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“WE’RE DONE FOR!” HE cried, turning to wrap her in his arms in the hope that at least she might survive, but she had already run off shouting, “No, this way!”
She ran deeper into the building along the raised metal walkway. Rodney followed close behind, planning to act as her shield if the boiler were to explode too soon. At the end she squeezed though a place where the brick wall had been crudely broken through for a cluster of extended pipes, tearing her skirt in the process. Rod went through close behind; and very close to her behind!
There was no walkway on the other side and he very nearly tumbled, but luckily he had an arm over the pipes and a foot upon a frame of some sort, and with her hands dragging at him and her voice shouting at him about frames every six feet, they retreated from the crude hole that might still act as a muzzle if the charge went off.
So there they were, sitting upon a cluster of pipes some fifteen feet off the cobbled floor below. Rod looked down. It was another former stable, this one filled with strange half-finished machines and raw materials, and one final large copper tank. That smell again.
“Sorry!” said Karla, clinging to him in the half-light (for the windows were filthy), “I forgot about that!” She mean the fact that he might have fallen and broken his neck.
Then she was laughing.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, finally feeling halfway safe.
“All this for some beer.”
“Eh?”
“This is the brewery. Father likes to make beer the experimental way.”
Rodney began to laugh too. “Beer? We risked out lives for his bloody beer!”
“No, I did it for the crew. Every explosion sets us back. We lose valuable things, and sometimes, valuable people. Sorry, but I didn’t think you’d follow me.”
Beyond the hole the roar and hiss were subsiding.
“Well,” he said, getting ready to return, “at least that’s over.”
She pulled him back, “No!”
There was a very loud bang, and moments later a shower of warm beer burst through the hole and drenched them anew.
“Now it’s over,” she said.
#
WET, FILTHY AND TATTERED, Miss Cluely immediately set about investigating the causes of this latest explosion. Outside on the debris-strewn lawn, the staff had gathered around her. Rodney stood back, dripping beer and extracting grit from his left ear.
“So, my father said to use Boiler Number Two?” she was asking.
“Yes, yes, he said it was all re-set.”
“But it still had the faulty safety valve!”
“He said he had done it,” reiterated the worried workman, “He was here this morning, came down the stairs, told me he’d fixed it and to use Boiler Two today.”
Karla looked thoughtful, worried, but shared nothing of it with her staff. “Let’s just get it cleaned up, shall we? Check every pipe, joint and valve for damage. Take everything apart. Empty all the tanks and flush them out. Tomorrow it’s back to Boiler One for a full test.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Rodney was impressed by this. Here was this lass, barely twenty by her own confession, and firmly giving orders. How had it come to that?
Once she was done she rejoined him, and in a low voice she immediately released her inner feelings, “Damn it! He’s been home for a week and already there’s trouble! It was so quiet without him. We got so much done!”
She paused and glanced back past Bunszen, then gave out a troubled sigh. “And it’s not like father to do that. I know he takes wild risks with some of the experiments but that was just his beer.” Another sigh. “It’s almost like he wanted an explosion.”
“A distraction, perhaps?
“Yes, possibly. But why?”
Rodney looked around. There was only Bunszen with her broom.
“Where do you suppose he is?” he asked, “I mean, an explosion: wouldn’t you suppose he’d be rushing out by now?”
Miss Cluely stopped and turned, “Bunszen, Have you seen Master Heulenstein?”
Bunszen glanced around as if Miss Cluely had just announced his arrival. She sighed. “Bunszen, dear, be a good girl and go help the others clean up the big mess. Go on, off you go.” Reluctantly Bunszen moved off.
“You know, it was almost like she was following us,” commented Rodney.
#
A CHAP CALLED BERM, the only man there to match Rodney’s stature, was sent home and hastened back with the only suitable garments he had for a gentleman: his old wedding suit. Rodney stood in a cold laundry and hastily washed, then squeeze into the suit. Walking carefully so as not to split the seams, he stepped out to meet Miss Cluely who had also gone off to wash and change. She laughed when she saw him.
“Who are you marrying, then?”
He looked at her meaningfully but said nothing. She blushed and quickly looked away. “Berm, could you get Captain Hoverrim’s clothes to the laundry as soon as possible?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Berm gathered Rodney’s previous garments into a bucket and departed. Karla waited until he was well gone.
“Rodney,” she said, “I still haven’t heard a word about Father.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so worried. He’s probably in his secret laboratory.”
“Ah, that doesn’t sound so secret.”
“Oh, a few of us know. The main work here is industrial research for the King, who is not exactly a Science Lord, but he’s managed to pull off the second-best thing.”
“I’m done with Science Lords already,” he murmured, then aloud, “So I guess all of this has made Havencliffs a powerful nation?”
“Oh yes, but Father has slowed down a lot recently.
“Slowed down? As in becoming a little ... senile?”
“Oh good heavens no. No. He’s just not producing new ideas at the same rate he used to. I think his mind is on something else.”
“Yes,” he said, looking at her in her dashing grey jacket and skirt combination, “so is mine.” These were quite the finest feminine clothes he had yet seen her in, and the effect upon him had been immediate. He thought of the wedding suit he was standing in, and almost foolishly proposed.
No, no, no! Cleanse you mind of this madness, Rodney!
“Well, I’m for a break. Let’s go to town.”
“What? With everyone swarming around us and a platoon in tow? Not likely!”
She leaned close with girlish excitement and whispered, “Secret exit.”
“Eh?”
“Secret exit.” She began away, and he went with her as she explained, “It was such a bother some years ago, what with the whole town watching us and gossiping, so Father explored a few of the old tunnels and built my mother a secret way out. And it saves a ten-minute walk to the delicatessen! I use it all the time.” She took him by the arm and steered him towards a little nondescript building away from the main cluster of buildings. It appeared to be a cottage set within a walled-in garden.
“This is my home,” she said, unlocking the gate in the wall. They went through, and she immediately turned him left, leading him up the garden path. Ahead, beyond the vegetable patch and some winter-bare fruit trees, was a simple stone shed, smothered in vines awaiting the spring.
“And this:” she put a key into its door, “is the tool-shed.”
She seemed so self-assured that, despite his inner urge to panic and back out of such an alarming situation, he gave her a few more seconds to explain such a wild excursion. The door opened, revealing a set of stone stairs that spiralled down. She lit a lamp, explaining that it was in case of a power failure, “...which are not uncommon about the laboratories.”
Within seconds they were clattering down the spiral, their way lit by ghostly electric lights. At the foot of the stair three tunnels lead away in different directions.
“This is the start of the maze,” she said, “Don’t try this alone. It’s all been designed to confound the unwary.” She set off briskly, turning corners, going through doorways, and down more stairs, all with total familiarity. After some two minutes (or was it five?) of walking the length of a long dim singular tunnel, they ascended a final stair and Rodney sensed the outdoors close by. Karla extinguished her lamp, unlocked the door and eased it open. For a moment Rod was convinced that he had not gone anywhere at all, then realised he was in a different, smaller garden. There were houses nearby, but none that looked directly in. Satisfied that their way was secure, Karla went back in and opened a wardrobe within the shed. It contained a variety of clothes, neatly arranged. She pulled a darkening hairnet over her luminous locks, put on a sensible hat, and finally tugged on some grey gloves, transforming herself into someone seemingly bland and matronly.
“I’m ready.”
They crossed the tiny yard, she unlocked a final gate and they stepped out into a suburban street, a little way downhill from the science works.
“This way.” Taking his arm again she set off briskly for the main streets.
It was rather fun, strolling through this strange new town, so clean and organized, filled with intriguing sights and inspiring smells. And no clamouring crowd around them; huzzah! Rod was soon reminded, by the many aromas, that he had skipped breakfast. He began hunting through his pockets, “Damn, I haven’t a single penny upon me.”
“Oh, did you leave them in your other clothes?”
“Yes,” he lied. In fact he had embarked without money first thing that morning, quite discombobulated by her arrival.
“Don’t worry. If there’s anything you want...”
“Oh no, it’ll be fine.”
“Oh look. The Sausage Man is here!”
Rod looked ahead, noting a street-side vendor crying his wares beside a little handcart featuring a smoking brass chimney. The fellow seemed to be crying out ‘Sausage in a bun! Sausage in a bun!’ Then Rodney deciphered the man’s name up on the cart’s decorated board:
FRANKFUR INNAEBUNNE
Finest Sausages and Condiments.
Miss Cluely made directly for Mr Innaebunne and to Rod’s relief immediately ordered, “Two with everything, Frank!”
“Coming right up, ma’am. And what a lovely day it is! How do you do sir? Ah, that’s good to hear!” and so on in such a way that they could hardly get a word in edgeways. “Thank you, sir,” said Rodney as he finally received his meaty treat so cunningly tucked inside a long bread roll. “Oooo! Onions!”
“Proud o’ our sausages we Innaebunnes are! Call me Frank. Thank you, ma’am, thank you, sir. Congratulations on your marriage. Have a good day. Innaebunne Sausage! ... ”
There came a sort of snorting sound from Miss Cluely as they moved on, which slowly gathered steam until she was laughing openly.
“I really don’t think it’s that funny,” he huffed, “If that sort of idea were to get around town – wouldn’t the papers have a field day!”
She agreed, finally overcoming her giggles.
“And I wouldn’t want your reputation to be damaged...” he began to say.
“Oh tosh!” she answered with a cheerful flick of her gloved hand, “It cannot get any worse.” She finished her meal and found a receptacle for the wrapper, “Come on, I want to show you through Cottonworths...”
“No. Ah, sorry, but I’d rather get back before anyone else gets the wrong idea about us. I’m feeling rather recognisable all of a sudden.”
With a sigh she turned about. “Very well, but it has been fun, don’t you think?” A moment of silence, and then she broached a different subject. “It’s not such a bad idea, though. Is it? I mean ... marriage in general?”
He glanced aside at her. “No, it’s not such a bad idea. It’s just, well, these things should not be rushed. And done properly too. And, oh gosh!” he slapped at his forehead, “I’ve no idea how to get Mother here for the wedding!”
“Wedding?”
Suddenly he was bright red, and not meeting her eye. “Um...”
“Surely you’re not suggesting –”
“I say!” Rodney quickly said, “Isn’t that Miss Bunszen up ahead?” He’d barely glimpsed a woman ahead, striding along quite unlike Bunszen, and at that moment didn’t much care if he were right or wrong. Anything to derail this conversation! Karla’s attention was turned.
“Gosh, so it is.” She sounded perplexed. “She doesn’t go out. She never goes out.”
“Perhaps we’re mistaken.”
“No. Come on, we’re going to follow!”
“But ...”
“Hush!” Miss Cluely tugged down her hat and increased her speed a little. Up ahead, Bunszen was fair loping along, and with considerable purpose too. Quite different from the aimless way she perpetually swept the yards up at the labs.
“Wherever is she going?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never known her to be like this.”
“Why does she work for your father?”
“Oh we took her on as an act of charity. Her aunt came up and begged us to give the poor wretch a sheltered life and something to do; said she loved to sweep and clean, and would be happy with a few pennies each week. Father is such a soft touch sometimes. Anyway it was a good move. She’s turned out to be a marvel – in a limited sort of way. Hello, she’s heading into the Upper High Street. Hold back, hold back, now... what?!”
Bunszen had just that moment hurried into an imposing building with a grand entrance over which was carved a few words that Rodney managed to recognise, helped along by the carved symbol of a trumpet. “The Morning Clarion!”
“What the Deep is she up to?” murmured Miss Cluely, stopping in her tracks.
“To collect the papers?”
“Surely not at this time.”
“I really don’t want to linger,” he said, “If we’re spotted...”
“Yes, quite. Let’s get back.”
#
IN THE PRIVACY OF THE tunnels he finally asked her the question that had been burning in his mind for some time. “So tell me, what is this mystery about your mother? Did she have some sort of reputation, or enemies or something?”
Karla stopped and sighed, “I suppose you had better know.” She took a deep breath and began, “My mother was... no, let’s start somewhere else. Back when the King was a bit of a gad-about-town he met a famous singer: Jocelyn Cluely.”
“Ah. Jollie mentioned her.”
“Yes. She had been the toast of the town for some years. Anyway they met, and it was love at first sight, they say. Then: scandal! She was said to be pregnant! She retired from the stage, went up country for a while. Join the dots together, as everyone did, and the whole nation concluded that the infant’s father was none other than the King. Not a hint of marriage of course – it was just not possible, not to a lady of the stage! So poor mother was born with this terrible stigma; the taint of this scandal forever upon her.”
“That was your mother then: the infant?
“Yes.”
“So that’s makes you –”
She sighed, “Granddaughter to the King. Yes.”
“Holy cow!”
She giggled at that. “Oh yes, and everyone agreed: my mother looked like the King. There was little doubt. Of course all the blame turned upon my grandmother. She was the harlot; she lead the King astray; etcetera, etcetera.” Karla sounded bitter. “Grandmother was looked after but the palace denied everything else. It was as if Mother never existed.”
“Yes, well these things are never particularly fair...”
She interrupted with vigour, “Fair! It is quite unfair! My mother should be first to the throne but that will never happen! Not with these stupid rules they have. It has to go to the boy – that drip Lancieur, born almost twenty years later. And if he were to die – well nobody knows what they would do!”
Rod paused, deciding to be careful. “Gad. Uh, how peculiar. Um, what an odd thing to have hanging over you. You could never forget it ... not even for a moment!”
“Yes.” Karla sighed heavily. “Sometimes the papers call me ‘the Infamous Grand-daughter’. But of course they always mean grandmother’s, not the King’s ...”
Rodney interrupted with a sudden gasp, “This morning’s headline!”
“Sorry, I missed the paper. What did it say?”
“Something like: ‘Infamous Granddaughter in Secret Romance’.”
She was suddenly furious, “Who gave them that idea?!”
“I have no idea, but I guess we were seen about. On the train ...”
“Did you actually read it?”
“No. I mean – how could I have known it was about you?”
“Somebody blabbed. Was it someone on the train? At the airship works?”
“One of the guards?”
“It would have been that tea lady! Mr Jollie should have her dismissed!”
“But the guards ...”
“No, no, they’d be roasted. Palace officials cannot talk to the papers, not even guards. No, someone saw us yesterday, some nasty gossip! And I bet it was ...”
Right then there was an echoing boom from somewhere back along the tunnel, like the sound of the city end door closing a second time. They both looked at each other, mystified.
“Who could that be?” whispered Rodney.
“It must be my father,” Miss Cluely whispered back.
They listened. They heard footsteps descending the first set of stairs, but the tread seemed far too slow for Von Heulenstein.
She inched closer to Rodney. “It’s not Father, I’m sure of it. ”
“Someone else then? One of the staff?”
“No-one else knows about this tunnel.” She was close beside him, quivering.
Rodney became brave, “Perhaps we should confront him.”
“No. Keep moving. Stay ahead.” Miss Cluely seemed overly frightened. She tugged Rodney after her and fled on tip-toes up the dimly lit passage. They ran, listened, ran some more. Then suddenly she dragged him sideways into an unlit side-tunnel.
“This goes to the underground laboratory,” she whispered, fumbling to extinguish the lamp. She seemed unduly frightened.
“Right, good,” he murmured; anything to sooth her as they fumbled deeper into the darkness as silently as they could. And all the while she increasingly pressed herself to him in fear. Finally Rodney stopped and held her shivering body firmly to his own. She pressed her mouth to his shoulder to silence her loud anxious panting and he felt her breath hot through his clothing.
The footsteps grew louder, passed the end of their bolt-hole, and began to fade. By some stroke of bad luck he and Miss Cluely had turned a slight curve and he could not see back to the intersection. Their interloper was to remain a mystery.
Slowly her shivering diminished, yet still she clung to him. He held her a while, hoping to be comforting, then lifted a hand to pat her reassuringly upon the shoulder before breaking off this unseemly embrace, except his hand brushed the back of her neck before reaching its planned destination. She gasped as if suddenly jolted by electricity, tilting up her face and caused her hatpin to plunge down into his thumb, effectively immobilising him. Gritting his teeth and trying to maintain a polite silence he brought up his other hand, found the other end of the pin in the dark, and pulled it entirely free. Her hat loosened and her hair tumbled down over his injured hand like a warm dry waterfall.
“Oh!” she murmured, and she shook her head as if enjoying this new freedom.
This was not what he had intended! Gad, if she were to get the wrong idea!
“Sir,” she whispered, “I... I...”
“I’m sorry. Uh, your hatpin ... my thumb ... ah, light the lamp again and I’ll ...”
“No. Please. Hush. I... I’ve been meaning.., well hoping to say...” She stopped.
He tried again to explain, “Ah, no really, your hatpin...”
Suddenly her gloved finger was upon his lips.
“Hush.”
Her own lips must have been but a few inches behind her finger, for he could smell her sweet oniony breath so very close now. She was panting, or gulping for breath, or something. He decided that she was falling prey to another of her terrors as she had done earlier. He patted her shoulder reassuringly. “We should re-light the lamp...”
“No.”
For several dozen racing heartbeats they stood like this, face-to-face in the utter dark, he feeling every kind of masculine excitement and concern, and who knew what she was feeling.
Then a quiet sigh of pleasure passed from her lips.
“What is it, ma’am? Are you sure you are going to be alright?”
“I’ve never known if I were ever going to be alright, Captain Hoverrim,” she answered in all seriousness, “My life here ... it is not the usual, as you can guess. These last few months have been rather glorious, I’ll admit, with Father gone. I’ll confess I had begun to pray that he would never return. And... and there have been other things I have prayed for; the things any woman might enjoy. Parties. Friends. The chance to... to meet men.”
“Well I’m sure...”
“No! I am sure that there is no ordinary man anywhere that could ever satisfy me now. I could not abide an ordinary life. No ordinary marriage could do me justice!”
Her hands, by this stage, had moved to enfold most of his face, gripping him by the jaw, and he did not disallow it for something wild and exciting and hopeful was beginning to overwhelm him from within. He did not want any of this to stop.
“I ... I feel the same, Miss Cluely, and...”
“You may call me Karla.”
“K-Karla, I will confess that... that I have greatly enjoyed your company since yesterday, and may I say that you are a remarkable woman. You deserve the finest of husbands, one day.”
“Captain ...”
“Call me Rodney, Miss.”
But she said not another word. Instead she kissed him.
Or perhaps he kissed her.
It was difficult to tell, there in the dark.
Anyway it was a kiss that was very sweet and oniony and could have lingered a very long time, and Rodney felt every kind of stirring within, a rush of love and hope within his heart, and a rush of mental activity too as all his vows were laid to waste, and a rush of heat and stimulation to every part of his anatomy, and undoubtedly Miss Cluely felt it too by the way she squirmed and pressed to him so very firmly. But all of this was suddenly and unexpectedly interrupted by a hideous scream nearby. They sprang apart.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know. It came from the laboratory!”
Karla had pulled away, her face peering past him into the dark for any clue as to what had transpired. Suddenly he saw it too; an intense flickering illumination briefly visible further along their narrow tunnel. Now that he cared to look, he could see a faint but constant light – as if it were leaking around the sides of a badly fitting door.
Another scream rent the air.
“Quickly!”
There was no time to waste lighting the lamp. Guided by sliding their hands along the walls they made for the just-discernible door. Beyond it he could hear some devilish machinery humming. Rod quickly fumbled for a doorknob or lock. All he found were hinges. Karla did better on her side. “It’s locked,” she said, tugging on the knob.
“Stand back, I’ll kick it in!”
“No, wait, I have a better idea!”
“What?”
“I’ll just unlock it.”
He heard her fumble with her keys, rattle one into the lock, and turn it with a dry clunk. The line of light became a band and then a block as Kara swung the door back.
They both looked in, and gasped.