Read Borribles Go For Broke, The Online
Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
Borribles Go For Broke, The (27 page)
‘She was bloody brave anyway,’ said Vulge. ‘There was a lot of certain death flying about for a quarter of an hour.’
Chalotte shook her head. ‘I wasn’t brave,’ she said, ‘just scared out of my brains.’
‘What a great story it will be,’ said Twilight. ‘It will be the
greatest Borrible Adventure ever told, better even than the Great Rumble Hunt, maybe.’
greatest Borrible Adventure ever told, better even than the Great Rumble Hunt, maybe.’
Knocker looked stern. ‘I don’t know about you others,’ he said, ‘but there are some things about this Adventure I don’t like. Perhaps we shouldn’t tell this story, we should keep it secret among ourselves.’
‘A secret story,’ said Chalotte. ‘Well you might be right, you might not. We’d have to think about it.’
Knocker gazed at the scars that were burnt into the palms of his hands. ‘You know, Chalotte, I’m glad you gave me that second name, Knocker Burnthand. I’m proud of it in a funny back to front kind of a way … but I don’t want another. I’ve had enough adventures to last me a Borrible lifetime.’
And so they talked on and Ben sat and listened with great interest and passed bottles of stout to each speaker in turn so that they could build up their strength, and the Borribles came to accept the tramp as one of their very own. Indeed it was a mark of the confidence they felt in him that the Borribles told their stories in front of an adult at all, for it had never been done before.
It became obvious to them that Ben would have had the Borribles live in his lean-to for ever, but as the Adventurers felt their limbs grow stronger they began to worry about getting home, back to their tumbledown houses in their own areas of London.
‘It won’t be easy,’ said Stonks, when he had explained to Knocker how determined and well trained Inspector Sussworth and his men were. ‘The SBG know that we had something to do with Dewdrop’s death and they won’t give up till they’ve got us and clipped our ears.’
Ben knocked his pipe against the side of his chair and allowed the ash to fall to the floor. ‘Every time I go out,’ he said, ‘I see coppers everywhere; like a bloody coronation it is, except they’re searching for you lot, and they look like they’re ready to wait for ever, day and night and mainly between here and Battersea, which is where you want to go, ain’t it? We’ll have to think of something really good this time.’
The discussion went on and on and got nowhere. Some thought it would be a good idea to make a raft and drift down the river in the
dark. Others suggested that it would be safer to walk along by the river’s edge and get round the police cordon that way. One or two argued that they should stay where they were and wait until Sussworth gave up his task and moved away, but then it was pointed out that there was no guarantee that the SBG would not pay Ben another visit and catch them all there, say, sleeping in the middle of the night. It was dangerous to go and every hour it became more and more dangerous to remain; the situation looked hopeless until one day Ben returned from the outside world, emptied his pockets of provisions, banged a bottle on the table and called for silence.
dark. Others suggested that it would be safer to walk along by the river’s edge and get round the police cordon that way. One or two argued that they should stay where they were and wait until Sussworth gave up his task and moved away, but then it was pointed out that there was no guarantee that the SBG would not pay Ben another visit and catch them all there, say, sleeping in the middle of the night. It was dangerous to go and every hour it became more and more dangerous to remain; the situation looked hopeless until one day Ben returned from the outside world, emptied his pockets of provisions, banged a bottle on the table and called for silence.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said, ‘and swipe me if that ain’t given me an idea. None of your plans is very good, none of ’em, but I reckon I can get you out of Wandsworth in style and comfort, the horse as well.’
‘The horse as well,’ said Sydney, her face happy. ‘How?’
Ben squinted and filled his eyes with mystery. ‘Ha,’ he said, ‘you’ll have to wait and see. Let’s say the day after tomorrow, very early in the morning. Get plenty of rest, you may need it.’
For the whole of the intervening time the Borribles could hardly contain themselves. Ben came and went on several occasions and laid in a great stock of rations and swigged from his beer bottles ceaselessly. On one of his appearances he staggered into the lean-to carrying a huge bundle of second-hand children’s clothes and threw them down on to the floor.
‘Best get out of that Wendle stuff,’ he said panting, ‘you look like a bunch of bandits. I’ve got some lovely gear here. Real posh you’ll look in this little lot, like bleedin’ choir boys … and girls o’ course.’
Bingo held up a clean shirt that had once been very expensive. ‘Where’d yer get it?’ he asked.
Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘Where’d yer think? It fell off a lorry, just like that. Wonderful thing gravity, I don’t reckon we could live without it.’
At five in the morning on the day of departure Ben crept into the room where the Borribles were sleeping and shook them gently awake.
‘Come on, mates,’ he whispered. ‘It’s time.’
As usual the tramp had sat in his armchair all night with a fire going in spite of the heatwave, drinking and thinking, and although the dawn was warm and sticky he still wore all his overcoats, just like he always did.
The Borribles stretched, rolled from their mattresses, dressed quickly in their new clothes and made their way to the kitchen.
‘Got some tea for you,’ said Ben as they appeared one by one, ‘and there’s a kettle on the hob, look, if you want more. Bacon sandwiches on the plate … get stuck in.’
It was just light when they left the lean-to a little while later. Two or three seagulls were tearing at piles of offal near the river and Ben looked up at the sky.
‘It’s going to be as hot as ’ell again today,’ he said, and pulled his collars tighter to his neck.
In single file the Borribles followed the tramp over the rough terrain of Feather’s Wharf. Across broken and deserted factories, through abandoned houses where glass crunched underfoot and where rotten floors threatened to snap and fall, Ben stepped out, travelling in safety by unmapped and forgotten ways, ways that were known only to himself and which no ordinary adult or policeman had ever seen. Over the railway line they went, along the Causeway by the River Wandle, and finally they stumbled across a dusty field of crumbling bricks and corrugated iron and found themselves on the edge of the broad thoroughfare of Armoury Way.
Ben looked up and down carefully; the Borribles stood behind him. The pavements were grey and empty and stretched for miles. Ben gave the word and he and the Borribles rushed across the road in a gang. When he was satisfied that no one was watching he grinned and pushed against a plank in the high advertising hoarding beside him. The plank swivelled on a loose nail and the Borribles saw a large hole appear.
‘This is how I gets into Young’s Brewery,’ cackled Ben. ‘This is how I goes to see my mate, Knibbsie, and this is how I brings me beer out. In yer go.’
When everyone had passed through Ben replaced the plank and breathed a sigh of relief. ‘We’re safe now,’ he explained. ‘We’re in
the back of the brewery, private property, no Woollies here. Knibbsie and me used to be draymen together once, as well as being on the road. He looks after the horses now, ’cos they still delivers their beer with horses and carts you know; you ever seen ‘em?’
the back of the brewery, private property, no Woollies here. Knibbsie and me used to be draymen together once, as well as being on the road. He looks after the horses now, ’cos they still delivers their beer with horses and carts you know; you ever seen ‘em?’
‘Seen ’em,’ said Bingo. ‘I should think so. Bloody great animals, big as double-decker buses.’
Ben nodded. ‘Come on then, no time to lose.’ He shuffled on through the yards and alleys of the brewery and the Borribles went with him. Everywhere they passed stood gigantic wooden drays, high, like carriages for kings, with massive steel-rimmed wheels painted in bright fairground colours.
The tramp stopped by the side of one of these carts and pointed up to the polished seat that must have been a good fifteen feet off the ground.
‘That’s where the driver and his mate rides,’ he said. ‘It’s like flying, it is. You can see everything for miles up there. You can look into upstairs windows as easy as winking, and see people having their breakfast … And all the traffic has to stop for you. The hooves clip-clopping, the leather creaking, the brasses swinging and clanking. I tell you, if you have to work, and I don’t wish that on anybody, but if you has to, well that’s the best job in the world, and the beer’s free too. You just sniff the air in here, for example, and see. Why that air’s so heavy with ale that it’s good enough to make breathing a crime.’ And as if to prove his point Ben sniffed deeply and philosophically before continuing on his way.
They were very nearly at the end of their journey now. Ben took them into a wide stable yard and there, at the far end of it, stood a man in a long leather apron, leaning on a broom. ‘That,’ said Ben, ‘is my mate, Knibbsie.’
Knibbs had obviously been waiting for them for he showed no surprise at their appearance. Sydney, who had last seen him on the misty night of the escape from Fulham police station, looked at him closely.
She remembered the face now: pale, with strange spiky hair sticking out horizontally under a flat greasy cap. His nose was hard and bony, his eyes dark. He wore a big fluffy moustache too and it was stained with brown beer. His face looked glum until he
smiled but he smiled now and his face changed and became warm. He beckoned and the Borribles and Ben went towards him.
smiled but he smiled now and his face changed and became warm. He beckoned and the Borribles and Ben went towards him.
On either side as they walked were huge yellow doors, divided in half, and the top half of each stall was open and the great shire horses that pulled the drays stood there as solid and heavy as mammoths.
‘Swipe me,’ said Vulge, ‘look at the size of ’em; imagine having one of them step on your toe.’
‘And look at their teeth,’ added Twilight. ‘One mouthful and you’d be gone.’ But the horses showed no sign of hostility, they were not interested in a band of insignificant children. They simply shook their heads, snorted, stamped their feet and waited for their early morning feed.
When the Adventurers were standing before Knibbs he leant his broom against the wall and crossed his arms. He looked at Ben and then at the children. ‘Borribles, eh? Well I’ve heard of ’em; never thought I’d see any, knowingly like.’
The Borribles tensed. Knibbs, after all, was an adult.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Ben’s told me all about it. All I want to do is get you out of sight before anyone else gets here. I don’t mind helping, but I don’t want the sack on account of it, eh, Ben. What would we do for beer then?’
‘What indeed?’ said Ben sagely. ‘What indeed?’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Sydney, ‘don’t you remember me? I met you before, that night in the fog. I brought you a horse … What’s happened to Sam?’
Knibbs looked down at Sydney. ‘Sam,’ he said, ‘why Sam’s lovely. You never seen such a horse, not in all your natural you ain’t.’ He went to a nearby stable door and unbolted the lower section. ‘I ’as to open the bottom bit,’ he explained. ‘Sam isn’t big enough to look over it, not like the others.’ With that the stableman opened the hatch and there stood Sam. But such a Sam. He was so sleek and well fed. His hooves glittered like anthracite and his coat was so polished that Sydney could see her face in it. No longer the dingy downhearted nag that had once pulled Dewdrop’s cart, Sam had been transformed into an aristocrat of a horse, small but distinguished.
The Borribles cried aloud with surprise and pushed forward to stroke and pat the animal and Sam neighed gently and nuzzled them all one by one, recognizing them.
Sydney turned to look at the stableman. ‘It’s Sam all right,’ she said, ‘and he looks lovely. But he used to be brown, now he’s black.’
‘So he is,’ said Chalotte. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’
‘Ah,’ said Knibbs, ‘that’s a disguise, that is. We’ve got to get him past Sussworth today and that’s how we’re going to do it. If Sussworth recognizes that horse he’ll know that you ain’t far away; that’s it and all about it. Now all of yer, outside and out of sight.’
Back in the yard Knibbs took them to one of the huge drays that stood near the stable office. ‘This one’s already loaded,’ he said, ‘and me and Ben are taking it out today because they’re short-handed. Now see that ladder, well you lot get up it. Lively!’
The Borribles did as they were told and found themselves on the very top of a mountainous load of wooden barrels that had been piled one on another across the length and breadth of the cart, except that in the middle Knibbs had left a space big enough for the Adventurers to jump down into and hide.
‘Don’t make a sound,’ Ben shouted. ‘Don’t come out again till I tell yer it’s safe.’ He threw a square of canvas up to them. ‘And cover yourselves with this so yer ain’t seen from a buildin’ or a bus.’
‘Where’s this cart going,’ said Orococco, ‘not Tooting by any chance?’
‘No,’ said Knibbs. ‘Battersea High Street, that’s why we’re taking you. We’re delivering to a pub called the Ancient Woodman. No more noise now.’
The Borribles grinned at each other and scrambled into the centre of the cart and found that they were hidden on all sides by the towering beer barrels. They sat and pulled the tarpaulin over their heads.
‘Just think,’ whispered Twilight, ‘we’re on our way home.’
‘You ain’t home yet,’ said Stonks. ‘There’s still Sussworth and Hanks to get past.’
‘Yeah,’ said Vulge, ‘and just think what they’ll do to Ben and Knibbs if they finds ’em smuggling Borribles … They’ll send ‘em to prison for years and years.’
Outside, beyond the barrels, the brewery went about its business and the noises they heard told the Borribles what was happening. First, one of the stable doors was opened and Knibbs and Ben emerged with two shire horses and buckled them into the shafts of the great cart. Then came the light step of Sam as he was brought out too and tied behind. A little later there was more noise as other drivers and draymen arrived to groom their horses and back them into the carts ready for the day’s work. Then the foreman came and checked the loads and told the teams which part of London they were to go to, and where they were meant to deliver their barrels. He called out the names of the pubs from his order book: the Fallen Tree, the Old Goat, the Jolly Sailor, the Apple of My Eye, the Garden of Eden, the Charcoal Burner, and many more.
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