The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis Read online

  Knocker was right. Not long after he had spoken the ground beneath the Borribles’ feet began to shake and tremble. The stones lying between the sleepers began to rattle.

  ‘Man,’ said Orococco, ‘it’s an earthquake.’

  ‘Keep well back,’ yelled Stonks. ‘Hold the horse.’

  The Adventurers threw themselves against the slope at the side of the track and pressed themselves into the grass. Sydney held Sam’s head and talked to him quickly with soothing words. Stonks stayed close also and stroked the animal’s flanks.

  The Borribles’ actions had not been a moment too soon. There came a terrifying blast on a train hooter; it echoed down the line and all the Adventurers jumped out of their skins, alarmed by the noise. A strong and solid wall of warm air came rushing along the track in front of the train, like an extra carriage, vigorous and invisible. It tore and plucked at the Borribles, tried to seize their bodies and drag them under the wheels, but the Borribles dug their hands into the wet earth and held on.

  Then the train itself rose out of nowhere, perilously near, light from the windows pouring all over the fugitives. The ground rocked and the Borribles saw a long line of adult faces pass by in the sky above them, staring like statues into the dark. A regular rhythm beat quick and hard and insistent; and then suddenly the train was gone, wailing, its last carriage wagging helplessly and pathetic, dragging a vacuum behind it that tugged once at the Borribles and then whooshed away, snapping at trees and bushes as it went.

  Knocker leant where he was, listening to the disappearing noise with relief. ‘This won’t do,’ he said after a moment. He pushed himself upright and waved an arm at his companions. ‘There’ll be hundreds of trains along here soon, hundreds, and they’ll see us, sure as beans is baked.’

  Knocker was right again. The first trains of the morning rush hour began to pass with increasing frequency as the sky grew lighter. Between the passage of each train the Borribles ran forward and the lights of Wandsworth Common station were getting nearer now; so was the outline of the road bridge and when he got there Knocker halted the column.

  ‘Who’s got the wire cutters?’ he asked.

  Napoleon reached into his back pocket. ‘I have,’ he said. ‘I always have wire cutters,’ and without waiting for instructions he climbed the embankment and began to cut a hole in the fence large enough for Sam to get through.

  One by one the Borribles scrambled upwards and went on to the common. They spread out and took cover behind bushes and trees, sniffing for danger. Once sure that they were unobserved they gave the whistle and Sydney and Stonks appeared with the horse behind them. The Wandsworth fields were silent and empty, silver-green under the falling rain. The streets too were quiet and there were few cars passing. The Borribles and Sam left the common together, running in one tight group across the main road and into a dead end that gave access to the back of the railway station. A tiny but modern trading estate was established here and had been the cause of some older buildings, mainly brick cottages, being abandoned. Stonks and Napoleon halted in front of one of these and Stonks said, ‘This was the place, wasn’t it?’

  The building was long and low with rubbish dumped on three sides of it, rubbish that had been there so long that it had become solid and hard, just one substance. Its windows were all broken though some of them had been boarded up to keep out the weather. In better days the bricks had been painted a cream colour and above the door a sign, hanging from only one nail, bore the words, ‘The Wideawake Car Hire Service, “Pouncer” Bedsted, Prop.’

  At the rear of the broken cottage was a door large enough to admit Sam. Though locked it was loose on its hinges and Stonks lifted it free with ease. In less than a minute the horse and all the Adventurers were under cover and the door was replaced from inside. Sydney immediately opened a bag of cattle cake for Sam and wiped the rain from his back as he ate.

  ‘There you are,’ she said. ‘You’ll be all right now. I bet that fresh air gave you an appetite, didn’t it?’ And, as if in answer to the question, the horse neighed quietly, nuzzled the girl in the shoulder and chewed its food with a new-found relish. Meanwhile Sydney’s companions removed their haversacks and most of them began to clear a space among the litter and rubble that covered the floor, making just enough room to sit and rest. For his part Stonks pulled some laths from the plaster wall and broke them into small pieces of kindling.

  ‘I’ll start a fire,’ he said, ‘and we’ll make some soup. We need it after a night like that.’

  ‘Then we’ll need to nick lots of soup as we go,’ said Chalotte mournfully, ‘because there’ll be lots of nights like that one before we’re done.’

  This remark left the Borribles deeply depressed and it was only later, when they had eaten and rested, that their spirits rose again. Sometime during the middle of the day they awoke and made a saucepan of tea, the leaves bubbling on the boiling water. Then, as they sat there, warming their hands on the steaming enamel mugs, they looked at one another and slowly, one by one, they smiled. They felt proud of what they had achieved that day and what they were setting out to do. They felt strong; felt they could do anything under the sun if only they were true to themselves and what they believed in. Their hearts swelled. It was only a tiny moment of time but, although they knew it would fade, there, in that miserable stinking hut with the rain dripping down its inside walls, they knew the moment was undeniably and irresistibly present; for them it was eternal.

  And so, lying in their sleeping bags, eating, drinking, talking and snoozing, the Borribles passed the day away. Nor did they continue their journey as soon as it became dark, for the streets were still busy. They decided instead not to press on until eight or nine o’clock at night. By that time people would have returned from work and settled themselves into their armchairs. It was November now and once home commuters tended to stay home. As for the following morning it would still be dark at seven and the Borribles ought to be able to find a new hideout by then; nine hours’ marching every night would be enough for anyone.

  But the time for their departure soon came round. The Adventurers rolled up their sleeping bags and packed away their provisions and struggled into their waterproofs. Just before they left Knocker switched on his torch and had one more look at the huge street map of London that he had brought with him.

  ‘This is tonight’s march,’ he explained, ‘just in case we get separated. Through these side streets towards Clapham Common; once on the other side of it we’ll go back into the streets and try to get to Brixton.’

  ‘There’s a market there,’ said Bingo, ‘a good one; bound to be Borribles in Brixton.’

  ‘It’s not on the way to Neasden,’ Sydney objected, looking over Knocker’s shoulder.

  ‘I know that,’ said Knocker, and he began to fold the map. ‘We’ll head towards the river after Brixton, up near the City, where Sussworth won’t be expecting us to cross. Then we’ll cut across the north of London. It’s a lot longer but I reckon it’s a lot safer too.’

  ‘“The Borrible who keeps his head down keeps his ears on,” ’ said Stonks, quoting from the Borrible Book of Proverbs, and, ending that conversation, he lifted the back door off its hinges and went out into the dark to make sure that the way was clear.

  No unnecessary word was spoken as the band of Borribles crossed a corner of Wandsworth Common and slunk into the gloomy streets. A cold mist of winter lay along the pavements holding the rain at bay, and only the cracks of light showing from behind thick curtains told the Adventurers that anyone at all was still alive in London.

  The Borribles went in pairs now, well separated with at least twenty yards between each pair. Sydney walked with Sam and Stonks somewhere in the middle of the order of march. The leaders and the rearguard were out to spot trouble before it happened. At the slightest hint of danger a whistle was given or a stone thrown, and the Adventurers, and the horse, would disappear into the darkness of a householder’s front garden, lowering themselves behind a priv
et hedge or concealing themselves at the side of a garage.

  First down Thurleigh Road they marched, then up the opposite slope, left into Wroughton and right into Chatto, across Alfriston and into Culmstock and finally they crept on to the edge of the windy space called Clapham Common. Advancing into it they gathered together by a stand of trees, merging with the dark.

  They were nervous; Borribles always are in open spaces. They miss the protection of the streets, the warmth of crowds. Every now and then a car flashed by on the South Circular Road. Knocker stared. The road was well lit and wide; tricky enough to cross alone without being seen, but with the horse they would be visible from miles away. They would have to choose their moment with great cunning.

  As the Borribles took stock of their surroundings they became aware of a low grinding noise coming from far off and sounding like an unoiled machine labouring under a heavy load. The noise came nearer and grew louder.

  Suddenly Bingo spoke. ‘Duck,’ he called. ‘Woollies, in a car.’

  The next moment there was not a Borrible to be seen. Each one had hidden. Only their voices were to be heard, low whispered voices as they sized up the situation.

  ‘He’s going very slow.’

  ‘Too damn slow, he must be looking for us.’

  ‘Bugger! He’s stopped.’

  ‘He’s started again.’

  ‘Look. Look. He’s leading a load of lorries. It must be one of them wide convoys or some’ at.’

  ‘Them big convoys have to crawl at night. It’s nothing to do with us.’

  ‘It’s caravans and lorries.’

  ‘Can anyone see what it is?’

  The Borribles watched as the police car crawled along the South Circular, passing only a few yards from their hiding place; but the policemen looked only before and behind, interested in nothing except the passage of the convoy. Behind the police car came several huge lorries riding on monstrous black tyres and, as the first great pantechnicon came level with Bingo, he read out what was painted on the side: ‘Buffoni’s Circus, Menagerie and Fairground’.

  ‘It’s a circus then,’ said Chalotte, ‘a travelling circus. Blimey! You don’t see many of them nowadays.’

  ‘It’s quite big,’ said Vulge. ‘I can already see about seven or eight lorries.’

  ‘Lots of Borribles hang about circuses,’ said Orococco. ‘I had a cousin who ran away to join a circus.’

  The slow procession continued and the police car drove out of sight. The huge circus trucks churned on as if climbing a steep hill and the smoke of their exhausts drifted up into the dark trees above the street lamps. More trailers appeared and there were cages too, though their sides were covered in tarpaulins and no lions or tigers were visible. Between the trailers and cages walked about a dozen figures, their features indistinct. They carried hurricane lamps and had little groups of animals with them. Some camels there were, an elephant and several horses and ponies. A whole village was on the move.

  Knocker peered from behind his tree. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘You know what they’re doing? They’re moving on to the common, over by the Mount Pond. I remember now, that’s where the fairs always used to go in the old days.’ Knocker ducked back out of the light as the patrol car, its job done, sped by on the road, going fast now, back to the police station on Lavender Hill.

  Bingo laughed. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘We can get across the road easy now. We’ll just tag on to the end of that lot, and then as soon as they’re on the other side, we’ll shove off. Goodnight and thank you very much.’

  The idea appealed to the Borribles. They rose from cover and, surrounding Sam, they led him over the grass and into the bright roadway, taking up places at the rear of the circus column; as it shuffled forward so did they.

  Lorry by lorry and trailer by trailer the circus-cum-fairground left the road and established itself in a circle on an open piece of cindery terrain by the side of the Mount Pond. The Borribles, once safely over the road, had at first fully intended to run off into the darkness, but intrigued by the activity going on all around them they hid themselves beneath some trees and watched.

  The first thing the men of the circus did was to manhandle the trailers and cages into position and mark out their pitches for the following day. There were tents to be erected that night and there was plenty of other work to do, too. Huge sledgehammers banged against iron stakes and the wild beasts growled and roared as they were given food and water. At the same time lights were rigged and meals were prepared, smelling delicious.

  ‘I need some more soup,’ said Twilight.

  As he spoke a caravan was towed into position and deposited only a few yards from where the Adventurers stood. Its door was flung open immediately and about eight small shapes threw themselves down the steps calling and shouting to one another.

  ‘Shove the caravan a bit further in.’

  ‘Who’s doing the cooking?’

  ‘Bang in the tent pegs.’

  The Borribles huddled back, beneath the trees. ‘Let’s get going,’ said Knocker.

  No one answered. The Adventurers were all watching the people in front of them as they toiled in the bright glow of the floodlights. They were so full of energy and enthusiasm, strong and resilient, happy in what they were doing. They bustled and scurried backwards and forwards on strong muscular legs; their shoulders were broad, but not one of these people was over the height of a twelve-year-old child, not one of them was taller than the average Borrible.

  ‘Swipe me,’ said Vulge. ‘What do you make of them? Are they Borribles?’

  ‘They could be,’ answered Orococco. ‘Like I said, they have Borribles in circuses, but then they have dwarfs and midgets as well; my cousin told me. But if you look on the caravan it says acrobats, don’t it?’

  ‘I don’t care what they are,’ said Chalotte quietly, ‘I’ve got a feeling we ought to be on the move.’

  For many years to come Chalotte was to remember that moment as the turning point in the whole adventure. If only they’d not hesitated, how different things might have been.

  3

  ‘Borribles,’ began Inspector Sussworth, reading from a prepared speech, ‘are the rubbish of our society and as such have got to be swept under the carpet of coercion and stamped upon. You, both men and dwarfs, are to be the agents of this cleansing.’

  Sussworth beamed. In front of him stood the group leaders of the SBG, as stiff and as stubborn as a soldier-course of bricks; tall burly men with hair on their knuckles, their necks thick and red, their brows solid with good bone. They listened to Sussworth with wide-eyed devotion.

  In front of these men and slightly to one side stood a band of about twenty dwarfs. They were well formed in every respect with strong limbs and fair skins and they had been selected, over and above all the other applicants who had answered Sussworth’s advertisements, because of their youthful appearance. What is more they had been thoroughly trained and knew all there was to know about being a Borrible. And they too listened to the inspector with intense concentration. They had been promised good money for the tasks they were to perform and, if they actually managed to capture a Borrible, they would receive a substantial cash bonus.

  ‘You dwarfs,’ continued Sussworth taking a turn up and down the main room of the SBG headquarters, ‘have been presented and provided with a wonderful opportunity to serve law and order. You will be our advance guard, our intelligence behind the enemy lines. You look like Borribles already, and by the time these specially made pointed ears, covered in human skin, have been stuck to your own ears, why, even Borribles will take you for Borribles.’ The inspector smiled and performed a little Spanish dance, stamping his feet and clicking his fingers. Behind him Sergeant Hanks stepped forward and raised both his hands. In one he held a flesh-coloured Borrible ear and in the other a large container of impact glue.

  ‘Now,’ said Sussworth, ‘I do not want you auxiliaries to be worried about this superglue. Sergeant Hanks has a special solvent which
, when the time comes, we shall apply and, Hay Preston! You’ll be back to normal.’

  ‘Please, Inspector,’ one of the dwarfs raised his hand. ‘If we get caught by one of your men and he can’t tell us from the real thing, how do we convince him that we are really adults in disguise?’

  Sussworth spun a full turn and nodded like someone who knew the answer to every question ever thought of. ‘Simple,’ he said. ‘Every one of you will be given the password. This password will be known only to you and the members of the SBG.’

  ‘Yessir. What’s the password?’

  Sussworth jiggled his feet and spoke over his shoulder. ‘Yes, indeed. What is the password, Hanks?’

  Hanks went very red in the face, lowered his head and looked intently at the ear in his hand. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Yes, er … Blancmange … that’s the password. No one will ever guess that.’

  Sussworth twitched his moustache, stamped three paces to the right and then three paces to the left. He pointed at the dwarfs like a recruiting poster.

  ‘You have all been thoroughly trained,’ he said, ‘in anti-Borrible tactics. This is war to the death, no quarter asked, none given. Borribles are all around us; trust no one. You know how Borribles live: empty habitations, stealing in markets, no fixed abodes, petty thievery … Well you must do the same. For all intents and purposes you will become Borribles.’

  He pirouetted in a swirl of overcoat tails and gazed at a flag-covered map of London which was pinned to the wall. He coughed, and his hands fought with one another behind his back.

  ‘Dozens of dwarfs,’ he continued, ‘are already in position, idling at street corners and loafing in the markets.’ Sussworth placed his hands on his hips and his moustache uncrimped its wings like a moth coming out of a chrysalis. ‘This is my greatest idea and it will work like a quartz timepiece. I’m going to get as many of you young dwarfs on the streets as I can. I have a feeling, a strong feeling, that some of my spies are mixed in with that bunch of villains already, pretending to aid and abet them as they make off with that equine animal we wish to apprehend.’