Julius and the Soulcatcher (26 page)

Then he balanced his spectacles on his nose and strained his eyes to see his visitor. The workshop was not as tidy as Julius remembered it. A layer of fine sand lay over everything and it scrunched under his feet. He noticed a makeshift bed under the shelves in
the far corner. The smell of creosote and wood shavings had been replaced by old-man smells, similar to the ones his grandfather left around the bookshop.

Papa Putching sat on his stool and leaned one elbow on the workbench.

‘What happened?' said Julius.

The old man's eyes wandered the shelves as if he was trying to remember where he was.

‘The flowers growing? When did that happen?' said Julius.

‘Long ago. Years…I think.' He turned to the grimy window and looked out at the sea.

‘They climbed out of the earth,' he said. ‘It all happened in one night. Flowers attacking people. Who could have imagined it?'

‘Who planted them?' said Julius.

‘Mr Tock did.' Papa Putching's expression fell like a viscous liquid. It was as if the sound of Tock's name had taken something vital from him.

‘Mr Tock?' said Julius. ‘How? I mean…?

‘He said he found the flowers on his travels,' said Papa Putching. ‘He offered to plant them in all the gardens. He said he wanted to show everyone what a good little machine he was. Of course, everyone was delighted. Everyone loves flowers.'

‘So you knew Tock?' said Julius.

‘Knew him? Yes. I made him,' said Papa Putching.

Of course, Higgins.

‘Mr Tock was my finest creation,' he said. ‘It took me seven years to make the multiple gearing alone—gyroscopes within gyroscopes, all spinning independently, all tilting with gravity, sensitive to the minutest touch. It gave the illusion of life. Each move Mr Tock made could lead to any combination of movements, even to his toes. His fingers were capable of the finest precision.'

Papa Putching's expression changed, as if he remembered something. He made a pretence of tidying the workbench.

‘What happened?' said Julius.

The old man carefully picked up one tiny cog after another, returning each one to its correct slot in a tray of watch parts.

Julius clenched his fists, forcing himself to be patient.

‘Mr Tock asked me once, what would happen to his soul if I forgot to wind him,' said the old man. ‘I laughed. “But you don't have a soul, Mr Tock,” I said. “You are good little machine.” I could tell straightaway that I had hurt his feelings. I tried to make amends. “Don't worry, I'll always be here to wind you,” I said. But he was never the same after that.'

Papa Putching looked through the dusty window again. ‘He would go away for days on end, only coming back when he needed me to wind him. He'd look at me and smile, but he wasn't smiling, not really.
I tried to talk to him, like we used to, but…'

‘How long ago was that?' said Julius.

‘Years. I was a young man—well, young from where I sit today.'

A shadow crossed the old man's face.

‘He asked for the key once. I was winding him at the time. I stopped in surprise. Mr Tock's smile stayed frozen on his face. “No, Mr Tock,” I said. “An automaton must never have his own key.” “Why not, Papa?” he asked. I finished winding him and locked the key in my safe. “Off you go, Mr Tock,” I said. I could not look him in the eye. I think that saddened him even more than not having a soul.'

‘Why?' asked Julius.

Papa Putching continued to sort the tiny cogs. ‘Because he realised that his own Papa was afraid of him. I think that's when he gave up being good. He never did anything bad when he was here. But there was always the threat in his eyes. I was glad when he was gone for days at a time…I did not dare ask him what he got up to.'

‘But you kept winding him?' said Julius.

‘Yes. Of course. He was my finest creation,' said the old man. ‘And when he brought the red flowers I thought he was going to be a good little machine again. But he wasn't. It was all a trick. The night after the flowers attacked, Mr Tock came along the promenade and asked politely for his key. I was too afraid
to refuse him. He winds himself now.'

Julius felt anger rising. He wanted to shout at the befuddled old man. He wanted to tell him what his creation had done. He went to the window and looked out to the sea to calm himself.

Papa Putching took a soiled handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. ‘Where is Tock now?' asked Julius.

‘He's mad, you know,' said the old man. ‘It's the gyroscopes in his head, they're out of balance. He comes along the promenade to call on me, but I lock the door. He taps on the window and I hide under the bench until he's gone.'

‘Why does he come?' asked Julius.

‘He's lonely, now that everyone's gone,' said Papa Putching. ‘He has no one to talk to. He asked me to make a friend for him.'

‘Did you?'

‘No,' said the old man. ‘I do not want to make another Tock. I've lost the skill anyway. So he tries to make his own
friends
to talk to. But he hasn't the skill either—he makes abominations instead.' The toymaker stared at the tiny cogs scattered across his worktop as if bored with the task of tidying them.

‘Where can I find him?' said Julius.

‘You shouldn't try,' said Papa Putching.

‘But I must speak to him.'

The old man did not reply. Julius could not contain
himself. He grabbed Papa Putching's shoulder and spun him around. ‘Where is he, you old fool?'

The old man cowered. His face contorted in fear.

‘Where is he?' said Julius.

‘He has a workshop on the hill,' said the old man. ‘You'll find him there.'

Julius let go of the toymaker's shoulder as gently as he could. ‘You shouldn't have kept winding him,' he said quietly.

‘I know,' said the old man. He began to cry. ‘I know.'

Julius walked up the hill. The narrow streets blocked the wind. Soulcatchers were growing through windows and across the walls. Julius went along street after street avoiding the tendrils reaching out to him as he passed. He stopped at a shop where all the windowpanes were intact. He looked inside at strange contraptions made of twisted spoons, washers, door hinges and bent nails, all cobbled together into haphazard shapes. They flailed around like blind things, writhing and twitching as if lost and in pain.

A sign on the door said ‘Open'. Julius pushed the door a crack. The shop bell tinkled. He waited, but no one came. He pushed the door a little more and went inside.

There was an empty wooden counter and empty
shelves around the walls. Julius stood there like a customer and listened. Quiet, indistinct sounds came from behind a curtain. He went around the counter and peeped through.

Tock was sitting at a workbench. Julius couldn't see what he was doing. An oil lamp burned low beside him. A clock on the wall ticked, but too slowly, and there were no hands on its face.

Julius watched Tock at work.

He seemed as harmless as Papa Putching now, passing his time trying to make things that would talk to him. Julius's skin tingled as he felt anger rising up. Millions of people had been devoured by the soulcatchers because of Tock. Julius wanted to crush his clockwork skull. But he couldn't, at least not yet.

He walked into the workshop and let the curtain fall behind him. Tock turned around on his stool.

Julius tensed.

Tock's face lit up with a smile. ‘Welcome,' he said. ‘Take your time. Look around.' His face was frayed at the edges and parchment-like creases distorted his mouth. It looked as if he has scrunched his face up into a ball and then flattened it out before putting it back on again. Tock's eyes glowed faintly, as if Julius was a long-lost friend.

Julius did not move or speak. Tock tilted his head. His eyes dimmed a little. He studied Julius as if he recognised him but was not sure from where. His face
crackled when his smile fell away. ‘Can't you speak?' he said.

‘You don't remember me?' said Julius, trying to control the tremor of anger in his voice.

Tock's face lit up again. ‘Remember you? Are we old friends?'

Julius shook his head. ‘We met long ago,' he said. ‘Before the soulcatchers destroyed everything.'

‘Did we?' said Tock. ‘Do you want your soul back? Do you? Do you?'

‘No,' said Julius. ‘You didn't get mine.'

Tock studied at Julius. He was like an old man whose memory was failing.

‘Are you sure?' he said, with kindly condescension. ‘I have all the souls, you know. All of them.'

Julius clenched his fists to stop himself flying at Tock. ‘How did you do it?' he said. ‘Where did you hide all the soulcatchers?'

Tock looked quizzically at Julius. ‘Did I
hide
them?'

‘You propagated them in secret somewhere in London,' said Julius. ‘Then you released them and, and…'

Tock smiled again. ‘London?' he said. ‘I remember London. I should like to visit. But I can't remember how to make the mixture.'

He took a small wooden box from his pocket and opened it. It was empty. ‘All gone,' he said. He closed the box and put it back.

‘Where did you grow the soulcatchers?' said Julius.

Tock rested his elbow on the workbench like Papa Putching had done. He looked as if he was trying to think.

‘In the house of animals,' he said. He looked gleefully at Julius as if he expected a prize for remembering. ‘No one looked.' Tock's shoulders shook when he chuckled. ‘They looked everywhere, but not among the animals,' he said. ‘We fed the soulcatchers on blood and bone, made from rats, you know, gallons of it. It made them strong and eager to hunt for souls.'

Julius lunged at Tock knocking him onto the floor. The contraption he was working on fell off the workbench and squirmed and twitched on top of Tock. He pulled it away, ripping the lower half of his face off with it.

Julius snatched the lamp and held it over Tock.

‘I should burn this whole place down,' he said. ‘With you in it.'

‘I'm a good little machine,' said Tock. There was no fear in his voice, just a childlike curiosity about what was going to happen next.

Julius lifted the lamp higher, preparing to smash it over Tock but something held him back. He had the answer he wanted. Tock could stay in his self-made hell forever for all he cared.

‘You don't deserve to be set free,' he said.

Julius put the lamp down and left the workshop. His whole body was trembling. He did not dare to hope that he had found a way. As he rushed past the counter he noticed a book lying on an otherwise empty shelf. It stopped him instantly. It was Darwin's diary. He placed it carefully on the counter. He knew what he wanted to see but did not have the courage to look. Like an automaton, he forced himself to turn the pages until he came to the portraits Darwin drew. He ran his finger across Emily's smile. He knew that Tock was propagating the soulcatchers in the Animal House. Could he go back and save Emily and Clara? Could he save everyone?

Julius closed the book and took out the pocketwatch. He spun it in the air as he walked out of the shop. In his mind he imagined the Animal House in the Surrey Zoological Gardens. He had to land there soon after he had left.

CHAPTER 22

Sunday 24th January 1838

11:34 PM

The next thing Julius knew he was tumbling through space in the orbit of the pocketwatch. The stars flashed by as thin white streaks, while the spinning pocketwatch shot through time and space. He tried to hold the image of the Animal House in his mind, but he kept returning to the confession he had to make to Mr Flynn. He would tell him everything. Everything.

Julius felt himself falling and hitting soft ground. The pocketwatch flew to him and he clasped it tight.

He had landed in freezing darkness. Clouds obscured the moon. He listened—low growls rumbled in the air. The Animal House was nearby.