A moment’s composed thought would have told me that even after an explosion of that magnitude, I should still expect to see something of Jasper lying about the quayside. But in my horror at what had happened, that little point of sense did not occur to me. What I did hear was a faint, distant voice. It seemed to be coming from above. Very feeble, but the timbre was unmistakeable. It was Jasper, calling out from heaven, protesting his unjust fate –
“Get me dahn from ‘eeeeeeeeere!”
Faint, distant, definitely distressed – and anything but angelic. Not that I would have known what a real angel sounded like, mind. I looked up, and beheld an untidy object clinging to Old Stumpy’s maintopgallant – or whatever the bit at the top of the biggest one is called. I noted, with a relief that surprised me, that he was apparently uninjured.
Unfortunately, Mr Whybrow had removed some of Old Stumpy’s standing rigging, in particular the shrouds and ratlines (that’s the rope laddery thing you climb up masts on), but for which Jasper could have clambered down unaided. Now there could be no doubt about it. I would have to call Mr Whybrow. Not a prospect that I relished; when he asked not to be disturbed, he meant it, and what he’d say to this particular interruption –
Get on with it. You’re lucky Jasper’s still alive.
I called up to Jasper, “Wait there! Don’t go away!”
As I ran back to the shop, I cringed at the sheer absurdity of what I’d just said.
I decided that it’d be best not to burden Mr Whybrow with tiresome things like details, and to let him discover the truth for himself. Trying to keep my hand from looking in any way panicked, I scribbled, "Please come down to the quayside and bring very long ladder." And by way of a softener, in the hope of disarming at least some of his wrath, I squeezed in at the top a cheery, “Hello, sir! V here!”
It didn’t work. As I’d expected, my message brought Mr Whybrow down very quickly, already certain that the reason for his summons would be dire. I’d barely reached the quayside when he came running, and to make matters worse, Miss Creeggan was with him. Oh, Gawd; disturbing him while building was one thing, but if he was thrashing out designs with the Fashionista, then he was not going to be pleased.
The first thing he saw was the smouldering ruins of his new convenience, which stopped him dead. Miss Creeggan, being Miss Creeggan, only stiffened slightly in acknowledgement of this latest devastation, and otherwise retained her usual composure. I was lucky that she should have been with him, out of all the people it could have been. Miss Creeggan, I knew, would be an interposing shield of Harvey armour to Mr Whybrow’s main armament.
It took Mr Whybrow a full half-minute to find his voice. “What the bloody hell happened here?”
By now, that particular exclamation held no dread for me. I was used to it. “I disinfected the convenience, sir – “ I began, matter-of-factly.
“Disinfected it? You’ve obliterated it! What did you use? Nitroglycerine?”
“I didn’t know we had any of that, sir. No, just that little bit of petrol that was left in the drum.” I thought it best not to mention that I’d used a whole gallon. “The postman went in there for a pipe and before I could warn him – “
Mr Whybrow spared me the embarrassment of continuing by putting his face in his hands with a long, weary groan. “Oh, Lord.”
Miss Creeggan, bless her, saw the larger picture. “Mr Whybrow, if you’d given your shopgirl a proper facility in the first place, these things wouldn’t happen,” she boomed, startling into flight the seagulls who, sitting across the other side of the harbour, were still unnerved by the cataclysm they’d just witnessed.
Which was true. But I’m glad it was she who’d said that. I’d never have dared.
Mr Whybrow was more interested in the immediate. His face whitened a few shades further. “You’ve killed the postman?”
“No, sir.” Here, I was on more solid ground and drew further confidence from my unexpected ally. “In the first place, I haven’t killed him. Anyone could have told him it’s dangerous to smoke near petrol, but I didn’t get the chance to. And secondly, he isn’t dead.” I tilted my head heavenwards.
Mr Whybrow followed my gaze to the singed bundle clinging to the mast like a monkey up a tree. I could see that he had put his shock aside, and was appraising the situation. “Who told you to put petrol in there, anyway?”
“You didn’t tell me not to, and I couldn’t move the paraffin drum. It was too heavy.”
Whatever Mr Whybrow was going to say to that, I was never to learn. Miss Creeggan got in first. “Really, Mr Whybrow, you can hardly blame your shopgirl for any consequences if you’re not going to train her properly.” Miss Creeggan might have been pointing out to a couturier that she’d sewn a button on a quarter of an inch too low.
Mr Whybrow gave her a dirty look, which she ignored. He kicked nine inches of scorched planking into the harbour. “Great. Well, now we’re back to square one. And you’re back to using the yard.” Denying me the chance to reply, he called up to Jasper. “Hold on – we’ll get you down.”
“Shall I call the fire brigade, sir?” I offered.
“Fire brigade be damned. I’m not going to look a complete fool explaining this to them. And I doubt there’s a ladder in Caledon that long. Wait here.”
Jasper continued to call out, but I ignored him. There was nothing I could do at present, and I was more preoccupied with the fact that I’d gotten away with it. So far. Things had not gone too badly; I’d expected to be shredded and incinerated by Mr Whybrow’s fury. Going back to using the yard wouldn’t be too insuffrable; it had to be more wholesome than that ghastly hut, and I’d be spared the attentions of Harry who was, in any case, in atom-sized bits all over SouthEnd. I found the confidence to thank Miss Creeggan for her timely appearance.
“Think nothing of it, my dear. Some men shouldn’t be allowed to keep shopgirls, and I think you’ve done him a favour were he only astute enough to realise that.”
“By sending the postman into orbit?”
“By ridding the community of what I gather must have been an eyesore!”
“It wasn’t just your eyes it made sore,” I recollected, harking back to the badly-sanded plank inside. I was about to mention Harry to her, but decided against it. I wondered, instead, if she might have any suggestions for dissuading Jasper. Whatever terror Harry held, at least he wasn’t trying to get inside my bustle for those purposes. There again – maybe I’d best not mention that, either. Knowing Miss Creeggan, she’d bring Jasper down from On High with something rapid-firing and in a high calibre, to accomplish what I’d been fortunate enough to fail to do.
Then Jasper broke my train of thought with another yell from aloft. I wished he would shut up. Shouting his predicament to the district at large wasn’t going to get things done any faster.
Miss Creeggan opened her mouth, no doubt to sympathise over the damage the plank must have done to my peach skin, when a faint clacking noise rose above Jasper’s plaintive cries, getting louder. I recognised it at once and clapped my hands with glee. How original!
Miss Creeggan merely gave a cool, knowing smile. “I should have thought of that myself.”
Mr Whybrow’s airship loomed up over his roof where it hovered, its engine idling. At first I thought Mr Whybrow was calculating how to approach Jasper with all the masts and yards and things sticking out, but then I noticed that he was trying to shout to me above the racket of his engine. When I did not give any sign of acknowledgement, he waved in great exaggerated arcs, sweeping his arm about him – ah, right! He wants me to go around to the front of the shop.
I flapped an excited wave back, and ran from the quayside. I think we must have understood each other, as he revved his engine and swung around.
Miss Creeggan and I waited in the park and watched as he deftly eased into his final descent. “Why doesn’t he just fly straight over and pick Jasper up?” I wondered.
Frown from Fashionista. Jasper? Is that his name? She’d probably remarked, from that alone, that he was a bit of a rotter. Miss Creeggan had that uncanny gift of perception. “He’s probably decided it’ll need you both,” she replied, following the purple gondola as it drifted down like a slightly heavy autumn leaf.
Finally, the airship grounded gently on the road. We waited for Mr Whybrow to shut the engine back before running over.
“Sir, this is a superb idea! But will it hold three of us?”
Mr Whybrow answered me by setting all the directional controls to neutral and clambering out. “Who said anything about ‘us?’” he replied, briskly. “You put him up there, you get him down.”
Inwardly, I said some very rude words which would have earned me two weeks on bread and water in the workhouse. My airship experience was very limited, and Jasper was one person I didn’t want to share a gondola with. “I take your point, sir, but you’re the more experienced pilot.”
“I know. I’m also a lot heavier than you. I don’t know how this thing’ll handle with that lump in the back as well.”
There, he did have a point. I gulped, panic surging through my veins. The airship sat before me, challenging. But Mr Whybrow was not of a mind to be patient.
“Come on, you’ve proved you can land this thing, and I’ve given the area a thorough look-over; it’ll be perfectly safe. Just get the rope ladder back in once he’s seated; it’ll carry back into the propeller.”
My body functioned automatically as I hauled myself and all my skirts into the gondola. Marie Antoinette returned to mind, this time lying herself down on the bascule.
Mr Whybrow heaved the rope ladder inside. “You’re lucky he’s right at the top, you won’t have to worry about any masts getting in the way. Remember – don’t try to turn too quickly; once he’s on board, head eastwards and then north along the road, and fly around the whole district and set her down on the roof. Just like you did before,” he added, in what I presumed to be an effort at encouragement. “Off you go, now. He can’t hang on all day.”
That was true. Remembering his earlier advice to keep my movements firm but gentle, I gave a burst of engine and we began to rise. This was the first time I’d flown solo; I had thought to have done so before, but at the time had been unaware of Mr Whybrow hanging on for dear life. This time, I really was alone. Without his weight in the back, the airship rose eagerly, and I sensed that unless I was careful, it would be easy to overcontrol it.
This close to the ground, I had to watch for obstacles in all three dimensions. But looking around, the highest thing on my flight path would be Old Stumpy itself. Provided that I stayed higher than that, I should be all right.
Once the gondola was clear of Miss Folger’s roof, I gingerly edged the nose around. With only myself as ballast, it slewed smoothly, and I had to straighten up earlier than normal to allow for rudder lag. But the manoevre worked, and I was pointing roughly in the direction I wanted to go. Mr Whybrow appeared to have allowed a quarter of an inch of slack in the control cables, which made it easier for me to feel the control surfaces bite the air – a consideration I vowed to remember when assembling my own dirigible. I was tempted to wave to Mr Whybrow to reassure him that all was well, but he’d have just waved impatiently back, bidding me to get on with it and not to faff around.
I eased the throttle forwards, and the airship responded with a somewhat ponderous lurch, although under perfect control. I regarded Old Stumpy’s masts less as obstacles, than as pointers to navigation – it would be a tighter turn than I’d have preferred, but Mr Whybrow was right. Jasper could let go at any moment. To be on the safe side, I throttled back as I rounded them, trying to aim the gondola’s centreline for a spot near to Jasper. He had seen what I was trying to do, and clung to the mast as though it was about to collapse beneath him. He’d probably used the public airships before, but of course would be used to boarding from a nice solid platform, not a five-hundred-year-old slippery mast.
Once lined up with ticks of rudder, I proceeded with cautious blips of throttle, judging the airship’s headway as I went. I was glad that SouthEnd’s climate included little in the way of wind. A gust at the wrong moment, or if I let it carry too far, then the propeller would go into Jasper. His eyes followed me, fearful yet with a determination I had to admire as I drew nearer. Now it was his turn to be Marie Antoinette.
“Can you hear me?” I called out when I thought I was close enough.
“Yerss!”
“Grab hold when I drop the ladder and get in behind me.”
“Right-ho.” Without thinking, he tried to wave to me, but quickly clapped his arm back to the mast before he could lose his balance.
Awkwardly, I fumbled the ladder over the side, and mindful of Mr Whybrow’s warning about the propeller, tried to nudge the airship forwards one foot at a time. Jasper coolly followed me, judging the distance. He at least had the sense to wait until I was close enough for him to get a proper grip; had he leapt at the earliest opportunity, he’d have dragged the airship dangerously offcentre to impale the gasbag on the masthead, or missed altogether and plummetted to the deck.
I found myself having to look in all directions so as to keep the airship on track. I was looking forwards, with Jasper slightly behind me, when the gondola gave a sudden wrench and tried to unseat me. A small burst of power stabilised us, and the gondola gave a series of irritated shudders and jolts. Finally, all was still and the airship felt nice and solid once more, if somewhat heavier at the controls.
“Are you in?” I called back.
“Yerss. And thank you, Miss.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Mr Whybrow. It was his idea. Can you pull the rope ladder in?”
I’ll give him this much credit. He’d never be a gentleman, but he was no coward either. In the same position I’d have glued myself to the mast and not moved until it had been sawn off and lowered to the ground by crane. I waited until all movement behind me had ceased before asking, once again, if he was ready. Receiving his usual affirmative, I gave the engine a confident gun, and the airship nosed forwards with a portly stateliness – it reminded me of the Prince Regent making a Progress. As for myself, I felt I could afford a self-congratulatory hug. I’d done it! I’d flown my first proper solo as Shopgirl in Command, and rescued someone. Even if I couldn’t stand him.
But I was being premature. I still had to get us back to the shop roof, for which I’d have to fly around the entire district. My hand found the throttle by itself, and I focussed on keeping the nose lined up with the road. The airship was handling crisply and obediently. All was going well.
Then something brushed against my ankle. I dared not move my foot; that would have jolted the rudder bar. It had to be a fold in my skirts, of course, but I couldn’t help wondering how my skirt could move by itself. I gave a little twitch of my calf. It was not my imagination. Something was resting against my ankle, transmitting its bulk through my thin stocking. I tried to remember whether something had been left loose on the gondola floor, but nothing came to mind. Then a subtle movement in my hem tickled my instep. I very gingerly slid my foot away, looked down, and died on the spot.
There was Harry, sitting by my foot and grinning straight back at me. I snatched my hands back from the control column, as if that would protect them from the monster lurking at my feet. I could read his evil little mind as my eyes met his. Go on. Let’s see you panic now.
I must have been telepathic. I realised that the airship was effectively flying itself. My mind, rapidly trying to think of a way to remove the danger on the floor without upsetting the airship’s equilibrium, took its focus off Harry for a hairsbreadth of time as I restored my grip on the antlers. And when I looked back, there he was, squatting at the top of the control column.
Hey, Miss! Peekaboo!
At this point, my reflexes trumped my mind and I gave the column a violent wrench. The airship, not smart enough to ask if I really meant what I’d asked it to do, lurched first one way, and then another as I overcorrected, entertaining a faint background hope of throwing Harry off.
I’d hoped in vain. All this time, he sat welded to the control column. I began to contemplate taking the airship lower until I could leap out and run, but then a dense fug of tobacco breath, like a locomotive firebox, enveloped me. Jasper was peering over my shoulder
“Gawdstruth, girl, wot are you up to, tossin’ us abaht like that?”
Without relinquishing the control column, I resolved to relinquish the hands on the ends of my wrists if Harry should decide to cross either of them, although I did not know how I was going to do that.
“Hey, it’s ‘arry! Come ‘ere, me lad, and let the lady fly us ‘ome!”
Then Jasper saved the day along with both our lives. He crouched over me, shrouding me beneath his sweaty tunic and smothering me in an aura of tobacco breath and rancid armpits as he reached out and removed Harry. I almost lost everything I’d eaten, but before I could first lose the breath which I was holding against the purgatory of perfumes, the cloak of uniform was lifted from my eyes, restoring not only the world to my sight, but also a heavenly blast of fresh Caledonian air.
All this time, the airship had been plodding steadily onwards. Thank God that Mr Whybrow’s design, while irritated by the clumsy, was also inherently stable. But we were about to cross into Downs. I swung into a graceful left-handed turn, looking about for that public airship that had almost rammed us the last time I flew, but the skies were mine.
The airship tower, although only encountered once before, was a familiar landmark and turning point, and I eased us around it fluidly yet keeping alert, knowing that Mr Whybrow would be watching us from the roof. I spared a moment to check – yes, there he was. And knowing him, he was probably going to stand on the landing pad’s centreline, expecting me to stop on a sixpence two feet in front of him. I wondered if he had seen my cavorting about just now, but resolved to cross that bridge when I came to it. There was a good chance he’d still been climbing the stairs to the roof at that point, anyway.
As for Harry – everything in the back was quiet. I suspected that Jasper was stroking the horrid thing, murmuring sweet nothings about their great adventure in the airship. As far as I was concerned, they were welcome to each other. Even if Jasper did not smell like something the workhouse had rejected, I recoiled at the idea of sharing a district with anyone who’d handled Harry.
As we headed southwards, with only the waves below us, I used the time to assess my environment more acutely. My next turn would commit us to our final approach and would allow no room for error. The slipstream felt equally strong on both my cheeks, so there would be no sidewinds to worry about. That was good. Height – I’d cleared the airship tower, so the gondola should be suitably placed to pass the great ferris wheel. I briefly considered stopping there and asking Jasper to get out into one of the wheel’s own gondolas, but thought better of it. I’d still have to scrub out the back seat after his carcass had been in it. And to think that he wanted to – it just didn’t bear dwelling on.
I devoted a small part of my attention instead to the solitary figure awaiting me on the landing platform. Yes, even from here I could see that he was analysing my every move. It was tempting to make that final turn too early, through fear of hitting the ferris wheel, but I forbore.
I swept past the ferris wheel, as stately as a great liner coming in to dock as the airship slid faithfully down a shallow gradient to ground on the landing platform, with the suavity of a French polisher wiping off non-existent dust particles to impress a customer. And by way of a cadential flourish, I switched off the engine which expired gently, without any residual coughing or farting. Miss Creeggan, I noticed, had gone. I expect she’d decided that once Jasper had got into the airship, the fun was over (how wrong she’d have been!) or more likely, had had some Fashionista business to attend to.
At any rate, she’d certainly given Mr Whybrow a tongue-lashing during my absence; his expression was quite definitely peeved. If my landing had impressed him, he showed no sign of it as he stepped forwards and tied the anchor down. That didn’t stop me feeling pleased with myself as I climbed out, half-hoping that our antics in the air might have encouraged Jasper to look elsewhere for his plant-the-parsnip practice.
As if. Whatever Mr Whybrow was about to say, Jasper pre-empted it by lurching forwards. “Cworr, that’s some girl you got there, sir! You should see ‘er ‘andle that airship. Like a real little angel, she is, in all ways, eh?”
He gave me a nudge in the ribs. I resisted the temptation to hack him across the throat with the edge of my hand, for which he had Harry perched on his shoulder to thank.
Mr Whybrow just stood studying me, awaiting my first words. I suppose I’d only put right something I’d done wrong. I had to take a deep breath before speaking, I felt as if I was keeping my gorge down by jumping up and down on it in miners’ boots. “I’m sorry, sir,” I modestly told Jasper. “I tried to warn you about the petrol, but you were too quick.”
“Fink nuffink of it, Miss. If I might be permitted?”
Before I could ask what he was hoping to be permitted, he’d bowed and pressed his great whiskery face to me in a kiss like an overaffectionate barnacle. I just managed to catch my breath to prevent my inhaling his unwholesome exhudations. And with Harry still on his shoulder! Bleurgh! I wanted to twist inside out. I tried to pull back, but he’d foreseen that and looped an arm around my waist. I flashed Mr Whybrow a desperate plea for help, but he simply stood there smirking. At that point, I could have shot him, had I a revolver and a free arm to wield it. In fact, I could have emptied all six chambers into him.
When Jasper finally released me, I wanted to collapse like a ripped balloon.
“Yep, that’s a real little treasure of a girl, sir,” Jasper enthused. I could have sworn that Harry was smirking, too.
“Oh, I know,” said Mr Whybrow. “I wouldn’t be without her. Anyway, I’m sorry if you’ve been put to any inconvenience; I hope you’ve suffered no lasting harm at the hands of my real little treasure?”
His treasure wanted to leap fully clothed into a scalding hot bath, although neither of them seemed to have noticed that I’d turned away to take in chestfuls of air that weren’t loverladen with beer, armpits, cremated tobacco and unwashed uniform.
“Not a bit of it, sir. ’arry likes ‘er, too. Don’tchoo, ‘arry?” Oh, dear. He just had to give Harry a stroke along the back. “Wiv your leave, sir, we’ll get back to work. Come on, ‘arry; let’s see ‘ow you likes it under the post office cahnter. It’s nice ‘n’ cosy under there, wiv plenty o’ nice fat flies from all the ‘orse droppin’s for yer dinner.”
I resolved never to go into the post office again until with my own two eyes, I’d seen Harry either dead in a coffin, or waving goodbye from the rail of a steamer to Australia. Preferably on Jasper’s shoulder.
Mr Whybrow’s shoulders shook a little from suppressed mirth as he led the way from the roof, obviously hoping that I wouldn’t see how amusing he’d found that hideous episode. At least he waited until we were back in the shop before he spoke. “Looks like you’ve an admirer, Miss Bluebird.”
“I don’t want an admirer, sir. Especially that one. He’s – unwholesome.” I threw every ounce of my acting ability into a look of helpless appeal, which was not difficult as I wasn’t having to act. But Mr Whybrow shot down my opera-standard performance with his usual infuriating aplomb.
“Miss Bluebird, I’ve never interfered in the private lives of my staff. He’s your problem. As an immediate answer to you, I’d suggest dealing with him more humanely than by blowing him to the top of Old Stumpy.”
I suppressed a burst of frustrated fury as some unknown spirit wafted the anodyne of truth through my mind. This was his way of punishing me for having blown up his new convenience. And I might not have asked for an admirer, but I suppose I should have persevered with the paraffin rather than caused another cataclysm.
Somewhat sobered, I sheepishly told him, ”There was another matter, sir. That tall pirate lady came back with a personal message, but she didn’t stay long enough to deliver it. She preceded our postman to the convenience and ran out screaming. I’m sorry, but whatever her message was, she didn’t leave it before she departed.”
Mr Whybrow gave me a shrewd squint. “That’s no loss, then. I presume she met Harry?”
“She did, sir. She doesn’t like spiders; she almost brought the house down when she saw your ear pendants.”
“Which you of course bore in mind when you showed her the convenience.” He gave me a moment to reply, which I saw no purpose in taking advantage of. Accepting that my silence meant “yes,” he nodded. “I suppose I owe you, then.”
He tried to keep a smile from breaking out on his face, but succeeded only in distorting his mouth. Despite his abrasive façade, I could see that inside, I’d succeeded in softening him.
“If you don’t mind my asking, sir; what was the purpose of her original visit? It seems strange that she’d ask your advice if she had no intention of following it.”
Mr Whybrow cleared his throat, apparently preparing the ‘diplomatic’ version of his reply. “She doesn’t take advice, neither was she asking it. You may remember that I’ve had trouble before with callers who have a personal interest? That was the purpose of her original visit.” He drew himself up with a deep sigh, staring at the wall with far-away eyes at something only he could see.
“Thank you, Miss Bluebird,” he said, finally. “You’ve saved me no end of trouble there. I suppose that rebuilding the convenience again is a small price to pay. Now, if you wouldn’t mind returning to work? I presume you’ll have no trouble wearing those inanimate ear pendants, since you’ve been so intimate with the real thing.”
Ooh, the monster! So that was why he let Jasper get his great paws on me! For a man who lived quietly, he never ceased to amaze me at his grasp of psychology. He was just heading back to his workshop when he paused and called softly after me. This time, his eyes held that unique mixture of gentleness, understanding and intransigent resolve that I had come to expect from him.
“Miss Bluebird – you need to have more faith in your ability to deal with situations. I shan’t step in with Postie unless things turn really nasty. But if they do, don’t be afraid to ask.”
At first, I was horrified that he was abandoning me to Jasper’s attentions. But I thought again. Yes. He was right. Just as Uncle Arthur had said. Trust him. He knows what he’s doing. I had to accept what was offered, especially when that included the opportunity to grow by dealing with my own problems. In that moment, I could have worshipped Mr Whybrow. The bad taste in my mouth from Jasper’s kiss ebbed away like an acid stomach after a draught of milk of magnesia.
The weight of the day’s tribulations slipped from me like a thick cloak as I paced the shop floor. It was an immediate, heady cheer to know that the rude pirate lady was unlikely to be back, and in getting rid of her, I had earned enough respect to counterbalance any of the day’s misdeeds. Mr Whybrow hadn’t even mentioned my throwing his airship all over the sky. He might have missed it, but that man missed nothing.
As for Jasper, he didn’t stand a chance of taking me anywhere, even if he took a long hot bath in Jeyes’ Fluid, smartened himself up, changed his tobacco from “Workhouse Bonfire Aromatic,” and learned a few of life’s finesses. I could hardly imagine what Mr Whybrow would have said, had I to have accepted an invitation to a dance at which the star guest was a spoon player; he’d have probably thrown me out just for that. But it would have been nice to think that somewhere, amongst his boiling fury at his fatherly kindness betrayed, was just a smidgin of jealousy.
I did wonder if we’d get a fresh influx of visitors coming to probe the shopgirl who’d saved the postman with an airship, but I’d deal with that when it happened. Now that things had slipped back into place, with at least some issues nicely resolved, I was more interested in the evening, for which I had very definite plans of my own! And they did not involve dancing or spoon-players.
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