Shanghai Sparrow (30 page)

“Ma Pether?” He held out his hands placatingly as she swore. “Oh, Lady Sparrow, of course I know about Ma Pether, but I have no dealings with her! She has no idea I exist.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

“Trust me,” he said, “if I do not want someone to be aware of my existence... they remain in ignorance.”

“I think you’re the arrogantest person I ever met.”

“You certainly trust me enough to insult me. Not that there is any such word as arrogantest in either English or Chinese.”

“You already know everything about me,” she said, shrugging. “What’s to lose by throwing an insult or two?”

“Oh,” he said, “that’s certainly not true. I don’t, for example, know why Mr Duvalier looks at you with such dislike. Really, he is very bad at concealing his less-attractive emotions.”

“I found out something about him, something bad he was doing.”

“Ah. That can be a dangerous path to tread.”

“Is that what you did? When you offended someone?”

“Something not unlike that, perhaps. See? Now you know something more about me. Still I don’t know what you were doing off the grounds the other night, and I don’t know what the other – the mixtus’s – interest is in you. And what it is you’re planning.”

Eveline backed against the bench, grateful for its solidity against her back. “Leave the grounds? I en’t never left the grounds, I don’t want one of them dogs taking my hand off, thank you. And the only thing I’m planning is trying to get these machines working, like I’m supposed to, so if you don’t mind letting me get on...”

He only smiled and passed her another ball-bearing. “I do wish you wouldn’t look at me as though I intended to bite your head off.”

“How do I know you don’t? What do you
want?
”

“I would like to find out what is going on. The more time I spend around you, the more interesting you are.”

“I’m sure I should be flattered, but I ain’t. You let me go about my business, and you go about yours.”

“But perhaps I can help.”

“Did you have family? Back home?”

“Not any longer. My mother is dead, and my father considers me disgraced. I do not see him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And you?”

“My papa’s dead. My sister’s dead. My mother... I thought she was dead, too. Only it turns out she isn’t.”

“Well that is joyous news.” He looked at her. “Is it not?”

“Well of course it is, but... it’s complicated.”

“Can I help?”

“Why should I trust you?” She
wanted
to, she realised. Part of her already did... but she couldn’t afford to.

“Ask me to do something, and if it is in my power to do it, I will do it.”

She glared at him, thinking rapidly. What could she ask that would help, but wouldn’t give the whole plan away, if he wasn’t to be trusted? There had to be something...

“All right. Prove you’re not in with Ma. I want Lazy Lou.”

“Are you insulting me again?”

“Not
you.
Lazy Lou. It’s a mannequin she keeps in her house, she hangs clothes on it. She used to try and make it work, but she gave up. Get it here, to a place where it’ll be out of sight, but I can get to it... and I’ll trust you. Maybe. A bit.”

To her surprise he looked utterly delighted, and gave a short, sharp laugh, almost a yap. “Oh, a challenge! Very well. When would you like her?”

“Soon’s you can get her here. But if you get caught...”

“I will not,” he said, “get caught.”

“Liu? That other thing you said – what’s a ‘mixtus’?”

“That man, Holmforth. He is a mixtus. One of his parents was Folk.”

“
What?
”

“You didn’t know?”

“No,” Eveline said. “No, I didn’t. Bloody
hell
.” That explained his looks, then. Explained a few other things too, maybe.

Bad enough Holmforth was the next best thing to a peeler. Part Folk, too? Well, that was it, then. Any promise he made was probably worth about as much as a dead rat. “Thanks, Liu. I’ll keep it in mind.”

H
OLMFORTH PAUSED OUTSIDE
the door of his father’s house, then raised his hand to the knocker.

The maid was new, but Edleston, the butler, though now shuffling and white-haired, was the same man who had been a silent presence, summoned like a ghost to his father’s side, throughout Holmforth’s childhood.

“He is expecting you, sir.”

There was nothing in Edleston’s tone or expression of either approbation or disapproval. His perfectly blank exterior had provided a useful model in Holmforth’s youth. He bowed Holmforth through into the drawing room.

Everything, including the chill, was the same. A portrait of his grandfather hung over the fireplace, gradually blackening with soot. His father sat hunched over a copy of the
Times.
Holmforth waited until he should deign to notice his remaining son.

“Bloody Chinese. Thought your lot were supposed to be sorting them out?” Holmforth the Elder flung the paper onto the table and leaned back.

Age and disease had ground away almost all of his patrician looks. His eyes were pouched and rheumy, his strong jaws falling to soft folds about the neck.

“The rebellion will fade,” Thaddeus said. “These things always do.”

“I suppose you want some tea. I won’t have it in the house. Weaklings forever maudling their insides with tea, no wonder the balance of payments is a mess. So is it money?”

“No, thank you, I am sufficiently supplied. I simply came to see if there was anything you wanted.”

“In that case, you can sort out your brother’s grave. That blasted Whitaker woman came visiting, told me it’s getting overgrown. Disgraceful. Vicar should be sacked.”

“I will see to it.” Holmforth picked up his gloves. “I’m returning to Shanghai shortly.” He waited a moment, but his father said nothing. “Was there anything else you wished done?”

Holmforth the Elder shrugged pettishly. “Unless you can find a cure for what ails me, no. I’ve dealt with the lawyers. There’s nothing for you to do but wait out my death.”

“Now, Father. New territories are opening up all the time – one never knows what may be discovered.”

“New territories? Hah. More trouble and expense. They’d have done better leaving well enough alone – look at India! Tell Edleston to bring me my medicine on your way out.”

“Yes, Father.”

A
TRAIL OF
ivy clambered its way up the side of the memorial, digging its tendrils into the stone.
Mary Elizabeth Holmforth. Honoured wife.

Maurice Edgebaston Holmforth. Beloved Son.

There was room for their father’s name to be added, but no more.

He did not remember much about his mother, or about the Crepuscular. Sometimes, still, he woke wet-eyed from dreams of music of unspeakable sweetness, and of grass that caressed his bare feet like silk. But that, and a faint, indefinable scent that sometimes caught him unawares, was all he had of it. He did not even remember the moment his mother had handed him into his father’s care. He had learned not to ask questions, but simply to listen, scavenging for every scrap he could find or guess.

It seemed she had simply grown bored, like a child with a puppy that had grown out of its capacity to amuse.

It had taken no time at all for the servants, to whose care he was mostly consigned, to realise who he was. He had his father’s eyes and brows, and his mother’s slightness and creamy-gold skin. Such affairs were not unknown, though less common than they used to be; but offspring were rare. Strange, Thaddeus thought, that rarity in other things was valued.

If Maurice hadn’t broken his neck in a stupid, reckless carriage-race when Thaddeus was seven years old, he would probably have been found some minor post, or paid off.

But Maurice was dead, and their father was no longer capable of producing offspring – the result of flinging himself into a number of low and, as it turned out, unhealthy liaisons after the departure of Thaddeus’ mother. With his legitimate son dead, Holmforth the Elder had had no choice but to make Thaddeus his heir, or see the estate broken up.

Thaddeus was removed from the casual care of the servants and transferred from the village school to Eton. Within days, everyone there knew who – and what – he was.

He learned a great deal. He learned that it was better to take his beatings than to complain and suffer the contempt meted out to tell-tales. He learned how to remain calm in the face of despite. He learned that the Empire was great and noble, that it brought light into darkness and civilisation to savages; that it rewarded loyal service, and that even such as he might have a place in it. He had embraced that possibility with all the passion of an abandoned heart.

From inside the church a single voice, sweet and clear, began to sing. Other voices rose over the first, building joyful harmonies.

Holmforth ripped the ivy away from the stone, flung the parasitic stuff into the yew hedge, and left the churchyard.

B
ETH STORMED INTO
the Old Barn and, ignoring Mr Jackson, said, “I need to talk to you.
Now
.”

“What is it?”

“Outside.”

Eveline had never seen her look so furious; high colour lit her cheeks and her hair seemed to stand out crackling around her head. She followed her out.

“What’s the matter?”

Beth strode away across the lawns, and Eveline followed her.

“How could you?” Beth burst out. “How
could
you?”

“How could I what?”

“You told someone! You told them about her, and now they’ll give her to Jackson or...”

“What? No! I en’t told anyone anything!”

“Then what’s that
thing
doing in my shed,
sitting
there?”

“I don’t know what you mean. Beth...”

“Oh, you don’t, do you? Come look, then.”

“We’re supposed to be...”

“When have you cared about what you’re
supposed
to be doing?”

Eveline gave in and followed Beth into the trees where the old shed hid.

They pulled aside the branches that concealed the doorway. The sunlight crept in, and something gleamed in the shadows. Eveline, startled, stepped backwards, tripped over a root and sat down hard.

She stared, and got up slowly, rubbing her bruised backside. “Oh,” she said. “Oh, you
bugger
.” Then she began to laugh.

“I don’t see what’s funny,” Beth said.

“It’s... it’s all right,” Eveline gasped between giggles. “It’s just Lou. Oh, Ma’s gonna be so
furious
.”

The
Sacagawea
had been returned to her place, and seated on her bench was Lazy Lou. Her metal limbs were neatly arranged, one jointed hand resting on the wheel, the other – as though she were travelling at speed – clasping to her head at the most rakish of angles Ma Pether’s huge, befeathered, purple silk Sunday hat.

“Who put it there?” Beth said.

“Liu, my Chinese teacher. I asked him for a favour. He’s alright, he won’t peach on us.”

“You told him about
Sacagawea!
”

“I
didn’t.
He must have found her himself. Look, it’s fine. If he’d meant to tell someone, he’da done it already.”

Beth closed her eyes. “You’d better be right. All right. I’m probably going to wish I hadn’t asked but... why has he brought you an automaton?”

“I got a plan.”

“I should have known.”

“
Y
OU
SHOULD BE
in Bedlam,” Beth said.

“Don’t.”

“Eveline, it’s just not possible. It isn’t. I’m sorry. Not after last time. I felt that dog’s breath on my
leg.
”

“You don’t have to come with me. All you got to do is watch out for her when she arrives and help me hide her once she’s here.”

“But you’ll get
caught
.”

“I won’t.”

“Then
I
will! And then what’ll happen to your mama? Eveline, please. There must be something else – you could talk to Holmforth, apply to have her released...”

“No. No. Everyone thinks she’s dead. I don’t want him knowing she ain’t. ”

“Why not? He’s got far more power than either of us, Evvie, he could
do
something.”

“Yes. He could say, ‘Here, Eveline Duchen, I’ve got your mama and unless you do what I say I’ll hurt her.’ That’s what he could do.”

“That’s
horrible.
You really think he’d do that?” Beth looked genuinely shocked.

Eveline sighed. “You ain’t half led a sheltered life. Look, I know what he sees when he looks at me, Beth. He sees something that can either help the Empire or get in its way. And that’s
all
he sees. I don’t mean no more to him than a shovel or a lock-pick. The rest of you in here, someone cared enough to see you were set up even if you were, you know, born the wrong side of the blankets. Point is, you all mean at least that much to someone. I don’t mean
nothing
to Holmforth; he got me in here because he wants to use me. And I ain’t going to take a wager he won’t see Mama just the same way.”