Pastworld (12 page)

.

Chapter 21

The heavy stained-glass panels rattled as Bible J pushed against the doors of Lyons, and he and Caleb entered a world of warmth and food smells: fried bacon, sausages, potatoes and lamb chops, and beer and dark coffee, and damp woollen overcoats. There were noises too: the sound of sizzling fat, the clattering of plates, the calling out of orders, the hum of lively conversation and the raucous laughter of the Halloween partygoers, Gawkers and residents. Brisk waitresses in black with white aprons and caps dashed to and fro. Bible J and Caleb had walked in as far as a line of bentwood coat racks when a waitress barred their way.

‘Not in here, you don’t,’ she said, looking them both up and down, but Bible J quickly said, ‘It’s all right, I’m with this fine young gentleman here. I’m his guest. You can see he’s a respectable Gawker all dressed up. Look at him, isn’t that right?’ The waitress looked at Bible J in his rough clothes, and then she looked at the pale and shocked boy, with his mass of dark hair and his bright aqua blue eyes, his smart coat and his good boots. She shook her head. Bible J held out some of the silver coins and she reluctantly stepped aside, but before they could take another step forward she said, ‘Where are your manners, young man? Hats off indoors.’ And she snatched the cap from Bible J’s head and pushed it at him as if it were something diseased. Bible J smiled back at her good-naturedly. He carried his hat carefully in both hands over to a table by the window. He politely pulled out a chair for the pale boy, and nodded at the seat. ‘Old cow,’ he said under his breath, grinning.

Bible J stretched out his legs, and then reached somewhere inside his coat, and from the inside pocket, he pulled out the cigar he had bought. He lit it, and blew out a cloud of heavily perfumed cigar smoke, then he coughed and spluttered. He smiled across at the boy and winked. ‘Not used to luxury,’ he said.

The boy looked back at him. He had a regular face; it would be nondescript, if it were not for his eyes, bright and greeny blue. They reminded Bible J of someone. The main thing was that, sitting lost in the sudden warmth and confusion of the restaurant, he looked to Bible J like someone who needed help badly. He also looked like someone he would have wanted as a friend.

He would soon take him to meet Mr Leighton.

‘I’ve been up and about on the dip, for my boss,’ Bible J said, ‘or trying to be, since first light,’ he added, trying to blow out another proud stream of smoke. ‘And I’ve eaten nothing much at all today and I doubt you have by the look of you either.’ A young waitress came over to the table. She pulled a notepad from her apron pocket, and took a stub of pencil from behind her ear ready for their order. ‘Now then, Miss,’ Bible J said affably, enjoying his moment and his cigar, ‘I would like two Halloween specials, double meat platters, one of those big pork chops, some fried back rashers, a sausage, pumpkin and potato mash, nice big mushrooms, make that two rounds of fried potatoes, nice and salted, and proper platefuls, please, I’m no Gawker, I’m a resident.’ He smiled up at her and the girl wrote it all down carefully on her pad. She glanced across at the pale boy and smiled at him. ‘Oh,’ said Bible J, ‘and a big tankard of porter beer, and bring one for him while you’re at it.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, and nodded to Caleb, who sat staring blankly after her as she walked away. Bible J said, ‘Do you know something? A while ago I would have made a play for that nippy – not now though. I think she likes you. You could be in with a chance there, smudger.’ He waited for a response from the boy – nothing.

Bible J took his cap off the back of the chair and sat idly spinning it on his finger. He finally managed to blow a wobbly ring of cigar smoke, which hovered in the air between them. Caleb watched the smoke as it grew gradually ragged at the edges until finally it faded out altogether. Bible J smiled and put the cap back on to the chair.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘bull by the horns, first things first. Tell me your name at least, mate.’

‘My name is Caleb, Caleb Brown.’

‘I get the picture,’ said Bible J. ‘Post finance crash, parents scared shitless, back to the fundamentals, big religion, new puritans . . . See, I know all about that, on account of my own given name.’

Caleb nodded his head, not really paying much attention to what Bible J was saying. The waitress brought the two tankards of beer. Bible J pushed one of the foaming tankards across the white tablecloth.

‘Thirsty?’ he said.

Caleb took the tankard with both hands. He felt a sudden sensation in his fingers, a prickling on his skin from the cold glass.

‘Seeing as we’re on names,’ said Bible J. ‘I’m called Bible J, also known as J the dip.’ He put his tankard down and mimed taking something out of a pocket. He looked around for a moment as if half expecting someone to notice this mime.‘Yeah, Bible J, that’s me, and I’m the best at it,’ he said quietly. ‘I am quite well known. You’ve really lucked in asking me for help, and standing me a meat dinner too, mate. I am a “tea leaf” about town and at your service. I never forget a bloke that’s done me a good turn,’ and he smiled his very friendly smile and reached across the table to shake Caleb’s hand. Caleb brought his own hand up and then nodded his head. Bible J nodded back at Caleb and they shook hands.

The waitress brought the food, and the table was soon full of plates. ‘Tuck in. I hope you’re hungry,’ Bible J said. Caleb looked up and smiled nervously at Bible J for the first time.

Bible J looked round the busy restaurant, and under the cover of all the noise he said very quietly. ‘Something really bad has happened to you tonight then?’

Caleb said, ‘Yes,’ and nodded, and opened his mouth. Bible J watched a bobby walk in through the heavy door, trailing in some wisps and tatters of fog. Bible J held his finger up against his lips. ‘Shh,’ he said. ‘I see trouble. Heads down, eat up and you tell me in a minute.’

Bible J drank some more of his beer. Caleb looked over at the bobby in his blue uniform and his crested helmet. The bobby was mopping his red face with a handkerchief and chatting and smiling to one of the waitresses.

‘Here, have some of these.’ Bible J passed a plate of the fried potatoes across the table, and added a generous dollop of brown sauce.

Caleb speared one with his fork and ate it automatically.

‘That’s better, that’s the way,’ Bible J said. ‘I know you’re on the run, so no need to say anything, just nod. Do you need somewhere to go, a safe place?’

Caleb nodded.

‘Good,’ said Bible J quietly, ‘then perhaps you would do me the honour of accompanying me to my own very special place of refuge.’

Caleb nodded and then suddenly stood up as if they were to go at once. He pushed his chair back, which squealed loudly on the tiled floor like a fingernail on a blackboard. The restaurant went suddenly quiet. The bobby looked over at Caleb and frowned. After a moment someone laughed and the clattering and the conversations quickly resumed. Caleb sat down again.

Bible J beamed at Caleb across the table, ‘I should leave the old bill out of it if I was you. Can’t trust ’em. God, you’re that pale though, smudger. What’s happened to you to make you into such a ghost? You’d better tell me now and be quick.’

Caleb leaned forward on his elbows, shielding himself from the view of the bobby. ‘Well first,’ he said quickly, ‘I saw a man killed, stabbed right in front of me in the street when we were robbed. They killed the blind man and then they blamed me, accused me, pointed me out to people in the street. They hit my father, they punched him and he fell, and I ran away,’ he added, and then he slumped back in his seat, looked across the table at the greasy plates and the fresh, harsh hot tears burst from his face, and his nose ran with snot.

Bible J said, ‘It’s serious that, blaming you. Did anybody else hear them?’

‘Everybody heard,’ Caleb said. ‘The whole street.’

Bible J let out a low whistle. ‘That is serious. If they think you killed someone in here you know what can happen.’ Bible J put his hands round his neck and mimed a hanging action.

‘I know,’ said Caleb quietly. ‘I know.’

He turned to face the pretty waitress, who had come up to the table.

‘Is he all right,’ she said concerned, ‘your friend?’ and she put a piece of paper down on to the table.

‘He’s all right, miss. A bit too much to drink at the Halloween party tonight, that’s his trouble, see,’ he said, nodding over at Caleb. ‘Told him to line his stomach first, but he wouldn’t listen to me, would he?’

‘It’s a shame,’ the waitress said. ‘Tell him to come back sometime if he feels like it, when he’s better.’

Caleb had put his head down on his arms.

The bobby finished his drink, called out a cheery, ‘Good night, all,’ and left.

‘Come on then,’ Bible J said. ‘Time to go.’ They stood up to go and Bible J paid the bill. It came to one shilling and sixpence, in old cash money, for both of them. They pushed open the door and went out into the cold night.

The night streets were still busy with late Gawkers drifting back to their lodging houses and hotels. They were mostly drunk, with their Halloween masks slipped halfway down their faces, or dangling loose around their necks, their costumes all over the place.

Bible J knew every twist and alley, every twitten. Caleb hardly noticed where he was going; he just allowed himself to be led. He walked with his head tucked down. The snow had almost melted, but the fog remained, and with it a heavy wetness in the air. Bible J sized up the stragglers pretty well. He tapped some of them for a few pennies, engaged their attention, diverted them, and then rifled their coat pockets with the skills of a conjuror. Caleb watched in a daze. Bits of jewellery, scarves, wallets, even a roll of expensive Pastworld authentic bank notes, were all extracted with a flick of the wrist and ended stuffed inside Bible J’s or Caleb’s coat pockets.

‘My father told me to run,’ Caleb suddenly said out loud to Bible J.

‘What?’ Bible J replied.

‘I said my father told me to run.’ Caleb stumbled forward, turned and then he suddenly broke away and ran off. Bible J called out after him to stop, but Caleb ran headlong straight into the fog and the darkness. Bible J hesitated. He should just let the boy run off, but he knew he couldn’t and he set off after him.

He ran across the cobbles and down some steps. He could hear Caleb’s boots clattering ahead of him. The steps followed the wall of a church and ran beside the churchyard. A string of wet paper lanterns in the shape of skulls hung from the railings, their candles extinguished. Bible J caught up with Caleb. He reached out, and grabbed Caleb’s jacket so hard, that he slowed him down. Caleb twisted round suddenly and they almost fell together across the cobbles.

‘Where are you going?’ Bible J said, out of breath.

‘My father said I should run and I ran. I left him lying in the dirt with his face punched in.’

‘He told you to run because he didn’t want you to get hurt. It’s not your fault. If anyone believes that you killed the other bloke, then you are in real trouble like I said. It’ll do you no good running off like this, you need protection. You won’t get any help or justice from the police, so you’d best stick with me for now.’

‘Where will we go?’ Caleb asked.

‘My guvn’ors gaff, like I said before. It’s a walk from here so we’d best get a move on.’

They walked on through the still busy streets as the sky lightened just a little; a winter dawn was being faded up. There was the occasional street sweeper among the revellers.

Two men had their arms across each other’s shoulders and were singing something raucous about ‘ghosties’. Bible J lowered his head and slid between them as if to join in. He adjusted to their rolling drunken walk. He momentarily reached his hand into the nearest coat pocket and felt a cold leather wallet against his finger tips, but drunk number two noticed him and, in the way of drunks, lurched suddenly and grabbed tight hold of Bible J’s collar. The Gawker shouted out, his speech slurred with too much cheap Pastworld gin.

‘Officer, hey, officers, wherever you are. Over here. I’ve got a thief, a bloody little thief!’

Bible J pulled hard and tugged himself free. He felt the collar of his coat split as he spun himself round. He called out to Caleb and they set off together fast, putting some distance between themselves and the drunken Gawkers. He heard them call out ‘Stop’ but no one made much of an effort. The straggling crowds dressed up in their fancy halloween costumes were all in too good a mood to stop any running boys. The street was soon full of shouting as one set of well-off drunks called out to another.