Oy Yew (The Waifs of Duldred Trilogy Book 1) Page 9

  Alas found him and carried him back to the basement. Everyone crowded round as Oy slowly revived. Gertie held his hand, Lizbuth brought him their only pillow. Blinda wiped the grass print from his face and curled herself around his head. When Raymun arrived Lucinda showed her anger.

  ‘Look at him!’ she said. ‘He ain’t going to last another day. Lying out there like rags in a Crust gutter he was. I swear if anything happens to him I’ll… I will,’ she trailed off.

  ‘He didn’t even do no stealing,’ said Blinda. ‘He was only trying to help me.’

  ‘Alright, alright,’ said Raymun, ‘let’s all calm down. As it happens, Molly cook has asked for Oy tomorrow. Master’s entertaining so he ain’t going to be around. Oy can have a breather and I’ll do some catch up in the yard. There’s no need to bother Master about the swap; I know he’ll want the kitchen running smoothly – I shouldn’t say, but he’s after a wife.’

  ‘A wife,’ said Gritty. ‘Poor woman.’

  ‘Used to be it was a son he wanted. “Raymun” he says to me once, “there’s a vacancy for a junior Jeopardine.” His ideal, he said, was to poppergate himself as it was less messy than bringing a mother into it.’

  ‘You mean propagate,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Feona Ferfopp’s dining tomorrow. Jula Baracula’s pencilled in for next week – his lawyer’s daughter. She’s out and out favourite. Gildans coming out of her ears.’ Raymun sighed. ‘Man gets to an age when he thinks about wives and such.’

  ‘It’s not too late to grow, Raymun,’ said Oy, struggling to sit up. ‘Keep back some work energy and you’d be tall as Jep.’

  Tall: Raymun shied away from the word. Blinda pushed Oy back down. ‘You stay there,’ she said, ‘and I ain’t letting you up till you eat your bread and mine.’

  By morning Oy was much recovered. His day in the kitchen with Molly cook feeding him titbits helped even more. When Raymun came to fetch him in the late afternoon he was ready for a last shift of chopping. At the yard he could hardly believe what Raymun had done. The trees assigned to him were no more. In their place was a perfect pyramid of logs.

  When Jeopardine came to check, he looked surprised and disappointed. ‘You seem to have grown accustomed to logs rather quicker than I thought.’ He made it sound like a complaint. ‘Porians often put me in mind of roaches, can’t finish them off short of a direct blow with a sledge hammer. Not that I intend to… useful quality in a worker you know. Which brings to mind – yes, I have another task for you, something to make use of your size and flexibility. Tomorrow you will accompany me to the factory.’

  Oy gave Jeopardine a smile the likes of which he had never seen and could not hope to understand.

  ‘Well you certainly look a lot better,’ said Blinda, as Oy arrived back at the basement.

  ‘Guess!’ said Oy, more excited than they had ever seen him.

  Blinda shook her head blankly.

  ‘I’m going to the factory tomorrow.’

  It was the end of the day and the waifs were tired as usual but this news made them even limper, Alas in particular.

  ‘You can’t leave us,’ said Blinda.

  ‘No, you can’t,’ echoed Gertie.

  ‘We need you,’ said Blinda.

  ‘It’s only for the day,’ Oy reassured them.

  ‘Whew, got me going then,’ said Blinda.

  ‘I might see her, might I?’ Oy hugged himself.

  ‘Linnet?’ said Lucinda. ‘There’s a good chance, but what’s it all about?’

  ‘Master wants me to fix a machine.’

  ‘You ain’t got that sort of skill,’ said Alas.

  ‘He wants me ‘cos I’m small and bendy. I got to squash in and get my arm down and get a tool out what a proper fixer dropped in there, else the whole machine has to be stripped and this way Master saves money. That’s what he told me.’

  ‘There’s plenty of little ’uns at the factory,’ said Lizbuth. ‘Why’s it got to be you?’

  ‘It’s ’cos I can do this.’ Oy wiggled his thumb, bending the digit so that it looked broken.

  ‘Ouch,’ said Elyut, ‘don’t that hurt?’

  Oy shook his head and did a few more gymnastics with his thumb. ‘And this.’ He folded his shoulders so that they almost touched in front. ‘Dr Sandy says it ain’t normal.’ He took them the same distance behind and then moved one forward and one back. Lizbuth covered her eyes.

  ‘He’s right about that,’ said Kurt.

  ‘I got other bendy bits,’ Oy carried on.

  ‘That’s amazing,’ said Gritty. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’

  ‘I don’t want to be different, makes me ’shamed.’

  ‘T’ain’t no reason for shame,’ said Lucinda.

  ‘Come here, Oy,’ said Alas. He moved Oy’s thumb around, at first with fascination and then, as understanding came to him, with horror.

  Oy left for the factory very early with all good wishes, hopes he would see Linnet and numerous commissions to look out for family and friends.

  ‘If you see my cousin Dothy – spotty, hair like mine,’ said Lizbuth, ‘say chirriday for me.’

  ‘Chirriday?’ said Oy.

  ‘Porian – don’t you even ’member it?’

  ‘Leave him be,’ said Alas. ‘He ain’t going on a social. You just keep your wits about you, Oy, don’t bother about nothing else.’ Alas turned to Lucinda as they waved him off. ‘I’d tell him to run for it if he got a chance but the hounds would have him in no time.’

  ‘What you so worried about?’

  ‘He ain’t just different in how he thinks and what he says. Those funny moves he makes show he’s made different inside, and that’s why Master’s so interested in him.’

  Lucinda tipped her head and squinted questioningly.

  ‘He wants him for his bones,’ said Alas.

  It felt like a dream to be back in the factory: the big splinter-boarded rooms, the dust and shavings, the high windows, the din, the row upon row of waifs. Oy followed Jeopardine and Mr Gurney, the overseer, past the steam room. Now they were coming to assembly. Just in case, just in case she was there, he tried to get his face ready, so that she would know from his face that he hadn’t forgotten his promise. Gurney pushed through the flaps that kept the dust from spreading. Oy looked across to bench 54. A boy and a girl sat there. He did not know them. Their colouring was ordinary. They looked drab to him. The whole room looked dim and drab. That white blaze he had hoped to see was not there.

  They entered a former stockroom. It now housed a very big machine which reached up into the ceiling and seemed, by various pipes and channels, to grow through it.

  ‘Mr Gurney will tell you what to do,’ said Jeopardine.

  ‘There’s a spanner in the works,’ said Gurney. ‘We’ve tried all ways but we can’t get at it. When the machine’s off, the shaft closes for safety, so you got to get in while it’s moving.’ He heaved on a lever.

  The machine groaned and began to move, slowly at first then gathering speed. Oy watched bluish greasy cylinders and giant elbows powering up and down, back and forth.

  Gurney dropped to the floor and shouted in Oy’s ear. ‘I’m roping your ankle now so’s I can lower you in. See those plates sliding apart, you got to get your arm through there and grab the tool. In-out, see. Quick as that, in-out. If you ain’t quick, that there will come down,’ Gurney made a chopping motion, ‘have your arm off and spit it out. When you’ve got the spanner waggle your foot.’

  Jeopardine nodded slightly and Gurney tipped Oy head first into the shaft before he had time to think. ‘In-out,’ he shouted as he let him go.

  The bottom of the shaft opened onto the river. With upside down eyes, Oy watched the water rushing by below him. At intervals he could see the spanner cartwheeling in the gears. He knew that he was not quick enough in hand or eye to do what was asked. Like Gurney said, the sweeping steel plates would have his arm off. Thinking of sweets didn’t help at all. He wished he was… he wished he was –
a flash of blue under the Glume Bridge, a bird, a kingfisher. The machine stopped its shouting and he moved into a clear, still space. Sometimes at the pump he felt like this; he could see every drop dancing and it was beautiful. The water made lace below him, the metal parts wove around him and he was one with the rhythm. The kingfisher, poised, launched, flew, took the fish easily. Oy held the spanner in his hand. He waggled his foot.

  Gurney accepted the spanner with astonishment. ‘Chance in a million,’ he said. ‘I had the blood bucket ready.’

  Oy saw the red bucket filled with straps and bandages. It was always on hand at the factory.

  ‘Shut it down,’ shouted Jeopardine, and as the room fell quiet: ‘Charmed as a cat.’

  ‘Saved yourself a good few mariats there, sir,’ said Gurney.

  ‘A result of sorts,’ said Jeopardine. He remained distant as Gurney walked them out of the factory.

  In finishing room B, Oy saw her. Mrs Rutheday made sure that no one looked up as the Master passed through. The Rutheday poker hovered. Linnet’s head was low. Oy watched the dear top of her head, shining white, two benches from the aisle. So close and she would not see him. He made his walk bigger, almost waving his arms and trying to cough above the hammering. Look up, look up, he thought, and when he was almost level, she did. They couldn’t speak or touch and he was moving away quickly but he managed to mime, ‘I’ll come back,’ and she nodded and smiled and turned right round to watch him go in spite of Mrs Rutheday, who by some miracle did not see.

  14 Master wants a Wife

  For a while life grew quieter as Jeopardine continued his search for a wife and, more importantly, her fortune.

  Mrs Midden was almost recovered when the disease took hold again. Molly sent for Oy. ‘Another dinner for two,’ she said, ‘he’s ordered a purple theme for Jula Baracula – her favourite colour apparently. Give me that.’ She took the hard, grey bread from Oy’s hand and tossed it in the swill tub. ‘Sit down to a proper breakfast. I need your inspiration. Gert, come and join us.’ Absently Molly sandwiched some panbreads with honey and cream, and slid them in front of the waifs. ‘He sent word he’s delighted with my menus. I wish I could tell him that I haven’t had much to do with it. Purple: there’s grapes, plums…? That’s it,’ she spread her hands, ‘that’s all the purples I know.’

  Oy thought hard with his finger in his mouth. ‘How about mistweed soup? Maybe do the main baked in marshwhortle, and…’

  ‘Master says Jula’s fiendish fond of ices,’ suggested Molly.

  ‘Pomegranita with purple petals. That would be nice.’

  ‘If you ain’t wasted on drains. Where’ll we get mistweed this time of year?’

  ‘Dried, pantry, third shelf,’ said Gertie.

  ‘And marshwhortle?’

  ‘Best leaves are in the burial ground,’ said Oy.

  ‘It wouldn’t be right to use that would it?’ said Molly. ‘I mean bodies goes to dust and dust to soil and soil to plants. It would be like serving up Master’s own ancestors.’

  ‘Goes around, comes around,’ said Gertie coldly, her mouth full of panbread.

  ‘Did you have to work when you was a child, Molly cook?’ asked Oy.

  ‘No, Afflish children have an easy life. Some of ’em go waif-chasing for the fun of it, but they don’t have to do it. My ma would never let me go, said it was all folly, that Porians weren’t animals, they was people too.

  ‘We were schooled in the mornings, rest of the time we were playing or eating and all our food was sugared. Only reason Afflish can catch you lot is because they’re fed and you ain’t. Then we were put to bed early. I didn’t like that. I’d be full of life and sugar – curtains didn’t stop the light and I just longed to be out till dark. We used to bounce on the bed or hang out of the windows, shouting to other kids across the way. Sometimes I’d see a waif darting down an alley and I’d envy them. I’d go to sleep thinking of the adventures I’d have, free of my parents, out all night, stealing food and the like; how I’d get all cosy, snuggled up in a haystack or a hedge bottom.’

  ‘Ain’t nothing cosy about hedge bottoms,’ muttered Gertie.

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘And I used to dream of sugar buns and deep feather beds,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Well there we were, wanting to be each other. None of us is ever happy with what we’ve got I suppose.’

  Oy crunched peacefully on a piece of honeycomb.

  Oy knelt in the graveyard among stray marble chips, picking the purple leaves of marshwhortle. His eye was drawn to the grave flowers: bristly black flowers like little sweep’s brushes. He stroked one and the black pollen dusted his finger tip. He touched it to his tongue. A peppery heat shot down through his ribs into his thighs. By the time the herb basket was full the lingering stiffness he had felt since his illness had eased. He picked some more grave flowers, lay them in the basket and ran back to the kitchen.

  Soon the soup was simmering, the fish steaming, the frozen pomegranates were bashed into heaps of ice and the petals were steeping in cream. The three cooks waited for a glimpse of Jula.

  ‘She’s here,’ said Molly, excitedly. Gertie could just see over the sill. Molly lifted Oy. ‘What do you think of the famous beauty?’ asked Molly.

  ‘She’s so... overflowing,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Master’s scared,’ said Oy.

  Sly joined them. ‘Now there’s a woman,’ he said. ‘Not a patch on you, Moll, of course. You’re more natural.’

  They watched as Jeopardine helped Jula from the carriage. Oy was right, he did seem intimidated by the rounds of olive flesh in front of him, the immense curve of the arm he held, the thighs straining against the purple satin of her gown.

  ‘A hug from her would kill him,’ said Molly. ‘I’ve got to know what happens. We can spare you, Gert. Go and watch through the hatch. I’ll take some of that soup up to my aunt.’

  ‘Is she getting better?’ said Oy.

  ‘Not that I can see,’ said Molly.

  While Molly found a tray cloth, Oy dusted Mrs Midden’s soup with black pollen and stirred it in.

  Jula spilled over the table as she reached for more of everything. Jeopardine ate little, merely toying with his glass.

  ‘I’m looking to build another factory at Fleece. It will mean knocking down a village but your father says it needn’t be a problem,’ he said. ‘It could double Duldred’s income.’ He watched her face closely. ‘Think of that,’ he enthused, ‘we can easily become the largest producer of…’

  ‘Oh really, do we have to talk business?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I thought it might be of interest.’ He tapped his fingers on the table as Birkin served the next course. ‘Perhaps you would like to accompany me on a tour of Odol’s National Bone Treasury? I have a vault there,’ he tried.

  Jula tilted her head and regarded him as though he belonged to some curious unknown species.

  ‘I have connections you see. Odol the elder was schooled with my father.’

  ‘Bone vaults, how thrilling,’ she said wryly. She raised her spoon, heaped with cream and flowers and twinkling ice, and opened her large purple mouth. ‘Aaah, mmm, my tongue, my mouth. Aah,’ She batted her hands around her face lost for words.

  ‘Are you quite well?’ said Jeopardine, alarmed.

  ‘This ice is sensational,’ she breathed.

  ‘Yes, my cook is a genius – and she’d be only too happy to make ices like this five times a day for a suitable mistress.’

  Jula lay a whole flower in her mouth. The petals frilled out between her lips. ‘You haven’t tasted yours yet. Come on, open.’

  Jeopardine opened his mouth obediently and cast a threatening eye towards Larkin, who slipped out with a smirk. Jula placed the petal on his tongue.

  Jeopardine whipped off his napkin and slid under the table, or so it seemed to Gertie. In fact he was arranging himself stiffly on one knee.

  ‘Jula, will you ma…? Aaarh!’

  ‘Jerri, are yo
u alright?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘No. Not able to move. Ring for the upservants would you.’

  ‘Larkin and Birkin came in, took an arm apiece and carried him off “like a running man from a shadow theatre,”’ Gertie told the others later, biting her finger with glee.

  ‘I saw him,’ said Lucinda. ‘I was in the corridor; so was Inch. “Turn your heads curse you,” he says. I hear a splutter. It was Jula. She let go with this raucous laugh. They couldn’t straighten him out enough to see her off. Just as well ’cos she laughed all the way to her carriage.’ Lucinda laughed herself at the memory then she became serious. ‘He’ll make me suffer just for being there, you’ll see.’

  Lucinda was right. Every hitch, itch and bother in Jeopardine’s life turned to pain for someone else. Over the following days only one person escaped his wrath.

  Oy and Gertie arrived in the kitchen one morning to find it full of flowers. ‘Is it your giftday, Molly?’ Gertie asked.

  ‘They’re from Master. Anybody would think he wanted to marry me,’ Molly joked. ‘Do I need anything? Is my room satisfactory? Would I like an extra day off? Jula’s been spreading the word, see, about the cooking here. You’ve heard of Odol – he’s the richest man in Affland and the fattest. He owns the Bone Treasury and that’s as good as owning a bank. He loves his food, and Master’s worried about him poaching me. He tried to tempt my aunt once but she hates change of any sort. Mammus knows what will happen if Master finds out I ain’t the chef after all.’

  15 Forfeits

  Lucinda’s bell rang. She started violently.

  ‘You still expecting that punishment?’ said Gertie. ‘It’s been more’n a week. I reckon he’s forgot.’