The Diamond of Drury Lane (16 page)

‘So, ’ow do you like my centre of operations?’ He gestured round the squalid room. ‘I’m thinkin’ of branchin’ out from the market, takin’ a piece of the Rookeries under my wing. You’re privileged: you’re the first outsider to see my ’eadquarters. What’ya think?’

‘It’s very, er, very nice,’ I said, my voice shaking slightly.

In fact, it was cold, foul and damp. I could see why a rat like Billy would be attracted to it.

He smiled at me, displaying his rotten teeth like gravestones in his ugly mouth. He reached forward to brush the snow from my hair. I tried not to flinch. He was testing me, looking for an excuse to hurt me as I knew he so badly wanted to do. I’d insulted him by giving him a nickname; I’d humiliated him in front of his gang; I had twice offended his ‘honour’ and I was to pay for it.

‘Now, Cat, about our little discussion yesterday.’ He moved to stand behind me out of sight, but I could see Ferret-features grinning over my head at him, anticipating what was to come. ‘It didn’t quite end ’ow I’d like. You see, I know that you know somethink . . . somethink that I want to know very much.’

This wasn’t quite what I expected.

‘Oh?’ I asked. ‘What’s that?’ Perhaps I could bargain my way to safety.

‘The diamond.’ Billy rested his hands on my
shoulders, one finger caressing my neck. ‘If you tell me where I can find it, I’ll let you return ’ome. In fact, even better than that, I’ll let you get it for me and I’ll buy you a new dress for your trouble.’ Ferret-features was now smirking at my street-stained woollen gown. ‘I can’t say fairer than that, can I?’

‘Diamond? What diamond?’ I spluttered. How had he heard about that?

‘Come now, Cat, you’re not the only person to ’ang round the stage door. You were seen. We know you know.’

‘But I don’t!’ I protested.

There was a grating noise of metal on metal and I felt a cold blade against my neck.

‘Do you know what my family does for a livin’, Cat?’ he asked casually.

Ferret-features stared at the knife at my neck like a dog waiting for a bone.

‘No,’ I said, trying not to move.

‘We’re barbers . . . ’andy with the razor. Now you think about that while you remember where Mr S. put that diamond.’

I was shaking with terror. I really didn’t know, but if I told him that he’d probably just cut my throat and have done with me.

‘Billy, please!’

‘Not convinced yet, Cat? Now, ’ow’d you like it done? Cropped? Or like an Injun Mohican?’ There was a sharp jerk on my head and a lock of red hair fluttered on to the table. Billy caught it up with his left hand and pocketed it.

‘A keepsake,’ he said calmly. ‘Something for me to remember your pretty curls by. Wot’ya think, Meatpie? Should fetch a decent price at the wig makers, don’t ya think? Shame red’s not the fashion.’

Meatpie laughed dutifully, but unlike Ferret-features he had the decency to look uncomfortable.

‘Please!’ I was crying now, tears rolling down my face as I sat rigid, trying not to move, though every instinct in my body was begging to make a dash for the door. ‘I really don’t know where the diamond is. But I’ll look for you . . . I will. I promise.’

Billy gave a tug on another strand of hair.

‘Sorry, that ain’t good enough, Cat. You’ve
always said you know everythink that goes on in that theatre, so I bet you know where it is. Anyways, I prefer it like it is now . . . you ’ere with me with no back-up. I think it’ll ’elp you make the right decision, ’elp jog your memory. If I let you go, what’s to stop you runnin’ off and telling your friend Syd about our little chat, eh?’

He was right: that was just what I had been thinking of doing. What would I have given to have Syd by my side at that moment!

‘No, I need an answer and I need it now. Then we’re goin’ to take a little stroll to the theatre and you’ll ’and it over to me. Agreed?’

What could I do? Make something up? That seemed my best option. At least I’d buy myself some more time.

‘Agreed?’ Billy said fiercely, giving a painful tug on my hair.

‘I, er, I . . .’

‘Yeah, I’m listenin’.’

The door behind us banged open and Billy spun round. As his hand was still grasping my hair, my head was pulled with him and, through tear-filled
eyes, I saw a man standing framed in the doorway. His black cloak and hat were covered in snow. Both arms were held up in front of him, each hand holding a pistol, one trained on Billy, the other on Meatpie. Meatpie gave a whimper and dived behind the beer barrel.

‘In that case, I suggest you listen to me, and listen hard. Put that razor down and move away from the girl,’ Johnny said. The barrels of the pistols were rock-steady in his hands, both cocked, prepared to fire.

Billy tightened his grip on my hair, dragging me from the bench so I was on my knees in front of him. He brought the blade to my throat. I could feel its sharp edge prick my skin.

‘’Oo the ’ell are you?’ Billy growled.

Johnny gave a flick of the gun barrel, gesturing Billy to move away from me. His eyes were fixed on my captor, blazing with anger.

‘Her back-up. Let her go,’ he said menacingly.

‘Or what?’ sneered Billy. ‘I’ll cut ’er throat if you take a step nearer. ’Oo said you could come in ’ere and break up our private talk? You don’t want
’im ’ere, do ya, Cat?’ He used his grip on my hair to shake my head like a marionette.

‘You won’t find out about the diamond from her,’ said Johnny coldly. ‘She knows nothing.’

Billy pulled my head back, exposing my throat to the knife.

‘So why don’t ya tell us then? Tell us, or I’ll kill the kitten.’

‘You won’t do that,’ said Johnny, not even looking at me but keeping his eyes on Billy. Pox-face made a move on Johnny’s left, trying to creep up behind to jump him. ‘Stay where you are!’ ordered Johnny. Pox-face stood still, eyes fixed on the second gun barrel now pointing at him.

‘Oh, won’t I?’ jeered Billy. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I’ll shoot you first.’

‘You won’t do that: you might ’it the girl,’ said Billy, pressing the blade tight against my throat.

‘Take my word for it: I’m a very good shot. I won’t miss. Now, what are you going to do?’

There was silence. Then a clatter as Billy dropped the razor on the floor in front of me.

‘Very sensible,’ said Johnny. ‘Now let her go.’

Furious, Billy released his grip on my hair and kicked me away from him, sending me sprawling on to the floor so that I landed on top of the razor. I felt it cut into my arm.

‘One more trick like that and I’ll blast you to hell,’ said Johnny fiercely. ‘Get up, Cat, and come over here.’

I scrambled to my feet, cradling my bleeding arm, and stumbled past Johnny out of that hateful place.

‘Now understand this,’ I heard him telling them. ‘I’m going to escort the young lady home. If I spot so much as a whisker of any of you following us, I’ll fire without warning.’ With a final look at each of them, he ducked out of the room, slamming the door so violently it made the sign creak on its hinges. He then stuffed one of the pistols in his belt, seized my injured arm and began to run.

‘Come on, we must get away from here!’ he urged, setting off at a smart pace.

Not needing to be told twice, I ran after him, though hampered by slipping several times on the
icy cobbles. Only Johnny’s firm grip on my arm stopped me falling to the ground. I was too numb to think of the pain. Pale faces appeared in dark doorways, like ghosts rising from tombs. They watched us pass in eerie silence as the snow fluttered down in frozen tears. Suddenly, a scrawny woman darted forward and made a grab for my shawl. I let it go, leaving it hanging like a tattered flag in her hands.

We turned a corner into a busy thoroughfare of smoke-filled taverns and shabby lodging houses. A drunken Irishman stumbled out of a dark alleyway and into our path.

‘Gi’ us that!’ he shouted at Johnny, trying to pull me away.

I didn’t see exactly what Johnny did, but next thing the man was doubled up, hands clenched to his stomach, and we were running out on to St Giles High Street, and away.

‘I can’t breathe!’ I gasped, my side pierced by a stitch.

‘Forget breathing; just run!’ Johnny said with an anxious look over his shoulder.

He towed me along after him, back across Long Acre and into Bow Street. Taking a side street to avoid passing the magistrate’s house, he did not stop until we reached the stage door. Caleb was on the watch: he threw it open for us and we burst inside, collapsing as soon as we were across the threshold.

‘What ’appened to you, sir?’ asked Caleb, looking with concern at Johnny’s bloodstained hand as my rescuer bent over to regain his breath.

Johnny stared down uncomprehendingly at his palm.

‘But I’m not hurt!’ He turned to me. I was on all fours, panting and sobbing with relief. ‘It must be Cat. Let’s see.’

I raised my left arm to him: a cut, about four inches long, was oozing bright red droplets vivid against the white skin of my inner arm.

Johnny gave a low whistle. ‘Nasty! An inch lower and that would have got the vein. Here, let me take you to my office and I’ll clean it up.’

Caleb blanched as he caught sight of the blood dripping down my wrist.

‘Will she be all right?’ he asked huskily.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Johnny assured him. ‘But keep a sharp eye out tonight, Caleb. The boys who did this might come looking for us. Bar the door and don’t let anyone in unless you know them.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the old doorman, picking up a stout cudgel he had concealed behind the door curtain. ‘They won’t get past Caleb Braithwaite in a hurry.’

‘Thanks, my friend,’ said Johnny.

He then knelt and picked me up. I was so shocked and exhausted by my adventure that I no longer cared what became of me: I just wanted to curl up, fall asleep and forget all about it. But Johnny had other ideas. There were matters he had to attend to first. He sat me in a chair by his fireside and put a kettle on the fire to boil. Tearing up some clean strips of linen, he set about tending to my wound.

‘I’m sorry about that, Catkin. I should have acted faster,’ he said, shaking his head over the cut.

‘You’re sorry!’ I said in surprise. ‘You’ve nothing to be sorry about. It was all my fault: I
should never have fallen for their trap.’

‘They set a trap, did they?’ Johnny probed gently as he staunched the wound.

I nodded.

Johnny pressed my hand comfortingly. ‘I really must know what they said to you. I must know what they know about the diamond.’

So he was in on Mr Sheridan’s secret too! It occurred to me then that he might even have been put here to help defend it. I looked up at him to see if I could read the truth in his face. His eyes were no longer cold: they had returned to their old friendly expression, and yet tonight I thought I could sense a new shadow in their depths as if he was particularly sad about something.

‘And I need to know why you were with those blackguards in the first place, Cat.’ He turned to take the boiling kettle from the grate and poured some of the contents into a china bowl. ‘It wasn’t you who told them about the diamond, was it?’ he asked levelly as he put several teaspoons of salt into the steaming water.

‘No!’ I protested. ‘I never said nothing
about the diamond . . . except to Pedro.’

‘To Pedro?’ Johnny asked, his voice careful as if he was walking on thin ice.

‘But it wasn’t him, neither!’ I added. At least, I hoped he hadn’t told them. ‘Ouch!’ Johnny had just dabbed my cut with the salted water.

‘Billy Boil told me one of his gang had seen me at the stage door. It must have been the night Mr Marchmont came.’

‘Who is Billy Boil?’ Johnny looked puzzled.

I smiled weakly. ‘I mean Billy Shepherd. I’m afraid I gave him that nickname: we aren’t the best of friends, as you saw. He was the one with the razor . . . the one you threatened with the pistols.’

‘Oh those,’ said Johnny contemptuously, taking the pistols from his belt and throwing them on to the camp bed still cocked. I ducked, half expecting them to explode. ‘I didn’t have time to load them. If I had, I would have ended that interview much sooner, believe me. No, I was curious as to why you were running off into the night and I took it into my head to follow you.’

‘The messenger told me Pedro had been hurt.’

‘Ah. Now I see.’

I suddenly realised why Johnny had taken the risk of following me into St Giles. It hadn’t been out of gallantry as I had assumed.

‘You didn’t trust me, did you? You thought I was going to betray you.’

He tied off the bandage around my arm and sat back on his haunches.

‘I must admit it did cross my mind. I was going to run for it if I saw you going to the magistrate to tip them off about the new cartoon. Whatever my motive, I am heartily thankful I did follow you. I dread to think what would have happened if I hadn’t been on hand.’

‘I’d be dead and my hair a wig in Pollard’s window. I think you can be quite certain of that,’ I said with a small laugh that turned into a shudder.

Johnny pressed my fingers again. ‘That would have been a very sad loss to Drury Lane. So, tell me, what did they know about the diamond?’

‘Not much,’ I said with a shrug. ‘Just that it’s hidden in the theatre. They thought I could fetch it for them.’

He bit his lip and looked away from me to the fire. Bright flames danced on the coals, casting an orange glow over his handsome features. I was beginning to love seeing that face about the theatre. He was the only one who called me Catkin in that affectionate way of his, the only one who took the trouble to tell me things.

‘I think it’s become too dangerous to have the diamond here,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to tell Sheridan it’s got to move.’

‘Move where?’ I asked eagerly.

‘Come now, Cat. You don’t really want to know that, do you?’ he laughed. ‘Look what danger a little bit of knowledge got you into tonight.’

‘It was my ignorance, not what I knew, that landed me in trouble,’ I countered.

‘So you would’ve handed the diamond over to them, would you, if you’d known where it was?’ he asked with a strange smile.

‘No, of course not. I’d’ve thought of something before it reached that point.’