The Skeleton Clock Read online

  ‘We need to know what they’re talking about.’

  ‘Might be about us,’ Geoff said. ‘If we can sneak on board we can listen to them.’

  ‘And we can get arrested,’ Jake said.

  But Sarah and Geoff had obviously made up their minds. Jake had little option but to follow them as they walked along the dock. They passed the crewmen unloading boxes of fish. The smell caught in Jake’s throat, and he struggled not to cough.

  As they passed the boat, Sarah and Geoff doubled back, leaping easily on board. Jake jumped after them. His foot slipped, but he managed to regain his balance and stumbled after his friends, hoping none of the crew had heard.

  They hid behind the wheelhouse, hardly daring to breath. Waiting for the shouts from the men on the quay. But all they could hear was the lapping of the water, and the low murmur of voices from below deck.

  There were steps leading down from beside the wheelhouse, and Sarah led the way down.

  ‘I really don’t think we should be doing this,’ Jake whispered as quietly as he dared.

  Either they ignored him, or they didn’t hear.

  Halfway down the narrow stairway, Sarah stopped. The voices were louder now – loud enough to hear the conversation between the two men.

  ‘What time did Revenue Officer Moulson inspect your ship yesterday, Captain Denson?’ Revelle was asking.

  There was a low chuckle. ‘Doesn’t he log that either? Well, I did. I log everything. Habit of a lifelong sailor, I suppose. It was just after four.’

  ‘He says it was six.’

  ‘And I say it was four.’

  ‘He also notes that everything was in order. There is no record that he confiscated anything.’

  ‘Must be true then. Like the time.’

  There was a pause, then Revelle said: ‘I’d like to know exactly what it was that he didn’t confiscate.’

  ‘Is Moulson in trouble?’

  ‘I think it’s gone a bit beyond that.’

  There was a hint of satisfaction in Captain Denson’s voice. ‘Something serious, is it?’

  ‘Could say that. He’s dead.’

  ‘I’d say that was serious,’ Denson agreed. ‘But what’s it got to do with me?’

  ‘You were the last boat he inspected. I wondered if he found something here that meant he left his work early. He didn’t inspect many ships yesterday and you say he was here at four. So why did he stop, and why was he killed? What did he take?’

  Geoff turned to look up at Jake. ‘The soldiers,’ he mouthed. ‘The box.’

  Jake nodded. ‘Can we go now?’ he mouthed back.

  Captain Denson was talking again: ‘He was always taking stuff. Anything we found, anything that came up in the nets, he wanted a cut. A big cut. Yesterday – everything.’

  ‘You hid stuff from him?’

  ‘He’d have found it. And I’d lose my license. Though there’s a fair few working out there with no license or salvage certificate. But I’ve got a wife, kids, and three crew depending on me. And with a diving bell I’ve not finished paying for…’

  ‘And yesterday?’ Revelle prompted.

  ‘Toy soldiers. That’s all. Scooped up in the net, a metal box. Old by the look of it. Might have been silver.’

  ‘That was it,’ Geoff hissed. ‘That’s what he had!’

  Sarah glared at him, finger to her lips.

  ‘We were dredging too close to the wrecks, to be honest,’ Denson was saying. ‘Snagged the nets on one of the ships down there. We were lucky to get it back. Jamie was up all night mending it. What is it?’

  The man’s tone had suddenly changed. Jake froze. he sensed Sarah and Geoff had heard it too.

  ‘It was nothing,’ Denson went on. ‘Just the water. You think there’s someone out there?’

  Jake was tip-toeing back up the steps as fast as he could. Geoff was close behind, and Sarah on his heels. Below, they heard the sound of the cabin door opening. Feet in the passageway, coming up the stairs after them.

  They raced across the deck, jumping down at the same place they’d leaped up just minutes before. Then they were running along the quay, laughing with relief and breathing in great gulps of fish-smelling air.

  ‘He’s not interested in us,’ Jake gasped.

  ‘He doesn’t know we were there,’ Sarah agreed.

  ‘Let’s head back to your place, Sarah,’ Geoff said. ‘To the Toymaker’s.’

  *

  ‘There’s no one there,’ Captain Denson said.

  ‘No. Not now anyway.’ Revelle followed the captain back up to the deck. ‘These toy soldiers – worth a lot, would you think?’

  ‘Doubt it, actually. Thought I might give them to my oldest to play with. Once I’d cleaned them up. But Moulson took them. His eyes widened soon as he saw them, and he got that hungry look. So maybe they were valuable.’

  ‘Well, he won’t bother you again.’

  ‘We’ll get another Revenue Officer assigned to us. He might be as bad.’

  ‘If he is, you let me know.’ He shook the captain’s hand.

  ‘I’ll do that, Officer Revelle. Thank you.’

  ‘Wasn’t you that dredged up that head was it?’ Revelle asked, looking at the big nets lying folded in the back of the boat. Beside them stood a heavy metal cylinder with glass windows in the sides. It was attached by thick chains and cables to a gantry. The diving bell that Denson had mentioned.

  ‘Sounds gruesome.’

  ‘Not a real head. A statue. Gold.’

  ‘Sounds heavy.’

  ‘Very. I tried to lift it, not a chance.’

  ‘Wouldn’t have come up in the nets then. If it’s too heavy to lift, it’d tear them apart. No one has new nets these days. They fray and rot and you’re lucky if they’ll even hold the fish.’

  ‘Diving bell?’

  ‘Maybe. Don’t use ours much, I’m afraid. Can’t spare the fuel for the winch unless we’re sure of finding something.’

  They stood on deck, looking out across the water. ‘Where did you dredge up these toy soldiers?’ Revelle asked.

  ‘Over there.’ Denson pointed across, towards the thrusting stone pinnacles of the White Tower. ‘Close to where the lights are.’

  Revelle couldn’t see any lights. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, not now. At night sometimes. You can see them, under the water. A sort of glow. Phosphorescence, some of the men say. A freak reflection of the moon from something under the water, according to others.’

  ‘Is there anything under the water there?’ Even as he asked the question, he was thinking of the lights he’d seen from the observation gallery below the White Tower.

  ‘Oh yes. We call that the Graveyard. It’s where all the sunken ships go to die.’

  Revelle stared out at the water. It was calm and clear today in the bright morning sunlight. ‘Thanks for your help,’ he said.

  ‘Pleasure,’ Denson said. ‘Anything else I can do for you?’

  Revelle smiled. ‘You’ve got children, so you’ll know. From here, is there a drywalk to the Toymaker’s?’

  Chapter 5

  They didn’t go back to Sarah’s until it was almost noon. They spent time at the docks, watching the boats unload. They talked about the events of the previous evening – who was the murderer, and why was he so interested in the toy soldiers? What about the monster – which Sarah made clear she thought they had imagined. But eventually, hungry and cold, they headed back to the Toymaker’s.

  Geoff had a heavy chain with a padlock on it which he used to secure his boat to the mooring post at the end of Shaft Street. Jake helped his friend loop the chain loosely round the wooden pole. Then all three of them set off down the street towards the Toymaker’s.

  Shaft Street itself was a ford. At low tide it was dry, and when the tide was up it was ankle deep in water. It was dry now, though there were the usual puddles. Jake had seen some of the street kids drinking from them. But you didn’t do that unless you were desperate. Most of the b
uildings were old stores and warehouses. An abandoned factory now housed a government office and there were a few shops, a baker’s and a pub called The Last Drop.

  Jake, Geoff and Sarah pushed past the drinkers who had spilled out of the pub, and finally arrived outside a narrow wooden door with tiny glass panels set into it. The sign above the door was cracked and flaking. It said Jasper R. Hickson, but everyone in the City knew Jasper Hickson – and his shop – as ‘The Toymaker’. The small window was full of toys – dolls, a wooden steam train, and of course model boats.

  A bell rang when Geoff opened the door. Inside the shop was lit by several oil lamps on the shelves. Mirrors behind the lamps cast more light into the room and multiplied the shadows. Most of the toys were carved from wood. Many of the dolls had wooden heads and bodies under their handmade clothes. One doll with long dark ringlets of hair and a red-checked dress had a head made from china, with delicate features and red cheeks.

  A doll’s house stood proudly in one corner, close to a shelf of wooden boats. Some of the boats were little more than shaped hulls fashioned out of driftwood, others were rigged with masts and intricate sails. A kite with a grinning carnival face was propped against a brightly painted toy box made from planks of wood from an old warehouse floor.

  At the end of the small room was a counter. A chunky robot made from old cans stood at one side of it. At the other end a group of carved wooden farm animals grazed next to an old till. There was a door behind the counter, and from the wall beside it two masks stared back into the shop. Both were plain white, with dark edges to the holes for the eyes and mouth. The mouth of one curled upwards in a smile. The other was turned down and a single red tear drop was painted on the cheek.

  At the sound of the bell, the door behind the counter opened and a man came into the shop. The Toymaker – Sarah’s father.

  ‘I was hoping it was a customer,’ he said. But he smiled, and gave his daughter a quick hug. ‘Come on in, make yourselves at home.’ He hesitated, looking at Sarah thoughtfully. ‘Well, you are home.’ He nodded as if to prove this was true, then went back out through the door to his workshop.

  Jake felt suddenly awkward. Geoff and Sarah were talking quietly on the other side of the shop. He got the sense they’d rather he wasn’t there, so he followed the Toymaker.

  The only light was on the workbench. An electric torch was held fast in a wooden frame, casting its unflinching light through a large magnifying glass. The Toymaker was hunched over his work. Thinning grey hair clung to his pale scalp. The torchlight glinted on the small round lenses of his spectacles.

  The Toymaker didn’t look up as Jake sat on a stool close by. ‘It’s kind of you to visit. Found me some more interesting bits of wood?’ He was intent on a painted wooden box, working with a small screwdriver on the clasp that held the lid closed.

  ‘Not this time. Got something interesting though.’ Jake took the cavalryman figure from his pocket.

  The Toymaker leaned back, inspecting his work. ‘I think that should do it.’

  But before he could finish speaking, the clasp clicked open, and the lid of the box snapped upwards. With a shriek of sound, a mass of tentacles erupted from the box. The creature leaped at Jake, pale tendrils whipping towards him. He gave a startled cry and fell backwards, off the stool, desperate to escape the monstrous thing that was reaching out for him.

  The Toymaker sighed. ‘Or maybe not,’ he muttered. ‘Are you all right down there? It’s just a Jack-in-the-Box.’

  Jake scrambled to his feet and saw that the tentacles were floppy arms, the monstrous creature a grinning cloth mannequin. ‘I’m sorry. I thought…’ He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. ‘It startled me.’ From the shop he could hear the sound of Sarah and Geoff laughing.

  The Toymaker had turned and was looking at Jake curiously. ‘What’s that you’ve got there?’

  Jake set the little figure down on the workbench. The Toymaker moved the torch to see it clearly. The light flickered, dimmed, then brightened again.

  ‘You don’t know where I can get some more batteries for this, do you? They’re so scarce now. So expensive.’

  ‘I’ll keep an eye out,’ Jake said. ‘You can warm them over the fire, that helps.’

  The Toymaker wasn’t listening. He had picked up the horse and its rider and was examining it. ‘This is exquisite. Lovely workmanship.’

  ‘Is it carved?’

  ‘Oh yes. No machine did this. Where did you find it?’

  ‘Under the water.’

  ‘Silly question.’ He stood the horse on the table in front of them and turned it slowly, examining it from every angle. ‘Are you hoping I can sell it for you?’

  That was not something that Jake had even thought of. ‘Could you?’

  ‘You wouldn’t get much for it here, nothing like what it’s worth. You need to talk to a collector. An expert.’

  He looked up, staring intently at Jake. ‘It isn’t…’ He coughed, embarrassed. ‘I hesitate to ask, but, er, you didn’t..?’

  ‘I didn’t steal it,’ Jake assured him.

  ‘Good. Yes. Quite so. It’s just that there was a Watchman here this morning. He was asking about toy soldiers. A whole box of them, apparently.’

  Jake felt suddenly cold. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Just information. And anyway, you have only the one.’ He hadn’t made it sound like a question, but his eyes were asking if this was the case.

  ‘Geoff’s got one too,’ he went on quickly. ‘A foot soldier. Have you ever seen anything like it before?’

  ‘That’s what the Watchman asked. And yes, I have. Just the once. Similar, but not identical. Can I see what Geoff found?’

  They called Geoff and Sarah into the workshop. Sarah lit oil lamps so that the room was suffused with a soft glow. Jake could make out the shapes of toys being stored, or in various states of disrepair or in the process of being made… A line of naked wooden dolls sat waiting for Sarah to sew them clothes. A rocking horse was missing its mane and tail and needed painting. Boats lay everywhere, some almost finished and others barely more than pencil-marked blocks of wood.

  The soldier and the cavalryman stood proudly on the workbench under the glare of the torch.

  ‘I’d like to make some drawings, if I may,’ the Toymaker said. ‘There’s some bread, and a little cheese. Maybe fish too. Unless you’ve had lunch already?’

  As they talked and ate, the old man sat and sketched – large pencilled plans that were as detailed and exquisite as the figures themselves. ‘Anything else you can tell me about these figures?’ he asked.

  Jake looked at Geoff, and his friend nodded. ‘They move,’ Jake said. ‘I don’t know how, or what makes them do it.’

  ‘The Toymaker was frowning. He picked up the foot soldier. ‘There are no joints.’

  ‘I don’t mean you can move it,’ Jake told them. ‘I mean, it moves. On its own.

  ‘It’s rigid, solid,’ Sarah pointed out. ‘Carved. You can’t move it, and it can’t move itself.’

  ‘I saw the horse move,’ Jake insisted. ‘And the rider.’

  ‘And mine moved too.’ Geoff reached over to point at the figure. ‘He’s raised his sword, it was down by his side. And I think he’s turned his head too, though I didn’t see him do it.’

  ‘Hmm. Fascinating.’ The Toymaker obviously wasn’t convinced. ‘I might have a go at carving copies myself.’ His glasses twinkled in the light from the lamps as he turned and smiled at Jake. ‘And perhaps I’ll make them so they really do move.’

  He rolled up the half-finished drawings and pushed them to the side of the workbench. He picked up the two figures, looked at them admiringly one more time, then handed them back to Geoff and Jake. ‘Right, now I must sort out Jack.’

  ‘Jack?’ Geoff wondered.

  ‘In the box,’ Jake explained, pointing to the clown flopping out of the wooden box. ‘Or rather, out of it.’

  The Toymaker ushered them out of his workshop, and they
spent a few minutes looking round the shop. Jake was always fascinated by the toys, even the simplest of them. There was a puppet of a finely-dressed lady hanging off a shelf that he took down and tried to make walk. Geoff laughed at his efforts as the puppet lurched and bounced.

  ‘Let me,’ Sarah said from behind him. Jake had not heard her come through from clearing the lunch. He handed her the puppet, and she made it walk elegantly across the shop, one hand held out as if waiting to be kissed in greeting.

  She hung the puppet back on the shelf. ‘Dad says the Watchman was here. Officer Revelle.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jake said. ‘Asking about toy soldiers. It’s just coincidence. Your Dad said he’d seen some similar figures.’

  ‘Did he say where?’ Geoff wondered.

  Jake shook his head.

  ‘I know where Dad saw them,’ Sarah said.

  ‘Where?’ Jake asked eagerly.

  ‘I’ll take you there.’ She said it to Geoff.

  He shook his head. ‘Reckon I can sell mine for more somewhere else.’

  ‘But – he’s a collector.’

  ‘Who is?’ Jake asked.

  ‘I said, I’ll take you there.’

  ‘You have to tell us where, then,’ Geoff said.

  ‘But I’m coming too.’

  ‘All right,’ Jake said quickly. ‘So, where are we going?’

  ‘The Atherton Archive. It’s out near the Drylands. Past the floodwaters, almost in the countryside.’

  ‘Sounds boring,’ Geoff said. ‘An archive? Do us a favour.’

  ‘I think we should look,’ Jake said. ‘See if they’re the same. And if you want to sell your soldier, they might make you an offer.’

  ‘Archives and museums have no money,’ Geoff said. ‘Anyway, if they’ve got some already, they won’t want ours. I’ve got better things to do.’

  ‘Well, I’m going,’ Sarah told him. It sounded like a challenge. ‘Jake and me are going to the Atherton Archive, aren’t we?’ Without looking, she reached out and grabbed Jake’s arm, pulling him across so he was standing close beside her.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘we are.’ And it sounded to Jake as if his voice was as nervous and hesitant as Geoff’s was when he was with Sarah.