The Anarchists' Club by Alex Reeve

Author:Alex Reeve
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781526604187
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2019-03-25T10:32:01+00:00

15

The lion and the shepherdess danced around the stage. The shepherdess protected her modesty while the lion thrust and swaggered, at one point twirling his tail in his paw and whipping her behind with it. Finally, she gave in, lying back on the stage, legs spread, while the audience, now all on their feet, screamed their encouragement.

I’d seen enough and blundered out through the foyer, almost falling into the yard. I gulped in cold air and lifted my face to the rain.

Was it possible that Ciara had seen a man in a lion suit? It seemed absurd, and yet there he was, with gloves for paws and a mane made of wool, his real eyes peeping through the lion’s mouth. She had said the creature had been standing on its hind legs. That answer made more sense than an actual lion loose in London.

At the main road, I heard a low groan from under a jerry-shop awning. Someone was curled up in the doorway, and I realised it was Peter Thackery. As far as I could tell, he was fast asleep, hugging his shiny top hat. He wouldn’t stay that way. The first person who came past with ill intent would have that hat, and his wallet, jacket, shoes and anything else that could be sold for more than a farthing. He would be left naked or, quite possibly, dragged off somewhere and stuck with a knife.

I couldn’t abandon him.

I prodded him with my foot, and he stirred, opening his eyes.

‘Oh,’ he said, and was sick on the pavement.

‘Are you all right?’

He raised himself on to all fours, gagging again, this time without production. When he seemed to be finished, I pulled him upright, and he sagged against the wall, sweating and blinking.

‘I think I’ve had too much to drink,’ he slurred. ‘I was at the music hall.’ He thumbed back towards the alleyway. ‘There’s a girl there I want to—’

‘Yes, I’m sure. But you should get home now, don’t you think?’

He shook his head and waggled a finger at me. ‘Not home.’

‘Well, you can’t stay here. You’ll be robbed for certain.’

‘Are you going to rob me?’

He looked quite forlorn and, more than ever, I was reminded of Aiden. It was impossible to believe they weren’t brothers. Or half-brothers.

‘No. Where do you need to go?’

‘School. I should be there now, but …’

He bent down and was sick again. At least it might sober him up, I thought.

‘Where is your school?’

He spat on to the pavement. ‘Harrow.’

‘Oh, good grief.’

Harrow was miles from here, much farther than any cab would take him.

‘Train,’ he mumbled. ‘From the station. That’s how I go there. By train.’

I remembered that the Metropolitan Railway had recently been extended to the north-west of London, branching into the suburbs like a shoot of wisteria.

He managed to stay standing while I hailed a cab and virtually pushed him inside. He fell along the seat, his eyes closed. I sighed and climbed in behind him.

‘Baker Street Station,’ I called up to the driver.

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