Julius and the Soulcatcher (19 page)

Saturday 20th January 1838

9:12 PM

Darwin led Julius and Mr Flynn through the gas-lit corridors of Bedlam. The whole of Julius's body was shaking as he walked. He gripped the pocketwatch, trying to concentrate on its constant rhythm. He hunched his shoulders to make it look as if he was shivering from the cold.

When they came to a door Darwin selected a key from a key ring and turned it in the lock.

‘Do not be alarmed,' he said. ‘The lunatics cannot get out.' He locked the door after them. Another corridor stretched ahead. Julius and Mr Flynn exchanged a glance then followed Darwin past padlocked doors, each bearing a piece of card with a name inscribed on it.

Conspiratorial whispers wafted around them as they walked on. Someone cackled. Julius jumped. He felt Mr Flynn's hand on his shoulder.

‘It is a lamentable place, sir,' said Mr Flynn to Darwin's back.

Darwin did not reply. At the end of the corridor he turned to them. His face had grown pale and drawn in the short journey. ‘Forgive me,' he said. ‘These corridors fill my nightmares. We are nearly there.'

At a large steel-plated door he fumbled with the key ring, searching for the correct key.

‘Do you have your own keys, sir?' said Mr Flynn.

Darwin found the one he wanted. ‘Yes,' he said. ‘Bedlam's Governor, Lord Bloomingbury, is an orchid collector. His Lordship understands the danger of the soulcatcher and has given me every assistance.'

‘With what, sir?' said Julius. His voice trembled a little.

Darwin unlocked the door. ‘You will see,' he said.

Julius and Mr Flynn followed him through the door and Darwin locked it behind them. There were three other doors off the empty room, one on each wall. All were made of steel and each one had a rectangular hatch at head height.

‘This is where Bedlam keeps its most dangerous inmates,' said Darwin.

Darwin turned down the gas lights a little, and then went to the closest door. He fidgeted with his
lapel again as if trying to compose himself.

‘There's no name on the door,' said Julius.

‘Skinner's presence is a secret. He is the patient with no name,' said Darwin. He unlocked the padlock on the hatch.

When it opened, Julius coughed at the musky odour that emanated. Mr Flynn held a handkerchief to his nose.

‘Mr Skinner,' said Darwin. ‘Mr Skinner. I have water for you.'

Darwin filled a glass from a bottle on the floor. He clinked the bottle against the glass.

Julius stared through the hatch into the dark cell. Something large slithered along the floor. Then there was a low rustle, almost like a moan.

‘Mr Skinner,' said Darwin. He tapped the bottle and glass together again.

Something hit the steel door on the other side. Julius jumped. He wanted to run away, but all the doors were locked. A stifled moan came though the hatch.

Julius felt Mr Flynn's hand tighten on his shoulder.

A man's face appeared at the hatch.

Julius jolted, falling back against Mr Flynn.

Wide bloodshot eyes stared out at them. Soulcatchers with flowers of pale orange and brown dry stems grew from the man's nose and mouth. They surrounded his face and entwined themselves in his
long hair and beard. The man's fingers clasped the bottom edge of the hatch. His nails were black and cracked. Tendrils clasped at the sides of the hatch too, with languid movements.

Darwin held up the glass. The meagre gaslight shone through it. Skinner stared as if it was the elixir of life. His hand reached out and his fingers gently wrapped themselves around the glass. Then he carefully pulled it towards the hatch then stepped back and tilted his head. The water almost babbled as, with great care, he let it trickle into his mouth. He ignored the tendrils flicking about his face as if trying to lap up some of the water.

When he was finished, Skinner ran his tongue around his cracked lips and smiled, revealing his black teeth and bleeding gums. His eyes were still wide and staring as he reached out to return the glass.

‘Thank you, Mr Skinner,' said Darwin.

‘What's going on?' asked Mr Flynn. ‘Why is this man locked away in the dark?' Julius could hear suppressed anger in his voice.

‘I am trying to save his life,' said Darwin. ‘And his mind.'

‘How?' said Julius.

‘All plants need light to survive,' said Mr Flynn. ‘I hope to kill the soulcatcher by denying it that. It appears to be working.'

‘And what of the poor wretch?' said Mr Flynn.

Darwin filled the glass again and gave it to Skinner.

‘Mr Skinner is completely mad,' he said. ‘It is the soulcatcher's doing. First the soulcatcher gives its host beautiful dreams, then the madness that you see before you. Finally—if what the Brazilian natives believe is correct—it will steal his soul.'

‘How did Skinner come to be here?' said Julius.

Darwin stared at Skinner's face. Skinner was watching them as if they were the exhibit, not him.

‘Six years ago Skinner tried to plant the soulcatcher's seeds into my blood. He meant to bring me back to England and make his fortune, with the most exotic orchid in the world.'

‘What happened?' said Mr Flynn.

‘The oddest thing,' said Darwin. ‘Two native children came to my rescue. In the scuffle it was Skinner who was seeded. I banished him to the island where the soulcatchers grew. The deadly waters there make it a natural prison.'

‘So he got away?' said Julius.

‘Yes. A year or so later he was found floating along the river in a makeshift raft. The soulcatcher flowers had not begun to show, but he was already becoming unhinged. He was half dead from starvation and the blazing sun. The Missionary Society paid for his passage home and he was brought straight here. Then the orchids began to grow. I have been monitoring the soulcatcher's progress—and Skinner's—ever since.

‘I think I've seen enough,' said Mr Flynn.

‘You understand now?' asked Darwin.

‘I'm sorry to say I do,' said Mr Flynn. ‘We have to stop Tock before he does this to anyone else.'

Outside the gates of Bedlam the freezing fog nipped at their cheeks and noses. Julius, Darwin and Mr Flynn walked for a time, each in his own thoughts.

Julius breathed the cold air, like a newly released prisoner. When he thought of Skinner he felt ashamed of the relief he was feeling. The present was unchanged. Had he and Emily done the right thing after all? But still, he had to tell Mr Flynn what he had done.

‘I was going to suggest that you lodge with me, sir,' said Mr Flynn. ‘At least for this evening. Your own lodgings are less that inviting at present. It might be safer too.'

‘That is most kind,' said Darwin.

They walked through the dark streets. Julius clutched the pocketwatch. How many more lies would he pile up around him before he confessed? Emily's blank face stared at Julius in his mind. She hated him now. Would she tell Mr Flynn about the time-jump before he summoned the courage to do it himself ?

‘You're very quiet,' said Mr Flynn.

‘I'm tired,' said Julius.

Mr Flynn lingered, looking down at Julius while Darwin stood under a gaslight nearby, holding his coat tightly about himself.

‘Is anything the matter?' he said, quietly.

‘Me and Emily fell out. But she didn't get angry—it was as if she switched off something inside her. She stared at me as if she didn't care about anything.'

It was too dark to see Mr Flynn's eyes, but Julius knew he was looking at him.

‘She's had a hard life, Julius. Harder than you or I could imagine.'

Julius hung his head. Mr Flynn's words were kindly meant but they stung him hard.

‘Tell her you're sorry. And don't take long about it,' he said.

‘Yes,' said Julius.

‘Mr Darwin and I will check on Tock's lair first thing,' he said. ‘We'll let you know how we fare.'

Julius waved across the street to Darwin and walked along Ironmonger Lane.

You can tell Mr Flynn everything tomorrow, Higgins
.

He slipped through the bookshop door without letting it ring the bell. A crack of dim light under the curtain, told him that his grandfather was still up.

In the parlour, the fire was burning low. Mr Higgins was asleep in his chair with a book open across his chest. The clock on the mantel showed it was close to midnight.

Julius unbuttoned his coat and sat in his chair, suddenly realising how exhausted he was. He took the poker from the stand and dug it into the dying coals to coax out the last of their warmth.

‘What, where…?' said Mr Higgins, jolting awake.

Julius slumped back in his chair.

‘Ah, young Caesar,' he said. Then he remembered the terms of their parting earlier. He adjusted his glasses uneasily.

Julius kept his eyes on the fire.

Mr Higgins cleared his throat. ‘Been out and about, young Caesar?' he said.

‘Yes.'

Mr Higgins righted his book and pretended to read.

‘I'm going to bed,' said Julius. ‘Mr Flynn will be calling early. I'm going to spend the day with him.'

‘As you wish.'

Julius rose. Mr Higgins cleared his throat again and turned a page with exaggerated care. Julius stopped at the foot of the stairs.

‘You've seen her, I take it?' said his grandfather. ‘Your mother, I mean.'

The stairs led up to darkness.

‘Yes.'

Mr Higgins sniffed. ‘How is she?'

‘She works as a maid at Emily's school. She's fine.' Julius waited for his grandfather to speak again,
though he did not know what he wanted to hear.

He realised he had forgotten to put some coals into the warming pan for his bed, but he could not bring himself to turn back to get them.

‘Will you be seeing her again?' asked his grandfather, with the same disinterested tone, as if he was asking whether Julius would be combing his hair tomorrow.

‘No,' he replied.

Another page turned. Julius waited for his grandfather to speak again, but he did not. He climbed the stairs and felt his way in the dark to his room. A little moonlight showed the black shapes of his bed and writing desk. Usually he would warm the bed with the warming pan and then undress and leap into it in a matter of seconds.

But now he stood, wrapped in the dark silence, wondering if it would tell him why his life was suddenly so confusing and sad.

He stood there for a long time, but no answer came.

The next morning Julius sat at the top of the stairs, listening to his grandfather pottering about below. When hunger finally drove him down to the parlour he found his grandfather setting the breakfast table.
His jacket was crumpled. Julius suspected he had spent the night in his fireside chair.

‘Porridge is pickling, young Caesar,' said Mr Higgins. It was the same joke every morning when porridge was on the menu. ‘Sit down, sit down. You'll be needing a good breakfast if you're to be out with Mr Flynn.'

Mr Higgins disappeared into the kitchen. Julius heard sounds of porridge plopping into bowls and the grinding open of the range door as the bread rolls were taken out. Although Sunday breakfast was always more elaborate than other days, his grandfather had outdone himself this morning. Three preserve pots and a jar of honey stood next to the teapot and there was a plate of sliced ham next to the butter dish.

Julius sat down, and his grandfather placed a bowl containing more porridge than he could eat in front of him.

‘Sleep well?' asked Mr Higgins.

‘Yes, thank you. And you?' said Julius.

‘Yes, very well.'

The stiff politeness made Julius cringe.

Mr Higgins poured tea for them both and sat down to his own bowl of porridge. Julius passed the honey, catching his grandfather's eye for a moment. His grandfather stirred his tea and clinked the spoon twice on the side making it ring like a bell.

‘Put it behind you, that's my advice,' said Mr
Higgins. He spooned more honey onto his porridge, avoiding Julius's eyes.