The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis (5 page)

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Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic

BOOK: The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis
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Knocker peered from behind his tree. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘You know what they’re doing? They’re moving on to the common, over by the Mount Pond. I remember now, that’s where the fairs always used to go in the old days.’ Knocker ducked back out of the light as the patrol car, its job done, sped by on the road, going fast now, back to the police station on Lavender Hill.
Bingo laughed. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘We can get across the road
easy now. We’ll just tag on to the end of that lot, and then as soon as they’re on the other side, we’ll shove off. Goodnight and thank you very much.’
The idea appealed to the Borribles. They rose from cover and, surrounding Sam, they led him over the grass and into the bright roadway, taking up places at the rear of the circus column; as it shuffled forward so did they.
Lorry by lorry and trailer by trailer the circus-cum-fairground left the road and established itself in a circle on an open piece of cindery terrain by the side of the Mount Pond. The Borribles, once safely over the road, had at first fully intended to run off into the darkness, but intrigued by the activity going on all around them they hid themselves beneath some trees and watched.
The first thing the men of the circus did was to manhandle the trailers and cages into position and mark out their pitches for the following day. There were tents to be erected that night and there was plenty of other work to do, too. Huge sledgehammers banged against iron stakes and the wild beasts growled and roared as they were given food and water. At the same time lights were rigged and meals were prepared, smelling delicious.
‘I need some more soup,’ said Twilight.
As he spoke a caravan was towed into position and deposited only a few yards from where the Adventurers stood. Its door was flung open immediately and about eight small shapes threw themselves down the steps calling and shouting to one another.
‘Shove the caravan a bit further in.’
‘Who’s doing the cooking?’
‘Bang in the tent pegs.’
The Borribles huddled back, beneath the trees. ‘Let’s get going,’ said Knocker.
No one answered. The Adventurers were all watching the people in front of them as they toiled in the bright glow of the floodlights. They were so full of energy and enthusiasm, strong and resilient, happy in what they were doing. They bustled and scurried backwards and forwards on strong muscular legs; their shoulders were broad, but not one of these people was over the height of a twelve-year-old child, not one of them was taller than the average Borrible.
‘Swipe me,’ said Vulge. ‘What do you make of them? Are they Borribles?’
‘They could be,’ answered Orococco. ‘Like I said, they have Borribles in circuses, but then they have dwarfs and midgets as well; my cousin told me. But if you look on the caravan it says acrobats, don’t it?’
‘I don’t care what they are,’ said Chalotte quietly, ‘I’ve got a feeling we ought to be on the move.’
For many years to come Chalotte was to remember that moment as the turning point in the whole adventure. If only they’d not hesitated, how different things might have been.
‘Borribles,’ began Inspector Sussworth, reading from a prepared speech, ‘are the rubbish of our society and as such have got to be swept under the carpet of coercion and stamped upon. You, both men and dwarfs, are to be the agents of this cleansing.’
Sussworth beamed. In front of him stood the group leaders of the SBG, as stiff and as stubborn as a soldier-course of bricks; tall burly men with hair on their knuckles, their necks thick and red, their brows solid with good bone. They listened to Sussworth with wide-eyed devotion.
In front of these men and slightly to one side stood a band of about twenty dwarfs. They were well formed in every respect with strong limbs and fair skins and they had been selected, over and above all the other applicants who had answered Sussworth’s advertisements, because of their youthful appearance. What is more they had been thoroughly trained and knew all there was to know about being a Borrible. And they too listened to the inspector with intense concentration. They had been promised good money for the tasks they were to perform and, if they actually managed to capture a Borrible, they would receive a substantial cash bonus.
‘You dwarfs,’ continued Sussworth taking a turn up and down the
main room of the SBG headquarters, ‘have been presented and provided with a wonderful opportunity to serve law and order. You will be our advance guard, our intelligence behind the enemy lines. You look like Borribles already, and by the time these specially made pointed ears, covered in human skin, have been stuck to your own ears, why, even Borribles will take you for Borribles.’ The inspector smiled and performed a little Spanish dance, stamping his feet and clicking his fingers. Behind him Sergeant Hanks stepped forward and raised both his hands. In one he held a flesh-coloured Borrible ear and in the other a large container of impact glue.
‘Now,’ said Sussworth, ‘I do not want you auxiliaries to be worried about this superglue. Sergeant Hanks has a special solvent which, when the time comes, we shall apply and, Hay Preston! You’ll be back to normal.’
‘Please, Inspector,’ one of the dwarfs raised his hand. ‘If we get caught by one of your men and he can’t tell us from the real thing, how do we convince him that we are really adults in disguise?’
Sussworth spun a full turn and nodded like someone who knew the answer to every question ever thought of. ‘Simple,’ he said. ‘Every one of you will be given the password. This password will be known only to you and the members of the SBG.’
‘Yessir. What’s the password?’
Sussworth jiggled his feet and spoke over his shoulder. ‘Yes, indeed. What is the password, Hanks?’
Hanks went very red in the face, lowered his head and looked intently at the ear in his hand. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Yes, er … Blancmange … that’s the password. No one will ever guess that.’
Sussworth twitched his moustache, stamped three paces to the right and then three paces to the left. He pointed at the dwarfs like a recruiting poster.
‘You have all been thoroughly trained,’ he said, ‘in anti-Borrible tactics. This is war to the death, no quarter asked, none given. Borribles are all around us; trust no one. You know how Borribles live: empty habitations, stealing in markets, no fixed abodes, petty thievery … Well you must do the same. For all intents and purposes you will become Borribles.’
He pirouetted in a swirl of overcoat tails and gazed at a flag-covered
map of London which was pinned to the wall. He coughed, and his hands fought with one another behind his back.
‘Dozens of dwarfs,’ he continued, ‘are already in position, idling at street corners and loafing in the markets.’ Sussworth placed his hands on his hips and his moustache uncrimped its wings like a moth coming out of a chrysalis. ‘This is my greatest idea and it will work like a quartz timepiece. I’m going to get as many of you young dwarfs on the streets as I can. I have a feeling, a strong feeling, that some of my spies are mixed in with that bunch of villains already, pretending to aid and abet them as they make off with that equine animal we wish to apprehend.’
Sussworth stamped his feet one after the other and then turned quickly from the map. His eyes narrowed and his voice grew deeper, taking on a Churchillian ring.
‘This time we shall not fail. We shall fight them in the streets and down the alleys, across the labyrinthine ways of the metropolis, every yard, every foot, every inch. Behind each of you dwarfs, remember, are ten men of the SBG. You will overcome and you will never walk alone. This is the big match. I shall bowl the Borribles a death-dealing googly. They shall not pass. We shall be unseen and undetected and the ground will be covered with clipped ears like leaves in autumn.’
Sergeant Hanks grinned and shouted for joy, but Sussworth was not pleased and he held a hand high against the interruption and straightened his back.
‘And I shall be right there with you, men. I have made arrangements for a caravan to be placed at my disposal. It will be personal and private with its own bathroom and lavatory. I am going to take up my abode in this caravan and I shall live in it until these scavengers and their horse are captured. There shall I labour, like Monty did in the Western Desert. I shall make our deeds into history.’
Sussworth’s moustache revolved slowly now with contained power, like a ship’s propeller. ‘Epoch-making history! My finest hour! We happy few! The Desert Fox! Never before!’
‘Certainly,’ said Hanks, taking a digestive biscuit from his pocket and sliding it into his mouth.
Sussworth stood to attention and extended himself to his fullest
height and jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the map. ‘Wherever these flags are thickest there shall I be in the thick of it,’ he said.
Hanks waved the Borrible ear he held above his head and cheered, spraying the front row of dwarfs with saliva and crumbs. Sussworth inclined his head and the SBG policemen saluted, turned to the right and marched from the room. The dwarfs, after a moment’s hesitation, saluted too and then followed them.
The inspector watched them go. His moustache lifted from his top lip like a trapdoor and revealed a smile, the smile of a sharp-toothed rabbit.
‘If only the DAC could see us now,’ said Hanks, popping another biscuit into his mouth. ‘I’d be Sir Sergeant Hanks already with more letters behind my name than a London postal district. Eh?’
Inspector Sussworth sniffed. ‘It’s just as well he can’t see us, Hanks,’ he said. ‘Using dwarfs is a bit out of order and the DAC wouldn’t want to be associated with anything out of order. He wouldn’t stop us, you understand, he just wouldn’t want to be associated with it. In fact, Hanks, it’s all got to be kept very hush-hush. In future, in reports and radio messages and suchlike, make sure the men always refer to the dwarfs as … as …’
‘Lookouts,’ suggested Hanks.
‘Lookouts,’ said Sussworth, ‘as I said.’ He gazed at the map again and a dreamy expression filled his eyes. ‘Somewhere in London, they are, those Borribles … somewhere in London. I wonder where. I wonder where.’
 
The Borribles stood under the trees in the darkness. The temperature had risen and the rain was falling again, dripping from the leaves and running down necks. Sam stamped a hoof, impatient to be off.
‘We can’t stay here,’ said Sydney. ‘Sam will catch cold; he’s shivering already.’
The Borribles were still watching the acrobats erect their tent, fascinated by the speed and expertise with which the operation was performed.
Chalotte touched Knocker. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘we’d better get a move on.’
Knocker looked at his watch. It was only eleven o’clock. As he raised his head to speak someone bumped into him from the side. It was one of the acrobats, walking backwards and tugging on a length of cable.
‘Watch out,’ shouted the newcomer. ‘Get out the way, can’t yer see I’m trying to lash this guy rope?’
Knocker said nothing but reached forward rapidly and grabbed the acrobat by the neck. ‘Shuddup,’ he said, ‘else I’ll throttle yer.’
‘Leave off,’ said the acrobat. ‘Stop messing about. Why aren’t you getting on with the work? I’ve a good mind …’ The acrobat’s voice faltered. He had noticed the other Borribles in the darkness under the trees and he was more than a little disconcerted to find such a group on the common in the middle of the night. Stonks came up behind him and took hold of an arm.
‘’Ere,’ said the acrobat, his voice less confident. ‘What’s your game, eh?’
‘Nothing,’ said Knocker. ‘We don’t want nothing, we ain’t doing nothing, we’re just on our way across the common, nice ’n’ quiet like.’
The acrobat moved his face nearer to Knocker’s, looking him straight in the eye. ‘’Ere,’ he said again, ‘you’re the same size as me you are, all of yer. Are you a dwarf too, or are you kids on the run?’
Knocker did not answer for at that moment a voice came from the half-erected tent: ‘Hey Scooter, wake up. Pull on the bloody rope, will yer. The effin’ pole’s waving all over the place.’
‘You’d better let me,’ said the acrobat called Scooter, ‘or they’ll all be over here.’
‘Go on then,’ said Knocker. ‘Don’t try anything funny, there’s ten of us.’
‘Oh is there?’ said Scooter. ‘I’m frightened to death, ain’t I?’ He shook himself away from Knocker and Stonks and passing the rope he held round the trunk of the nearest tree he began to pull on it, and the Borribles could see the centre of the nearby tent rising. When he had finished Scooter tied the end of the rope to a branch and turned to face the Borribles, his hands on his hips, smiling. He made no attempt to escape or call his friends.’
‘You shouldn’t be worried,’ he said, addressing them all. ‘We’re
travellers, circus people, fairground gypsies. We’d never give you away to anyone, least of all the law. It’s against our traditions.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Knocker. ‘How do we know?’ but you’ll
Scooter shrugged his shoulders. ‘Suit yerself,’ he said, ‘but you’ll have to let me go in a minute; I’ve got lots of work to do and the others will start looking for me.’
‘We’re moving on anyway,’ said Napoleon. ‘It’s not safe here. We could take you with us, if we wanted.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Scooter.
‘We’re on our way to Brixton, that’s all,’ said Knocker at last.
Scooter folded his arms and leant against a tree. ‘So are we,’ he said. ‘In three days’ time we’ll be setting out for Brockwell Park to do a show. You could travel with us. No one would see you in the caravan and they wouldn’t notice an extra horse.’
‘No,’ said Knocker, ‘we’ll go now,’ but it was too late. Six people were suddenly coming close to the Borribles.
‘Come on, Scooter,’ called one of them. ‘Why aren’t you doing your share? We all want to go to bed you know.’
The Borribles quickly loaded their catapults and got back to back under the trees. Sydney held the horse ready to run but still Scooter did not move. ‘Please,’ he said, ‘don’t be scared. Look.’ He turned and raised a hand towards his colleagues. ‘Move steady,’ he called out. ‘I’ve found some people who could use some help.’
The advancing acrobats halted for a moment and then came on, warily. They spread out under the trees; one of them leant on the handle of a sledgehammer. Against the glare of the circus floodlights the Adventurers could see that although only of Borrible height he was thickset, as big as Stonks. ‘Who are they?’ he asked. ‘What do they want?’
‘We don’t want anything,’ answered Chalotte. ‘We’re just crossing the common.’
‘Look, Ninch,’ said Scooter, speaking to the acrobat with the hammer, ‘they’re just a bunch of kids going to Brixton … with a horse.’
‘A horse!’ retorted Ninch with excitement. ‘A horse, eh? Strike a bleedin’ light.’
‘What about the horse?’ said Sydney, immediately on the defensive.
‘What about it?’ replied Ninch. ‘I bet you’ve nicked one of ours, that’s what. Frisby, go and count ’em, quick.’
One of Ninch’s companions walked away and the others shuffled their feet, ready for trouble.
‘Leave it out, Ninch,’ said Scooter, ‘they’re just bits of kids I tell yer. From what I can see a good meal wouldn’t do ’em no harm.’
‘The horses are all there.’ Frisby’s voice came from the other side of the half-erected tent and Ninch’s body relaxed.
‘That’s all right then,’ he said. ‘They’re welcome to come along with us, if they want. Never let it be said that a traveller don’t know how to be hospitable.’ And with that the chunky figure turned and strode away, his companions following him.
The Borribles breathed a sigh of relief and put their catapults into their back pockets. Scooter laughed. ‘I told you,’ he said. ‘At least come and eat some grub with us before you go. They’re cooking up Irish stew tonight. Once we’ve got the work done, that is.’
‘Irish stew,’ said Bingo. ‘I loves that; with dumplings?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Scooter, ‘with dumplings.’
After that there seemed no good reason for staying out in the rain and the Borribles went slowly towards the tent, which now looked as sturdy as a church. Scooter opened a flap and Sam, followed by the rest of the Adventurers, passed through it.

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