The Black Book of Secrets (17 page)

There ensued a rather comical scene. Jeremiah had the
advantages of surprise and weight, but these were countered
by the brandy he had consumed. Joe was light on his
feet and was the faster of the two. With speed that defied
the laws of physics Joe leaped over the back of his chair, displaying
the grace and agility of a young gazelle. In two
strides he was at Jeremiah’s side and he whipped the book
from his sweaty clutches. Jeremiah cursed and lurched like
a drunken elephant from one side of the room to the other
while Joe merely sidestepped his clumsy attempts to grab
it back. I watched uselessly from the floor where I had
fallen, severely winded, after sustaining the impact of Jeremiah’s
full weight.

The entire display lasted no longer than a minute. Jeremiah
was forced to give up and slid down the wall to sit in
a most undignified fashion with his legs splayed and his
mouth wide open. His face was bright red, his eyes were
bulging and his lungs rattled with every drawn breath.

Joe stood over him, his clothes dishevelled and his hair
wilder than ever. His spidery shadow danced gleefully on
the wall. I dragged myself up and joined him.

‘I must protest at your behaviour, Mr Ratchet,’ scolded
Joe. ‘It is not what I would expect from a man of your
standing.’

Jeremiah struggled to his feet.

‘Listen, Mr Zabbidou,’ he said and all pretence of
sobbing and remorse was gone. ‘You don’t seem to understand.
You’re finished in this place. The villagers are coming
to get you. You’ll be run out of here. But before you go, I
want the book. And what I want I get.’

I laughed. Poor Ratchet. He was the one who didn’t
understand. Joe would never give up the book.

‘Absolutely not,’ said Joe. ‘The book is confidential and
I will never surrender it.’

‘Ah now, Zabbidou,’ persisted Jeremiah, and Joe winced
with distaste at this familiarity, ‘don’t be like that. What use
is the book to you any more? Why take it with you when I
can have it and make good use of it? We’re both businessmen,
Zabbidou. To keep it would be nothing short of
spiteful.’

‘Exactly what would you do with it, Mr Ratchet?’ asked
Joe.

Jeremiah looked surprised. ‘Blackmail, of course. Only
I’d make a better job of it than you. Five shillings at the
church gate? Not very sophisticated, if you don’t mind my
saying.’

I stood open-mouthed at the sheer cheek of the man.

‘Joe didn’t write that letter,’ I began, but Joe motioned
with his hand for me to be quiet.

‘Under the circumstances, Mr Ratchet,’ he said, ‘I do
not feel I can take your pledge. I think it is time for you to
go.’

Jeremiah surprised us both and held up his hands in surrender.
‘As you wish,’ he said and made his way meekly into
the shop. I watched from the doorway as Jeremiah stopped
at Saluki’s tank and placed his hands on the lid. My mouth
went dry. Now what was he going to do?

‘Give me the book,’ he hissed at Joe through his yellow
teeth, ‘or I will kill your precious frog.’

‘I’m warning you,’ said Joe quietly. ‘Do not touch the
frog. She does not like it.’

‘She does not like it,’ mimicked Jeremiah like a petulant
child. ‘Give me the book and it won’t matter.’

‘Don’t touch the frog.’ Joe’s voice was menacing.

‘Ha!’ shouted Jeremiah and flung the lid away, reached
in and grabbed Saluki with both hands.

‘No!’ shouted Joe, but it was too late.

Jeremiah yelped and dropped her. Saluki landed on the
floor with a soft thud and sat very still looking a little dazed.

‘I think it bit me,’ Jeremiah said and his eyes were wide
with surprise and confusion. ‘I think it bit me.’ Undeterred
and desperate, he picked up the tank and raised it above his
head.

‘Give me the damned book or the frog gets it.’

Joe, and Saluki, looked at him sadly. ‘Believe me,’ said
Joe stepping into the shop, ‘it won’t do you any good.’ And
at that he handed the Black Book of Secrets to Jeremiah
Ratchet.

Jeremiah’s eyes shone as he snatched the book with a triumphant
crow. ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’

Without another word he stomped out and slammed the
door. Gracefully and precisely, Saluki climbed up the
counter and back into her tank. Joe replaced the lid and
dropped in a couple of bugs and the frog chewed them as if
nothing had happened. And it was strange: I never thought
a frog could look satisfied but at that moment I swear Saluki
did. Her colours glowed with a vibrancy that near lit up the
room and her bright eyes seemed to say, ‘You were warned,
Ratchet. You were warned.’

Jeremiah Ratchet was gripped by intense glee. He longed
to skip, but the icy road permitted only a short-stepped
cautious haste. So instead he punched the air with his fist
and let out an audible ‘Ha! Ha!’ into the night.

He was distinctly pleased with himself. He had guessed
quite rightly that the Black Book was the key. To possess it
now almost made up for his earlier humiliation at the hands
of Horatio and the turkey. And of course, if it hadn’t been
for that altercation, he would never have found out exactly
what was in the book. After he had gone home with the
turkey he had watched the crowd, and Joe and Ludlow,
from his window. He had heard it all, every single word.
What fools they were, those villagers, to trust their secrets
to Joe Zabbidou. And that was when he had come up with
his plan, to pretend to pawn his own secret so he could get
his hands on the book. When he eavesdropped outside the
Pickled Trout, that had been just the icing on the cake. How
stupid Joe had been to send the blackmail letter. He had
burned all of his bridges in the village and at the same time
he had done Jeremiah a great favour. By the time the
villagers had got rid of Joe it would be too late. Jeremiah
would have the Black Book and he would use it to regain his
rightful position of power in Pagus Parvus.

If he was honest with himself, in his heart of hearts Jeremiah
had never thought it would be so easy to take
possession of the Black Book of Secrets. But then who
would have thought Joe would surrender it rather than lose
his precious frog? Jeremiah was fit to burst with self-congratulation.

As quietly as this delight would allow he hurried inside,
unaware that he had omitted to shut the door fully. He was
also unaware of the small figure who crept in after him and
followed him to the study. This stealthy intruder curled up
in the darkest corner and watched and waited. The full
moon shone its dusty beams through the window. They lit
up the clock on the mantel to show a quarter after three.
Jeremiah threw off his coat and dropped it; he pulled off his
hat and tossed it aside. With every step he took snow fell
off his boots and melted on the rug, leaving dark stains. He
held up the prize in triumph, the red ribbon trailing from
between its pages.

‘I’ll show them,’ he laughed, waving it in the air.
‘They’ll all pay for their treachery.’

Jeremiah took himself over to the dying fire and eased
himself into one of his very expensive leather chairs. He
glanced at the cover of the book, but couldn’t understand
it, so he flung it open and laid it flat on his lap. He licked
the tip of his stubby forefinger and turned the pages with
obvious relish, slowly at first and then more quickly. He tittered,
he giggled, he took the Lord’s name in vain more
than once, stopping every so often to rub his hands
together. He did this not in glee, however, but to soothe his
burning palms. Saluki’s bite, if that is what she had done,
was proving to be nearly as irritating as her owner.

‘My fortune is made,’ gloated Jeremiah. ‘There’re
secrets in this book I couldn’t even have guessed. And not
just from Pagus Parvus, from all over. As for Dr Mouldered!
My, my, who’d have thought it!’

With great satisfaction he snapped the book shut and a
single page fluttered to the floor to land at his feet. Breathing
hard by now he leaned forward to retrieve it and held
it up to the light. Its ragged edge suggested that it had been
recently torn from another book. It showed a colourful picture,
hand painted with some skill.

‘Frogs?’ snorted Jeremiah disdainfully and glanced curiously
at the caption. Seconds later he fell back into the chair
and let out a tremendous groan.

‘What has he done?’ he moaned. ‘The lanky fork-tongued
devil, he has duped me.’

His hands throbbed and burned. His movements were
slowing. A creeping numbness spread up his arms and
throughout his body. His chest tightened, his throat
swelled. It was becoming difficult to breathe. But he
watched, unable even to express surprise, as the boy
emerged from the half-light and came forward.

‘Wh-who’s th-there?’ he stuttered hoarsely.

The boy didn’t answer, just stared at the dying man
before bending down to pick the book up from the floor.

‘Who has done this to you?’ whispered the intruder.

Jeremiah’s lips moved and silently formed a single word.

The boy shook his head and left.

As soon as Jeremiah was gone I turned on Joe. Even now I
still couldn’t piece the puzzle together. All I knew was that
he had let Jeremiah walk away with his most precious
possession.

No, I thought. My most precious possession too.

That book was now part of my very existence. I couldn’t
stop myself and, blinded by rage and disappointment, I beat
upon Joe’s chest with my fists.

‘Why did you let him take it? You know how he will
use it.’

Joe shook me off gently and infuriated me with a smile.

‘Calm down, Ludlow. Don’t you understand? This is what
we’ve been waiting for.’

He poured another brandy (I had never seen him drink
more than one), threw back his head and swallowed it in
one go.

‘I have to say the fellow had me worried somewhat. I
thought he would have been up here days ago; it would have
saved us a lot of trouble. He has certainly taken his time.’

Confused, angry and burning with questions, I was
determined to find the truth.

‘You mean you wanted him to do this?’

‘It’s not what I want,’ said Joe, ‘it’s what Jeremiah
wants. If nothing else he was true to his nature. That man
cannot bear others to have what he desires.’

‘You’re talking in riddles again. Just tell me what’s really
going on. I deserve to know.’

‘What do you want to know, Ludlow? What is it you
think I have kept from you?’

His calm disarmed me. My anger dissipated and I
became flustered. ‘Lots of things. You said you weren’t a
blackmailer yet you asked Jeremiah for a secret, just like
Polly said. Would you have paid him too?’

Joe looked mildly shocked. ‘I expected better of you
than such an accusation. Jeremiah, for all his faults,
deserves a chance, like everyone else, to gain relief from his
troubles. Do you think that his innate cruelty prevents him
from feeling remorse? I had to give him the opportunity. It
is part of what I do.’

‘The opportunity to do what?’

‘To say he was sorry.’

‘And if he had, what then?’

‘Well, if he had told me a secret, then I should have paid
him. Rules are rules. Things would have been different, of
course; as it is, he has only himself to blame.’

I tutted with exasperation. ‘And just what are these
rules you live by?’

He remained silent.

‘Who are you, Joe?’

‘The truth will come later, I promise you that,’ he said
finally. ‘What is important now is that you go to retrieve
the book.’

I laughed sarcastically. ‘And how am I to do that?’

‘You’ll find a way, but you’d better hurry. He must be
halfway down the hill already.’

‘You’re not coming with me?’

Joe shook his head. ‘I have played my part. Now it is
your turn.’

I threw up my hands in frustration but I didn’t waste
another second. Whatever else I wanted to say to Joe, it
could wait. He was right. I had to get the Black Book back.
The secrets of the whole village, and others, were in there.
Jeremiah already knew Perigoe’s and Horatio’s and Obadiah’s,
but what about everyone else’s? There were so many
secrets. I realized that until now I had thought of this whole
business as a sort of game that Joe and I were playing with
the villagers, all of us pitted against Jeremiah Ratchet. But
it wasn’t a game any longer. It was deadly serious. I had
written their confessions and now it was up to me to save
them.

So I ran out of the door and down the hill, skidding and
slipping and cursing in my head, both Jeremiah and Joe, and
plagued by terrible doubt. Maybe Job Wright hadn’t been
so far off the mark. Maybe Joe was using the villagers and I
had been too blind to see it, selfishly hanging on to this new
life, so desperate for a real father that I had ignored what
was going on under my nose. Was this the punishment for
taking what I didn’t deserve? But it still didn’t make sense.

‘It’s not about the money,’ I said to the night. ‘There has
to be another reason.’

Jeremiah had already gone inside, but in his haste the
latch hadn’t caught so I slipped into the hall and followed
his trail of wet footprints to the study. I squatted down just
inside the door and watched as he settled in the chair. There
was meat pie somewhere close by and the smell made my
mouth water.

I didn’t know what I was going to do. My heart beat so
loudly I thought it would give me away. I could see the top
of his head and I could hear pages turning. Soon it would be
too late, he would know everything. I heard the book snap
shut and saw a page flutter to the floor. He leaned forward
to pick it up. He said something, then groaned and fell back
into the chair. All I could hear now was his noisy wheezing.

I don’t know how long I waited before tiptoeing over.
He was so still I wondered if he had fallen asleep. I stood
right in front of him. His eyes were open and for a second
I expected him to grab me, but he just sat there, a terrible
sight to behold. His face was white and his breathing was
harsh and rattling. I knew I was looking at a dying man.

‘Who’s there?’ he mumbled and I could hardly hear
him.

I bent down and picked the book up from the floor.

‘Who has done this to you?’ I asked

Slowly Jeremiah’s dry lips formed a silent word.

Joe.

There was nothing else I could do, so I left.