The Curse of Salamander Street (18 page)

‘Raphah’s money is as good as yours,’ Barghast argued.

‘Then he should take it and spend it somewhere else. The man’s a Jonah, bad luck, misfortune, death on two legs, that’s what he is.’ Bragg grizzled with discontent as the wine slobbered over his lips and down the front of his nightshirt.

‘One thing,’ Barghast asked as they turned to leave. ‘Mister Ergott – are you and he …
friends
?’

‘No time for the man, he is a charlatan. Believes he’s a diviner and a dowser. Why would I need an acquaintance like that? Who would keep company with a man who plays with a stick? Rather have a dog for a friend, at least the dog can bark …’ Bragg laughed, pleased with himself. ‘Listen to me, Mister Barghast. You’d be better off ditching the Ethio and mixing with us. Taints a man, bad company, it corrupts good character and I can see nothing good in your dark shadow – even if he can heal the sick. Think I’d rather be dead than let him touch me.’ Bragg seethed as he spoke, cringing his shoulders and shuddering at the same time.

‘I have that feeling myself,’ Barghast replied.

‘Really?’ said Bragg astonished that someone should share his view.

‘Usually for fat old drunks who find their own company
pleasurable
,’ he said as he turned and followed Raphah from the room.

The door of the chamber closed quietly and Bragg sat in his own company before the fire. The soft light flickered against his face. He lifted the mug and drank from it again. He waited as he heard the footsteps walk along the corridor and down the stairs.

Bragg broke the bread and dipped it in the wine before taking another bite.

‘Safe to come from your hiding place my dear little hound,’ Bragg said as the creature crawled from beneath the bed. ‘They believe you to be Black Shuck …’

The beast curled itself by his feet, warming against the fire. Its dark fur bristled as it sniffed the air. Bragg stroked its long nose and looked into its red eyes.

‘To think that they would want to hurt someone as sweet as you,’ he said.

The beast grumbled a low growl at the edge of hearing. It sounded as if it purred softly, its large dog-ears listening to every word spoken in the hall below.

A
T dawn, as a far clock struck the hour, Smutt’s body lay beside a damp sepulchre. The tomb had been hewn from thick clay and dug out of indolence to three shovels’ depth. Like the rest of Salamander Street, the garden – if that is what it could be called – never saw the sky. It was a bare patch of earth surrounded on all sides by the factory, in a lost corner where the eaves of two buildings came together. Upon the dirt lay the body, wrapped in grey rags and tied with hemp cord. Looking down upon it was Galphus. He waited impatiently, tapping the head of the corpse with his cane and listening to the dull thud that it made.

From the flaking door of the factory stepped Jacob Crane. Kate held Pallium’s hand and clutched three flowers. She followed him slowly and wept as she walked. Crane kept a hard stare, straining his lips across his teeth to stop them from trembling. He kept his eyes from looking at the body as he nodded to Galphus in welcome and nervously rubbed his hands together. In his heart he felt as if he had come to bury his son. Looking at Kate, he remembered Demurral’s house. The garden there was bright and faced the sea. He had fought to keep
Thomas from a grave in that garden. Now he looked around to the bare stone walls and crumbling brick that surrounded him.

From inside the factory, two of the Druggles came and took hold of the body. Upon a quick stamp of Galphus’s cane they picked it up with the straps and clumsily dropped the body to the grave. There was a gentle spatter as the water that halffilled the tomb overwhelmed the body. It floated momentarily and then slowly slipped deeper and deeper. Everything was grey and without colour. The cloth soaked up the water and the lamp above them flickered on the grey earth.

Kate could restrain herself no longer. She screamed in pain as if her heart was being torn from within her. Crane held her to him as the harsh shovelling of clay splattered against the carcass. Soon, Thomas was gone, no words said, dust to dust.

‘Short life,’ Galphus chirped as they looked at the pile of earth. ‘Makes you think of wasted time.’ He tried to smile at Kate and took her by the chin, holding her as if she were a doll to be inspected. ‘Salamander, Jacob?’ he asked as he turned to Crane with the offer of a drink. ‘Never too early to taste a fine wine.’

Crane looked to Kate who held out the flowers. ‘Let’s give her some time to say goodbye,’ he said. He took Galphus by the arm and walked towards the door, and Pallium followed.

‘When she has finished her mourning bring her to my room, we’ll wait there,’ Galphus said to the Druggles who stood in the shadows with their muddied shovels. Crane took a final glance as Kate sank to her knees in the dirt and pressed the flowers into the stinking clay of the grave. He brought the words of goodbye to mind but knew they would never reach his lips.

Galphus led Crane from the courtyard and into the factory. They walked silently through the workrooms until they came to Galphus’s study.

It was a windowless room stacked with shelves and wooden boxes. There was a large desk lit by several candlesticks. To one side was an old skull and several discarded teeth. Crane looked about the room. It smelt of cabbage and old women. The plaster was falling from the walls in several places and the door had been gnawed by rats.

‘Tell me, Crane,’ Galphus said, ‘how much would you need to free your ship?’

‘Enough and enough again,’ he replied.

‘On my desk is a bag, take it and pay off what you owe. Take it from me as a gift, and from you I’ll take a third share in all you make from now on,’ Galphus said.

‘What else will you take?’ he asked.

‘Just a third, nothing more. Reasonable and honest for the amount in the bag. I know that when you pay the release there will be more than enough.’

‘Signed for or shaken upon?’ Crane asked. He looked at a thousand glass jars neatly placed upon the shelves in tidy rows; each one was precisely labelled with a name and date, and underneath this inscription were words that differed from jar to jar in a tongue he could not comprehend.

‘The offer is there and I will not shake or sign. Let us say that it is just for the taking.’ Galphus saw that Crane was staring at the jars. ‘They are interesting, are they not?’ he asked as he lifted one from the shelf and held it before Crane’s face.

‘Empty jars – interesting?’ Crane asked.

‘More than that. They are the finest collection in the world.’

‘Of what?’ said Crane.

‘The last breaths of those who have gone before. Aristotle, Caesar, Pythagoras and there,’ he said, pointing to a larger jar at the end of the shelf, ‘King George the First.’ Galphus smiled and spoke excitedly, all thought of the funeral now a distant memory. ‘I know it may sound strange, but to me it is an
interest and one that not many people may entertain. They are my
pneumamorte
…’

‘So why keep them?’

‘I believe that they possess a power, that in the last breath the soul jumps from the flesh. Within the world there are some of us who know this. This is glass made from the sand beneath an Italian volcano, Capacious Alta. It has the power to trap the soul. That soul can give us vigour. Think of it, Jacob – wouldn’t you like to live forever?’

‘I would like to die old and in bed,’ he said.

‘I have summonsed a man to bring me an implement so that I can partake of these breaths, hear the last words of those who died and take on their lives. As we speak I am being brought a cup, and from this I will drink my eternal life. I tell you this as a fascination. I know you have seen much and now that we are partners I can tell you more.’ He smiled.

‘Kate,’ Crane said as she stepped into the room with a tear-stained face. ‘Galphus and I were …’

‘I heard. Pity his implement was not here to give Thomas life,’ she said angrily.

‘Come, have breakfast with us, we can mourn your friend over a drink,’ Galphus invited her.

‘I have Thomas’s things for company – Crane gave me a parcel of clothes, they are all I need for company.’ Kate scowled and looked to the floor. Her face was set like stone. ‘I’ll go with Pallium, he said he’d take me back. I need to sleep,’ she said.

‘Jacob and I have some business. I’m sure he’ll be along later.’ Galphus held out his hand. Kate turned without speaking and made off along the corridor to where she had left Mister Pallium.

Together they made their way from the factory back to Salamander Street and Pallium’s home. He offered her chocolate
and milk, but Kate refused and asked that she could sleep some more. As it always did, the door to the stairs opened on its own. Taking quick strides, she leapt up the treads two by two and turned into her room. The morning fire still burnt warmly and the bed where Thomas had slept was still in its place, the covers not touched since he had last been there.

Kate looked for the parcel that Crane had given to her. She pulled open the string and ripped the paper. Inside were Thomas’s clothes. They were cold, damp and stank of shoe leather and glue. She took the shirt and warmed it by the fire. It was soon soft and warm and smelt of Thomas. She held it to her and smothered herself within as she tried to picture his face.

The room fell cold. Snowflakes flurried across the ceiling and stacked against the far wall. Leaves blew about the boards and the scent of the forest grew stronger. The sound of the magichord began to play softly.

Kate looked to the wall. The picture had gone, the wall had gone. There stood the entrance to the forest. The magichord was still in place. She waited and waited as she clutched Thomas’s shirt.

‘Saw him fall,’ a voice from beside her said. ‘Right from the window of the tower. Looked as if he were already dead.’

Kate sat still with fear, not daring to look at the girl. ‘How would you know that?’

‘When you die your soul jumps from you and goes off. Some disappear and are never seen again. Others, especially the ones who don’t know they’re dead, hang about. Get up from the body and look around. When your friend hit the ground there was nothing. So I went looking …’

‘And?’ Kate asked as she buried her face within his garments and sighed.

‘Couldn’t find him, not a trace. Looked everywhere – called
out to him and everything. No boy. Just the body. Strange thing is, I found someone in the cellar, very much alive. Looked like Thomas.’

‘But I’ve just buried him. Saw it myself. Jacob Crane saw him not an hour after he was dead.’ Kate screwed up her eyes and covered them with her hands. ‘Leave me, you do nothing but torment.’

‘Typical,’ said the girl with a tut. ‘Try to help the living and all you do is complain. When will you realise that death is not the end of life? How many spectres will you have to see before you believe?’

‘But I don’t believe. You’re bad meat, a dream, madness of my mind,’ Kate shouted.

‘Then look at me. Look at me if you’re not afraid,’ the girl asked as she touched Kate on the face.

‘NO! Leave me alone.’

‘But if I am just a figment of your mind then you are alone, Kate.’

The words made her drop the hands from her face and stare at the spirit. Like before she wore the crinoline dress etched in foxgloves. She looked younger, fresh of face.

‘Am I mad?’ Kate asked the spectre.

‘Why ask me? I’m dead,’ the girl replied, giggling to herself. ‘So why did Galphus bring you here? Does he want you in the factory or will he steal all of the man’s money?’

‘What?’

‘That’s what he does. You’re not the first and won’t be the last. Pallium gets them here and hands them on. That’s how he’s paid. He’ll have you in that factory before the morning. He’ll convince your friend to leave you here and then you’ll be snatched, vanish from the face of the earth. Had a parson here. He would sell him children, came from the north. Not particular, our Mister Galphus.’

‘How do you know? Thought you were trapped?’ Kate said angrily as she looked intently at the girl who appeared as real as she was.

‘I listen, never eat or sleep but listen. Walk the street and listen, as they work I listen. Kate, you can’t leave this place.’

‘I’ll leave when I want,’ Kate said.

‘Do it now, go, see how far you get. Follow the street and you’ll come to a dead end, a blind alley. Whatever way you choose you won’t get out. Galphus made this place and he’s an alchemist, a magician. Look on a map and it doesn’t exist. There is no Salamander Street in the whole of London. I heard them, Kate. Listened to the screams of children trying to escape, they soon find out they’ll be here forever.’

‘I’ll go now,’ Kate stammered.

The spectre bent forward through the leather chair and whispered in Kate’s ear. ‘Mister Pallium is listening to you from outside, thinks you’re talking to yourself. Thinks you’re mad.’

There was a gentle knock at the door, then the latch slipped and it opened slowly. ‘Couldn’t help hearing you, Kate,’ Pallium said kindly as he peered at her. ‘Must be a great shock. Mister Galphus will make it better, always does.’ Pallium stepped into the room. It was as if he was unaware of all that was around him. He could see neither the spectre nor the forest that lay beyond the wall. In his eyes all was as it should be and nothing had changed.

Kate glanced to where the wall should have been. There was the glen that led to the river. She could see it clearly. A fawn ran through the wood and in her mind she could hear the sound of birds calling.

Pallium stared at her. ‘I think you should rest. Galphus will come soon and all will be well.’

‘I want to see Jacob,’ she said suddenly.

‘How can I say this, what words will suffice to calm you on such a day?’

‘Words? I want to see Jacob Crane and I go now,’ Kate said as the ghost vanished before her.

‘I have bad news – he’s gone. Didn’t want to say. Left you in my care. Knew I would look after you. Galphus and I will be your guardians. Took the money offered by Galphus and went.

He wasn’t going to drink in the Salamander, he was going to get the money. He’s gone for the
Magenta
.’ Pallium spoke breathlessly.

‘He would have told me,’ Kate said.

‘He couldn’t – too hard and too hurtful. That’s old Jacob. Like a nut, but crack the shell and he’s so sweet.’

The girl appeared again by the fireplace and shouted to Kate. ‘He’s gone, Kate. Your friend is neither at the inn nor anywhere in the street. Galphus drinks in the Salamander but the smuggler is no more.’

‘Gone?’ Kate yelled. ‘How can he be gone? What have you done to him?’

Pallium reached out a hand to touch her brow.

‘Don’t trust him,’ the spectre whispered, Pallium unaware of her presence. ‘I’ve seen this before, he has a knife.’

‘Where?’ Kate screamed, not knowing whom to believe.

‘You’re tired – it’s the shock. I have some tea, I’ll bring some for you,’ Pallium said as he hurried from the room.

‘Gone for Galphus and his men, that’s what he always does,’ the spectre said as the latch snapped on the door and the locked turned. ‘See – bolted and kept within, you won’t get out.’

Kate grabbed the door and rattled the lock. It stuck fast. Below, she heard the door open and Pallium dash into the street. Kate ran to the window and saw him scurrying like a rat into the darkness.