Well then, Timfy’s been taken. He always was rather an unnecessary little man, born hapless I shouldn’t wonder, tripped on his own umbilical cord no doubt. Still I should never have wished him taken. Ruffled about maybe, perhaps threatened a bit, bullied back certainly, but then afterwards returned to us.
I don’t feel safe in this house, not any more. I don’t suppose there’s anywhere in all Lungdon where there is safety for such as us. How they hate us, the Lungdon people. It’s an awful thing, their hate. Hard not to take it personally. I look at myself in the mirror. There you are, I say, there’s Pinalippy. All dressed for escape, all togged up and ready to exit, in a nice dress and bonnet, looking just like a lady, just like a Lungdon lady. New clothes, new clothes for our escape. Tonight, the whole family’s on the move. It’s not safe any more, not here, time to move on. So there I am, in the mirror, Pinalippy Lurliorna Iremonger. That is me there, that is. ‘Who is that girl? the people cry,’ I say to my reflection. ‘What a picture!’ She’s not one to be worried about things, never used to be. I can see it now though, in my face, somewhere about the eyebrows. Fear. Now they’ve called for all our birth objects. That’s how serious it has got. All birth objects save Rippit’s are to be given over. Umbitt Owner is taking them all up, he’s looking after them. They must most urgently be kept away from Clod, we are told. Such a sorrow to give my doily to Sturridge to take to Umbitt. Such a pain. I wonder if I shall ever see it again. I suppose if anyone should keep it safe Great Umbitt should, but surely it belongs to me, that dear doily. I feel the wrong weight without it.
I feel so unsteady.
I’m frightened, every moment of every day, I am a little bit frightened. I did feel safe before, back in Heap House. Even after the great storm, even after Moorcus’s bride to be, Horryit, got sucked into the heaps and drowned. Even after that. I thought, well that’s what happens if you’re Horryit, that’s her fate. That’s what happens if you’re too beautiful and such a bitch, you have to pay for it. Not me though, that sort of thing shall never happen to me. Thing is, not so sure now. Thing is, I think I might actually die. And the thing is, the absolute rub of it is, I don’t want to.
I’m eighteen years old.
I’d like to see nineteen, I think twenty might be a lot of fun.
If I can just hold on, if I can just be a little bit lucky, whilst all about me are soiling themselves with their terror.
I’ve got to be smart. Smarter than ever before. Smart as two pins.
Then there’s Clod.
There’s the subject.
I’m to befriend him, they say, and to get him ready. The old woman, she had sent for me and I was sat by her and her great fireplace and she pointed at me, and told me to do it, to go to him and love him, and make him come back to the family. She said it was my duty. How they all did go on at me, all the most senior women, they said to me in their litany, Love him, love him, bring him back. And then they dabbed me with the treacle so that I may trap the little mite in its sweet stickiness.
Well then, I said, I’d do my best.
Trouble is, he’s not a one for doilies.
Trouble is, he likes a matchbox called Lucy, a common, common little thing.
I stand back and let him cry for her, maybe when he’s done being so wet, when he’s dried up a little, then he’ll see me. I should so like to reel him in, but I must go at it careful. I’ll have him in the end if he matters so very much to them; he’s mine after all, selected for me.
He doesn’t love the doily. Not yet.
I can help that. I can make myself most attractive. I’m a woman. I’ll have him learn that. When it comes time for our escape, the old matriarch tells me, I’m to stick by him, to bring him round, me and Moorcus we’re to go out into Lungdon streets with him. Moorcus has the address of somewhere safe, and there we’re to keep him and encourage him Iremonger. To get him ready for the big morning on Westminster Bridge.
‘What will happen then,’ I ask, ‘on Westminster?’
‘Justice shall happen,’ said the old woman, ‘and all shall be well again.’
‘All shall be well?’
‘If you have him ready, Pinalippy, if you bring him round.’
‘You might give him his own plug then,’ I suggested. ‘That would help, surely.’
‘No it should not, it would be too dangerous. Let Rippit keep his plug safe for now. And let Umbitt look after all other birth objects.’
‘It’s very wrong not to let him have it.’
‘Pinalippy, you don’t know anything.’
‘If you trust him a little, maybe he’ll trust back. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘But he’s not to be trusted. He cannot be. To think of what he did this morning downstairs to one of the servants! No, it is very right that Umbitt has your doily and all those other things to keep all safe, to make him and us safer. If Umbitt doesn’t take your doily, Pinalippy, you may find it growing legs and arms, growing a head and screaming back at you. That is how much Clod is to be trusted. He must trust you though, Pinalippy, he must love you. And through you he must love his family.’
‘Yes, Ommaball Owneress.’
‘Then run along and see to it.’
I know well enough how he’ll come to me. I have the plan. And in all the chaos of our move I mean to do it.
I’ll get him his plug amidst the terror of our escape. I’ll snatch it then, then, oh then I’ll have him, won’t I? It will be like holding his strange unhappy heart.
‘Rippit,’ I said, ‘come here then and don’t be shy.’
There was Rippit in the corridor, all dressed up, in overalls and big cap, big clothes to disguise the odd shape of the fellow beneath.
‘Rippit, I say!’
‘Rippit,’ he said. Course he did. Never anything else, the poor lamb, he can’t.
‘Come on, come sit by me, come close, closer now.’
‘Rippit.’
‘Don’t be shy.’
‘Rippit.’
‘Don’t whisper.’
I pinched him them, good and hard about his breast, took a good quick grab of flesh just where it hurts, couldn’t stop myself.
‘Rippit!’
‘Don’t shout either. That was just a little pinch for familiarity. Come now. Sit tight. I want you to tell me all about you.’
‘Rippit.’
‘I think you like me.’
‘Rippit.’
‘I remember, years ago, before you went missing, you used to come to spy on us in the girls’ wing, you used to pry and sniff about.’
‘Rippit.’
‘Oh, do stop being so shy, Cousin Rippit, sweet Cousin Rippy. It’s perfectly natural.’
‘Rippit!’
‘Ripper!’
I pinched him again, feeling about his odd person, searching for a shape.
‘Oh come, it was only a little pinch for friendship. What a fuss you make.’
‘Rippit!’
‘Now, now, I shan’t do it again I do promise you.’
‘Rippit.’
‘Oh Rippit, you’re all of a fluster. I do believe you’re sweating a little.’
‘Rippit. Rippit.’
‘Now, Rippit, with all the worry about us and all the sadness over Timfy, it is nice to have a quiet moment before whatever is coming to us comes. Is it not, Rippit?’
‘Rippit.’
‘Quite right, here we are then. I do promise I shan’t do it again. Now then tell me a story, shan’t you? Make a girl happy.’
‘Rippit?’
‘Don’t be an old mophead, darling Rip-rip. Come now. How you tremble! Come on, a little story to take our minds off. Please begin.’
‘Rippit?’
‘I shan’t take no for an answer.’
‘Rippit. Rippit.’ He actually started to try to tell a story, what a sorry old sight. ‘Rippit, rrrripppit, rippit-rippit-rrippit. Rip. Pit. Rippit, rippit, rippit.’
‘How splendid!’
‘Rippit! Rippit, rippit, rippit, rippit, rippit!’
‘How glorious, and then what happened?’
‘Rippit.’
‘Rippit, rippit. Rippit? Rippit!’
‘Keep going, dear Rippity-rippity, what a sport you are.’
‘Rippit,’ he whispered. ‘Rippitrippitrippitrippitrippit, rippit, rippit. Rippit? Rippit … rippit … rippit!’
‘A happy ending!’
Then I pinched him such a pinch, I quite terrified the soul of him.
‘RIPPIT! RIPPIT!’
‘What a fuss you do make! Just a pinch wasn’t it, for felicity – no need to let the world know.’
‘RIPPIT!’
‘I do pinch, Rippit, I do like to, to have some flesh between my fingers.’
‘Rippit! Rippit!’
‘Off already? Are you, Rippit? Oh well then, please yourself.’
I have it!
I have the plug in my pocket, I switched it. Clod’s own little plug, I’ll keep it safe and sound. Well done, Pinny, you’re the girl. And I have something else too. He was keeping them together, snug in the same deep pocket as if they had business with one another.
A box of matches wrapped in a cloth.
Can’t be a coincidence, can it? It must be her box of matches. Why would he keep hold of such a thing? Maybe she is still alive then, maybe she is. I’ll keep these matches too for now, but I shan’t have them anywhere near the plug. The matches and the plug are to be kept lonely. I’ll keep them all nice and sealed up. I’ll have metal tins to put them in, tobacco tins, to quite deaden the noise so Clod can’t be hearing them. So whilst no one else has their objects any more, I have two of them: a lovers’ pair.
Well then, I have my instructions. Clod and I, we’ll walk out together into Lungdon, and Moorcus can keep an eye on us and report back as instructed.
Yes, yes, that was very well done.
Smart as. You are. Smart as.
The pin!
Governor Idwid Iremonger in Disguise
