The Mystery of the Clockwork Sparrow (9 page)

‘Calm down, lad,’ said George soothingly. ‘Don’t pay any attention. A bit of talk is only human nature. It’ll settle down soon enough.’

‘But it’s not fair. I know she didn’t have anything to do with it.’

‘And I daresay you’re right. A bit of a girl like that isn’t likely to be mixed up with the likes of this. It’ll all come out in the wash, you’ll see. The Old Bill know what they’re doing. You just let them get on with their job, and we’ll get on with ours.’

‘I just wish there was something I could do to prove that she’s innocent,’ said Billy. ‘Or to find out who the burglars really were.’

‘Well, how about you help me instead, eh?’ said George, wiping his forehead. ‘What do you reckon you turn driver and take this delivery out? You can manage old Bessy all right, can’t you?’

In spite of himself, Billy couldn’t help a small smile. He hadn’t expected to be allowed to take out any deliveries by himself for a while yet, and he saw this was George’s way of trying to cheer him up. ‘All right,’ he said.

Bessy plodded forwards out of the yard, her harness jingling. Out on the street, amongst the throng of Hansom cabs and shiny new motors, the light seemed clear, the air was brisk and the blue sky arched above him. He saw one or two people pointing and nodding as they saw the blue and gold Sinclair’s livery, and he began to take pleasure in being in charge of the van and the glossy well-groomed horse. He shook the reins and clicked his tongue to Bessy. This was a whole lot better than mucking about with boxes. He turned towards Hyde Park, keeping Bessy at a steady, surefooted pace, careful to give the motor buses a wide berth because George had told him that they made her nervous.

The deliveries were mostly for Mayfair: the first was a lot of boxes for a mansion on Belgrave Square, one of London’s most fashionable and elegant addresses. He pulled up neatly in front of the house, hopped down from the seat and pulled down the running board – and then he stopped short.

‘
What – are – you – doing here?
’ he managed to burst out at last, almost speechless with surprise and anger.

The young man he’d found hiding in the stable-yard was crouched at the back of the van, curled up in a shadowy corner behind a pile of boxes. Now, he scrambled to his feet and hopped out.

‘Here – listen a minute – keep yer hair on,’ he began awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry for cadging a lift. I didn’t mean to make you jump like that. It’s just that I wanted to talk to you.’

Billy snorted. ‘Why on earth would I want to talk to you?’ he demanded. ‘Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go for you, here and now. You knocked me down, you nearly lost me my job and now you’ve stowed away in the van! Do you have any idea how much trouble I’d be in if anyone found out you were there? And it’s all thanks to you that Sophie is in this mess!’

‘But that’s what I want to talk to you about,’ the strange young fellow said eagerly. ‘I was there, see. I know what really happened last night!’

Billy laughed disbelievingly, but the young fellow went on:

‘You want to help that young lady, don’t you? The one they said did the burglary?’

All of the anger of the day seemed to boil up inside Billy, and snapped out of him like a taut elastic band that had suddenly been released. ‘I’m telling you, she didn’t do it!’ he yelled. Startled by the sudden noise, Bessy whinnied anxiously, but Billy went on. ‘Now shut up and get away from me! Scram! I don’t want anything to do with you!’

He found himself giving the fellow a sharp shove. Knocked sideways, the young man grabbed for the shafts of the van with his good arm to steady himself. Jostled and frightened now, Bessy reared up with a great neighing sound, sending parcels spilling out into the street, and almost overturning the van. Horrified by what he had done, Billy made a grab for the reins – but to his surprise, the young man was there before him, hanging on to the bridle, forcing the horse’s head back down again. The young man’s body crashed against the shafts, but he hung on valiantly until at last the horse was still again, though blowing and rolling her eyes wildly. Billy gaped at him for a moment, and then opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything a long shadow fell across them.

‘Well then, fellers. What have we got here?’

They looked up into the face of a tall policeman, who was swinging his truncheon threateningly. He had a black moustache and looked rather like Uncle Sid. Visions of what his uncle would say – and worse, do – if he were brought back to the store by a policeman, having failed with his very first delivery, swam in Billy’s head. Opposite him, the young man had stiffened, his eyes flooded with terror like an animal caught in a trap.

‘This your vehicle? This your horse?’

Billy thought on his feet. ‘Yes, sir. That is, they belong to Sinclair’s department store,’ he replied. ‘We’ve a delivery for . . . er . . . a Mrs Whiteley,’ he added hastily, glancing down at the bill of delivery, which was now crumpled in his hand. ‘We were just . . . er . . . discussing which was the right house, but a motor horn startled the horse.’

‘I didn’t hear no motor horn,’ said the policeman, suspiciously.

‘Could you direct us to the house, Sergeant?’ asked Billy, quickly.

The policeman looked rather pleased to be addressed as ‘Sergeant’, but it didn’t stop him sounding sharp as he said: ‘You’re right in front of it,’ gesturing with his truncheon. ‘Get on with it then, young shavers. This is a fine part of town, not somewhere for kicking up a racket in the street.’ He stood back and watched, his arms folded.

Luckily the young man seemed to be quick on the uptake: he picked up a couple of the boxes and trotted after Billy up towards the house, quite as if he did it every day. Billy rang the bell at the tradesman’s entrance and a pert maid in a frilly apron and mob cap answered, wrinkling up her nose at the sight of his companion’s tatty clothes.

‘No begging here,’ she began.

‘We’re not begging,’ said Billy, crossly. ‘We have a delivery for Whiteley, from Sinclair’s department store.’

She looked doubtfully at them, and then out at the policeman standing watching on the street, but the sight of the boxes seemed to reassure her. To their relief she took the delivery inside, and they went back to the van and made as if to drive off again. Billy had to admit that the young man was a pretty good actor, nodding to him as if Billy were the boss, and then going round to the horse’s head, adjusting her bridle and calming her down in quite a professional manner. She stood quietly now and, apparently satisfied, the policeman strode off down the street. As soon as he turned the corner, they both heaved a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks for covering for me, mate,’ said the young man, running a finger around the inside of his grimy collar.

‘I’m
not
your mate,’ said Billy shortly.

‘All right, all right. You’re not. But thanks for it all the same – I don’t need no trouble with the rozzers. And I’m sorry I tripped you the other day, I mean it. But listen. I heard what you were saying to that old feller. You’re angry on account of they think that young lady – your friend – had something to do with what happened at the shop. But you know she didn’t. You want to know who really done it. Well, I can tell you. I was there in the yard last night.’

In spite of everything, Billy felt a tingle of excitement, but he didn’t want to give anything away. ‘Go on,’ was all he said, crossing his arms.

‘I was staying out of the way. Waiting for ’em to all go home and then I’d find a quiet corner to kip for the night. And they all left, except that young feller what got shot. He just kept standing there, like he was waiting. And then someone did come out. Another geezer.’

‘Who was it?’

‘I dunno. Just a feller. I couldn’t see his face; he had a cap on and his collar up. But he had a shooter. Shot that feller down, as quick as winking, and then disappeared. But before he went, he dropped this.’

He held out a dirty piece of paper, and Billy took it, still doubtful. ‘What’s it say?’ he asked.

‘Dunno. I can’t read. But you can, can’t you? I’ve seen you reading.’

Billy unfolded the paper quickly. It had got wet, so the words were difficult to make out, but it looked like a page from a ledger, and he began to feel a thrill of anticipation. He looked up to see the young man watching him intently.

‘What’s it say?’ he asked eagerly.

‘It’s a list of some sort,’ Billy began, then stopped. ‘Why are you giving me this?’ he asked, suddenly suspicious. ‘Why don’t you take it to the police?’

The young man gave a short laugh. ‘I ain’t talking to the rozzers. No chance. The thing is, I’m in a bit of hot water. There’s some fellers after me, and I’ve got to find a place to lie low for a while. I was going to move on – but then I thought that if I help you with this, maybe you might see your way to help me out too. I know you want to look out for that young lady, and you’re right about that. She ain’t got nothing to do with it. She’s all right,’ he added, awkwardly.

Billy felt himself wavering at this. ‘But I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you,’ he said reluctantly. ‘I haven’t a brass farthing.’

‘It’s not chink I’m after.’ The young man shrugged. ‘All I’m looking for is a place to hide out. Somewhere quiet like, somewhere that no one can find me. Just for a while, till they’ve forgot about me. If you help me with that, I’ll do anything I can for you – I swear it on me old grandad’s grave.’

Billy glanced down at the young fellow’s arm. ‘Did they do that to you?’

He nodded, shamefaced.

Billy looked back at him through narrowed eyes. He wasn’t at all sure he ought to trust him. But something made him say, ‘Fair enough,’ letting out a long breath. ‘We’ll call it a truce for now. But no funny business,’ he added hastily. ‘I think I know somewhere you can hide out for a bit, but you’ll have to toe the line and help me find out who he is, that man you saw.’

‘All right. You’re the boss.’

‘I’m Billy – Billy Parker.’ He held out a hand, and the stranger looked confused for a moment, but then took it rather gingerly in his dirty paw and gave it an uncertain shake.

‘Joe,’ he said.

‘I’ve got to finish the deliveries now. You’d better get out of here. But meet me later . . .’ He struggled to think of a place that they could meet, with Uncle Sid’s eye on him at work and Mum’s at home. ‘Meet me at the store, in the stable-yard, after closing time,’ he suggested finally.

Joe nodded. ‘I’ll find you,’ he said, and disappeared so quickly it was almost as if he had never been there at all.

Billy glanced at the piece of paper again. The tattered note seemed to glow with mystical properties: he felt as if he had suddenly been transformed into Montgomery Baxter himself. The writing was smudged and not easy to read, but he felt certain that with time, he would be able to decipher it. This could be it – the evidence he needed to prove what had really happened. For a moment, excitement overwhelmed him, but then he remembered his task. Folding the note carefully and putting it into his inside pocket, he turned back to the now quiet Bessy, and the next batch of deliveries for the store.

‘T
he rehearsal went off far better than I could have hoped for. And Gilbert Lloyd – he really is an absolute
dream
–’ Lil broke off mid-sentence, her bright face suddenly solemn. ‘Oh Sophie, do have something to eat. You look as white as a sheet.’

The two were sitting opposite each other at a little table in the ABC teahouse on Oxford Street at the end of the long opening day. They had already discussed all the events of the first day of business in the store: the proceedings of the first ever dress show; Sophie’s hectic day of selling dozens of hats to over-excited ladies; and Mr Sinclair’s tour of the store to greet some of the most important customers. Now, Lil was busily relating the story of her rehearsal at the Fortune Theatre that morning.

All around them were other girls like themselves: office girls, shop girls, telephone operators, released from work and chattering over cakes and buns. Going out to supper had been Lil’s idea, something to take Sophie’s mind off the gossip that had been surging around the store, and Sophie had been touched by the suggestion. She had been half-wondering whether, given everything that had happened, Lil’s friendship might fade away again as quickly as it had appeared. If anything, though, Lil seemed friendlier than ever. She was now pushing the plate of crumpets towards Sophie, a concerned expression on her face.

Sophie took one. ‘I’m sorry I’m being such a bore,’ she said. ‘It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about the burglary. The whole thing seems so extraordinary. I haven’t known them for very long, but I can’t believe that people at the store really think I could be some sort of a criminal.’ She couldn’t help thinking about what Papa would say if he could see her being questioned by the police.

‘It’s all rot,’ said Lil, through a rather unladylike mouthful of cake. ‘I can’t imagine what the duffers are thinking of. But I’m sure it will all soon blow over. I mean, once Bert comes round, he’ll be able to tell everyone what really happened.’

‘If he does come round,’ said Sophie bleakly. She was still struggling to take in the fact that just a few minutes after she had seen him in the yard, Bert had been shot.

‘It’s just idiotic gossip, that’s all,’ said Lil firmly. ‘Actually, I’m rather astonished that Mr Cooper hasn’t nipped it in the bud already.’

Sophie shook her head. ‘I think he half suspects me himself,’ she said. ‘He’s watching me, I know it. He was the one who told Sergeant Gregson that I’d been there, in the Exhibition Hall, after hours.’

‘Oh, I’m certain he doesn’t
really
believe you had anything to do with it. Or that policeman, either. How could he? I think he’s simply asking you all these questions because he wants to know absolutely everything that went on last night – and you just happened to be there. He probably thinks that you might have seen or heard something that will help him find out who the thieves were,’ suggested Lil.

‘That’s like what Mr McDermott said,’ Sophie mused. Lil looked at her questioningly and she explained: ‘He’s Sinclair’s private detective. He’s working with the police.’