Monstrous Races (16 page)

He turned around quickly, gasping at the incongruous sight of the pale old man in the middle of such opulence and vibrant colour.
Eccentric on the part of Captain Briggs certainly, he really is something of a conundrum
. 'Come this way. It's time to meet Lady Lansdown, you're just what she's looking for,' he said archly, glowering across at the wilting body and sagging flesh encased in clothes that looked as old as him. 'You'll be devoted entirely to her and it is imperative that you don't bother me. I have no need of a man-servant, but she most certainly does.'
Of course, that's why he sent the old fool! A safe, deaf old man to assist her and give me some peace.
The old man stood awkwardly, rooted to the spot.

'Sir, I hope you don't mind me commenting, but I've seen your wife and she's a real beauty,' he said wistfully, a gummy smile on his pale lips. Lord Lansdown stared at him aghast, his jaw slowly dropping as though pulled by a string. 'Now don't get me wrong, I'm a man of the world and I can control myself, but I think I'd better warn you that people might talk if we spend all that time together, close like. It's up to you, but I wouldn't want there to be any um...awkwardness.'

The words hung in the air between them as Lord Lansdown looked frantically for any hint of amusement in the old man's face, perhaps a subtle additional crease around the eyes or a smirk of some sort. The man stood solidly before him, his expression blank.
So, deaf and blind,
thought Lord Lansdown,
I really must raise Captain Briggs' wages.

'Thank you so much for your concern,' he replied adeptly, leading the man from the room. 'You'll make her a wonderful companion, you're just what I've been looking for. Do come this way..'

The Jolly Sailor was a ramshackle in
n with windows like blood-shot eyes
, and Elli stood outside with Rufus shivering in the cold. The raucous noise and occasional smashed glass inside contrasted with the long shadows and worrying inactivity in the deserted street. Elli peered into the greying darkness, trying to make out any movement. 'So tell me, can you see anyone now?' she asked shivering. 'Anyone at all? Only it's freezing out here and all my extremities are feeling pretty extreme Rufus.'

'Hmm,' he answer
ed non-
committall
y
, his back to her as he peered through a tiny gap in the door. 'They're still there, he's buying her peanuts. Peanuts! For a lady like that. I'd have bought oysters, or at least whelks. But peanuts!'

'Rufus!' she said, her voice determined and sharp with cold. 'Two questions. One, are we still being followed? Two, can we please go in? I can't wait out here all night just in case Josie sees you.' He looked around at her quickly, his back arched and his nose glistening in the half light. His ears pricked up and his expression changed, his head now tilted.

Elli listened carefully, looking around her and trying to follow his gaze through the darkening street. When the sound came it took her unawares, a crashing, banging noise; she jumped straight into the doorway and behind Rufus. He sniffed and peered back through the warmly-lit chink of open door.

'In answer
to your questions; one, not
anym
ore
, and two, yes we can. They've gone towards the back so we need to head straight for the stairs.' He pulled his hat down low over his eyes and his coat tightly around him. 'The singing fur-ball mark two,' he said sadly, flinging open the door and walking through the boisterous crowd inside with long strides. Elli moved quickly behind him, weaving through ruddy faces and hunched shoulders.

'Elli!' she heard, as a hand touched her shoulder. A male voice. She span around
and looked up at Henry Yews, his blonde hair shining in the gloom.

'Hello,' she said weakly, her eyes wide as she smiled up at him until her cheeks ached. His eyes held her gaze and dimly-lit lamps glittered all around him.

'I thought I recognised you. Those nice ladies at Dion and Jones told me your name. So are you here to see the band?' he asked, his voice deep and clear like a cool well in a desert.

'Looking forward to it!' she answered, suddenly sounding far too excitable. She cleared her throat and tried to ignore his sculpted cheekbones and broad shoulders, focusing instead on the crowd who bobbed and swayed all around them. He smiled and moved close towards her ear, his tomato juice poised between them.

'Between us they're not very good, but I won't say if you don't,' he whispered, barely audible in the din. He smelled of fresh washing and sandalwood, and she felt him touch her arm. 'Can I get you a drink?' he asked, looking over at the crowd ducking and weaving through one another at the bar.

'Sweetened water and crunchy pigs' ears please,' she said, realising simultaneously that her chance to appear sophisticated had disappeared into the alcohol-fuelled ether.

'Crunchy pigs' ears.
Now we're talking, haven't had those in ages. Shall I bring them on up? I think Captain McSniff are on soon, and your friend is looking for you.' She looked up at the stairs to see Rufus scanning the crowd, his collar pulled up around his face and his hat perched on his head so that his ears spilled out. He'd even managed to procure a scarf from somewhere which was wrapped tightly around his muzzle. She nodded weakly, watching as Rufus gestured wildly at a figure coming towards her.

Josie bobbed through the moving figures, her alsation head alert and poised. Elli immediately ducked and crouched down, keeping her head low as she negotiated the living traffic towards the stairs. She moved swiftly through the sea of limbs and hair, avoiding spilt drinks and the crunch of miscellaneous items under her feet.

'Hurt your back?' asked Josie, her brown eyes peering into Elli's. She sighed, long and languid, her alsation profile softer in the hazy light. 'So where is he then? Let's just get this over with.' Elli looked up at the stairs where all that remained of Rufus were two heeled brown leather boots standing together at the top of the stairs. 'Some things never change,' she said quietly, leading the way.

The lights were turned down low for Norman's entrance, and he appeared on the grimy stage as a small figure, licking his lips and looking inconsolably at the crowd. He was dressed in deep black, and his dark hair hung unwashed and unloved in the centre of his chest. His bandmate shuffled on shortly afterwards, a boy with a constantly bobbing Adams apple and huge draping ears that he'd coiled around his arms, his flimsy guitar held like a shield in front of him.

Norman grimaced, his skin pale and watery. 'Thanks for coming, we're Captain McSniff, I don't know why,' he mumbled, starting to sway. His band-mate began to play the guitar, slowly and delicately, and Norman sang; his voice was soft and pure, a cascading river that undulated and pulsed, sending shivers up Elli's spine. He soared with the music, standing in the middle of the stage and becoming something much more
to her than Norman
in a matter of seconds.

'Hidden depths then,' whispered Henry, the faintest touch of his lips against her ear. She nodded slowly, nibbling at a corner of crunchy pig's ear as quietly as she could. She glanced over towards the side of the stage and just caught sight of Whaler, who quickly turned away and appeared to concentrate on something in the distance.

'Excuse me for a minute,' she muttered, standing up from behind the table and edging her way out. She moved towards him but felt a gentle tug pulling at her arm and turned around to see Rufus, wide-eyed and keeping his voice low.

'Help,' he whispered, close to pleading. 'I'm sitting between them, he insisted. He's breathing down my neck the entire time. Don't leave me,' he hissed, looking back over his shoulder quickly at the empty seat between Josie and the husky dog-head, his bright blue eyes watching Rufus carefully. 'He's the lightweight boxing champion of Brayston, part-time. And he doesn't seem keen on me, I'd quite like my limbs to remain on my body if you don't mind, so get over there with me. Is that wise by the way?' he asked, nodding over to Henry. Elli shrugged.

'We're just talking,' she said in a loud whisper. 'He's here on his own and he recognised me. He seems nice,' she trailed off as Rufus raised one bushy eyebrow.

'
Yes,
and so do thunderstorms until you get hit by one. Go careful,' he said, following her gaze to Whaler's back. 'Oh fantastic, suddenly my life doesn't seem so bad. After you heartbreaker, I'll keep blondie company shall I? You go and cheer up the lovelorn.' She rolled her eyes and walked towards Whaler, who was watching Norman intently from the side of the stage. He had his harpsichorgan slung across his body and she moved sheepishly towards him.

'Whaler,' she said loudly, 'ready for the gig?' He turned slowly around and smiled sadly.

'Not really, but then when am I ever? You having a good time?' he asked, glancing over at Henry who was laughing at something Rufus had said. She nodded and looked up at the stage.

'Captain
McSniff
are
really good,' she answered, looking across at Norman who was singing sublimely, beads of sweat running down his face and over his chest.

'I know,' he said with
resignation. 'Much better than u
s. But no publicity and his parents want him to forget all this silly business. They're conspicuous in their absence here. Compare that to Elvis' dad,' he said pointing to Billy who was sitting immediately in front of the stage and resolutely ignoring Norman, his hair on his head and upper body decidedly quiffed for the occasion. 'Still, I'm getting better at this thing,' he added, gesturing towards the ungainly harpsichorgan perched across him. He paused and seemed unsure of what to say, before lowering his voice so that it was just audible above the music. 

'Elli, do you know much about that person you're with? Henry isn't it? Just go careful, I hear he's not nearly as charm
ing as he seems. Thought I'd bet
t
er
mention it.' She nodded cautiously, taking a small step backwards. 'Look I really need to talk to you. After this are you able to...'

The screaming came without warning, a bubbling, brewing crescendo that rose up through the wooden floor. At first she'd felt it as a rhythm, a vibration that worked with the music. Now there was no music; just Norman at the front of the stage, his mouth open and his eyes wide. She looked down at the floor, seeing wisps of smoke loiter up through the cracks in the floorboards and dance away. The room filled with crackling and popping, the crashing and banging of something below. 'Fire' said Norman simply, and then the knowledge of it was real and true.

There was running and pulling and clawing, a hazy heat beating at the door and rising from the floor. The air billowed with warmth, drowsy and acrid smoke that fanned through into eyes and nostrils. The one d
oor was closed tight, the skulking grey
smoke seeping in through every crack. Whaler grabbed her hand, pushing through the frightened group towards the back of the stage where Norman was still standing alone. She felt herself pulled through the heaving crowd, a wall of arms and legs tripping over themselves to get to clean air. The sound surprised her; she hadn't thought a fire could be so loud, roaring and spitting as it tried to find its way in.

Whaler t
umbled into the thick grey fog
, falling amongst table legs and shoes as he hurtled to the floor. She could barely make out a figure coming towards her through the smoke, tall and defiant as it grabbed at her clothes and neck, reaching for the stone.
'No,' she screamed in a pitifully small voice, fending off the assault through stinging eyes, her heart beating furiously as she struggled to hold onto it. Time crawled by; she saw a huge hand raised in a fist coming towards her and she held onto the stone and closed her eyes.
The sound of the roaring monster died to almost nothing, and she found she could breathe clearly, gasping in fresh air and coughing onto cool grass, her hand still clasped around her stone.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked around; a meadow, the sunlight dappling through the leaves of the willow tree above her and a brook gently flowing by her feet. A soft
,
warm heat with a cool breeze, and all around bright-winged insects and soaring birds surveying her.

'Hello,' said a familiar voice as though singing his greeting. She turned slowly, afraid of who or what was waiting for her. The Doctor smiled at her from the bench he was sitting on, peering out from beneath his course dreadlocks with smiling green eyes. 'Seems a good time to visit to me,' he
said as she sat on the cool
grass near to him.

'Am I dead?' she asked, looking around at the sun-dappled field and watching dragonflies dance over the water.

'I don't think so. Of course you'd think that. No, you're inside your stone, or our stone I suppose,' he added grinning. He shrugged and smiled down at her, his red and golden robes pulled loosely around him.

'Inside the stone,' she repeated. 'Of course I am! And not dead or unconscious then. Only I could have sworn I was about to get murdered, and now I'm here.' She took off her shoes and felt the cool blades between her toes. 'And are you a Doctor? Only I thought you were a Doctor but now we're sitting having a lovely conversation inside the stone, which is around my neck, while my real body is dying in a fire.'