Julius and the Soulcatcher (25 page)

Julius woke with jolt. He sat up shivering and looked at the expanse of river before him. Every cell in his
body was cold and aching, and he was hungry enough to eat a plate of Brussels sprouts.

The cloudless sky was a deep blue with a streak of lighter blue along the rooftops on the far bank. He pulled himself to his feet and climbed the steps, his sodden boots sloshing all the way. At the top he sat again. He ached to hear the raucous sounds of London. But none came. There were no horses' hooves clopping on the cobbles, no costermongers calling their wares, no ships' bells or the slamming of doors and windows.

The streets were strewn with scraps of newspaper and broken furniture, but there were fewer broken windows and damaged roofs than he had seen on the southern shore.

Julius walked along Water Lane—that would take him past St Paul's on his way to Ironmonger Lane. Flame-red soulcatchers stretched through open windows and rippled in the morning breeze

St Paul's loomed overhead. Julius walked across the churchyard. He stopped beside the statue of Queen Anne and looked up the steps to the grand columns. St Paul's seemed even more magnificent than he remembered it. It was if the cathedral was still as proud of itself as it was when people were teeming inside to marvel at it. Nothing would lessen its splendour.

Julius felt a little lighter in himself. Maybe there were some survivors?

He walked up the steps and stood among the columns. It was like he was in the cathedral's embrace, imbibing some of its eternal presence. When he touched the cold stone he felt as if the cathedral acknowledged him in some way. He felt a stone-like strength flow through him, a strength that would see him through anything.

The door was slightly ajar.

He looked inside. The early morning light shone through the cathedral's high windows and onto the soulcatchers inside.

People sat facing the Grand Organ, dotted among the rows of chairs. Their heads were thrown back with soulcatchers issuing from them. The stems and flowers spread out along the chairs, up and around the columns and up the walls.

Nothing moved.

Julius went inside. The thin, cool air held a faint perfume. He stepped quietly, almost afraid of disturbing the terrible beauty of the scene. He walked along the central aisle until he stood in a shaft of light. The hint of warmth tickled his face. He closed his eyes and felt the light on his eyelids.

A soulcatcher nearby rippled. The pale tendrils flicked out as if sniffing the air. He stepped closer to it.

The host was a woman. Her mouth stretched wide in a silent scream. Her eyes were slits from which the stems grew. Her small hands rested among the flowers
on her lap, as if she was holding a bouquet. He recognised the dress, and what was left of her face.

It was his mother.

Julius felt as if the floor had given way beneath him. He ran out the door and collided with a man standing between the columns.

CHAPTER 21

Thursday 24th September 1846

8:05 AM

Julius fell back and looked up at the tall silhouette standing before him.

‘I saw you go in,' said Mr Flynn. He leaned over and offered his hand. His face was thinner and his hair longer than the last time Julius had seen him.

‘What happened?' said Julius.

‘Come with me,' said Mr Flynn. ‘We'll talk at the top.' His expression gave nothing away as he walked into the cathedral.

Julius followed him past the soulcatchers and up the wide spiral stairs leading to the balustrade around the dome. The cool air up so high made Julius blink. Far below, the roofs of London stretched out and the Thames snaked past.

Mr Flynn kept his back to Julius. He looked out across the river. ‘I knew you'd come one day,' he said. ‘Emily told me you stole the pocketwatch. I knew you'd have used it to escape from Abigail.'

Julius clutched it in his pocket.

‘I've waited eight years for you to come,' said Mr Flynn. ‘I wanted to tell you so many things.' He sighed and lowered his head. ‘None of them seem important now.'

‘What happened?' said Julius.

‘It doesn't matter,' said Mr Flynn. ‘Tock won. He did what his planned to do. That's all you need to know.'

‘Emily?' said Julius. He voice cracked.

Mr Flynn raised his shoulders as if he was drawing a long slow breath.

‘Is she here?' said Julius.

Mr Flynn turned to face him. ‘There is one thing I'll tell you,' he said. ‘She wanted to keep it a secret, but it doesn't matter now.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘Emily thought the world of you. You didn't know that, did you?' The trace of a smile escaped from Mr Flynn's lips. ‘She'd be furious if she knew I was telling you this. Right at the beginning, she took Darwin's diary to the bookshop because she wanted to see you again.'

‘No…I didn't know,' said Julius. ‘So why did she
run away when she saw me.'

‘Because she was afraid,' said Mr Flynn.

‘Of what?'

‘Afraid of happiness, and all that guff,' said Mr Flynn. ‘She didn't trust happiness, let alone those who promised it.'

‘So she took fright,' said Julius. ‘She thought I'd end up hurting her.'

‘Yes.'

‘And I did,' said Julius. ‘I told her she wasn't wanted. I didn't mean it.'

‘I know that,' said Mr Flynn. ‘But she didn't. She pretended she didn't care, but she was lost.'

‘I tried to tell her I was sorry,' said Julius. ‘But she wouldn't listen.'

‘Of course not,' said Mr Flynn. ‘Words meant nothing. You should have shown her when you had the chance.'

‘Shown her what?'

‘That you loved her, too,' said Mr Flynn. ‘That you were on her side. No matter what.'

‘But I did. I was,' said Julius. ‘She never knew?'

Mr Flynn walked around the balustrade and stopped at the door.

‘She knew, Julius,' said Mr Flynn. ‘It just took her a long time to realise it.' Mr Flynn turned the door handle. ‘Use that pocketwatch of yours. Find yourself a new time or realm. Leave this Godforsaken place
and never come back.'

‘But there must be something we—'

‘There's nothing,' said Mr Flynn.

‘Where's Emily?'

Mr Flynn turned away. ‘Go now,' he said. ‘There's nothing here for you.'

He went through the door and down the stairs.

‘Mr Flynn,' called Julius, but he was gone.

Julius stared across the Thames. The chill made his eyes water. He felt empty, like a hollowed-out tree trunk, with only the wind whistling through him. How could he run away? How could he go away and forget all this. He stood for an hour, hardly moving. Why wouldn't Mr Flynn answer him about Emily? Was she now a soulcatcher host, like his mother?' The thought was too sad to bear, but Julius felt a murmur of gladness that Emily had forgiven him in the end.

Julius walked down the steps of St Paul's. He was going home. It was the only place he could imagine figuring out what to do next. As he walked, he tried not to look at the soulcatchers growing out through the windows. He tried not to see the dolls' houses in the toyshop window, or the trays of buttons scattered in the haberdasher's. Before he knew it he was in Ironmonger Lane.

The windows of the bookshop were broken and the door was open. Julius paused. Would he find his grandfather sitting by the fire with a soulcatcher growing from his mouth? He stepped over the threshold and into the musty odour of mould. He held the handkerchief around his neck up to his mouth. The bookshop was dank and dark. Green mould was growing on the books on the shelves. The curtain over the parlour door had fallen from its rings. He stepped over it and went through.

His grandfather's chair was empty.

Maybe he got away, Higgins.

The carpet under his boots squelched with damp. He sat in his mouldy chair and looked to where his grandfather would have sat. The fireplace was cold and water dripped from the chimney. The dark, dank parlour was a miserable parody of his home. Julius stood and walked around the table, trying to rekindle old feelings. None came. He took the glove off his good hand and when he tried to take the other one off he found the blood had glued it to his wound. He left it on. He did not want to see the gash in any case.

His eyes fell on the wall by the fireplace. That was where he and Emily had gone in search of Tock. He felt a sting inside when her name ran through is mind.

He touched the wall with his fingertips. They hadn't found Tock's realm. Instead they had found a beautiful seaside resort full of beautiful, happy
people. Perhaps he could go there? He could walk among them and think things through.

Julius stopped.
Did
they go to the wrong realm? Tock was an automaton. Why hadn't he thought of it before?

Julius took the pocketwatch out and in a surge of excitement he spun it in the air. Blue light shone when he tapped it with his finger. The pocketwatch bobbed above his open palm. Gradually the blue light grew in intensity, forming an expanding sphere that made his skin tingle.

Soon, Julius was surrounded by a dome of light. Through the wall, he saw the promenade and the beach. He could smell the sea salt and he looked up through the dome to see a cloudy sky. The lack of sunshine had taken the colour from everything. The turquoise sea was now a dull green where choppy waves jostled one another. The beach showed the scars of storm tides. Seagulls pecked along the line of debris at the high-tide mark.

Julius walked along the empty promenade.

Where is everyone, Higgins?

Then he saw the soulcatchers. They were growing through broken windows and across the walls of the houses.

Julius touched the side of the pocketwatch with his finger. Instantly the watch stopped spinning. He felt the vibration run down his finger and spread through
his body. Then the watch closed up and tumbled into his hand.

Julius was dressed as he was on his previous visit, in a pale-green summer suit, but there was something different. His clothes were soiled and creased. He looked at his injured hand to find the pocketwatch had healed it. He brushed his cheek to find his cuts had been healed too.

The sound of thousands of soulcatcher petals fluttering in the wind cut through the roar of the waves like an infernal whispering.

Julius came to Papa Putching's workshop. The painted sign was peeling and faded. The door was padlocked, so Julius peered through the window. A small automaton lay, dismantled, its parts scattered across the workbench. He could just make out the lines of shelves, and the edge of the woodstove.

A stooped figure was coming up the promenade. He stumbled against the wind, clutching a bundle to his chest. His head was down so he did not see Julius. It was the old man who had given his grandfather a cup of tea. Julius was sure of it.

The old man approached gripping his package under one arm. He fumbled through his pocket and took out a large key ring with a single key.

Julius stepped out from under the eaves. ‘Do you remember me?' he said.

The old man did not hear. He was trying to fit the
key into the padlock.

‘Do you remember me?' said Julius, louder.

The old man let out a cry and jumped back, dropping his package.

‘I'm sorry,' said Julius, ‘I didn't mean to startle you.' He stooped and picked up the package. It was a sack tied up with string. The old man was reluctant to accept it. ‘Where are you from?' he said.

‘London,' said Julius.

‘London? Where is that?'

‘Far away.'

‘And…is it the same there?'

Julius nodded.

The old man's expression softened as if he was too weary to be afraid for long. ‘You'd better come inside,' he said.

When the door was closed behind them the roar of the sea faded into the background, but the whisper of the soulcatchers' fluttering petals still found its way in. The old man took the sack from Julius and placed it by his stool. He untied the string and took out a bottle of water, a few vegetables and candle stubs and put them on the workbench.