Cat Among the Pigeons

  ‘This isn’t going to last, is it?’ I said, resigned to what I saw as the inevitable moment of revelation. ‘I’ll have to think what I’ll do when I’m found out. I don’t want them adding “impersonating a Westminster schoolboy” to the other charges.’

  ‘We’ll get you out, don’t worry,’ said Charlie. ‘I won’t let my little brother down.’

  Syd’s arrival was signalled by a loud thumping on the door. Frank opened it and was almost knocked down in the rush of Syd unburdening himself.

  ‘Cat’s gone missin’.’ He thrust a packet of sausages into Frank’s arms. Syd’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes anxious. ‘The runners are after ’er. They’re watchin’ the shop – your place – the theatre – the ’ole bloody town. Word is Pedro’s old master is payin’ them well – and they’ve a score to settle with Cat, they say.’ He gave a distracted nod to Charlie, not noticing me by the fireside. ‘I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for ’er – all me boys are out – but she’s vanished. I’m that worried about ’er. What if someone got ’old of ’er last night? She’s only a little thing – can’t defend ’erself. If she spends another night out on the streets, I don’t know what I’ll do.’

  ‘Do, you great lump?’ I said, tears in my eyes at hearing his concern for me. ‘You’ll stop worrying yourself to death this instant, that’s what you’ll do.’

  Syd did a double-take. ‘Cat? Cat! What the ’ell ’ave you done to yourself?’ He folded me in a rib-cracking hug and then pushed me to arm’s length to take in my transformation. ‘What you done with your ’air?’

  ‘Charlie cut it off.’

  ‘’E did what?’

  Charlie took the sensible precaution of backing out of Syd’s reach behind an armchair.

  ‘I’m his little brother,’ I said, bowing. ‘Tom Hengrave. Can I join the gang now?’

  ‘No, you bleedin’ well can’t, Cat Royal! ’Ave you gone mad or somethink?’

  ‘Think about it, Syd.’ I was trying to be reasonable for the both of us but Syd looked more wild-eyed than ever. ‘It’s all for the best really. You can’t hide me – neither can the theatre. I had to go somewhere and here’s where I ended up. No one’s looking for Tom. They all think Cat’s on the street somewhere – and that’s where I’d be if it weren’t for Frank and Charlie.’

  ‘It won’t work,’ declared Syd. ‘You don’t know ’ow rough boys can be, Cat. What if one of them sets about you, eh?’

  ‘They did,’ said Frank cheerfully, putting a frying pan on the grate and filling it with sausages. ‘Two of them. But Tom Cat sorted them out, didn’t you?’

  I nodded. ‘Though I could do with a few tips from the master. I’ve learned that, apart from Latin, the boys here do little else but fight.’ I looked up at Syd and pummelled his stomach playfully.

  He frowned and shook me off. ‘But they’ll notice soon enough.’

  ‘Notice what?’ asked Charlie innocently.

  ‘Well, that he’s a . . . he’s a she,’ Syd said delicately.

  ‘I’m being very discreet, Syd.’

  ‘I dunno, Cat.’ He ran his hands through his hair distractedly. ‘It’s not right – you sittin’ there all shaven and shorn.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Syd,’ I said, serious now, ‘but it was the best we could come up with at such short notice. And after all, it’s only hair: it’ll grow back. I’m just staying here until the runners get tired of looking for me. If Hawkins goes away, they’re bound to lose interest – there’ll be no one to press charges.’

  ‘Do you want me to get rid of ’im for you, Cat?’ Syd’s kind, open face became quite nasty for a moment. Used to him treating me like a wayward younger sister, I sometimes forgot that he ruled a fair percentage of London and could call on a powerful following.

  ‘No, Syd. He won’t be here forever. He’s got his plantation in Jamaica to think of. Once he realizes he’s not going to get hold of Pedro, he’ll leave.’

  ‘And what’s the word? Does he show any signs of giving up?’ Frank asked Syd.

  ‘Nothin’ doin’ on that front as far as I’ve ’eard. I ’spect ’e’s laying low since last night.’ Syd’s face broke into a grin. He took my hand affectionately and pulled me on to the arm of the chair beside him. ‘Wasn’t Prince a dazzler? ’Ole town is talkin’ of it. Tonight’s show is sold out. They could’ve flogged the tickets twice over, Caleb told me.’ Syd’s brow puckered again. ‘’E’s worried for you too, Cat. Been lookin’ for you when ’e’s off duty. So’s Pedro.’

  ‘Can you let them know I’m all right?’

  ‘Course I will.’

  The bells in the abbey struck the hour. Syd got up to leave. He shook the boys by the hand. I held out mine. He took it but didn’t shake it. Instead, he inspected the scratches I had sustained last night. “You’re a rum ’un, Kitten. No two ways about it. You’ll need to toughen up these paws of yours. And if you get in a fight, you’re to aim ’ere and ’ere.’ He pointed to Frank’s jaw and stomach. ‘You’re not supposed to go lower, but if it’s an emergency, punch or kick there . . .’ (he pointed – Frank went pale) ‘ . . . as ’ard as you can. That should soon sort out your opponent. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Syd.’

  The door closed.

  ‘Anyone fancy something to eat?’ asked Charlie, holding up a pan full of sizzling sausages.

  SCENE 3 – SNATCHED

  The following day was a Sunday and the boys from Westminster School were expected to attend the morning service in the Abbey. I ate cold sausages up in Frank’s set rather than go down for breakfast. I’d decided that the less I was seen in public, the quicker people would forget about me. Charlie assured me that I wouldn’t be missing much in the dining room.

  Left alone for the first time, I sat in front of Frank’s mirror and inspected my new appearance. My hair now curled around my ears. My neck felt strangely exposed. And my ankles. Despite being hidden in thick stockings, it felt so odd to have them on view. Indecent somehow. I experimented with some expressions. Boredom was the one I’d had most opportunity to study. Smiling was definitely out. As soon as I smiled, I became very girlie. A grimace was better.

  ‘Very pretty, Hengrave.’

  I spun round to find Richmond lounging in the doorway.

  ‘Don’t you know how to knock?’ I asked, wondering with a panicky feeling how long he’d been standing there.

  ‘Just came to see how the new boy was doing,’ he said, inspecting a set of silver clothes brushes lying on a table.

  ‘I’m doing fine, thank you.’

  ‘You weren’t at breakfast.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not sickening for something, I hope?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Good. Then how would you like to join me for a spot of fencing in the Dean’s Yard after church?’

  ‘I don’t fence.’

  ‘Not a strict Sabbath observer, are you?’ he asked with a curl to his lip.

  ‘No.’ I couldn’t help smiling, thinking of what we got up to on Sundays at the theatre. That was the day I had the run of the place and got to play on stage, pretending I was Mrs Siddons or Mrs Jordan. Richmond gave me a strange look. I quickly turned off my smile. ‘I mean I’ve never learned to fence.’

  ‘Lord, Hengrave, are you savages in Ireland? Someone had better teach you then. By the old oak at midday.’ And he turned on his heel and left before I could think of an excuse.

  ‘Well, I suppose it was friendly of him,’ said Frank, scratching the back of his head in bewilderment when I told him about my visitor. We were making the short journey across the yard to the Abbey, near deafened by the peal of bells.

  ‘Friendly? Frank, I don’t think so. I haven’t been a boy long but I know when someone just wants to knock the stuffing out of me.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘And it was the headmaster who accused us of having a talent for mischief, Frank. My little brother can’t seem to stir without attracting trouble.’

  ‘I think it’s beca
use of Tom Cat’s looks,’ said Frank sagely. ‘Richmond’s a bit of a runt himself, son of some planter from the West Indies. He’s been struggling to find his feet in Ottley’s from what Southey’s told me. The assistant master there, Botch Hayes, can’t keep the thugs under control and Richmond’s been picked on. He’s probably rejoicing in the fact that a boy has turned up who he stands a chance of thrashing. He sees you as a way to earn himself a bit of respect.’

  ‘So you’re saying I’m even runtier than Richmond, aren’t you? Thanks, Frank. Remind me not to come to you for a compliment on another occasion.’

  ‘And you’ve never fenced before?’ asked Charlie.

  I didn’t think the question even deserved an answer. I merely raised my eyebrow.

  ‘Of course not. Sorry.’

  ‘But I have watched rehearsals for stage fights.’ I neglected to mention that Pedro and I had also practised the moves afterwards when everyone had gone home.

  ‘Well, it’s the same principle, I expect,’ said Frank. ‘You need to learn the moves like in a dance.’

  ‘I can dance,’ I volunteered.

  ‘Then you can fence. Don’t worry. It’ll just be practice swords – blunt ones. You might even like it.’

  We entered the church. Being a cloudy winter’s day outside, it was very dark in the Abbey. Little candles flickered in the side chapels like fireflies at dusk. The choir seemed a blaze of light in comparison to the rest of the pews as we shuffled forward to take our places. The choristers filed in, their scrubbed, shiny round faces floating on white ruffs. Then they began to sing and I forgot the dreary day. The singing was exquisite – so pure and penetrating. The anthem lifted me up to the carved roof and let me dance there like a butterfly in a shaft of sunlight.

  ‘Cat, Cat.’ The spell was broken by Frank digging me in the ribs. ‘Look, there’s Pedro.’

  I turned in my seat. Standing in the side aisle, listening with critical attention to the music, was my friend. He noticed me watching him. His eyes widened for a moment, he gave a small nod, and then moved towards a side chapel. I half got up but Charlie yanked me back.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ he whispered. ‘The doctor will flay you if you leave the service.’

  I looked to my left and saw the headmaster glaring in my direction. I bowed my head in a fit of fervent prayer.

  ‘And look.’ Frank nudged me again. A shifty-looking man with a red scarf had followed Pedro into the chapel. I recognized him well enough. All the runners and those in their pay were marked men in Covent Garden. Red Scarf was a familiar face, more usually to be seen worshipping at the bar of the Shakespeare Tavern than in a church such as this.

  ‘It’s one of the traps,’ I whispered. ‘A magistrate’s man. He’s tailing Pedro.’

  ‘Of course he is. Wait till the end of the service. I’ll think of something.’

  From then on, no one could fault my piety. I sat with head bowed, nose in my prayer book, until the final anthem signalled the conclusion of the service.

  ‘Right, I’ve an idea,’ said Frank in a low voice. ‘You hang back, Cat. Charlie, are you ready for the Captain Bennington-Smythe manoeuvre?’

  Charlie grinned and nodded.

  ‘What’s the . . .?’ But Frank was off, marching towards the magistrate’s man as he lurked in the doorway to the antechapel.

  ‘Captain Bennington-Smythe! What a surprise! I thought you were in Delhi with the Hussars!’ Frank cried out, arms wide open to embrace his long-lost friend. ‘Charlie, can you believe my luck? Not seen cousin Smythie for years and here he is!’

  Red Scarf looked over his shoulder as the two boys bore down on him, clearly expecting to see a cavalry officer behind him. But there was no one. Frank seized the man’s hand and pumped it up and down furiously.

  ‘How are you, old man? Out of the Hussars now, eh? Sold your commission for a pretty penny, I’ve no doubt. Father always said it was a valuable position.’

  The plain-clothes runner didn’t know what to do. His cover was blown now that half of Westminster School was staring at him.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, tugging on his collar. ‘You’ve got me mixed up with someone else.’

  ‘Good one, Smythie!’ Frank roared with laughter, slapping him on the back. ‘He always did like his little joke,’ he added to Charlie. ‘You think I don’t recognize my own third cousin twice removed when I see him, eh? Come, come, you must tell me all about it. I don’t mind letting you know that I’m considering the army – Charlie too.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ beamed Charlie. ‘So was it really hot in India? I’ve heard tales of eggs frying on the cannon. Is that true?’

  ‘No – I mean I don’t know,’ blustered the man, who’d probably never been beyond Gravesend. ‘Look, you’ve made a mistake . . .’

  ‘You must tell us over a drink, old man,’ said Frank, remorselessly towing his ‘cousin’ away. ‘I dare say you’ve not lost your taste for a glass or two. You were always known as a capital topper.’

  And ‘Cousin’ Smythie was propelled out of the Abbey doors, still protesting his ignorance of any kinship with Frank, as I slipped into the chapel. I touched Pedro on the arm.

  ‘What was all that?’ he asked, nodding to the door.

  ‘A diversion – the magistrate’s man was tailing you. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  I pulled him to his feet and we ducked into Poets’ Corner. There was a large marble tomb with weeping cherubs next to a statue of Shakespeare. I pulled Pedro with me into the space between it and the wall, comforted that we had our guardian bard keeping watch above.

  ‘You look different,’ said Pedro, giving my hand a squeeze.

  ‘And you don’t. How was the performance last night?’

  ‘Good. But I didn’t come here to talk about that. Oh Cat, what are we going to do about you?’

  ‘Nothing for the moment. I’m safe where I am.’

  ‘Safe? Hardly. You’ll be found out.’

  ‘I know, but it’ll do for now. I’m hoping Hawkins will decide he’s beaten and leave.’

  Pedro shook his head. ‘You don’t know my master then. He never forgets – never forgives. I’m sorry I got you mixed up in all this.’

  ‘Sorry? What have you got to be sorry about? It was me who rampaged through Brook’s. I was so stupid.’

  ‘But you were angry and frightened – you couldn’t help it.’

  ‘That won’t count for anything with a judge, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘You’re being careful, aren’t you?’

  ‘Me? Of course. Syd’s boys are escorting me to and from the theatre. I’m staying in Drury Lane or at Signor Angelini’s, and never sticking my nose out of doors. I’ve got Joe and Nick waiting for me now outside.’

  ‘Good.’ Footsteps approached. We fell silent and waited for them to pass.

  ‘You know,’ I said once the coast was clear, ‘I was thinking that if the worst comes to the worst I’ll try to get to Johnny in America. He offered me a home, you know.’

  ‘I remember. He probably realized it wouldn’t be long before you did something really outrageous. He saw it brewing inside you.’

  I dug him in the ribs for that. Pedro smiled.

  ‘Yes, my sisters would have loved you,’ he added. ‘I know it’s got you into very hot water, but at least you told Hawkins what you really thought of him. I wish I’d done that when I was his slave.’

  ‘No, you don’t. You wouldn’t have lived if you had. And you did do it on Friday in any case. You beat him good and proper in public.’

  Pedro peered around the edge of the tomb. ‘I’d better go. There’s no knowing how long Frank’s diversion will last.’ He gave my hand a final squeeze. ‘See you, Cat.’

  ‘Goodbye, Pedro.’

  I waited for him to disappear back into the Sunday crowds before crawling out from my hiding place. No sooner had I dusted myself down than a heavy hand landed on my shoulder, making me jump out o
f my skin.

  ‘Hengrave! What are you doing, boy?’ It was Mr Castleton, the Latin teacher.

  ‘Just paying my respects to Shakespeare, sir,’ I improvised. ‘I’ve never been to Poets’ Corner before.’

  He let go of my shoulder. ‘Hmm. You probably didn’t know that you are now supposed to be in Bible study until noon. As it’s your first week, I won’t report you.’ He tipped his hat to the bard and steered me back towards the main doors. ‘You like Shakespeare, do you, Hengrave?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I love him,’ I replied honestly.

  ‘I went to a most remarkable performance of The Tempest myself on Friday. “The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces . . . shall dissolve . . . Leave not a rack behind.”’

  ‘“We are such stuff

  As dreams are made on; and our little life

  Is rounded with a sleep,”’ I finished for him.

  Mr Castleton looked at me with approval. ‘Poetry, my boy, poetry. I’m delighted to see you have learnt it by rote. It’s the only way to get the rhythms into your heart. I suppose you went to the theatre in Dublin?’

  ‘Occasionally,’ I said with a smile. I had not had to learn that speech by rote; it was in my blood.

  ‘Well, lad, if you’re lucky, I might just take you to the home of drama itself – Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. There you’ll see the very best actors of our age – Mr Kemble and his incomparable sister, Mrs Siddons. Would you like that?’

  A lump had risen in my throat. ‘I don’t know, sir,’ I said huskily.

  ‘Well, I do. A boy like you who understands true poetry will be swept away by the experience. I would be proud to be the first to introduce you to the delights of the London stage.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ His kindness was alarming. He sounded as if he intended to carry out his promise. ‘Perhaps next term?’

  ‘Yes, yes, boy. Find your feet here first, eh? Is that what you’re thinking?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I must remember you when it comes to casting the Latin play next week. You’d make a lovely Electra.’