Julius and the Watchmaker (21 page)

‘Did you say, Danny Flynn?' said Julius, spinning around.

‘Eh…no. No, I didn't. Never 'eard of the geezer.'

‘But I thought…so he's alive?'

‘Course 'e is,' said the urchin incredulously. But then checked himself. ‘I mean…I don't know, do I? How would I bleedin' know? Like I said, I don't know the geezer.'

The urchin walked away with as purposeful a stride as his little legs would allow.

‘Hang on, I need to speak to Mr Flynn,' said Julius, limping to catch up with him.

The boy kept walking. Julius grabbed him by the back of his collar.

‘'Ere, stop that, mista. I'll 'ave the law on you for kidnapping. There's a freepenny fine for that, you know,' said the urchin, squirming under Julius's grasp.

‘Look, hold still, will you? I'm not trying to kidnap you. Mr Flynn is a friend of mine, I promise you. He'll want to see me. He'll give you three shillings if you bring me to him. I promise.'

The urchin froze.

‘Free shillings? Honest?'

‘Honest,' said Julius, releasing his hold.

The boy looked at Julius suspiciously.

‘Who
are
you?'

‘Julius Higgins.'

‘Julius 'iggins? You're a liar. 'E's been dead these free years at least.'

‘Who told you that?'

‘Mr Flynn.'

Julius followed the urchin along labyrinthine lanes and side streets. His head was bursting with questions, but he was holding them in until he met Mr Flynn.

The boy ducked into a doorway at the back of a crumbling building near the river and Julius followed him up the rickety stairs. At the top the boy knocked four times on the door and waited.

‘Who is it?' demanded a child's voice on the other side.

‘Dodger.'

Julius heard bolts being drawn. The door opened a fraction and a grubby face poked through the crack.

‘Who's 'e?' said the face.

‘That is the Julius 'iggins wot Mr Flynn told us about. I swear it on me life.'

‘What? Julius 'iggins?' The door closed abruptly in their faces and an urgent, muffled conversation could be heard through the ancient wall.

‘That's put the peeler among the pickpockets,' said Dodger, with a satisfied grin.

The conversation continued for a while longer and then there was silence.

‘Brace yourself, 'iggins,' said Dodger. ‘You're gonna meet Emily.'

‘Emily?'

‘Yeah, whatever you do, don't say naffing what might make 'er—'

Just then, the door was flung open and there stood an extraordinarily pretty girl with an expression that would strike terror into a bullmastiff. Julius recognised her immediately as the leader of the Warwick Lane urchins—but for one thing. She was older than he remembered her. She was as tall as him now, and she looked to be about fourteen. She glared at Julius.

‘I remember you,' she said, her face softening almost imperceptibly as she stepped into the corridor. ‘You ain't grown much, 'ave you?'

‘No,' replied Julius. It was all he could think of under her paralysing glare.

‘Why ain't you dead, then? Mr Flynn said you was,' said Emily, disapprovingly.

‘I don't really know…that is…I mean. Mr Flynn and I got separated and…and…well, all sorts of things have happened and…and…I must speak with him. The professor rescued me and he should be here now but he hasn't arrived. Maybe he's somewhere out there looking for me right now.'

‘The professor?' said Emily. ‘Now 'e
is
dead. I know that for definite. You ask Mr Flynn when 'e comes. 'E'll tell ya,' said Emily, as she flicked her head to one side to invite him in.

Julius stared at her. ‘Dead?'

‘As a doorknob.'

Inside, Julius found himself in a large attic. Shafts of pale-grey daylight slid through gaps in the sloping roof and a gable window at the far wall let in a little more. A dozen or more children were scattered around on makeshift chairs and cots. Many of them had books in their hands and were using the shafts of light like reading lights.

‘Sit down,' said Emily, pointing to a large table covered in watch components and small pieces of brass cut into various shapes.

Julius sat obediently at the table under the scrutiny of the children.

‘Mr Flynn'll be 'ere soon,' said Emily. She sat across the table from Julius and slowly interlaced her fingers. Keeping her eyes firmly fixed on her guest, she called out, ‘'Arry, come 'ere.'

A boy of about her age came to the table. Julius recognised him as an older version of the boy Mr Flynn had spoken to at Clements' shop, the boy who had shamefully admitted to voting for a girl to be the leader of their gang.

‘This is 'arry. 'E's 'ead of our Development and Research department,' said Emily.

‘Research and Development, actually,' said Harry.

‘Wot ever,' said Emily.

‘Pleased to meet you,' said Julius, shaking the boy's hand.

Harry sat beside Emily and placed his book on the table. By force of habit Julius read the spine. It was called
A Guide to Advanced Mechanisms in Automaton Design and Manufacture
. He was just about to ask Harry why he was reading such a book when he noticed something lying on the table amid the pieces of metal.

Julius picked it up and held it by its short brass stem. At the top was what looked like a flower bud and at the bottom of the stem was a winding key.

‘Wind it up,' said a voice behind him.

Julius turned to see a very small girl with a big smile.

‘Off you go, Aggie,' said Harry. ‘'E don't want to be disturbed by your nonsense.'

‘It's not nonsense, 'arry. 'Ave you fixed it yet?' she curtly replied.

‘It's all fixed. Now take it 'n scram.'

‘Wind it up, wind it up,' she said to Julius eagerly.

‘Go on 'iggins, or she'll be on at you all day,' said Emily.

Julius wound the key at the end of the stem and held it out.

From within the flower bud a music box played ‘Daisy, Daisy'. The brass bud slowly opened and petals made from sections of mainsprings spread out to form a daisy. At the centre of the flower, amid the watch-pieces was a tiny balance wheel swinging back and forth, driven by the spring beneath it.

Julius watched in amazement. The tinny music died down and the petals slowly closed.

‘I made it,' said the little girl called Aggie.

‘With a lot of help from me,' said Harry.

‘Only wiv the 'ard bits,' she replied. ‘Wear it. Wear it in your button hole, Julius,' she said, and quick as a flash she had pinned it to his shirt.

Before Julius could speak there were four loud knocks at the door.

‘That's Mr Flynn,' said Harry.

The children threw down their books, ran to the door and fought with one another to open it. Julius's heart pounded in anticipation. The children flung the door open and there stood Mr Flynn, his big shoulders and broad smile filling the doorway. The children cheered and crowded around as he stepped into the attic and removed his top hat—it had a dent in its side.

‘Hello, hello, hello, one and all. Time for some dinner. The most important meal of the day,' he said, pulling a couple of strings of sausages from a paper bag under his arm.

Julius waited to be noticed. Mr Flynn looked over and his eyes opened wide, as if he were seeing a ghost.

‘Julius,' he said under his breath, as the children scattered with the sausages.

‘Hello, Mr Flynn.'

‘Julius?' Mr Flynn looked into Julius's face as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall in to place. ‘You haven't grown older…you're the same age as the last time I saw you.'

‘Yes, Mr Flynn. I thought you were…'

‘You're alive.'

‘You found your hat…got a dent in it, I see. I…I thought I'd lost it. You told me to look after it for you.'

Mr Flynn's expression changed, like a dark cloud over a fine clear sky. He held the top hat in his hand, looking at the dent.

‘That dent's to remind me.'

‘Of what?'

‘That I let you down. That I told the professor I'd look after you…but I didn't.'

‘You couldn't help it, Mr Flynn.'

‘Couldn't I? That was three years ago, Julius. What happened?'

‘Excuse me, Mr Flynn,' said a small voice beside them. They looked down to see Dodger. ‘Beggin' your pardon, but 'iggins 'ere said you'd give me free shillings if I brought 'im to you.'

‘Three shillings? said Mr Flynn, sucking in a breath. ‘You drove a hard bargain there, Dodger. Well done.'

‘Thank you, Mr Flynn.'

Mr Flynn glanced towards Emily, who nodded her approval. He removed some coins from his waistcoat pocket and counted three shillings into Dodger's palm. The boy's body quivered with excitement as he pocketed the coins, and he sprinted off to take his place near the sausages frying in the fireplace.

Emily brushed a strand of her long, dark-brown hair from her face and put it behind her ear. Nobody said anything for a while as the sausages sizzled and sent their aroma across the room.

‘We've all got lots of questions, I dare say,' said Mr Flynn.

‘I'll say,' said Emily. ‘Like 'ow come 'e's still a scrawny little runt? No offence,' said Emily.

‘How come you're still as ill-mannered as you were three years ago?' said Julius, drawing courage from Mr Flynn's presence.

Emily's eyes narrowed, causing Julius's throat to turn dry.

‘Now, now, let's not be falling out,' said Mr Flynn. ‘We're all on the same side now. It's us against the Banshees and the clockmen.'

‘Who?' said Julius.

‘
Banshees
are what everyone calls the Grackacks here in London, on account of the way they look… and the clockmen? I think we'll leave that for another time, you've enough to worry about without the likes of them.'

CHAPTER 19

Tuesday 15th July, 1840
10:20 PM

Mr Flynn walked with Julius through the darkening streets to his lodgings in Mincing Lane.

They talked for hours. Mr Flynn told Julius about having woken up in the alleyway three years ago with a painful lump on his head and a dented top hat on the ground beside him. Julius seemed to have disappeared off the face of the earth so he had feared the worst. The professor had not been seen or heard of for three years either. A couple of weeks after Julius's disappearance the first incursion of the Grackacks, or Banshees as the Londoners called them, had occurred. A hole opened in the sky above the Houses of Parliament and a giant zettmalin and a fleet of gyroflyers came through and flew to Buckingham Palace, where they landed in the grounds. Later, other portals, as the Londoners called them, opened in the sky and on the streets. A few hours of confused skirmishes followed during which the Grackacks showed off their superior weaponry, and ever since an uneasy truce had held. The newspapers printed what Parliament and the Banshees wanted the people to know.
The Times
was bought by a consortium of Banshees and now articles spoke glowingly of business and cultural ventures between Grackacks and humans. Countries on the continent and the Americas were alarmed by the turn of events. Their battleships dotted the channel ready for invasion should the need arise. And to cap it all, Jack Springheel was the Minister for Grackack Affairs—the most powerful man in the British Empire.

‘What about the other time-travellers, the Guild of Watchmakers? Can't they help?' said Julius.

‘Oh, they've been here, young fella. The only problem is that there's nothing they can do because no one knows where the professor is.'

‘Oh.'

‘Yes, we're in a bigger pickle than we've ever been in before. We think the professor is alive and trapped in the Grackack realm. We can't do anything until we get him back.'

‘Why not?'

‘Well, remember the “time is a tablecloth” lecture? Let's just say that if the Watchmakers go back in time to just before Springheel's first contact with the Grackacks and stop it from happening, that would be fine…but for one thing.'

‘And that is…?'

‘We would be left with two
actual
timelines. Now, you have to remember that each timeline is not just our own human realm. No, it also includes all of its own parallel realms, alternate realms, between realms, synchronous realms, inter-dimensional realms, hyper-dimensio—'

‘Are you making this up, Mr Flynn?'

‘I wish I was. Anyway…the incorrect timeline, that's this one, will not fade away because the time-traveller who created it is still in it.'

‘But, just a minute. If we stop the first incursion then none of this will have ever happened.'

‘An obvious conclusion, but completely wrong, Julius. Yes, the original timeline remains unaltered because it was stopped before it happened. But, it already has happened—we are in it right now are we not? So this altered timeline will go on. In the normal course of things, it would fade away and would exist only in
potential
, and would only become active, that is
actual,
again if a time-traveller visited it. But, because a time-traveller, that is the professor, is stuck here, it will remain active alongside the original timeline.'