Foulsham by Edward Carey

Author:Edward Carey
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Hot Key Books
Published: 2014-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

14

BEFORE THE SUN RISES

Continuing the narrative of Clod Iremonger

The Last Post

‘Come, Clod Iremonger, come,’ the Tailor called. ‘They shall be upon us in a moment!’

I went with the Tailor then, back out through the lane, people running, officers there.

Lights behind and more whistles blowing and calls of, ‘Stop! Murderer! Stop! Stop or I shoot!’

Behind us guns now, guns at us exploding. Chips and dust coming off the wall from where the bullets hit. They’ll murder us this night, they shall do it.

He knew his way, the great length of Tailor, and how I must rush to keep up with his long strides.

‘Hurry! Hurry! If we can but reach the house, come, Clod!’

But as we ran along through obscure ways, stepping over sleeping bodies, even into grim buildings with families huddled by a small fire, or holding in their filthy arms some object that had once been a loved one of theirs, I became more and more certain that it was not I that needed to hurry up, but the Tailor who was beginning to slow.

Ever since we were on the chase my cousin’s voice had grown stronger and louder and was calling out now, as if to give us away, ‘Rippit Iremonger! Rippit Iremonger! Rippit Iremonger!’

And beneath the tall man, rattling through his ribs as he panted on, came, as if in unhappy answer, ‘Letter opener, Letter opener, Letter opener.’

Those two voices in terrible conversation with each other.

We were in a tenement house of some kind then, smashing by people who one and all screamed to see the Tailor. But always behind us the wails of Foulsham beggars and the calling of Moorcus and his officers on the hunt. There was a great tall cupboard before us that I heard moaning its name: ‘Sergeant Clark.’

I stopped before it.

‘Please Sergeant, if you could, I should be ever most obliged if you could lay yourself flat and so block the way.’

‘Sir, do you bid me?’

‘I do, Sergeant, if you shall.’

‘Sir, I shall,’ came the instant response and when we had just cleared him he came crashing down the way, and now none might follow us on this route.

We came out of the tenement through a back door and then a wide street. How naked we were, running across such a street and the day coming on, the sun beginning to strain through the dirty air of Foulsham, sending its yellow light down upon us like a massive torch pointing us out, saying here they are, get them, look how they progress up the hill!

‘Rippit Iremonger! Rippit Iremonger!’

‘Letter opener! Letter opener!’

‘Rippit Iremonger! RIPPIT IREMONGER!’

‘Rippit, Rippit!’ I cried. ‘Be quiet, I command you to be quiet.’

But in response there was a louder wailing, ‘RIPPITIREMONGER!’

Police whistles behind us calling out, police on their tramp, ‘Which way? Which way?’ they called and the people answered them with awful speed, ‘There they go! There! There!’

Our shadows, our shadows such long shadows up the hill, up the wide street, climbing the high ground towards the factory. Alexander’s shadow

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