. The iron-beaks began to attack. Some jabbed at his legs, others flew at his face and arms.

  The sound of flapping and cackling reached the kitchen. Molly gathered the remaining waifs, armed them with rolling pins and pushed them towards the door. ‘All of you now, fast as you can.’

  Oy pressed his face to Molly’s arm and Gertie draped herself around Molly’s middle. ‘You been so good to us, so good.’

  ‘Send word if you can,’ Molly dabbed at her eyes. ‘Now fly!’

  Inch heard the beaks and saw two, four, five waifs headed away from Duldred. ‘Rum,’ she muttered. Then, as though pulled by her nose, she set off after them.

  Whomp! Inch was knocked to the ground. Pillows of flesh pressed her on every side. She jabbed her nose below Molly’s arm then over her shoulder as she fought to breathe.

  ‘Molly, have you had a fall?’ Sly ran to her in alarm. ‘Nothing broken is there? What’s that underneath you? Inch – how did she get there?’

  ‘I had to stop her,’ said Molly.

  Inch squirmed free and jumped upright, brushing herself down and glaring at Molly. ‘She’d no business wrestling me like that. There’s waifs escaping, I’m sure of it. Half of ‘em running where they’ve no business to be running. Go to Master now, Sly, and the credit’s yours.’

  ‘Your apron’s all undone.’ Sly fussed over Molly.

  ‘Did you hear me? There’s waifs escaping! That means reward money – for us.’

  ‘I’ve told you, there ain’t no us and never will be. Now take your claw off my arm before I knock it off.’

  ‘Meathead!’ Inch shouted after Sly. ‘I’ll sugar my own bun, grease my pan, and while I’m at it I’ll stuff my partridge, and you, you can go and…’ Her voice faded as she ran to find the Master.

  A heap of rolling pins lay abandoned by the lake. Forlorn beaks growled and nursed their wounds among the reeds. The overflow clanged shut. Alas clicked the padlock into place and followed the string of lights into the sewer.

  36 A Bumpy Ride

  In a leafy lane on the outskirts of the Duldred estate a squirret froze, nut in hands. With a long eye, which could see just as well backwards as forwards, the squirret saw the earth lift behind it. When the head of a large (from a squirret’s point of view) animal rose out of the ground, the squirret scarpered. Three vertical leaps gave it a much better view. Nine more of the large animals emerged from a hidden burrow. When a horse and cart pulled up directly under its tree, the squirret decided it would round up its family and find somewhere less alarming to live.

  ‘Perfect timing,’ said Bram, jumping down from the cart and greeting the waifs.

  ‘We’re a match for these Afflish gawks when we put our minds to it.’

  Oy smiled broadly as he fixed on the white head behind Bram. Bram turned, lifted Linnet down and placed her in front of Oy. ‘Told you I’d soon have her well didn’t I?’ he said. ‘See how her colour’s come back.’

  ‘What colour?’ Billam whispered.

  Lizbuth jabbed him with her elbow.

  ‘You do look better,’ said Oy, ‘a lot better.’ He tried to put aside that her breathing was fast and high in her chest and that Billam shrank from her offered hand.

  ‘We’re missing one,’ Alas told Bram. ‘Jakes.’

  ‘Beaks?’ Bram asked.

  Alas nodded. ‘Had him over and went for his eyes. We got him clear but he wasn’t fit to run or swim.’

  ‘You’re going ahead?’

  ‘What else can we do? We can’t go back.’

  ‘Right, everybody in. Room for two up front. Where’s the driver?’

  Gritty jumped up and slapped the seat beside her. ‘Come on Gert, it’ll be like old times.’

  ‘Try to balance the weights. There’s a rocky road ahead.’ Bram stepped around to talk to Gritty. ‘The horse don’t look much but he’s wilful so let him know who’s boss. A firm hand but not too much or he’ll see it as a challenge. Go straight till you come out of the trees onto the Crust Road. Slow down at the Glume Bridge and look for a track on your right. There’s a stone points to Drowning Bay, but it’s half hid. Take the track steady; it’s steep, narrow and rocky. When you see the ring of gorse above the bay, pull over.’

  He raised his voice and addressed them all. ‘There’s a path behind the gorse. The raft is hidden just before the first gap in the bushes. The tide will be high. Keep away from the plughole.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Blinda, though she had guessed.

  ‘Swirling currents westside of the bay. They can suck a whole ship down. You’ll see the difference in the water. There’s a dark green cloud over the plughole. Make sure you’ve all got at least one hand strapped to the deck.’ Blinda looked queasily at her feet. Bram went on, ‘And don’t even think about swimming in that water. Once you’re out past the rocks, the current will whip you out to sea and then down the coast to Lackland.’ Gritty leaned over the reins eagerly. Bram slapped the horse’s haunches and it leapt forwards. ‘Luck go with you.’

  ‘Luck stay with you,’ called Alas, and they were off.

  Gritty’s hair had come loose and was flying round her head. A strand lay across her mouth; her eyes were flashing and her skin was fresh and flushed. She gave the horse his head and they took the turn into the wider road without slowing. There were shrieks as the cart lifted on to two wheels and they were all flung to one side. Running through all of them was the heady rush of freedom. The trees that passed in a blur, the sting of the sharp wind in their faces, the tailing road behind them; it was all freedom. Ceilings, peelings, stains, drains, floors, doors, stores, metals, kettles, winders, cinders, were fading, fading. Mops and ladders, buckets and bellows, were cold, still, unattended. They were free.

  Molly walked round the kitchen one way and then
back again. She could hear the fury of the hounds in the distance, hurling themselves, no doubt, at the locked grating. She took off her apron, folded it carefully with the Duldred ‘D’ on top, and lay it on the table. Whatever happened she wouldn’t be needing it any more.

  ‘All set?’ said Sly. ‘I’ve loaded the bags.’

  A commotion in the yard drew Molly to the window. Grooms were running in every direction. Master stood shouting with Raymun by his side. Dr Sandy tried to calm Gwendalyn. The upservants stood in a half-circle secretly delighted by the drama. The glossy black Duldred carriage came clattering into the courtyard. The horses were made nervy by haste. They blew and whinnied and stamped on the flints.

  ‘Does no one listen to me around here?’ Jeopardine screeched. ‘All of you,’ he pointed at the riveted upservants and dithering grooms, ‘do what he tells you.’ His other hand pointed at Raymun. ‘You three, come with me.’ Firkin, Larkin, and Curzon climbed into the carriage. Jeopardine hurled himself after them and the coachman drove off standing, his whip flickering above the horses.

  Gwendalyn came running out as the carriage thundered away. ‘Molly – my husband, has he gone after them?’

  ‘Your husband, madam, is a cheat and a liar and quite likely a killer,’ said Mrs Rutheday. ‘I would pack my bags if I were you. I wouldn’t want to be under the same roof as such a badmash – besides which the roof belongs to me, and you are not welcome.’ Mrs Rutheday’s face moved. It was like an ugly thing waking from long dormancy under desert sand. There was a twisting about the mouth which wanted to, but could not smile.

  Gwendalyn stiffened and lunged towards Mrs Rutheday.

  Molly grabbed her wrist then took her arm gently. ‘Come to the kitchen,’ she said. ‘You should sit down.’

  Gwendalyn drooped over the kitchen table, trembling from her core. ‘There will be an explanation. I know that there will be an explanation. Even if the grandfather was a… a cheat and a liar, Jeremiah couldn’t have known.’

  ‘Gwen, ma’am, I’m sorry.’