Cat Among the Pigeons (10 page)

‘In that case, you'd better call me Charlie. Can't have you calling me “sir” the whole time.'

‘But what are we going to do about you, Cat?' said Frank, striding up and down the hearthrug. ‘You can't stay here, you know.'

I nodded. I had known that I couldn't hide out at Westminster School for long but the thought of wandering the streets again was terrifying.

‘We've got lessons this morning,' continued Frank. ‘Dame Clough, our house matron, will be coming in and out to clean. And Charlie's brother is expected any moment.'

‘No need to worry about Tom. I've had word
that he won't be here till after Christmas now. Still not got over his bout of measles,' said Charlie. He then turned to look at me, the flicker of an idea dawning in his eyes. ‘No, it wouldn't work. I'm being foolish . . .'

Frank caught the tail end of the scheme before it was completely abandoned by Charlie. ‘I don't know.' He put the cap back on my head, inspecting me closely. ‘If she's put in the College Dormitory we'd be stuffed, but we could say your mother wants him to sleep in the same house as you because of his delicate health. He could have your room – we could share mine. No one's met him yet, I assume?'

‘No. Tom's been with a tutor in Dublin for the past two years.'

‘Well, it's possible we'd get away with it then.'

I looked from one to the other, hardly believing they were suggesting what I thought they were suggesting.

‘She – he'd have to arrive properly – in a carriage and with luggage and so on,' said Charlie.

‘I can fix that,' said Frank.

‘You're both mad,' I said. ‘I'd be found out in one second flat.'

They grinned at each other.

‘Oh, I don't know. You underestimate your acting powers, Cat,' said Frank. ‘I've seen you with Syd and the boys. It'd be fun to try, wouldn't it?'

‘But . . .'

‘And I can't turn you out, can I? Where would you go? You know better than me what can happen to girls on the streets. And you're far more likely to get picked up by the runners if you're out there. The worse that would happen to you here is that you'd be expelled.'

‘And you two as well!'

Charlie shrugged. ‘I don't mind. I don't like it here that much, to tell you the truth. All they seem to teach is how to bully and be bullied.'

‘And you know I never wanted to come in the first place,' added Frank. ‘Mama won't mind if I'm chucked out. Father would shout, but not for
too long – not when he knows that I did it to help you. So you see, you'd be doing us a favour.'

‘You are both mad,' I repeated, shaking my head. ‘Cracked. Addled. Raving. And, anyway, what happens when the real boy arrives?'

‘That's weeks off yet. It seems to me that the most immediate problem is saving you from the runners.' Frank whisked the cap off my head, letting my hair tumble out. ‘Sadly, I think we'll have to sacrifice this to the cause.'

‘Yes, Tom Cats don't sport ringlets,' agreed Charlie.

‘Shall you be the barber or shall I?'

‘I'll do it,' said Charlie, taking out a pair of scissors from his desk drawer. ‘She doesn't know me so well yet and is not likely to curse me so loudly when she sees what I've done.'

‘You're not . . .' I stammered.

‘We are.' Frank suddenly looked serious. ‘Unless you have a better idea?' I thought for a moment then shook my head. ‘Please, Cat, for my sake – and for Lizzie. I don't want to visit you
next at Newgate. I don't make a very good prison visitor – I'm terrible at small talk.'

I bit my lip. What could I do, Reader? On the one hand, I could take my chances on the streets and probably end up in a cell by the evening. On the other, I could try this madcap idea which might, just might, succeed. What did I have to lose?

‘All right,' I sighed. ‘You can cut it off.'

‘To be safe, I think we'd better cut it pretty hard,' said Frank, taking a strand in his fingers. ‘You see, you don't look much like a boy, Cat, even with a cap on. What's your brother like, Charlie?'

‘Big – makings of a prizefighter.'

‘Hmm. Well, the measles have taken it out of him, that's all I can say. Your new brother Tom will be more in the angelic chorister mould.'

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about how long it would take to grow back as the hair dropped into my lap. When Charlie finally told me to look in the mirror, I saw a tousle-haired waif staring back. Cat Royal seemed to have
vanished. There wasn't much of me at the best of times – but without my curls I was almost invisible – reduced to a pair of large, tear-filled green eyes in a pale, freckled face.

The boys looked at each other nervously. ‘What do you think?' Charlie asked, turning to Frank.

‘Not sure. Still too damned pretty.' They were both watching me, worried how I was going to react.

Now my hair was gone, it was too late to back out. I mentally shook myself. There I was, wallowing in self-pity again when they were trying their best to help me. I had to make more of an effort.

‘Look!' I said, throwing off the blanket and displaying my scraped elbows and hands. ‘My knees are the same. Is that more boyish for you?' I turned back to the mirror, ruffled my hair so that it stuck up at the front and stuck out my tongue at the reflection. ‘Thomas Hengrave, pleased to meet you.'

Charlie laughed, his relief palpable. He
strode over and shook my hand. ‘Pleased to meet you too, little brother. Now, let's get you some decent clothes and set this charade rolling.'

‘So, you have just recovered from the measles, Hengrave, is that so?' said Dr Vincent, the headmaster, looking up from a letter reputing to be from Lady Hengrave. Frank had turned out to be a fair hand at forgery – something Joe ‘The Card' had taught him over the Easter holidays.

‘Yes, sir,' I said, standing with my hands clasped behind my back, my eyes on the wall behind him. I could sense Charlie shifting nervously by the door, ready to make a bolt for it if the ruse failed.

‘And your mother wants you to stay with your brother?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Hmm. Well, I must say you do look a bit sickly. I understood from Lord Hengrave that you were a strong boy with a taste for sports.'

‘He is, sir,' said Charlie quickly. ‘He's stronger than he looks.'

‘We'll see, we'll see. It's most irregular not to have a boy in the College Dormitory in his first year. I always think it's better for all concerned that the house dame keeps an eye on the young ones.'

‘I'll keep an eye on him, sir,' said Charlie.

‘That's what I'm afraid of, Hengrave. You share a set with Avon, don't you?'

‘Yes, sir. Avon's offered to be my brother's substance.' (Charlie had explained to me that every new boy, or ‘shadow', had to have a ‘substance', or older boy, to sponsor him.)

‘Not ideal, not ideal at all. You both have a talent for mischief. I wouldn't want your younger brother to come under bad influences in his first term.'

‘We promise to behave, sir.'

‘I'll be watching you very closely to see that you do. Hurry along then. Show your brother where he's to go. You've missed enough lessons this morning as it is.'

‘Yes, sir.'

Charlie towed me outside to where an anxious Frank was waiting.

‘Well?' he asked.

‘He bought it. Tom Cat's in. We're to take him to his form immediately.'

Frank seized my other elbow and they marched me briskly across the quad. The bells of Westminster Abbey began to strike the hour – eleven o'clock. In the space of five hours I had become a boy, been dressed in Frank's old clothes, smuggled out, arrived back aboard a carriage loaned from the Avon stables and now enrolled in the Lower Form as the Honorable Thomas Hengrave. And all because I had told some old farts to go to hell.

‘You're doing well,' whispered Charlie in my ear. ‘Just remember not to twiddle your hair.'

‘Sorry.'

‘And don't cross your ankles,' added Frank.

‘Sorry.' Was there anything else I had to remember?

‘How's your Latin?' asked Charlie.

‘Non-existent.'

‘Well, you might find the next class a bit tough then. Mama will dismiss the tutor when she hears how poorly he's prepared you for school.'

‘I want to go home,' I moaned as they pulled me through a high arched doorway.

‘No you don't. Even Latin is better than a lock-up,' said Frank cheerfully.

‘Just don't do anything to earn the cane, will you, Cat? I'm not sure our plot would survive that,' Charlie said with a frown.

‘Sit quiet, try hard, and you've nothing to fear. We'll see you after lessons,' Frank concluded. ‘Oh, and give this to the usher – it's his fee.' He pressed a guinea into my hand and pushed me through a door.

It opened on to a vaulted room full of boys sitting in rows, heads bent over slates. They looked up on our entrance. I gulped.

‘Yes?' enquired the master, a young, tired-looking
man with straw-coloured hair, dressed in a long black gown.

‘Mr Castleton, my brother Thomas has arrived at last,' said Charlie, pushing me forward.

‘The younger Hengrave? Ah yes, we've been expecting you since September. Quite recovered now from your indisposition?' I nodded and handed him the guinea as prompted by Frank. ‘Good, good. You can sit next to Ingels at the front here until we know where to put you in the class ranking.' He pointed to a space beside a fat boy with dull eyes. I sat down, crossed my ankles and quickly uncrossed them again. Charlie and Frank gave me a last look and ducked out of the room. ‘We're translating a passage from Horace as you can see, Hengrave.'

I looked up. On the blackboard was a verse – I could tell that from the arrangement – but I could not read a single word.

‘Carry on, Richmond.'

A small boy with dark hair and olive skin began to drone on, turning this impenetrable
stuff into something resembling English. He stumbled over a word.

‘Come on, Richmond, you should know that one.
Amor
– we did the declension last week. Surely even you remember that?'

‘Er . . . hope?' guessed the boy vaguely.

‘Ingels?'

My neighbour shuffled. ‘Cheese?' he tried. A ripple of laughter passed across the room. I couldn't help joining in.

‘Cheese? Cheese!' cried the master in despair. ‘Your thoughts are on your dinner, not your lesson, Ingels. I despair of you. What about you, Hengrave? Save me from these imbeciles.'

My laughter died. All eyes turned to me. I wondered if they'd noticed that there was something very odd about their new classmate. It seemed all too obvious to me. I felt as if I had a big arrow suspended over my head emblazoned ‘Girl!'

‘Boy, I asked you a question.' Mr Castleton picked up a thin cane on his desk and began to swish it against his leg.

Reminded of Charlie's warning about beatings, I wrestled my mind round to the problem before me.
Amor
,
amor
. I knew a French word very like that.

‘Love?' I hazarded.

‘Exactly.' He tapped the board with his cane. ‘
Amor
means love. Thank goodness someone has something between their ears. Carry on, Richmond.'

My luck was holding. My complete ignorance of Latin had been hidden for one lesson. If Charlie and Frank gave me some intensive tutoring, I began to hope that I might just be able to fool my teachers for a week or two.

The class was dismissed at midday. As the Abbey bells tolled the hour, I followed the boys outside into the green space of the Dean's Yard, wondering where I was to go next.

‘Love? Love? What sort of nan boy would know that kind of stuff?' someone sneered as I passed two boys slouching in the winter sunshine. It was Richmond with Ingels beside him.
I walked on, trying to remember to stride rather than take small steps as I usually did in skirts.

‘He looks like a nan boy, doesn't he, Ingels?'

‘Yeah, just like a girl.'

It was no good. I'd have to stop or they'd next be shouting ‘girl' – and that was an idea I did not want planted in anyone's head.

‘Who are you calling a nan boy?' I challenged, clenching my fists.

‘Pretty boy getting in a temper, is he?' said Richmond, squaring up to me. ‘New boy not know his place? Still, they're all nan boys in Dame Clough's – not like us in Ottley's.'

It seemed he was talking about some Westminster boy rivalry between the boarding houses. I had no idea what a real boy would do in this situation. I had to guess.

‘Call me that again and I'll thrash you,' I said, raising my fists in a boxing stance as I'd seen boys do.

‘I'd like to see you try,' laughed Richmond, adding, ‘nan boy.'

That was it. I had no choice, Reader. I thumped him as hard as I could, remembering to follow through with a hook from my left as Syd had taught me. Richmond went down, but I then found Ingels jumping me from behind. I hadn't planned on that. I went down with him and we all ended up in a confused scrap on the ground, with me taking an elbow in the eye.

‘Leave him alone!' Someone yanked Ingels off me. ‘Are you all right, Ca . . . Tom?' I was pulled to my feet and saw Frank and Charlie standing beside me, glaring furiously. Charlie sent Richmond packing with a kick up the backside. ‘Lay off my brother, Richmond, or you'll be sorry. And you, Fatty!'

‘He started it!' moaned Richmond as he limped away. Charlie and Frank looked at me in surprise.

‘Damn it, Cat, your nose is bleeding – and your eye!' hissed Frank, tucking me under his arm. ‘I told you not to get into trouble!'

‘But they called me a girl!' I protested. ‘And
insulted Clough's! I thought that's what a boy would do.'