The Black Book of Secrets
Read The Black Book of Secrets Online
Authors: F. E. Higgins
www.theblackbookofsecrets.com
F. E. HIGGINS
MACMILLAN CHILDREN’S BOOKS
First published 2007 by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2007 by Macmillan Children’s Books
a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Basingstoke and Oxford
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN: 978-1-4050-8979-1
ISBN 978-0-330-47152-7 in Adobe Reader format
ISBN 978-0-330-47153-4 in Adobe Digital Editions format
ISBN 978-0-330-47154-1 in Microsoft Reader format
ISBN 978-0-330-47155-8 in Mobipocket format
Text copyright © F. E. Higgins 2007
The right of F. E. Higgins to be identified as the
author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance
with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.
Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases.
For Beatrix
Non mihi, non tibi, sed nobis
Chapter One
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Two
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Extract from the Black Book of Secrets –
Chapter Thirteen
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Extract from the Black Book of Secrets –
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Extract from the Black Book of Secrets –
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Extract from the Black Book of Secrets –
Chapter Thirty
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Forty
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Forty-One
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Forty-Two
Extract from the Black Book of Secrets –
Chapter Forty-Three
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Forty-Four
Page torn from ‘Amphibians of the Southern Hemisphere’
Chapter Forty-Five
Fragment from the Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
Chapter Forty-Six
I came across Joe Zabbidou’s Black Book of Secrets and
Ludlow Fitch’s memoirs in a rather curious manner. They
were tightly rolled and concealed within the hollow of a
wooden leg. How I came to be in possession of the leg is
unimportant right now. What matters is the story the
documents tell.
Unfortunately, neither Joe’s Black Book nor Ludlow’s
memoirs survived the centuries intact and when I unrolled
them it was obvious that they had suffered damage. Not only
were the pages brittle and water-stained, but also much of
what I had was illegible. The fragments and extracts are
reproduced here exactly as they were written. I corrected
Ludlow’s spelling – it really was quite dreadful – but I did
no more than that. As for the parts that are missing, what
else could I do but draw upon my imagination to fill the gaps?
I pieced the story together in the way I thought best. I
like to think I stayed as close to the truth as I could with the
few facts I had. I do not claim to be the author of this story,
merely the person who has tried to reveal it to the world.
F. E. Higgins
England
The Memoirs of Ludlow Fitch
When I opened my eyes I knew that nothing in my miserable
life prior to that moment could possibly be as bad as
what was about to happen. I was lying on the cold earthen
floor of a basement room lit by a single candle, no more
than an hour’s burning left. Instruments of a medical nature
hung from hooks in the beams. Dark stains on the floor suggested
blood. But it was the chair against the opposite wall
that fully confirmed my suspicions. Thick leather straps
attached to the arms and the legs were there for one purpose
only: to hold down an unwilling patient. Ma and Pa
were standing over me.
‘’E’s awake,’ crowed Ma excitedly.
Pa dragged me to my feet. He had me in an iron grip,
my arm wrenched up behind my back. Ma held me by the
hair. I looked from one to the other. Their grinning faces
were only inches away from mine. I knew I should not look
to them to save me.
Another man, concealed until now in the shadows,
stepped forward and took me by the chin. He forced open
my mouth and ran a blackened foul-tasting finger around
my gums.
‘How much?’ asked Pa, drooling with anticipation.
‘Not bad,’ said the man. ‘Thrupence apiece. Maybe
twelve in all.’
‘It’s a deal,’ said Pa. ‘Who needs teeth anyway?’
‘Someone, I hope,’ replied the man drily. ‘I sell ’em for
a living.’
And they laughed all three, Ma and Pa and Barton Gumbroot,
the notorious tooth surgeon of Old Goat’s Alley.
Once the money for my teeth was agreed with Barton
they moved quickly. Together they dragged me over to the
surgeon’s chair. I kicked and shouted and spat and bit; I
wasn’t going to make it easy for them. I knew how Barton
Gumbroot made his living, preying on the poor, pulling
their teeth, paying them pennies and selling them on for ten
times as much. I was racked with fear. I had no protection.
I was going to feel it all. Every single nerve-stabbing twinge.
They came close to succeeding in their evil quest. Ma
was struggling with a buckle around my ankle, her hands
shaking from the previous day’s drinking, while Pa was
trying to hold me down. Barton Gumbroot, that loathsome
monster, was just hovering with his gleaming tooth-pull,
snapping it open and shut, open and shut, tittering and salivating.
I believe to this day his greatest pleasure in life was
inflicting pain on others. So much so that he couldn’t wait
any longer and before I knew it I could feel the cold metal
of his instrument of torture clamped around a front tooth.
He braced himself with his leg on my chest and began to
pull. I cannot describe to you the pain that shot through my
skull, my brain and every nerve end in my body. It felt as if
my whole head was being wrenched off. The tooth moved
slightly in my jaw and another white-hot shooting pain
exploded behind my eyes. All the while Ma and Pa laughed
like maniacs.
Rage swelled in me like a mountainous wave. I heard a
roar worthy of a jungle beast and I was taken over by
seething fury. With my free leg I kicked Pa hard and sharp
in the stomach and he collapsed on the floor. Barton, caught
by surprise, let go of the tooth-pull and I grabbed it and
walloped him around the side of the head. I unstrapped my
other leg and jumped down. Pa was groaning on the floor.
Barton was leaning against the wall holding his head. Ma
cowered in the corner.
‘Don’t hit me,’ she begged. ‘Don’t hit me.’
I will not deny I was tempted, but this was my one
chance to escape. Pa was almost on his feet again. I dropped
the tooth-pull and in a matter of seconds I was out of the
door, up the steps and running down the alley. I could hear
Ma screaming and Pa shouting and cursing. Every time I
looked back all I could see was Pa’s snarling face and Barton’s
hooked tooth-pull glinting in the yellow gaslight.
As I ran I tried to think where to go. They knew so many
of my hiding places. I decided on Mr Jellico’s, but when I
reached his shop the place was in darkness and the blind was
down. I hammered on the window and shouted his name
but there was no reply. I cursed my bad luck. I knew if Mr
Jellico was gone at this time of night he might not be back
for days. But knowing this was little help in my current
predicament.
So where to now? The bridge over the River Foedus and
the Nimble Finger Inn. Betty Peggotty, the landlady, might
help me. I ran out of the alley and on to the street, but they
were already waiting for me.
‘There ’e is,’ screeched Ma and the chase was on again.
They surprised me, Pa especially, with their stamina. I had
not thought they would last so long. For at least a half-mile
they chased me down the uncobbled narrow alleys and the
filthy streets, tripping over bodies and avoiding snatching
hands, all the way to the river. Every time I looked back
they seemed to be closer. I knew what would happen if they
caught me again. The ache in my bleeding jaw was all the
proof I needed.
By the time I staggered on to the bridge I was barely able
to hold myself upright. Halfway across I saw a carriage outside
the Nimble Finger. Just as its wheels began to turn, I
clambered on the back, hanging on for my life. As the
carriage pulled away the last thing I remember is the sight
of Ma sinking to her knees. She was screaming at me from
the river bank and the monster, Barton Gumbroot, was
shaking his fist in rage.
My name is Ludlow Fitch. Along with countless others, I
had the great misfortune to be born in the City, a stinking
place undeserving of a name. And I would have died there
if it had not been for Ma and Pa. They saved me, though it
was not their intention, when they delivered me, their only
son, into the hands of Barton Gumbroot. This act of
betrayal was possibly the greatest single piece of luck I ever
had. Ma and Pa’s diabolic plan brought about the end of one
existence and the beginning of another: my life with Joe
Zabbidou.
