London Calling Box Set

Chapter 5: Looking for Mira, 1920

Chapter 5: Looking for Mira, 1920Kelly lived with his daughter’s family in Camden, on Caroline Street. Lew hadn’t been there in this time. He’d spent afternoons at Camden Lock and browsing the market in his own time and thought he knew the area quite well. Physically the streets were laid out in the same way. But everything else was completely different. There were cobbles on the streets, large groups of children playing with hoops and footballs, costermongers with barrows moving slowly up and down the Camden High Street selling vegetables and fruit. He felt dizzy and everything spun around him.

“Steady there, man.” Archie took him by the elbow as he wavered, earning a glare from a large woman pushing past with a wicker shopping basket piled high with what looked like sausages coming out of a newspaper wrapping.

“Sorry. It’s different.”

“Well. Yes. It’s different. Of course, it’s different. Come on. Down here.” He turned left down a side road into a small street with red brick terraced houses. Each of these had a tiny railed front area with a gate opening on to the road. “It’s this one.”

It had a well-kept garden, a few hollyhocks and a rose rambling round the door. The gate squeaked as they stepped up on to the short path and then Archie knocked on the green painted door. He touched his cap as it opened. “Mrs. Finn. I’ve brought Mr. Tyler to see your father.”

“Come on in. He’s expecting you both. Mr. Tyler, hello.”

“Mrs. Finn.” He touched his own cap.

She showed them in to the first room off the short, dark hallway. “He’s in the parlor. I’ll bring you some tea.” Lew ruminated that the 1920s seemed to run on either tea or hard spirits. He was always drinking one or the other.

Kelly was an old man, for any time. He had impressive white side-whiskers and reminded Lew of pictures of Darwin. He rose stiffly to greet them from a leather wing chair by the fireplace. “Mr. Fornham. Mr. Tyler.” He shook Lew’s hand. “To meet a man from the future is a great honor.” He didn’t let go of his hand and Lew felt the cool tingle of power moving over him.

“I’m not a Creature, Mr. Kelly, I assure you.”

“No, you’re not, lad.” He released his hand and stepped back. “Sit down, sit down. Vicky will bring some tea in shortly. And I think she’s been baking. Always baking.” He lowered himself down into his high-backed fireside chair and looked at them solemnly. “How can I help you, young man? You’re a long way from home.”

Lew recounted his story and the old man listened intently, sucking on an empty pipe.

“You have to understand, I was young. Very young. Younger than you—how old are you?”

“I’m thirty-four, sir.”

“Hmmf. You look younger than that.” Another suck on the pipe. “I wasn’t out of my teens when I started Pulling. I was a post boy. Grew up in the Post Office—my father was a postman, too. Started when I was about ten. Worked my way up to clerk before I finished. Where was I?” He fumbled with his tobacco pouch. “Yes, I started working The Border when I was about fifteen. I met a chap whilst I was delivering letters. He had a lot of letters come, and sent, too, and it was on my round. Mr. Bartlett. He lived up West. I can’t remember where exactly now. But one day, he asked me to step inside.” He laughed a gruff laugh. “I wasn’t having any of that, of course. I told him that wasn’t what I was delivering!”

Lew and Archie laughed, too, in unison, slightly forced. “So, what happened? Did you know about The Border already?”

“I knew something was going on. Thought I was heading for Bedlam—I could hear things in the corners of the room at night. And once, when I was about twelve, some older lads set on me and I threw one of them across the street. Just a punch—but he flew. Looking back, I think I was Pulling, to do it. They never bothered me after that, mind.”

He sucked on his pipe some more. “Anyway. Mr. Bartlett turned out to be part of a group of Workers. About ten or a dozen of us, there were, in the end. He taught me to Pull without attracting attention from the Outlands. The Outlands, that’s what he called it. The other side. One or two of the older chaps could pass through The Border, like opening a door. Go through and come out somewhere else. They followed Creatures through to finish them off, once or twice. And some of them could use it to travel. Dangerous, mind. Very dangerous. But I think that’s what you’ve done. Except you’ve done it in spades and moved in time, as well.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, reflecting. Mrs. Finn came in briskly and served tea on the polished wooden dining table and a warm, sticky cake Archie fell upon ravenously and Lew picked at. He couldn’t eat and think. Archie seemed to be the opposite.

“Can you help me?” Lew asked. “Do you know how to do it? To open the doors and travel?”

“No. No, I don’t. And I don’t think there’s anyone still alive who you can ask, that I know of.”

“Did you work with them for long?”

“A few years. When I married Vicky’s mother and the babies started coming, I had more than enough to do to keep us all fed. Hard years, they were. I stopped meeting them when they were working. And, to be honest, we weren’t friends. They weren’t my sort. Gentlemen, didn’t need to be earning. Foolish, sometimes. Took risks. Three of them went to the Outlands, hunting, and didn’t come back, around that time. After that, I decided it wasn’t worth it. They’d taught me a bit—enough to keep myself safe and know I wasn’t going potty. And so, I left it there.”

“How’s it done, then, sir?” Lew leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “How do you open a door? How do you make sure nothing comes through when you do it?” He paused as he looked at the old man. “I’m almost certain something followed me through here. I could feel it. But I thought I must have been mistaken, because there’s none of the chaos a Creature could cause. I joined the police as a photographer so I could keep an eye out for it.” He paused again. “My main concern though, is to see if my friend Mira is here. Her Working was successful, I could feel that, too. So, I have to assume mine was—my intent was to find her, wherever she had gone.”

“It’s probable your intent was so strong that is what drew you through.” Kelly stared at the jumping flames of the little fire in the darkening room as he spoke. “Intent is everything—the ritual is just the way you set the intent out, in your mind. So, if she had a book of rituals, they were simply someone else’s way of setting the intent. Her own intent drove the ritual, you see? In the same way your fear for her probably made your intent to find her extremely strong, so you moved.” He stirred in his chair. “If you form a strong intent to trace her, you should be able to see where she is. Or at least, find yourself a pointer. When we searched for the lost child with Mr. Bartlett, we used a map. We spread it on the table and put a marble on it. Then we did a ritual, candles and bowls of water and whatnot. And the marble moved. It glowed with the energy, the way your hands do when you Pull energy from The Border or from other people for ritual work.” He stretched arthritic hands out in front of him and inspected them. “Heh. Haven’t done it properly for years.”

Lew thought about it. “So, it shouldn’t be that hard?”

“Not for you, I shouldn’t think.” Kelly looked at him, directly. “You’re strong. Stronger than you know, I reckon. You’ve only been dabbling, haven’t you? It’s dangerous to dabble—that’s when they hear you and break through. You’re like a candle to them, lit up in a dark room, seen through a darkling glass. They’ll throw themselves against the glass to get to you. You need to learn to switch it off.” He glanced at Archie, too. “Both of you do. You’re glowing like a gas mantle, young Archie.”

Archie blushed. “How do I do that, Mr. Kelly? I’ve never met anyone who knows enough to teach me anything.”

“Me either,” Lew chimed. “I’ve never heard of any groups working together at all, in my time. Does it still happen here?”

Kelly’s face was sad. “Not that I’ve heard of, since Bartlett. I think the best of them died when the power slipped in a Working they were doing. From what I could make out, they didn’t hold the Pull steady and there was a Creature that broke through. They were all killed. I heard about it in the newspapers—they said a lion or tiger must have escaped from the zoo. It was a m******e. I stopped working for a while after that. Put the wind right up me.”

He looked at them. “Shutting down is easy. Just see a picture in your mind of your candle, or a lamp—tell yourself it’s your candle—and put a shield over it. You don’t need to put it out. But put a shield over it. I see a lamp and put the shutter across.” He squinted at Lew. “Better. Keep doing it.” He turned to Archie. “You need to practice. Both of you.” He sighed. “I can’t teach you much, I can’t remember a lot of it. It was sixty years ago I worked with them. And I get tired. But if you come back in a day or two we’ll work on it. And we’ll see if we can’t find your girl, Mr. Tyler.”

“Lew, please. Call me Lew.” He rose to leave. “Please don’t get up, Mr. Kelly. We’ll see ourselves out.” He shook the old man’s hand. “Thank you for seeing me. I do appreciate it.”

Kelly smiled a little from his chair as they said their goodbyes, looking at Lew through eyes milky with age. “Tell me, Mr. Tyler. Was it worth it? This war we’ve just fought? Was it really the war to end all wars?”

Lew held his gaze, solemnly. “No, Mr. Kelly. It wasn’t. Not at all.”

* * * *

They ended up at Archie’s digs after their impromptu visit to Kelly in Camden. He put a kettle to boil on a small Primus and skimmed his hat over on the cloth covered table in the corner of the room. He grinned at Lew. “Did that sort you out? He’s a rum old cove, but he knows what he’s talking about.”

“Yeah. Seemed to, didn’t he. Are you busy tomorrow? It’s Sunday. I’m off. We could go back.”

“I’ve got to see a man about a dog in the morning, but after that, yes. I’m interested to see what he can teach us. I’m sick of messing round in the dark and not knowing what I’m doin.’ Me mum taught me a bit, but she didn’t know much herself. That shutting down thing is good.” He poured the hot water on the tea leaves, put the lid on the pot, and threw himself back on the bed to rest onto his elbows. He gave Lew a cheeky grin from under his lashes. “Come over ‘ere, then. If you want.”

Lew was leaning against the door frame, still in his leather motorcycling gear, goggles and cap in hand. He grinned back and threw his coat over a chair. “Now? I thought we were having a cup of tea.”

“This first. Then tea.”

* * * *

Sated and dressed again, they sat at the table, mugs of tea in front of them. “How did you know you could Pull?” Archie asked him, thoughtfully. “Have you got a teacher in your time? You can’t have—you don’t know much more than me, do you? And I know damn-all.”

“My father,” Lew told him. “My real father, I mean. He died when I was eleven. His family were Workers, I think. His grandfather certainly was. He was the last of them, though, and after I went into the foster care system I didn’t meet anyone until Mira.” He stirred his tea. “We were placed with a family who kept us ‘til we aged out. Really nice. We still see them a lot. Call them mum and dad.” He passed Archie the sugar. “Mira learned a bit from her grandmother, who learned from her grandmother, in Trinidad.”

“Trinidad? She’s a colonial?”

Lew grinned. “Born in Tower Hamlets. Proper Londoner. White dad, who did one after she was born. Black mum. Her granny couldn’t take her when her mum died, but she was still around. Scary lady. You had to mind your P’s and Q’s else she’d bat you round the ear. Mira missed her like mad when she died. That’s when she started to get into music seriously. I think it gave her something else to think about.”

Archie was silent, processing. “My gran was like that. Batted you for no bloody reason. In your time, are black and white all mixed up, then? You’re talkin’ like that’s normal.”

Lew grimaced. “It’s normal for lots of places. But there’s a f**k-ton of people don’t like it. That’s one of the things I’m finding so different—in my time, London is full of people from all over the world, all over your empire and outside of it. Much more than now.” He sighed. “I wonder if she’s got a job singing. I reckon that’s what she was Pulling for. She was going for a job in a nightclub, on the permanent staff. She wanted it really badly.”

“You could ask on Archer Street, then. That’s where all them musos go. The band boys.”

“Archer Street?”

“Off Piccadilly, behind the big theatres. There are cafés and tea rooms and a couple of pubs. It’s where they go to pick up work. There’s a dance hall there I go to sometimes, that’s when I see them.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll go and ask around. Thanks.” He stood up and reached for his coat. “Pick you up tomorrow? I can bring the bike.”

“After dinner. ‘Bout one suit you?”

“Fine. See you then.”

* * * *

He decided to give Archer Street a miss for now and went straight home to his little flat. Mrs. Fortune had found it for him when he’d first started working at the paper and it was exactly what he needed. Above a laundry, private, with room for a darkroom. There was space for the bike in the little courtyard at the bottom of the steps and the woman who ran the laundry made an effort to keep a few pots of flowers around the edges. The laundry women came outside to smoke and gossip and the door and windows were often open because of the heat.

He climbed the steps, deep in thought. It hadn’t occurred to him Mira might be found by simple street-tramping detective work. He’d been so focused on following her energy, he hadn’t thought to simply follow her in person. If she was singing—and she probably was—there was a good possibility he’d be able to find her.

The notes he’d been keeping were spread out on his table. He’d been trying to remember exactly what the book he’d found in her flat had said. It was months ago now, and although he’d written down as much as he could remember, when he first started to realize this trip to the past was a long-term thing, he kept coming back to it. Perhaps it wasn’t so important now though. Kelly had emphasized it wasn’t the actual ritual, but the intent behind it that gave the Working its strength.

The book Mira had found—he half-remembered her saying she’d tracked it down by talking to an elderly relative in Port of Spain—had been gorgeously ornate. Exactly the sort of fancy cover you’d expect a book of spells to have. That was what it was, in effect, he thought. A book of spells. He refused to call what he could do magic and his father had discouraged it, using the same words Archie and Kelly both seemed to use. The book seemed to be different though. It had lots of gold leaf and ornate curlicues and the pages were heavy, parchment or linen paper. He shut his eyes and tried to visualize it. It had writing in the margins in various different hands, some legible and some not.

The page he was trying to reproduce, the only one he had got a good look at, was handwritten in green ink, in a spiky, crabbed hand. There had been gold doodads and decorations at the corners of the page. He’d not been able to remember even half the writing, though. He remembered it had been bloody awful poetry, but not how it went. At least he wasn’t going to have to rack his brains about it anymore, if intent was all that mattered.

* * * *

Kelly was expecting them the following afternoon. Lew had paid one of the small, grubby boys that inhabited his street to take a message up to Camden and wait for a reply. He’d picked up Archie on the way on the pillion, much to his disgust. He’d wanted to drive. “Why don’t you get a ‘cycle of your own, if you’re that keen?” Lew asked him, as he put his gloves back on.

“Never have enough blunt. Might be getting a steady job if I play me cards right though. I can think about it then.”

Kelly was waiting for them in the same room. “Afternoon, boys. Sit yourselves down.” His daughter fussed about with tea. “That’s enough, Vick! We’re only taking an hour or two. I promise I won’t overdo it!”

“I know you won’t, Dad, but I still worry.” She glared at them. “And you won’t tire him, will you?” It wasn’t a question.

“No, ma’am, Mrs. Finn, we won’t. We’ll be careful.” What was it about all the women he met? They were all terrifying. His downstairs neighbor, Agnes, the laundress, had a large personality to match her enormous biceps. She was a stereotype of a poor-but-honest working woman and he regularly laughed at himself, quietly, for his tendency to compare the reality of his daily life to what he had learned from the history books of his later age.

“Now. You want to find your girl, yes?” Kelly was direct. “Drag that table over here then, lad, and let’s set about it. Did you bring a map?”

“Yes, sir. Here.” He spread it on the table as the three of them sat round it, one on each side.

Kelly frowned as he fumbled a small marble out of his pocked and placed on the map. “It would be better if there was a fourth, to provide a bit of balance, but I won’t ask Vicky, she’s too busy. And she doesn’t approve.” He frowned. “Her husband’s a Methodist. Bring that candle over here.” He gestured at the mantle over the fireplace. “Put it in the middle and light it.” He took a box of matches out of his pocket and passed them to Lew. “Now, sit down and put your hands on the table, like this.” He demonstrated, putting his hands flat.

“Now. We Pull power from The Border. And we concentrate on the marble moving to where she is. What’s your girl’s name, Tyler?”

“Mira, sir.”

“That’s it, then. Mira. And if you hear or feel anything on the other side, you break off, do you hear? We drop the Pull. And we shield, like I told you yesterday. Understand?” He glared at them. “If I say stop, we do the same. I’ve lived seventy years. I’d like to die a natural death rather than be ripped apart by monsters. And trust me, so would you.”

Lew shuddered. He still remembered the last time he had done any heavy Pulling, tracing Mira the first time. Travelling through The Border—the Outlands, as Kelly described it—had been a horrible sensation and he was almost sure something had followed him through. He’d been on his guard ever since and too scared to do any serious Work. This wasn’t making him feel any better about it.

“Let’s do it then. I’m ready. Archie?”

“Yes, I’m ready.” Archie was almost green, he was so pale. “I’ve never done anything like this before, just so you know.”

“I haven’t done it for fifty years, lad. So, let’s get to it.”

They sat in silence, focusing as Kelly had instructed. Eventually the marble began to vibrate. “That’s it. Keep going.” His voice was soft. “We’re looking for Mira’s location. Where is she, now this minute?” All of a sudden, the marble shifted. It didn’t roll, as Lew had been expecting. It jumped in a straight line and stopped suddenly. The paper under it began to smolder. Kelly reached out a hand and smothered it out with a thumb. “That’s it, then. Well done. Shield again now and then we’ll see what we’ve got.”

The small singed patch on Lew’s map was over Archer Street.

“Well bloody hell!” Archie was ecstatic. “That’s what I said last night! I said if she was a singer she might be hanging round Archer Street! I said!”

Lew frowned at him and Kelly. “Might that have affected the Pull, Kelly? That we had already discussed Archer Street?”

Kelly was thoughtful. “I don’t think so. It might, I suppose. But I don’t think so. The Pull follows desire. Our desire was to find her. And the marble moved to where she was. That’s where she is right now, mind you. So, you’ll have to hop along if you want to get to her today.”

They duly hopped. Archer Street was empty, though. The tea rooms and pubs were closed because it was a Sunday. Even the musicians’ union building was locked up. “If she was here, she’s not now,” said Lew, glumly, as they walked back to the bike. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Monday’s a good day,” Archie said. They all come on a Monday afternoon to sort out work for the week. You’ll stand a better chance, then. You can ask people if they’ve seen her.”