Return to Ribblestrop (25 page)

Tomaz felt a hand on the collar of his blazer. He rolled by instinct and the blazer came off – but the hand moved to his hair, and he was lifted onto his toes. ‘You’ll talk,
sonny Jim. Once I’ve whipped you, you’ll be pleased to talk!’

‘Stop, everybody,’ cried Professor Worthington.

They were in a long, curving tunnel. Water gurgled along its centre, in a wide gully, and the torch beams were scattered crazily over the stone. ‘Look at this – this is a marvel.
This is the kind of thing I was hoping for!’

The children pointed their torches and made out the shape of a long barge. It lay sadly on its rotting keel, tipped over in an ungainly sprawl of broken wood. There were oars and an old
life-belt, and everything was coated in dirt, sand, and dust. It was turning into a skeleton.

‘How did they get that down here?’ said Sanjay.

‘I would imagine it was
built
down here,’ said the professor. ‘Some of these passages could be flooded and used as canals. What you’re looking at is one of the
boats that used to transport materials. The lake was dug, don’t forget, by men, women, and children.’

‘Wow,’ said Anjoli.

‘These tunnels are the equivalent of storm drains. They take the excess water away when the lake floods. Whoever designed this was a genius. You should be proud of your relatives,
Caspar.’

‘Um, do you mean this could all be underwater?’ said Oli.

‘Yes. The taps and valves will be in the pump-room, which is why it’s so important.’

‘I would have put pumps and stuff above ground,’ said Anjoli, as they set off again.

‘Yes,’ said Sanjay. ‘Why put it all underground so you have to come all the way down?’

‘A very good question,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘It’s because the engineers were making use of
hydraulics
: I’ll explain later. Why have we
stopped?’

They had stopped because the passage was completely blocked by a grille of metal bars. An ancient sign was just legible:
DANGER. NO ENTRY
.

Caspar was looking at his keyring, nervously.

A circle formed around him.

‘Don’t forget you’re the boss,’ said Sanjay. ‘This is your house, man.’

‘Yes, but I may not have
all
the keys.’

‘I could get through there,’ said Anjoli. ‘Breathe in and someone push me.’

‘Yeah, you’re just a stick,’ said Israel. ‘What about Henry?’ He was holding Henry’s sleeve, as the giant boy always got nervous underground. Miles was
holding his hand.

‘It might be this one,’ said Caspar, holding up an old, chocolate-coloured key. His voice had little confidence, but he pushed it into the keyhole. Asilah helped him twist it and,
suddenly, the mechanism clicked. The gate swung back and they were through. They turned to the right and came upon a steep circular staircase. There was a noise of rushing water.

‘We are close!’ said Professor Worthington, studying the map.

They descended, chattering with excitement. Soon, their footsteps had taken on a new echo; their voices were suddenly louder as the acoustics changed. Turning on the last step, they came under a
low beam and looked up.
Pumproom
, said the sign.

It was as if they had stepped into a musical instrument.

It was as if they’d walked into some infinitely complex body-part of tubes and pipes. There were pipes everywhere – thin and thick, straight and swooping. They soared overhead and
then you saw them under your feet. They were lost in impossible knots and then everything was untangled, running straight and parallel. The air was thick with water vapour, and the children’s
torches cut through it like searchlights, striking the brass to be reflected back and forth. It was a spaghetti so intricate that the eye was lost and confused. Some tubes were thin as straws; some
were great columns, thick as trees. Valves, nipples, and tees; spiders, spigots, tanks, and stopcocks – everything was polished and you could hear constant water, frothing inside.

The children moved forward into it, as if into the jungle. The noise was fabulous – all around them, drippings, high and low, and the echoes of those drippings. There were groans and
throbbings. There’d be a sudden whoosh and whirl – but the overwhelming sound, deep and constant, was of roaring water, hurtling unseen, ferocious as rapids or waterfalls.

The children touched, stroked, and gaped.

Gradually, as if drawn by a magnet, they came to the central chamber and gaped again.

‘Oh my word,’ said Professor Worthington. She brushed away tears with the back of her hand and started to laugh. ‘I so hoped they’d have one of these . . . I didn’t
dare believe they would . . . Caspar, this is priceless. What did I say about tears, Miles?’

‘They clean the eyeball, Miss.’

‘Yes. But they are also a hormonal reaction. My goodness . . .’

Again, every torch was focused on it and some dared a gentle touch. ‘We are so lucky,’ she whispered.

It was a giant column, made of glass. There was a brass frame, but the overwhelming impression was of a long, crystal shaft sinking into the ground and rising way up out of sight. Within the
cylinder were four smaller glass pipes, full of bubbling water. It looked like an ultramodern lift shaft, or a glass syringe. There was a glass door in the nearest panel, so you could step into it.
There was also a set of dials beside the door, inscribed with fine calibrations.

‘It’s an elevator,’ said Millie, with wonder in her voice. ‘Isn’t it? It’s a lift.’

‘It’s a . . . it’s a kind of lift,’ said the professor. ‘I’ve seen one other. They are extraordinarily rare – this is engineering at its most
miraculous. I think there are four, in the whole world.’

‘But why do you need a lift . . . in a lake?’

‘Why do you need a lift? Why would anyone need to ride a lift car, to get to the bottom of a lake?’

‘Fishing?’ said Ruskin. ‘Swimming?’

A number of children laughed, but professor Worthington silenced them. ‘He’s right,’ she said. ‘He’s absolutely right. There was – how can I explain it?
– a certain vanity when these things were constructed. Don’t forget that every architect likes to push himself and try new things. Let me try the control . . .’ She touched the
knob, gently. ‘These little dials, children, control about three million metric tonnes of water. And look at them: they’re the size of a teacup.’

She turned the top dial, gently. The bubbles in the four pipes slowed down in their journey. She turned it another degree and they stopped altogether. From over their heads there came a
vibration and the sound of a tide slowly, laboriously turning.

‘This is weird,’ said Sam. ‘The ground’s shaking.’

A water-lift was descending. They all recognised the principle at once: it was a lift-car, dropping in a glass shaft. But as it came into view and hovered in front of their gaze, they could see
it was different. It was two-thirds full of murky green water and there were three platforms, like diving boards.

‘It’s a ride!’ said Anjoli. ‘We could get in, through that door! We could go for a ride!’

‘Absolutely,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘It takes a while to get used to – but yes, one could empty the water, so the space is dry. Climb aboard and . . . up you go.
It’s about displacement. If you were to step into this chamber, you would have controlled access to the lake. It’s the most beautiful thing – it’s both a pumping mechanism
and a kind of decompression chamber. You can get into the lift and find yourself at any level of the lake that you choose. Then: touch the controls and you can step out into a boat. You can go
swimming, if that’s what you prefer. Or you can stay inside, safe and dry, and observe the fish. I would imagine the lake has underwater electric lights. In the days of your ancestors,
Caspar, they probably came down here for pre-dinner cocktails, to watch the mysteries of the deep.’

‘Let’s do it!’ said Israel. ‘We can swim home!’

‘It’s so beautifully maintained,’ murmured the professor. ‘Someone must come down here . . . there must be a team. Where’s Tomaz? He should know . . .’

Nobody answered.

She raised her voice. ‘Where’s Tom?’

‘He might be with Father O’Hanrahan, Miss,’ said Sanchez. ‘His interview was this afternoon.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Um . . . he told me, Miss. Is everything alright?’

‘No. Who said he could cut my class? Was he there for the stitching? I thought I saw him.’

The children were silent. At last, Asilah said, ‘I don’t think he wanted to go, Miss. But Father O’Hanrahan was pretty fierce about it. He came and got him, just as we were
lining up.’

Professor Worthington was staring into the glass, tight-lipped. She was clearly trying to conceal her anger, but wasn’t succeeding. She turned away from the group. ‘Get your
notebooks out,’ she said. Her voice was thin and clipped. ‘I want you to sketch this mechanism – we need to discuss hydraulics . . . Israel, what are you doing?’

‘Swimming,’ he said, hopefully. ‘I thought—’

‘Put your clothes back on. And you, Anjoli! Honestly . . .’

Suddenly, there was a shout. It was Eric, and he had his hands at his mouth, and was staring at the glass with mesmerised eyes. ‘Victor . . .’ he whispered. ‘I just saw
Victor!’

The children moved quickly round to where he was standing and peered into the chamber. The water was murky and there was weed floating in it – some kind of log as well.

Sam crouched down and peered upwards. ‘He’s right,’ he said. His eyes were wide. ‘It’s the crocodile. He’s in the lift!’

Professor Worthington went back to the dial and lowered the car so the waterline was under the children’s noses. The crocodile lifted its nose two centimetres and the dark crenellations of
its back came into view. It turned itself around and scrabbled up onto the muddy platform.

‘I’m lost for words,’ said Professor Worthington.

The children pressed their noses to the glass and the little ones knocked violently. The crocodile lifted an eyelid and closed it again. His zip of teeth appeared to be smiling smugly. He turned
and started nosing into the mess of mud and grass that had accumulated.

‘There’s eggs, Miss,’ said Sanjay.

‘What?’

Sanjay had his hands cupped around his eyes and was down on one knee. He was peering into the crocodile’s lair and he started to count. ‘Two, three . . . I think there’s about
seven, Miss.’

‘He’s got a nest!’ said Ruskin. ‘He’s got a nest!’

Professor Worthington brought the lift lower still and the children pressed right round it, straining for the best view. Sure enough, half buried in the silt they could see ivory-coloured
spheres. Victor moved his body up and over them and closed his eyes dismissively.

‘I have to say I am . . . bowled over,’ said the professor. ‘They say that all animals have an instinct, but this is remarkable. The temperature of that water is probably
higher than any other part of the lake. What a survivor – what a parent! I am filled with admiration.’

‘But where’s the mother?’ said Millie. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘I think we’re going to have to tell Flavio that Victor’s a girl. I had my suspicions, you know! I thought she was acting strangely.’

‘How does she get in and out though, Miss?’ said Kenji. ‘Is she trapped now?’

‘We’ll put her back up to the top before we go. It’s only at the top you can get out, so – yes, she’s trapped at the moment.’

‘You could drown in there,’ said Miles, quietly.

Everyone looked at him. He’d been noticeably keeping back and saying nothing. Henry stood next to him, in shirtsleeves. He had given Miles his giant blazer again and the boy was wrapped in
it, perched on a pipe. He looked uneasy, staring at the murky water.

‘Why do you say that?’ said Professor Worthington.

‘I don’t know,’ said Miles. ‘I’ve seen this before.’

‘Liar,’ said Millie.

Somebody pushed her, hard, and she nearly tripped.

‘. . . I don’t know when,’ said Miles. ‘Can we go back up, please?’

‘In a moment, of course. I’m interested in what you say, Miles – there’s one other, to my knowledge,’ said Professor Worthington. ‘It’s sometimes open
to the public.’ There was a squirt of radio static. ‘What was that?’ she snapped. ‘Was that you, Oli?’

‘Yes, Miss.’

‘Why have you brought a radio down here?’

‘It’s Millie’s submarine, Miss.’

‘Have you been carrying that for the last half-hour? You amaze me, you boys. Turn the wretched thing off and listen. What was I saying? Yes. The other model – it’s in a castle,
in Kent. Maybe you’ve seen that one, Miles? Have you ever been to Kent?’

‘I don’t know.’

Miles looked troubled. ‘The controls are on the outside,’ he said. ‘They should be on the inside.’

Professor Worthington looked at him more carefully. Apart from Henry, the children had moved away from him and his eyes looked slightly glazed. She wondered for a moment if he’d heard the
story.

‘I think you must have seen the other one, Miles. It’s a famous story – they call it
the housemaid’s revenge
. Eight people were drowned – is that what
you’re thinking of?’

‘No.’ He seemed distracted. ‘I want to go back. I want to go up.’

‘Tell us, Miss,’ said Anjoli.

‘No, it’s far too grim for children. It will give you nightmares.’

There was a chorus of disappointment. ‘Tell us! Tell us!’ The cry was repeated and she felt hands tugging her coat.

‘Alright,’ she said. ‘But if you can’t sleep tonight, don’t blame me. It’s all to do with gravity-fed water systems. Miles is absolutely right. He’s
spotted the flaw in the design – the fatal flaw. These dials can lift and lower the car, as you saw. But they can also fill it full of water and empty it. It doubles as a pump, you see
– to drain the lake – and it’s a crucial part of the machinery. I could fill that car with water and anyone in that car would be helpless. How long can you hold your breath,
children?’

‘Five minutes,’ said someone.

‘Three minutes!’

‘I did seven last term – that’s my record.’