The Lunatic's Curse (23 page)

And now he has abandoned me! It would never have happened when I was with the Panopticon, she thought. Mr Ephcott was
always
there for me.

Unusually for her, Hildred allowed herself to indulge in a few minutes’ self-pity, giving in to the pangs of loneliness that she had felt on and off since arriving at Droprock, and
succumbing for a moment to self-doubt. Had it been a mistake to come here? Should she have gone with Mr Ephcott to Urbs Umida?

‘Absolutely not,’ she said resolutely. ‘Urbs Umida sounds like a foul place and Rex isn’t the only one with secrets and mysteries.’ She felt a sudden burst of
anger. Did Rex think she was stupid? She could read the words on the boxes, she could hear the clinking and clanging from within. This stuff was not needed for fixing up the asylum. The asylum
needed beds and paint and curtains. And a decent cook, she thought wryly, but immediately felt guilty. Poor Mrs Runcible, she wasn’t
that
bad. Hapless in the kitchen, yes, but none
could dispute that she was a cheerful person who did her best for one and all, and that went a long way these days.

‘
And
Rex said he trusted me,’ said Hildred to herself. ‘But obviously he doesn’t, or he would tell me what he and the doctor are planning to do.’ She
remembered when she had gone to his room, and he had been working on that plan on the floor. Maybe she should go to look for that. ‘No,’ she scolded herself. ‘How can I accuse him
of not trusting me and then snoop in his room!’

She stood up and pulled on her dark hooded cloak. ‘Perhaps I can’t solve his mystery,’ she said with determination, ‘but maybe I can solve my own.’

And off she went.

In another part of the asylum Gerulphus too was mulling over recent events. He sat on the edge of his own bed (larger and more comfortable than Hildred’s: he was in a
superior room) in a state of indecision. There was more to Dr Velhildegildus than met the eye. A lot more. But the question, however, was not what the doctor was up to, but how his clandestine
activities might affect Gerulphus. He sighed deeply. He had so wanted to stay here just that little bit longer before venturing out into the real world again, but now things were getting too
complicated. Already the doctor’s antics were attracting far too much attention from across the water in Opum Oppidulum. The
Hebdomadal
was reporting on the recent acquisitions and it
was not beyond the bounds of reason to expect that soon there would be visitors, councillors at the very least or, worse, nosy journalists from the paper. Cecil Notwithstanding in particular. When
he wasn’t writing about beggars – his latest theory was that the beggars were somehow disappearing – he seemed to have an unhealthy interest in Droprock Island. And, if that
wasn’t bad enough, the cheek of Dr Velhildegildus, expecting Gerulphus to lug things back and forth like some sort of workhorse!

With a clenched jaw Gerulphus got up and cloaked himself, and emerged from his room. He had better things to do with his time.

Like shadows in the night Hildred and Gerulphus passed along the narrow, unwelcoming corridors of Droprock Asylum, sensing all around them the tortured spirits of previous
inmates, missing each other only by moments, unaware that they were not alone in their meanderings. And as Gerulphus descended to the very bowels of the asylum Hildred made her way up to its
heights.

Rex, unwittingly completing the trio of nocturnal peregrinators, was also at large.

He still felt guilty at how rude he had been earlier and was looking forward to telling Hildred she could help with the Perambulating Submersible, hoping that it would not only please her but
also go some way towards her mollification. With this intention, upon leaving Dr Velhildegildus’s study he went straight to her room.

‘Hildred,’ he hissed as he had done for the last couple of nights, but this time he prodded the mound of blankets on her bed – only to discover that was exactly what they were:
a mound of blankets.

Hildred was gone.

Now where on earth could she be? he thought. Undeterred by the hour, determined to tell her the good news, he went quickly to the entrance hall. It was from here that all the parts, good or bad,
of the asylum could be reached, like a sort of crossroads, and there was a very clear dividing line between one side and the other. The east wing – light, superior in comfort and decor
– was designed for the guardians; the west wing – dark, uncomfortable, insanitary – was for those who needed to be guarded.

Rex, reluctant to go down into the cells during the day, was even less inclined to do so at night. As he tried to pluck up his courage, light footsteps alerted him to another nocturnal
wanderer.

Speak of the devil, he thought, and shrank back into the shadows just as Gerulphus appeared. Rex watched him disappear down one of the corridors. Off to the cells? he thought. Well, that made up
his mind for him: if he couldn’t go down, then he would go up.

He climbed the main staircase quickly. The first floor was a long corridor with rooms on either side. He could hear snoring from one (Mrs Runcible) and whistling from another (Walter Freakley).
A third door, presumably Gerulphus’s room, was locked (Rex couldn’t resist trying the handle). All the others were empty and Rex noted signs that their owners had left in a hurry.
Furniture was overturned, drawers appeared to have been ransacked and in one Rex saw draped over a chair a dark grey jacket, with some sort of red badge on it. A warder, he thought bitterly,
cruelly reminded of the two uniformed men who had taken his father away.

At the end of the corridor was another flight of stairs leading up to more rooms. These were much smaller, for maids and bootboys and kitchen staff. Finally, he came to one last set of narrow
winding stairs, at the top of which was a small landing and a closed door. A thin band of light underneath alerted Rex to the possibility of an occupant on the other side.

Well, he thought, I know it isn’t Gerulphus, and it’s hardly Dr Velhildegildus, and ghosts don’t need light.

Thus reassured as to the unlikelihood of danger, he turned the handle. The door gave with a creak and opened into a dusty attic, with criss-crossing beams and a pitched roof. In the poor light
– its source was a chamber candle set atop a stool – he could make out pieces of randomly stacked broken furniture, three-legged tables and seatless chairs, broken-hinged trunks and
damaged tea crates. It smelt of bats and birds’ nests and dead animals. And ash.

And there in the middle of the dust and the cobwebs sat Hildred. Her back was to Rex and she was wholly absorbed in whatever it was she was doing.

Rex smiled and exhaled, unaware until then that he had been holding his breath. ‘Hildred! So this is where you go at night.’

When she failed to react he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. With a little shriek Hildred leaped up and turned, and it seemed to Rex that her head swivelled nearly the whole way round
before her body followed. It was unnerving to watch.

‘Oh, Rex,’ she exclaimed. ‘You gave me such a fright. Don’t sneak up on people like that!’

‘Didn’t you hear me come in?’

‘Obviously not,’ she replied tartly, quickly recovering her composure. ‘Your great friend Dr Velhildegildus has certainly been keeping you busy. I’m honoured to see
you.’

Rex flushed. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I was really rude to you earlier. That’s why I came, to apologize, and to tell you something. Dr Velhildegildus . . .’ He stopped.
‘But what’s all this?’

On the floor in front of her there was a stack of books and a pile of handwritten pages. From her expression it was obvious Hildred was trying to decide whether or not to tell him. Finally she
said, ‘I’m looking for information.’

‘About my father?’ asked Rex, wide-eyed. ‘I
knew
you were up to something.’

Hildred chewed on her lip. ‘Did you?’

‘Of course. I’ve hardly seen you. You weren’t in your bed and you’re always covered in cobwebs. But you should have told me. I would have helped you.’

‘Would you?’

Rex knew immediately what she meant and began a halting apology. She interrupted before he could finish.

‘It’s not about your father, it’s about mine.’

‘Oh. ’Rex took a step back. ‘But you said you hadn’t seen him for years.’

‘I haven’t, not since my mother died. That’s why I’m looking.’

‘But why would you find it up here, in these books?’

Hildred stared at him coolly and remained silent. Rex gasped, suddenly understanding. ‘He was here? In the asylum?’

‘Yes,’ said Hildred defensively. ‘And what of it? It was nearly ten years ago.’ She knelt down and picked up the open book. ‘Mr Ephcott told me, when the Panopticon
disbanded. He thought I was old enough to know. You see, when my mother died my father blamed himself. He lost his mind and was committed to the asylum. We were so near to Opum Oppidulum I had to
come, to see whether he was still alive.’

Rex was incredulous. ‘In this place? After a decade under Chapelizod?’ Hildred frowned deeply and Rex immediately regretted his insensitivity.

‘Well, obviously I arrived too late,’ she said. ‘Everyone was gone, but I wondered if maybe there were records somewhere.’

‘And these are record books?’

‘Yes,’ said Hildred. ‘At least, what remains of them. Somehow most of them were burned during the breakout. I salvaged what I could from the ashes and brought them up here so I
could look at them in private. But you have found me.’

Now that he was closer, Rex could see that the books were indeed in a sorry state, badly charred, and the loose pages were brown and powdery.

‘What was your father’s name?’ he asked, sitting down beside her.

‘Arthur Buttonquail, but there’s nothing here.’ Hildred couldn’t hide her disappointment.

‘You did your best,’ said Rex, putting his arm around her bony shoulder. ‘You were just too late. Anyhow, this doesn’t prove anything. There might be other books, other
records. Who knows, your father might even have been let out. Perhaps he’s in Opum Oppidulum right now, alive and well.’

Hildred pasted a smile back on her face. ‘Maybe that’s where I should go, then. I have no reason to stay now. I only came for this.’

Rex’s face fell. ‘You can’t go. Dr Velhildegildus said that you can help us if you want.’

‘With the asylum? But I want to be a tutor.’

‘Er . . . not exactly.’

‘Then what?’

Rex looked her straight in the eye. ‘OK, I’ll be honest with you. Dr Velhildegildus has a plan for an underwater vessel, a Perambulating Submersible, and he wants to make it here. I
did want to tell you, from the beginning, but I made a deal. He’s asked me to help because he knows that I am good at making things.’

Hildred looked surprised but there was no hiding her interest.

‘So . . . will you stay and help us to build it?’

Hildred laughed. ‘Why not? It sounds fascinating.’ She pushed the fragile books and pages to one side, then she stood up and dusted herself off. ‘Tell me more.’

Hildred asked questions all the way back to their rooms. ‘You mean this will really work underwater? But how will you breathe? Through pipes? But they will limit the
range of the machine. And what if they break? People have been trying to make underwater boats for centuries, you know. Mr Ephcott told me. The air supply was always the sticking point. This
Re-breather sounds just the thing. If it really works, Dr Velhildegildus will be famous. Though I don’t suppose he’ll want to run the asylum any more.’

Rex answered all the questions, keeping as close to the truth as possible; he knew that was the best way to lie.

‘And did you show him the egg?’ she asked finally.

‘No,’ said Rex. ‘The egg is . . . special. I
will
show him, just not yet.’

‘I won’t tell him,’ said Hildred with a shrug.

Rex hadn’t realized just how much he wanted Hildred to stay until he thought that she might not. But his pleasure was tainted by the strange gnawing at his insides, like something eating
away at his belly. What Hildred said was true. If Dr Velhildegildus was to claim all the credit for his father’s design he really would be famous.

There was a part of Rex that wanted to tell Tibor that he knew about the plan. But he didn’t trust him yet. It was better at this stage to say nothing. Perhaps he might even admit it
later.

‘What’s that smile for?’ asked Hildred looking at Rex’s strangely twisted mouth.

‘Nothing,’ he said.

Hildred felt sure that Rex was still keeping something from her. And the only way to find out was to help.

35

The clock struck seven. Rex knocked.

‘Enter!’

Rex and Hildred found the geometrically jawed doctor warming his legs by the fire’s flames.

‘Hildred,’ he said smoothly. ‘I believe Rex has let you in on our little secret.’

Hildred nodded. She found this man odd to look at. He had a curious way of speaking, his lips forming his words into strangely exaggerated shapes.

‘I think it is a wonderful idea,’ she said.

‘Excellent,’ said Tibor with a slight smile. ‘But I hope he has impressed upon you the need for secrecy.’