Julius and the Soulcatcher (11 page)

Julius lip trembled. He clenched his jaw.

Tock put the diary into his coat pocket and pulled a small wooden box from his inside pocket. ‘Good night,' he said, and he leaned over the candle stub and blew it out.

Julius's heart jumped in his chest. Tock's eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.

‘If we meet again,' said Tock, ‘you will be sorry.' He turned away and walked through the curtain into the parlour.

Where's he going, Higgins?

Julius heard the tinkle of glass breaking—it was something delicate. He tried to think what it would be. They did not have any dainty glass ornaments. He snatched Harrison's diary from the floor and hid it inside his coat. His knees trembled as he went to the curtain and pulled it open an inch.

The parlour was dark. He strained to see any movement. All was still. After a few moments' hesitation he lit the candle stub.

The parlour was empty but something caught his eye. On the wall next to the fireplace, vapour was rising from a damp patch the size of a dinner plate. Julius stepped closer. An acrid odour made his nose twitch. As he drew nearer, the damp patch diminished, until it disappeared completely. On the floor beneath it were tiny shards of broken glass.

Julius put his hand on the wall. It was warm.

Tock went through the wall, Higgins. But how? And where did he go?

Julius sat in his fireside chair and stared at the wall, half wondering if Tock would return. After a few minutes he took Harrison's diary out. Surely there would be something is in about how to summon the Watchmakers. All he saw was page after page of tiny writing, intricate diagrams, and row upon row of mathematical calculations. His eyelids became heavy and the page before him began to blur. He fought to keep his eyes open, but in a few seconds he was asleep.

Julius woke to the sound of someone hammering on the shop door. He looked around the parlour trying to remember why he had fallen asleep in front of the fire. The pounding continued.

Then he remembered.

Tock came to call, Higgins.

He looked at the curtain covering the doorway to the shop. Had Tock come back? Was he angry with him for bolting the door?

The hammering continued.

Julius pulled the curtain aside. A crowd of men were peering in through the window.

What the bloody hell's happening, Higgins?

‘There he is. I see him,' shouted one of the men. ‘Open up, Higgins, damn you, we haven't got all day,' called another. The pounding increased in urgency.

Of course! It's Saturday morning, Higgins

For as long as Julius could remember Saturday mornings at Higgins' Booksellers involved a profitable few hours of pandemonium when his grandfather's most avid and demanding customers came to collect their orders. The shop usually opened at ten sharp. Julius looked at the clock. It was three minutes past and the door remained locked, hence the near-riot on Ironmonger Lane.

Julius let the curtain fall.

Why hasn't Grandfather opened the shop, Higgins?

‘Grandfather. Grandfather,' he called up the stairs.

No reply came. Julius ran up the stairs two at a time. He knocked on his grandfather's bedroom door and opened it. The room was empty and the bed had not been slept in.

Grandfather?

‘Open up, Higgins. Open up,' came the shouts from outside.

Julius ran down the stairs and into the shop. The front door was shaking under the blows of the customers. Without any time to think, he unlocked and unbolted the door. Cheers rang out in Ironmonger Lane.

Julius was going to tell everyone that the shop
would be closed for the day, but he was lifted up and carried back inside by a tidal wave of kid-gloves, walking canes and literary periodicals. He only just managed to slip behind the counter.

Three hours later the last customer had been served. Julius slid the bolt on the front door and leaned against it, enjoying the stillness of the empty shop. He closed his eyes and considered letting himself fall asleep where he stood. But then he remembered.

Where's grandfather, Higgins?

As his mind began to churn, there was a knock at the door.

‘We're closed,' said Julius, without moving.

The knocking persisted.

Julius spun around and shouted through the frosted glass. ‘I said, we're closed.'

‘Oi, 'iggins,' came the reply. ‘Let me in.'

It was Emily.

‘What do you want?' he said, recalling her murderous expression in the kitchen the day before.

‘To come in. It's freezing out 'ere.'

He looked at her outline through the frosted glass. A sudden rush of resentment made him want to shout at her to go away and never come back. Immediately he felt ashamed of himself.

If Mr Flynn wants a daughter why shouldn't he have one, Higgins?

He tried to push the feelings down.

‘I'm busy,' he said. ‘Come back later.'

‘Let me in, 'iggins. You want me to get frostbite?'

Julius leaned his forehead on the frosted glass and closed his eyes. He missed liking Emily. He sighed and opened the door.

Emily stood there in her bonnet and fur-lined cap. Her purse hung from her wrist. She smiled. ‘'ello, 'iggins.'

‘Hello.'

She walked in without being asked and stood at the counter like a customer. ‘Wot's wrong? You get no sleep? You look terrible.'

‘Thank you,' said Julius.

‘'ow did everyfing go yesterday?' she said.

Julius bolted the door. ‘We found the two bruisers' hideout. Mr Flynn knows them, They're Rapple and Baines.'

‘And? Wot 'appened?'

‘Tock was there. There were rats in cages, and orchids. Like the one Tock gave us. They're called soulcatchers, and there was a large metal thing,' said Julius.

‘Ace. Start talking,' said Emily. ‘Why's it called a soulcatcher?'

‘Darwin said the native people believed it trapped their souls.'

‘How?'

‘I don't know,' said Julius. ‘I'm sorry about Mr Flynn finding out about you stealing the diary. He guessed. But I told him that you were available.'

‘Ace,' said Emily. ‘Wot did 'e say?'

Julius remembered the drawing of the native girl.

‘Wot's wrong, 'iggins?' said Emily.

‘Er, nothing,' said Julius. Tock was looking for her. She seemed so small. What if Baines had cut her hand off ? What else might they do to her?

‘You look like you've seen a debt collector, 'iggins.'

‘No. It's nothing. I was just…' Julius shook his thoughts away. ‘You're not vexed with me then?'

‘Vexed? Me? No. Well, maybe a bit,' said Emily. ‘Clara says it's best to be agreeable to people. She says you gets more from the world if you're civil to it than if you knock it on the 'ead wiv a pickaxe handle. So I'm giving it a try. I'm not promising naffing, mind.'

‘No,' said Julius. ‘Of course not.'

‘Clara's ace,' said Emily, ignoring Julius's sarcasm. ‘If I could pick someone to be my ma I reckon I'd pick 'er.'

Julius felt a quiver of anger arising.

You've got a brand new father, isn't that enough?

He walked into the parlour and fell into his chair. Emily followed. She looked around and sniffed.

‘Not bad,' she said. ‘Could do wiv a woman's touch.'

Julius considered putting a few coals on the fire, but he was too tired to move.

‘You made an impression on 'er,' said Emily.

‘On who?'

‘On Clara. She was asking all about you. Me and 'er spent the 'ole bleeding day scrubbing that bleeding kitchen. Look at my 'ands now, red raw. That's slave labour, that is. I'm only a little girl. I've a good mind to report—Oi, 'iggins, try and stay awake when I'm talking to you.'

‘Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night. And grandfather's gone somewhere so I was working in the shop all morning.'

‘Where's 'e gone?'

‘I don't know.'

Julius looked at the dying fire. He clutched the pocketwatch to stem the fear rising up inside him.

Where is he, Higgins? What has Tock done?

He winced when he thought of Tock smashing Abigail's creature.

‘Wot's that?' said Emily. She sat on the arm on his chair.

‘What?' Julius looked at his hand. He was holding the pocketwatch.

‘That's the one the professor used, ain't it, 'iggins,' she said. ‘The one to get the Watchmakers.'

‘Er…yes, it is,' said Julius.

He noticed Harrison's diary half hidden down the
side of the chair. He tried to recall how he came to have the pocketwatch in his hand. Then he remembered.

You stole it, Higgins.

‘Wot's wrong, 'iggins? You all right?' said Emily.

‘Me? Yes. I'm fine.'

How could you be so stupid?

He pictured himself handing the key back to Mr Flynn.

Emily could pick Mr Flynn's pocket. She'd do it if you asked her, Higgins. Then you could put it back.

‘Wot's wrong, 'iggins?'

We could put the pocketwatch back and Mr Flynn would never know. Emily could put the key back in his pocket.

‘Nothing's wrong.'

‘Don't look like it to me,' said Emily. ‘Are you in trouble, 'iggins?'

‘Tock was here last night, in the shop.'

‘Wot did 'e want?'

‘He wanted to know who had the orchid.'

‘You didn't tell 'im did you?'

‘No. He was here earlier, too. Apparently grandfather told him he gave it to a customer.'

‘Good old Mr 'iggins. I knew 'e wouldn't shop me,' said Emily. ‘So where's Mr 'iggins?'

‘That's just it. I don't know.'

Julius held up the pocketwatch. Its presence reassured him. It was almost like having Mr Flynn in the parlour with them. The tick-tock tickled the palm of
his hand. Julius concentrated for a moment. Was the ticking growing stronger?

He picked up Harrison's diary and flicked through it, but he put it aside again and sighed.

You'll be studying that for years before you understand anything, Higgins.

‘Anyway, 'iggins,' said Emily. ‘You don't 'ave no ma, do you?'

‘No. She died when I was born.'

‘Cos I was finking…'

‘Thinking what?'

‘Wot if she wasn't, you know…dead?'

‘What are you talking about?'

‘Oh, 'iggins,' said Emily, with exasperation. ‘It's as plain as the snot up your nose.'

‘What is?'

‘That Clara's your ma. She even looks like you, in the right light.'

‘That's nonsense.'

‘Suit yourself.'

Julius looked at the watch face. It seemed to glow slightly.

‘Did you see that?' he said.

‘See wot?'

‘Nothing.'

Julius stared at the pocketwatch, willing it to glow again. Something shifted. He could feel cogs and wheels interlocking in his mind. For just a moment he
imagined he understood the whole mechanism all at once, in a way that words could never explain.

‘'iggins?' said Emily.

The pocketwatch jolted and rose above his hand. It hung bobbing in the air an inch above his palm.

Emily's eyes widened. ‘Did you do that, 'iggins?'

‘I think so. I'm not really sure.'

‘Make it do somefing else.'

Julius let all his thoughts fall away. He wanted to be aware of only the pocketwatch, nothing else.

The watch face opened into concentric circles.

‘Cor,' said Emily.

Then the watch expanded into the shape of a cone and the inner workings were in plain view. The interlocking cogs and wheels were spinning smoothly, not in the usual stop-start motion of a watch. The pocketwatch rose higher above Julius's hand and the underside stretched down into a cone too. The ticktock was replaced by a myriad of ticks and clicks that sounded like a swarm of crickets having a discussion.