Julius and the Soulcatcher (28 page)

The muscles in Julius's shoulders tensed—he hated that sound.

Mr Higgins sipped his tea and returned the cup to the saucer. ‘I thought we had agreed, young Caesar,' he said. ‘Just you and me.' He began to spoon the
honey into his porridge.

‘I know, but…'

He looked up when Julius stopped. ‘We will not speak of this again. I don't understand why you insist on trying to mend the past.'

Suddenly it was as if every cell in Julius's body burst apart.

‘Because I don't want to end up a bitter old man, like you,' he shouted.

Mr Higgins jumped, dropping his spoon. He glared across the table at Julius.

Julius glared back, startled by his own outburst.

‘Bad blood. I knew it,' said Mr Higgins. He pushed his chair back and made for the stairs.

‘Where are you going?' said Julius. The rage had escaped; it would not be easily put back.

‘To lie down,' said his grandfather.

‘Don't do this, Grandfather.'

Mr Higgins spun round in anger. ‘Do what, pray tell?'

‘Walk away. You always do that.'

‘I will return when you are capable of rational debate.'

‘I'm going to invite her.'

‘No, you are not.'

Julius felt his rage boiling under his skin. He wanted to smash everything in the parlour, just to see the look on his grandfather's face.

But he knew he would not do it. He slumped back into his chair.

‘I just want a proper family.' He had not known it until he said it. The solid truth of it calmed him. He stared at the carpet. ‘I just want to have my mother home for tea,' he said, almost in a whisper.

‘Are you and I not a family?' said his grandfather.

Julius kept his eyes on the carpet, following the swirling lines of its pattern.

‘Mama said you brought me up when you didn't have to. She said I should never forget that.'

‘Did she?'

‘She knows she broke your heart. She's sorry.' Julius waited for his grandfather to speak. But he did not. ‘I know what it's like to be angry with someone you love,' said Julius. ‘To tell them to go away. Later, you're sorry, but by then it's too late to mend it—but you still have to try.'

Julius heard his grandfather sit down in his fireside chair.

‘She shouldn't be sorry, Julius,' he said. ‘She brought you into the world.'

Julius was not sure he heard his grandfather correctly. He looked at the back of his head.

‘Can she come to tea?' he said.

His grandfather kept his face turned away, staring into the fire. ‘Very well,' he said, quietly.

‘I'll go and tell her.'

‘Now?'

‘Yes. I have to be at the Surrey Zoological Gardens this morning. It's just next door.'

‘Surrey Zoo…what the devil are you going there for?'

‘I'm meeting Mr Flynn,' said Julius.

‘But it's a school day?'

‘You can write a note for me. Say I've caught a chill.'

Julius ran out to the shop and snatched a sheet of his grandfather's personalised stationery. He plonked it down with the inkpot and quill on his grandfather's reading table.

Mr Higgins's hand hung poised over the blank page. It was all Julius could do to stop himself from grabbing the old man's hand and writing the words for him. Just then Julius noticed Harrison's diary still tucked down the side of his chair.

‘Get some cake on the way back,' said Mr Higgins, rummaging through his coin purse. ‘Any kind. And some sugared apricots.

‘Pardon?' said Julius. He was looking at the diary, trying to think.

‘Sugared apricots.'

‘Er, yes. We'll have to tidy up a bit,' said Julius.

‘Tidy up?

‘It's all right, I'll do it when I get back.'

In one movement he plucked the diary up,
snatched the note from his grandfather's hand and ran for the curtain. In the bookshop he slid Harrison's diary back into its in-full-view hiding place.

He looked at its spine for a moment longer, and then pushed it into its place.

You have to tell Mr Flynn you have the diary, Higgins
.
Tell him the moment you see him.

Julius ran along Ironmonger Lane clutching the letter. He wondered if Mr Flynn and the constables had found any sign of Tock. He would know very soon. Snow fell, carpeting the cobblestones in white. He took a shortcut through an alleyway to King Street, then to Laurence Street. In Honey Lane he saw one of the younger boys from school.

‘Hey, you,' he called out.

After handing over a sixpence and a quick instruction to slip the letter under the headmaster's door, Julius raced to Blackfriars Bridge.

The sleet turned to an icy drizzle as he ran. Every hansom cab was occupied. At Albion Place he saw a young clerk springing out of one. And before the clerk could reach up to pay the driver Julius had leapt into the seat.

‘Walworth House, please,' he called out.

He did not have a cane to knock on the roof so he
stamped his foot instead. He pulled the blanket over his knees and waited for the driver to whip the horse into action. Nothing happened.

‘Walworth House, quickly, please.'

‘Show me your money first,' came the reply from the roof. ‘I've been done by young whippersnappers like you before.'

This is bloody marvellous, Higgins.

Julius fought the coins out of his pocket then leaned out to show the handful of shillings his grandfather had given him.

‘There,' he said.

‘Very good,' said the driver. ‘Get on,' he called to the horse and whisked the whip across her rump.

Julius sat back as the hansom cab lurched forward.

Half an hour and you'll be there, Higgins.

Three quarters of an hour later the hansom cab passed the Surrey Zoological Gardens. The gates were closed, but Julius leaned out to see if he Mr Flynn was still there. He caught a glimpse of a police constable standing guard just inside the gate but nothing else.

You'll be back there in ten minutes, Higgins. Just give the invitation to Clara and run back to see what's happening.

At the back of Walworth House Julius leapt out of the hansom cab and paid the driver. Snow lay across the grounds and on the trees and windowsills of the mansion. Julius ran to the stable yard and down the stairs. He knocked on the door. No one came, no
matter how loudly he knocked. Then he remembered the long corridor and the chaos in the kitchen. If he fired a cannon at the back door no one would hear.

Gingerly he turned the doorknob. It gave way. He opened the door a little.

‘Hello,' he said. ‘Hello.'

No reply came, only the sounds of kitchen bustle at the end of the corridor. He went in. The kitchen was as he remembered it—mayhem and commotion. No one paid him any mind.

Everything was being chopped, hacked, pummelled, pulled, whisked and burned by a frantic army of small children and fat women.

‘Wot you doing here?' called out a cook with sweat pouring down her face.

‘I'm looking for Clara Higgins, the new under-housekeeper.'

‘Under-wot?'

‘Housekeeper.'

‘Don't know nothing about that. Housekeeping's above stairs,' she said, with a disapproving sniff, and then returned to her work of hacking meat from a large bone.

Julius ran to the door leading up to the main house. At the top of the stairs he opened the door just a slit. The corridor was silent. He opened it a little more and peered up and down.

He recognised the odour of wild animals but
there were none to be seen. He hurried along the corridor, wondering what the punishment would be if he went before the magistrate for trespassing in a lord's house. At a door, he stopped and listened. There was someone inside. Could it be a servant perhaps? Could it be Clara?

He poked his head inside.

The walls of the sitting room were lined with landscapes, and overstuffed chairs and couches filled the floor space. Sitting on the chairs was a family of orangutans. They all turned to look at Julius with bored stares.

‘Sorry,' said Julius, and closed the door.

He had an idea. He could leave a note in Clara's room inviting her to tea. Julius tried to recall how he and Emily had got there the last time he visited.

It was up some stairs, Higgins. Back stairs. It was dark. Mama carried a lamp.

He went back to the corridor outside the kitchen. From there he retraced their route up the backstairs he had climbed with Clara and Emily.

At the attic corridor he looked at the doors on each wall. Clara's was the third one along, he was sure of it. He turned the handle and it creaked open. The room was empty but for a steel bed frame without a mattress.

He walked to the window and looked out at the snow-capped Animal House. Where was Clara?

Out in the corridor a floorboard groaned. Julius started.

A flock of hummingbirds flew in, followed by Lord Bloomingbury. He stared at Julius in astonishment.

‘I thought I saw someone skulking about up here,' he said. Then he squinted a little. ‘You're that boy—the armadillo handler.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘What are you doing here?' said Lord Bloomingbury.

‘I…that is…er…I have an important message for Miss Higgins.'

‘Miss Higgins? I thought you barely knew the woman,' said Lord Bloomingbury. ‘And now I find you running messages for her. What are you up to, sneaking around my house?'

‘Nothing, sir,' said Julius. ‘I really need to speak to her. I have to tell her something.' Julius looked at the bed frame. ‘Where did she go?'

Lord Bloomingbury looked at the bed too.

‘Go?' he said. ‘I haven't the foggiest notion. I'm not in the habit of charting the movements of my servants.'

‘No, of course not, sir,' said Julius. ‘It's…it's just that I must get a message to her.'

‘Perhaps she left?' said Lord Bloomingbury. ‘Perhaps she didn't take to my pets?'

Julius looked at Lord Bloomingbury. There was
something wrong in his tone. He was not as good a liar as Emily—no one was as good as her. But why was he lying? He had been so accommodating the night before.

Julius tried to disguise his concern with a mask of befuddlement.

Lord Bloomingbury had been rather vexed when he thought Clara had a family. But then he was so pleased to hear Emily's lie about them just being neighbours. And he believed Emily when she said no one knew where they were. Julius remembered His Lordship's smile when she said it. Something had changed. He had made a joke about adding Emily to his collection, and there was something else—something about collecting unique specimens.

Did he want to collect you, Higgins? For what?

Julius looked out the window at the Animal House, trying to look simple-minded.

He pictured Lord Bloomingbury opening that secret door and the rank odour coming through. His Lordship had wanted to get them down there. Why? It was only the stench and Clara's embarrassment at Emily's behaviour that had stopped them. Julius remembered the disappointment in Lord Bloomingbury's face before he said goodbye. His quarry had gotten away.

What was on the other side of the door?

Julius smiled and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Perhaps
you're right, sir,' he said. ‘It is rather odd having so many animals. We just have a cat.' He edged past Lord Bloomingbury. ‘Oh, well. I'd best be off to school. Goodbye, sir.'

Julius walked towards the stairs, with an attempt at a carefree stride. How many footmen could His Lordship call down on him if he raised the alarm?

‘Just a moment,' said Lord Bloomingbury.

Julius turned.

‘What was the message?' he asked. ‘If I see her I could pass it on.'

‘It's nothing, sir. It wasn't important,' said Julius.

Julius and Lord Bloomingbury looked at one another. Each knew the other was lying, but neither knew why.

Suddenly Julius was not afraid anymore. What was one old man after all he had been through? Even if he was a lord?

‘If you've harmed Clara you'll be sorry,' said Julius.

Lord Bloomingbury's expression shifted. The kindly mask of confusion was gone, and in its place was a stare cold enough to freeze fire.

‘I have never been sorry in my life,' he said. ‘But you will be. You shall hang for that remark.' He came closer. His eyes fixed on Julius as if was about to strike.

Julius realised he had made a terrible mistake.

CHAPTER 24