Julius and the Watchmaker (7 page)

‘I'll have it,' he said.

Julius stared at the man, blood draining from his face.
He knows about the diary, Higgins. He'll slit your throat for it and not turn a hair.

‘Okay,' said Julius. ‘Er…would you like it wrapped?'

‘I wouldn't worry about that. I'll play it as I go.'

Julius paused while he tried to figure out what to say next. The man sniffed the air.

‘Smells like a fish shop in here.'

‘I know.'

He's playing with you, Higgins. He'll snap you in two in the next second.

‘Oh, before I forget. I have a bit of business to do as well,' said the man, pulling a gold signet ring from his coat pocket. He placed it on the counter.

‘Um, a nice signet ring. How much did you want for it?'
Well done, Higgins.

‘That's for you to say, now, isn't it, young fella.'

‘Yes, well…if you'll excuse me for a moment, sir. I'll have to confer with my associate,' said Julius.

He picked up the ring quickly so the man wouldn't notice his trembling hand. It was heavy enough to be solid gold.

‘Take your time, young fella. I have all the time in the world, so I have,' said the man, and he touched the rim of his hat and grinned.

Julius backed through the curtain and held the ring in front of Clements who was chewing on a fist-sized wad of bread. A mournful squeeze-box melody wafted in from the shop.

‘How much for this?' Julius asked.

Clements snatched it and looked closely at the hallmark. ‘Gold, eighteen carat, nice workmanship. Offer him ten shillings, twelve if he wants to haggle.'

‘Okay,' said Julius.

He returned to the shop and swallowed hard once again. ‘Twelve shillings, sir.'

The man laughed and dropped the squeeze box on the counter. ‘Clements set the price, did he?'

Julius nodded and placed the ring back on the counter. The man took in a deep breath and bellowed. ‘Come out here and talk to me face-to-face, Clements.' The shop shook with the force of his voice.

Julius's knees went weak, and Clements' sweaty face appeared from behind the curtain.

‘Why, Mr Flynn, I didn't know it was you. I do humbly beg your pardon,' he said, wringing his hands as if he was washing them in the air.

‘Well, now that you know who you're dealing with, let's hear a proper price.'

‘Certainly, Mr Flynn, certainly,' said Clements fumbling with the signet ring. ‘What would you say to ten pounds, Mr Flynn?'

‘Add another two and you have yourself a deal, Mr Clements.'

‘Two did you say. Well, um…let me think…um…very well, two it is, Mr Flynn.'

‘You drive a hard bargain, Mr Clements, but it's always a pleasure doing business with you,' said the Irishman. Then he held out his hand to the pawnbroker, who shook it nervously.

Clements bent down under the counter and counted out two five-pound notes and two sovereigns from the safe. ‘I'll leave the boy to fill out the paperwork if you don't mind, Mr Flynn. My dinner's getting cold,' he said, dropping the money on the counter.

‘Not at all, Mr Clements, you get yourself inside. Kippers is it? The boy and I will sort things out,' said the man.

‘Higgins, help Mr Flynn to fill out the loan agreement. Fifteen pounds to reclaim the item, and all rights will forfeit in three months from this date. There's the form,' said Clements, before hurrying back into the kitchen.

CHAPTER 7

Wednesday 5th July, 1837
7:32 PM

Julius tried to stay calm.
Think first, speak second, Higgins.

‘Well, sir, please sign here,' he said, as he reached for the quill standing in the inkwell.

‘You'll be glad to know that Mr Higgins is not in too bad a shape…all things considered,' said the man under his breath as he accepted the quill.

‘What?'

Julius looked at the curtain behind him to make sure Clements was gone.
They've taken him hostage, that's it. They'll stop at nothing to get the diary.

‘The professor visited Mr Higgins this morning, and bought a very expensive volume from the old wheeler dealer, just to cheer him up. He was very shaken though, and upset, the professor said. Apparently his grandson and he had very serious words the other night. So serious, in fact, that the grandson ran off into the night and the grandfather thinks he may never return. A disagreement over an item of stock, apparently.'

Julius gasped.

‘Julius,' whispered the man, looking into his eyes, ‘go home, make it up with your grandfather. Clements is the last person you should be getting mixed up with.'

‘How…how did you know about my grandfather?'
Shut up, Higgins.

‘You wrote a note to the professor asking us to look in on him for you. You were worried about him. You asked us to meet you at the river last night.'

‘No I didn't. You're lying.'

‘You haven't written the note yet, young fella. That's why you don't remember,' said the man.

‘What?'

The man held out the two five-pound notes and the sovereigns. ‘Here, take these. The professor wanted you to be set. Pay your way with Clements—don't get into his debt.'

Julius pocketed the money.

‘Go home and make it up with the old wheeler dealer. Whatever happened between you can be sorted out,' said the man.

Julius looked down at the squeeze box. ‘I can't.'
Not without the diary.

‘I see,' said the man. ‘It's like that is it?'

The man signed the loan agreement, tipped his hat and turned to leave. Then he stopped. A thought seemed to occur to him.

‘Meet the professor and me at midnight, at the steps of St Paul's,' he said, and then walked out of the shop, leaving the squeeze box on the counter. Julius looked down at the elegant signature. ‘Daniel Patrick Flynn', it read.

Julius sniffed his boots and put them on. The smell was not too bad. In a few days the fish would fade away completely.

Back in the kitchen, Clements was examining Mr Flynn's ring while Springheel was examining Harrison's watch.

‘Ha, ha, I'll take this to a jeweller I know tomorrow and get twenty pounds for it,' said Clements, as Julius sat down.

‘Who was that then?'

‘That, Higgins, was Daniel Flynn, better known as “The Duke”. He's the champion bare-knuckle boxer of all London,' said Clements.

‘Oh.'

‘Oh, indeed, Higgins,' said Clements. ‘You don't want to get on the wrong side of the likes of him. He's king of the Fancy, he is. A more treacherous, violent brute you'll not find. Steer well clear of him, Higgins.'

Springheel was examining his watch, prodding and poking at it as if he were trying to find a hidden switch. Clements leaned in to get a closer look.

‘What are you looking for, Springheel?'

‘Harrison's diary, my corpulent companion, is a confused jumble of remembrances, not a set of instructions as I had hoped. The man does not write a single thing in the King's plain English. It is a mishmash of technical terms and specifications—this cog must be such-and-such a density and have such-and-such a resistance to temperatures and such-and-such a viscosity ratio when close to light speed and—'

‘Did you say
light speed?
'

‘Don't interrupt me when I am in full flow, Clements, there's a good fellow. Where was I?'

‘Light speed,' said Clements.

‘Oh, yes. It's like trying to solve a puzzle with only half the clues. Harrison was concerned with how to produce the device, not how it actually works. But I can tell you one thing, it was not a chronometer he was building…it was a time-machine, I'm sure of it.'

‘I knew it,' exclaimed Clements.

Did he say time-machine, Higgins?

‘This Professor Fox he mentions, though…If the cove were alive now, I'd like to ask
him
a few questions about this Guild of his. I'll wager ten pounds it's the very same one Lord Byron spoke of.'

Julius could feel the sovereigns snug in his pocket.
What have you gotten yourself into, Higgins? These people are insane. You could escape to Kent. Buy a cottage. Write a letter to Grandfather to explain everything. Invite him down for a visit. Get everything back to normal.

While Julius was musing on possible futures for himself, Springheel spun the watch once more. It bobbed in the air over the supper table.

It won't hurt to get yourself into Springheel's good books, Higgins. Get him to trust you
—
get him to let you see the diary again
.

Julius reached out to the spinning watch and tapped its side with his fingertip. It did not burst into light as he had hoped, but it glowed faintly.

Clements dropped the gold signet ring into the remains of his kipper. ‘How did you do that?'

‘It just…It felt like the right thing to do,' said Julius, doing his best to avoid Springheel's enquiring stare.

‘You are a constant source of surprises, Julius,' said Springheel eventually, and he reached out and tapped the side of the watch. The glow faded. He smiled. ‘We're making progress.'

‘We'll be as rich as kings,' said Clements, cleaning the kipper grease off the gold ring.

‘Richer.'

‘Yes, richer.'

‘But now to work. We have our
other little project
to complete tonight, Clements. Julius, you may have the evening off,' said Springheel as he pocketed the watch and swept out of the room in a swirl of excitement.

‘Wash the dishes first,' said Clements, and he rose from his seat and hurried after Springheel.

‘Oh, Mr Clements,' said Julius.

Clements stopped at the curtain. ‘Yes.'

‘Thank you for cleaning my boots.'

‘That's all right. Can't abide the smell of rotting fish.' Clements turned to go again.

‘Mr Clements…could I have a look at the diary?'

‘What for?'

‘I'm interested.'

Clements let the curtain fall and looked at Julius. ‘It's ours now, fair and square—the diary and a few odd jobs in exchange for a week's lodgings,' he said.

‘I know, it's just that—'

‘You can start by washing the dishes, like a good lad,' said Clements, and he walked out into the shop.

Alone in the kitchen, Julius could hear Springheel and Clements hurrying up the side stairs, voices raised in excited discussion. He patted the pocket containing the money.
How much do cottages in Kent cost?
he wondered, picturing a bucolic life amid fruit trees, with rustic types doffing their hats to him as he strolled down a country lane. But the image soon faded and was replaced by the kipper skeletons on the butter smeared plates.

When the washing-up was done, Julius walked into the dark shop and rattled the door to make sure Clements had locked it. Then he trudged up the stairs, fell backwards onto the bed and looked up through the skylight. As he had been sleeping for most of the day he did not feel very drowsy, but he propped his pillow against the wall and leaned back to rest. It had been a very full few days.
What are you going to do now, Higgins? What? What? What?

Julius woke with a start. His hand clutched the pocket containing the twelve pounds—it was still there. He let out a sigh of relief, but then he realised what had woken him. The room was vibrating. Through the walls he heard a deep hum and an even deeper thud as regular as the ticking of a clock. Cautiously, he pressed his ear to the damp wall adjoining Springheel's quarters. It felt unnaturally warm. Then, a mournful cry made him recoil. He had heard that sound before.

Julius looked around for his carpetbag.
Time to scarper, Higgins.
Just as he was about to bolt, a howl rang out. He froze in terror.

A creature stepped
through
the wall into his room. Julius leapt onto the bed and pressed himself against the opposite wall. The creature was similar to the one he had seen at the Thames. Same red eyes, cadaverous pallor and sharp teeth. But this one had spiky black hair and was possibly a little shorter. It had silver buttons on its tail coat and the tip of a handkerchief poking out from its breast pocket, but this time Julius could see through it. The creature was a ghost-like image, seemingly made of mist. And it was looking around in fear, just like the other one had.

‘Aaaarch graach jahaar?' it said.

Even though the sound more closely resembled the cry of an animal than human speech, Julius recognised the words. The apparition was asking where he was. Julius did not know who was the more frightened. He tried to recall the words that the professor had uttered to calm the creature at the Thames.

‘Ka cha, ka cha,' Julius called out, trying to imitate the creature's accent.
Be calm, be calm.

The creature backed away towards the open door and stooped to peer down the dark stairs. With one last imploring look at Julius, it turned and fled down the stairs, letting out a terrified cry as it went.