Candleman (4 page)

‘But, who am I really?’ he persisted.

‘You honestly don’t know?’ Sam asked.

Theo shook his head.

The decrepit Magnus slowly raised a trembling, crooked finger. ‘It is not a matter for
us
to speculate upon,’ he said in a lofty tone. ‘The Mysteries must be respected at all times. The Mysteries will light the way to the Ascendancy.’

‘What’s the Ascendancy?’ asked Theo.

‘That’s one of the Mysteries,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve never been let in on it myself.’ For a moment he glanced resentfully at his grandad, and it was clear to Theo who held the most arcane knowledge. Sam started pulling cans of food out of the smelly cupboard.

‘We’ll tell you what we can,’ Sam said. ‘After we’ve celebrated your escape.’

Theo felt terrible. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, but in order to be polite he had eaten a huge helping of cheese on toast, smothered with mustard and piled high with baked beans. He had also drunk several glasses of the sickly sweet cider – to be a good guest – and he was sure he was going to die. His usual diet of millet and greens may have been boring, but at least it didn’t make his stomach feel like it was about to explode.

‘The Society of Unrelenting Vigilance is an order founded in 1892,’ said Magnus, sucking up milky broth from a bowl held in two trembling hands. ‘It is our job to watch over the Society of Good Works and make sure they do not perform any – ahem … bad works.’

Theo nodded to show he understood so far. He couldn’t really imagine Dr Saint and his charity organisation doing anything bad, but since discovering the secret room he had the uncomfortable feeling that anything was possible.

‘Anything else?’ he asked hopefully. The cemetery keeper’s aspect suddenly changed. There was a strange glow in his eyes. For a moment, Theo was almost scared of him.

‘It is also our job to preserve something special about the past,’ Magnus said. ‘Something which other people would try to destroy. You are part of that past.’

‘A dangerous part!’ butted in Sam, hunting around under the sink for more cider. Theo went pale.

‘Don’t frighten him!’ gurgled Magnus, almost choking on his milky glop.
‘Dangerous
is a dangerous word. It is not for us to say!’

‘But think how they locked him up, kept him hidden!’ Sam shouted with his head still in the cupboard. ‘Theo must be very –’

‘That’s enough!’ croaked Magnus, sitting up suddenly and letting his bowl crash to the floor. Sam shut up. Magnus smiled apologetically at Theo. The old man looked drained and frail again as he sank slowly back into his seat.

‘This is a delicate matter.’ The cemetery keeper sighed. ‘Tomorrow Theo will be introduced to the Grand Council of the Vigilant. Until then, we must say no more.’

Sam had failed to find any drink, but was delighted to emerge from the cupboard with a packet of jelly beans.

‘Anyway,’ he said with a grin, ‘you are so lucky we rescued you … whoever you are!’

Ordered into silence again, Sam demonstrated his high spirits by throwing the beans up in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth.

That night, Theo slept on a lumpy sofa, with a smelly blanket wrapped round him.

They moved on before dawn.
My guardian must know I’ve gone by now,
Theo thought. There would be bedlam in Empire Hall! Theo couldn’t bear to think about it. He wasn’t entirely sure he had made the right decision in running away. He shivered in the damp autumn twilight.

The three trudged through the scant woodlands on the edge of the great cemetery. Theo, still feeling a horrible gaseous reaction going on in his stomach, was grateful that the ancient Magnus was accompanying them, lurching along on two walking sticks. It kept the pace slow, and even Theo’s feeble muscles started to get used to the activity.

They finally reached what Theo took to be the edge of the cemetery. An iron gate was snarled up in so much bindweed it took all Sam’s strength to tear it open.

‘I’m as excited as you are, Theo,’ Sam said as they squeezed through the gate. ‘I’ve never seen the Grand Council myself! The last time Grandad went, I think I was about three.’

Magnus stopped and sank down between his walking sticks like a scarecrow that had lost half its stuffing.

‘There has been nothing to meet for,’ he said. ‘The Society was created to wait and watch … until the time of the Ascendancy. That time is now.’

‘He didn’t even tell me the rescue was on until seven o’clock last night –’ began Sam sulkily.

‘Tush! Tish!
Keep it quiet,’ scolded Magnus. ‘The Mysteries must be respected!’

‘All right!’ groaned Sam.

They hit an abandoned railway track, overgrown with head-high hogweed. The cemetery keeper took the lead and heaved his body along with silent resolution. From behind nearby hoardings, the sound of traffic roared by unseen. Sam gave Theo a conspiratorial look.

‘Grandad can’t hear us now. He’s hard to get away from. He’s very, err …’

‘… Vigilant?’ suggested Theo.

‘Exactly. I can see he trusts you though. He had that special look about him last night. He usually reserves that look for when he talks about Mr Norrowmore.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘The Eternal Vigilance. He’s the geezer we’ll meet at the Watch Tower. He’s our only link to the Grand Council. I’ve been told it like a fairy tale by Grandad ever since I was a kid. Mr Norrowmore sees it all. He points the way to the Council Hall. Do you know that stuff?’

Theo shook his head. ‘I don’t know any stuff,’ he lied. He felt a bit awkward about not telling his new allies about the secret room and the Candle Man, but something held his tongue. There was something dreadful about it all.
Too much bad luck,
the old robber had said. And Theo, strangely, believed him. If Sam didn’t know about it already, why should Theo drag him into it?

‘You’re special, that’s plain,’ Sam said, almost crossly. ‘I bet you know about the Eighty-eight as well!’

They turned a corner and Magnus loomed right in front of them, his pale eyes bulging with rage.

‘I don’t want to hear that number again, Samuel!’ he rasped.

Sam gulped and nodded.

The three plodded on. Magnus took them through a gap in a boarded-up railway tunnel. Stumbling along the rubbish-strewn old track was exhausting for Theo and trickier still for old Magnus on his walking sticks. Halfway down the tunnel they turned into a side passage, up a flight of stairs, over a covered bridge, through something that looked like an abandoned ticket hall, and finally out into a weed-covered courtyard.

‘The Watch Tower,’ whispered Magnus, gesturing towards the dirty old building before them. It wasn’t a proper tower with a spire like in Theo’s fairy-tale books. In fact, it looked more like the tallest ruin in a collection of derelict railway buildings. Right at the top, a domed roof could be glimpsed among the broken chimneys and rusty aerials – one touch of elegance in the midst of decay.

Magnus produced a long iron key and turned the lock. ‘I signalled ahead to Mr Norrowmore when you two were asleep last night,’ Magnus said. ‘He will be overjoyed to receive us!’

They reached the top of the staircase, and Magnus pushed a door open into a vast circular chamber. Theo looked around, wide-eyed. The top room was like a museum of communications. In the murky daylight that seeped through the narrow, barred windows, he could see robust old wireless sets, Morse-code apparatus and enormous archaic computers topped with rows of electric valves. Vast rows of cubbyholes were stuffed with envelopes and packages, scrolls lay in plastic tubes, and maps covered in string and pegs covered the walls.

But it wasn’t the arcane paraphernalia that held the gaze of the three new arrivals. They were all staring at the skeleton in a suit that lay collapsed over the central radio set. Theo was the first to speak.

‘I think we’ve found Mr Norrowmore.’

T
his meeting of the Society of Good Works will come to order!’ shrieked Dr Saint. The room – which had been a ferment of panic, anger and mutual recrimination – suddenly fell silent. Nine figures were gathered at the long table in the Empire Hall Assembly Room. Dr Saint sat at the head of the table, with Mr Nicely standing at the wall behind him, still with a bandaged head.

‘To put an end to all unseemly rumour,’ Dr Saint continued, resuming his usual outward calm, ‘last night, Theo Saint, my ward, was kidnapped.’

There were gasps of horror around the table and murmurs of
I told you so.

‘Details!’ bellowed Baron Patience. ‘For pity’s sake, we must move quickly or our entire project is undone!’ He mopped his bloodhound-like face with an immense hanky.

‘Between the hours of ten o’clock last night and six this morning, the Vessel was abducted,’ Dr Saint said solemnly.
The Vessel
– Mr Nicely pulled a face. It was a long time since Theo had been called that.

‘It was clearly part of a long-laid plan …’

‘If you know it was long laid, then why on earth didn’t you act to stop it?’ Baron Patience asked.

‘It only emerged that it had been long laid, when my trusted housemaid, recruited from one of our own orphanages by Lady Blessing herself –’

‘Don’t drag me into it!’ protested Lady Blessing, half hidden under an immense dark hood.

Dr Saint ignored her. ‘It only emerged, as I say, when my house servant, Clarice Cripps, did not appear for work this morning at five-thirty, as she is ordered to do. Mr Nicely was then required to attend to my ward’s medication and found him gone.’

‘Do we know who the perpetrators are?’ asked a nervous, immaculately dressed gentleman in a white suit and lavender gloves. He was known in the Society as Lord Dove.

‘Not with absolute certainty,’ Dr Saint replied. ‘Clarice Cripps must have been part of a larger conspiracy.’

‘It is our darkest hour!’ boomed Baron Patience, his enormous figure sprawled in a leather chair in the far corner. ‘If the Vessel should remain at large for too long, become independent –’

‘Please!’ cried Dr Saint indignantly. ‘Credit us with some intelligence! The Vessel
cannot
thrive outside of our protection. He has been brought up to be ignorant and weak.’

A murmur of approval ran round the table.

‘Theo was raised in splendid isolation,’ Dr Saint explained proudly, ‘sheltered from all knowledge of the world, encouraged to mistrust the illusions of happiness and achievement. Even his diet was designed to … save him from the dangers of excess health and the follies of vigour. He will be unable to cope with freedom –’

‘You assume he is still alive,’ growled the Baron. ‘If the Dodo has got hold of him –’

‘The Dodo has been dead for over a hundred years,’ groaned Dr Saint.

‘Or the Taxidermist!’ winced Lord Dove.

‘One of our Mollycoddlers said she saw a garghoul on the wing last night!’ said Lady Blessing. ‘And to think I punished her for falling asleep and dreaming on duty.’

Murmurs of dismay ran around the table. Dr Saint waved his long fingers airily as if these speculations could be wafted away like unwanted smoke. The meeting was getting out of hand.

‘We face no obstacle,’ he said, his face a mask of cold determination, ‘that cannot be overcome by our usual sworn methods of compassion and kindness!’ There was a murmur of approval from the shadowy assembly.

‘There is no alternative,’ said Dr Saint. ‘We need eyes and ears everywhere – and hands to snatch our property back!’ He paused for a moment, then spoke in a grave hush, pointing a pale finger towards the ground. ‘We must release our ancient allies!’

The company took a collective deep breath. There was a gasp from Lord Dove. ‘Not that awful
tribe?’
he asked.

‘Yes, that perfectly awful tribe,’ said Dr Saint, smiling.

‘By Jove,’ rumbled Baron Patience, sitting back as if needing physical room to take on board this dramatic idea, ‘I like it!’

‘We
won’t have to see them, will we?’ groaned Lady Blessing, her gaunt but beautiful profile glimpsed palely within her hood.

‘Leave them to me,’ Dr Saint said. ‘I feel such remorse for allowing Theo to fall into enemy hands that I must atone in some way. Leave all the tricky details to Dr Saint.’

‘A great, great man,’ mumbled Mr Nicely in the background.

‘What are we going to do about the police?’ asked Lord Dove, fiddling with his perfect white cuffs. ‘You say they have actually been here – in Empire Hall? What do they know? What are they after?’

‘It was an unrelated burglary … a small matter,’ Dr Saint replied.

Mr Nicely caressed his bandaged head, which was not a small matter to him.

‘Scotland Yard could be a nuisance,’ persisted Lord Dove, anxiously drumming his gloved fingers on the tabletop. ‘If they find out about the abduction, they will certainly want to know why we didn’t report it to them!’

‘They can never know!’ snapped Dr Saint.

‘Inspector Finley is our main concern,’ Lady Blessing observed. ‘He has shown a little interest in the Society of Good Works before.’

Dr Saint folded his long white hands together in his habitual gesture of prayer. ‘A little interest is too much.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Inspector Finley has enough worries on his head. I think an act of kindness is in order.’

He pursed his lips in thought. ‘I have heard the inspector is so overweight, his colleagues fear he may suffer a heart attack one day. Perhaps if he were to win a contest – free cream cakes for a year?’

‘I shall see to it,’ said Lord Dove with relish. ‘I am a lethal master of confectionery!’

‘And he is partial to burgers and doughnuts. Perhaps if a cheap fast-food restaurant were to open right next to the police station?’

‘No problem,’ said the Baron. ‘Our department of works will be notified at once.’

‘That won’t be so easy,’ remarked Lady Blessing. ‘There’s a children’s hospital next to the police station currently.’

‘Get our friend the Prime Minister to close it down then,’ Dr Saint snapped. ‘Goodness me, we send him enough friendly donations.’

‘It is rather a large hospital,’ Lady Blessing added.