Cat Among the Pigeons (15 page)

‘Very funny, I don't think,' I said, trying to get up.

Four or five other boys came to sit around us, all grinning at me. I didn't know them, but I recognized Richmond's set – all sons of plantation owners who knew each other from the West Indies. It seemed that Richmond had succeeded in finding himself a place in the school pecking order: at the head of a group of fellow bullies who liked persecuting runty shadows from rival boarding houses, namely yours truly.

‘I hear you and your brother are upset over the disappearance of a certain negro,' said Richmond loudly, spraying me with porridge from his mouth.

‘What makes you think that?' I asked as calmly as I could muster.

‘Oh, Ingels here heard the commotion in the lodge yesterday when the news broke. Had your sister in a fit of the vapours, he said, screaming and crying like a baby. Now I know where you get it from.'

‘You leave my sister out of this,' I said, standing and making to leave. Richmond gave a nod to his friends and they rose as one to follow me. If life in Covent Garden has taught me one thing, it is to recognize a gang when I see it. I started to stride quickly, heading towards the Lower Form classroom where I hoped they dare not pursue me.

‘You know, Hengrave, I really am interested in seeing what you were looking at,' said Richmond, catching me up and taking my arm. I shook him off and broke into a run. I could hear the thunder of feet behind me. I took a sharp left, then a right, trying to lose them, but they were on my scent like a pack of hounds. What should I do? At home, I would've known every alleyway, every house, and would've given them the slip easily; here I was on foreign territory. I ducked round the corner of a building and saw a door immediately ahead of me at the end of a narrow passage. I ran straight for it, but it was locked. I turned back. My
enemies were massed in front of me, blocking my exit. I was trapped.

‘Nowhere to go, eh, Hengrave?' said Richmond, sauntering up to me, his face alight with malice. Away from his plantation, he must have missed having someone to persecute and was making up for lost time. ‘Now hand over whatever it was you were looking at.'

Blank windows looked down on the blind alley I had turned into. No friendly face from Clough's appeared above to come to my rescue. There seemed no point in resisting. It was only a piece of pottery after all. I unclenched my fist and held it out on my palm. Richmond bent down to take a closer look and let out a howl of laughter.

‘“Am I not a man and a brother?” – well, not you, Hengrave, you nan boy.' He slapped my hand away and turned to his followers. ‘Gentlemen, we have an abolitionist in our midst. And what do we think of that crew?'

‘Dirty thieves!' grunted one.

‘And do you know what this thief called me
on Sunday? A name so foul I'd blush to repeat it.' Richmond raised his eyes heavenwards in mock piety. ‘What do we do to foul-mouthed little boys in our school, just as we do to runaway slaves at home?'

‘Teach them a lesson. Make them eat dirt!' said a freckle-faced boy twice my height.

‘That's right.' ‘Let him have what's coming to him!' The chorus of voices swelled around me.

My heart was racing. I couldn't take them all on. Even Syd's emergency manoeuvre would not help me.

‘Kneel, Hengrave,' commanded Richmond.

‘W-what?' I stammered, fearing my legs would give way at any moment in any case.

‘Like the negro on this piece of rubbish. Kneel to your masters.'

That stiffened my sinews if nothing else could.

‘I'd rather kiss a monkey's bum than kneel to you.'

‘My, my, you do have a colourful turn of phrase, don't you, Hengrave? I think we should
make an example of you, just as will be done to that negro boy when his rightful master gets him back home. It'll teach others of your persuasion that spreading the poison of the abolition will not go unpunished.'

‘No, don't . . . please.' I held out my hands in front of me to ward him off. It cost me to beg anything from him but I had no choice.

‘Then kneel.'

Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, I sank to my knees, hoping this would satisfy him. But he hadn't finished with me: he'd only just started. Fixing his eyes on mine, he grabbed a handful of mud and rubbed it into my mouth, gripping the back of my neck as I struggled against him. The other boys cheered.

‘That's better,' he said, wiping his hands on my jacket. ‘Now you know who's master here.' Trembling with fury, I spat at his feet. ‘Not yet learned your lesson? Take this, you dog!' He aimed a kick, catching me in the stomach. I instinctively curled up into a ball, my hands
protecting my head, as the others joined in, treating me like – well, like one of their slaves. Pain flashed through me again and again. I probably screamed but I can't remember much more – except that the kicks stopped as suddenly as they had started when a voice thundered overhead:

‘Stop that this instant! Leave that boy alone!' My persecutors fled as the locked door was flung open from inside and I saw a pair of boots inches from my face. Mr Castleton bent down.

‘Good God, is that you, Hengrave?' The thought fluttered in my mind that this was a stupid question really in the circumstances and it was one that I did not answer as I blacked out.

I awoke and found myself lying on an unfamiliar bed in a room with a high ceiling. The air was cold and fresh. Someone was taking my boots off.

‘Back with us? That's good.' A woman in an apron and cap was smiling at me from the far end of the bed: it was Mrs Clough, dame of my
house and the person I had been trying to avoid since my first day.

‘What happened? What am I doing here?' I asked groggily.

‘I'd say you were set upon by some bullies. I see it all the time. Little chaps like you always seem to bear the brunt of it. Mr Castleton found you and carried you in here. He told me you weigh no more than a feather. Looks as though you've not been eating well, young man.' She wagged a finger at me.

‘I've been ill,' I said, remembering my family history.

‘That explains it, poor lamb. Now tell me, do you think anything's broken? Your nose looks undamaged – that's usually the first thing to go on these occasions.'

In a fog of pain, I moved my arms and legs on her instructions. They hurt like fury but were in working order.

‘You'll live, Hengrave,' she said with a nod that set the ribbons on her cap dancing. ‘Now,
let's see to those bruises. I've got some wolfsbane which will sort them out in no time. It'll draw out the bruises. Take off your shirt.'

I sat up in more of a hurry than was wise, almost blacking out again with the pain. ‘No, I don't need it,' I said hastily.

‘Come, come, boy, no need to be shy. I've seen hundreds of boys in the flesh.'

Not like me, she hadn't.

‘No, really, if you'll just let me get back to my rooms, I'll be all right.'

‘Don't be a fool, Hengrave. You're not going anywhere for the rest of the day. Now take off your shirt.'

A door banged open at the far end of the room and Charlie galloped into sight.

‘Mrs Clough, how's my brother?' he asked, giving me a desperate look.

‘Well, he's just had what you barbarian boys call a good kicking, but he'll live. He's now refusing to let me put some wolfsbane on his bruises. How he expects to get better if he won't take his
medicine, I don't know. Tell him to take his shirt off like a good boy, will you?'

Charlie quickly grasped my predicament.

‘He's very shy, Mrs Clough. It'll be torture for him to do that in front of you. What needs doing?'

‘All I want to do is rub some ointment on his bruises.' She took another look at my shocked face. ‘But I don't want to make him suffer any more today, so you do it for me, Hengrave.' She put a jar in his hand. ‘I'll leave you in peace so that his delicate sensibilities are not offended by the presence of a female.' She tutted and left the room.

Silence fell. I could hear the bustle of the school beyond the peaceful sanatorium. Boys were calling to each other as they went to the first lesson. Charlie held the jar gingerly as if it might explode at any moment. Our situation suddenly struck me as being so absurd it was funny. Mrs Clough thought I had an aversion to females! I began to giggle hysterically but stopped as my ribs ached.

‘Who was it, Cat?' Charlie asked. His voice was taut with suppressed anger.

‘Richmond and his planter friends from Ottley's. Teaching me a lesson about abolition.' I winced. ‘Are you going to pass me that ointment then?' He handed it to me wordlessly. ‘Turn your back, please.' I took a scoop from the jar and began to rub my battered body. They had certainly been thorough. I couldn't reach my shoulder blades which had taken the brunt of the attack. ‘Er, Charlie, would you mind helping your little brother rub this on his back?'

He blushed as red as I did. ‘Of course. I'll keep my eyes closed.' He swiftly applied the wolfsbane. Neither of us spoke, but finally Charlie burst out, ‘I'm going to beat Richmond into a pulp when I see him.'

‘What good will that do?' I asked, feeling tired of this whole charade. More than anything I wanted to be back among my own people – back at Drury Lane.

‘Well, it'll make me feel a lot better for a start.'

Mrs Clough bustled back in. ‘Now get yourself into that bed, Hengrave. I want to keep you here until I'm happy you'll not black out again.'

‘Cat . . . my brother was kicked unconscious?' asked Charlie, his knuckles white as he gripped the jar.

‘Yes, dear, but he'll be all right now with me to look after him. Run along to lessons. You can come back later to check on him.' She handed me a nightshirt and left the room.

‘Right, that's it. This is war,' Charlie declared in a hiss as he stood with his back to me, his shoulders quivering with rage. ‘Those slavers won't know what's hit them.'

‘Charlie, don't. They're not worth it,' I whispered hoarsely.

‘But you are,' he said, leaving the room abruptly.

I put the nightshirt over my breeches and got into bed. The wolfsbane did indeed have a soothing effect on my bruises and I fell asleep, dreaming
the morning away. I only woke up when someone touched my arm gently. Fearing it was Mrs Clough coming to apply the ointment again, I sat up quickly, gathering the sheets around me.

‘Don't worry, Cat, it's only me,' said Frank, not quite meeting my eyes. He looked tired. ‘And I've brought you a visitor.'

I turned to find the Duchess of Avon sitting at my bedside.

‘Oh no.' I collapsed back on the pillow. So it had all come out then.

The duchess leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. ‘Don't be alarmed, Master Tom Cat, I've heard all about it from Frank and Lizzie. I assure you that I have no interest in interfering with your decision to – how shall we put it? – play a breeches role for a few weeks. I merely came to bring back Frank and leave the items you requested – and perhaps catch sight of you in your new guise. But when we arrived, we learned you had ended up here, so I changed my role as messenger into that of sick bed
visitor. I hope that is not unwelcome?'

I shook my head and flinched with the pain. Frank, failing to disguise his outrage at finding me like this, took to striding up and down the room.

‘Is there any news?' I asked.

‘Of your little African friend? No, I'm sorry to say,' said the duchess softly.

‘Nothing?' I turned to Frank.

‘We've looked everywhere in Covent Garden,' said Frank. ‘He's not there. Syd's spoken to the boys from Billingsgate and they're searching the port. So far, no news. All we know is that Pedro stayed at home all day and the only visitors to the house were a blind piano tuner and his assistant at four in the afternoon. Pedro met them and showed them into the music room. According to the maid, these two showed themselves out later when they'd finished. We're trying to find them because it sounds as if they were the last people to see Pedro. Joe ‘The Card' thinks he knows where the blind man lives. Somewhere near Seven Dials, he says, so we have to tread carefully.'

Seven Dials – that was in an area known as the Rookeries, Billy Shepherd's patch, the haunt of thieves, beggars and vagrants. I was sceptical that even Joe would find the blind man if he thought it in his interests to vanish for a while. Then something Richmond had said before the kicking came back to me. ‘One of the boys that attacked me seemed to know a lot about Pedro. He said that Pedro's old master was planning to get him home and make an example of him as a warning to other runaways.'

Frank stopped pacing. ‘He said that, did he? How would he know?'

‘He talked about it as if it were an open secret among the slavers. They all seem to be aware of what's planned, even if they don't know the details.'

The duchess stroked my arm. ‘It's very possible. The planters have joined forces to oppose Mr Wilberforce.'

‘I wouldn't be surprised if they were all in on it,' Frank said, running his fingers through his
hair in exasperation. ‘Pedro's become something of a test case for both sides.'

The duchess sighed heavily. ‘If the slavers can get him out of England, the laws of slavery apply once more. He's no longer a servant but a slave again, God help him.' She leant forward and smoothed my hair off my brow. ‘What are we going to do with you? Shall I see if I can get you transferred to our house so we can look after you? It would certainly save you a lot of trouble here.'

It was a very attractive offer – with only one drawback.

‘Have the runners stopped looking for me?'

‘I don't know, sweetheart. They've talked to the servants a couple of times, according to Joseph.'

‘Do you think any of them would tell on me if they knew I was in the house?'