The Deptford Mice 1: The Dark Portal (5 page)

Audrey was astonished. Everywhere glowed green like the sun through the leaves. Blossoms fell in a snowstorm of multicolours and fruit took its place, expanding and growing quickly. Apples puffed up and shone red and green; pears filled out sensually and hung heavy and ponderous on the branches. Acorns and hazel nuts browned in the sunshine before dropping to the floor. Audrey could see whole fields of grain rippling like strange yellow seas. Was she dreaming? How could this be happening?

The green light was all around now, and her thoughts moved to flowers, their lives dependent on the sun, all faces turned to it. Under Audrey’s feet she felt them growing: daisies, marigolds, dandelions – all sun symbols bowing their beautiful heads to the greater one.

And when Audrey felt drunk with it all a voice commanded.

‘Mistress Audrey Brown. Why have ye come?’

‘To receive that which is now mine by right and to call down upon me my destiny,’ she replied.

‘Be it great or small, tall and dangerous, meek and futile?’

‘Let it be as the Green Mouse wills it.’

‘Then roll away the sun!’

Audrey touched the blazing image – it was not hot but seemed to be made of the purest gold that had been burnished like a mirror. Gently she pushed and the sun rolled to one side.

There stood Master Oldnose, his face a picture of bewilderment. He stared beyond Audrey at the living green landscape and his mouth fell open. He tried to speak but all that came out was a strangled squeak. He looked down at Audrey, disbelief all over his stricken face. And then he changed.

Suddenly he was not there. Only the leafy costume remained – and that began to writhe and grow as life gripped it. The costume sent out branches and blossomed.

Audrey stepped back as it grew. It had a light of its own, rising in the sap, glowing, feeding the leaves until they shone like lamps and the blossom as wheels of spinning fire.

Then two eyes formed above her and smokily a face manifested around them. It was old and fierce, kind and noble.

Upon the brow was a crown of leaves and wheat:

It was the Green Mouse.

Audrey fell to her knees before the majestic figure, but try as she might she could not take her eyes from His. They spoke of countless centuries of life; they were a deep green, and yet within that green were many greens. The green of new life burned brightly there but was flecked with the dull hues of graveyard mould: death is never far from life, the eyes told her.

The mass of growing greenery was His coat and it moved with Him, now shimmering with the light of life. The blossoms fell in fiery rain and strange fruits took their place.

At first they were small and round yet as they opened and swelled they became all manner of different shapes. All were yellow. They were mousebrasses.

Audrey gasped and the face smiled at her. Then a green hand appeared from the coat and plucked a brass from the leaves.

‘Take it Audrey,’ said a deep, rich voice.

Half afraid she raised her paw to take the gift but withdrew as she saw it glitter magically. The face before her smiled again, and the green fur wrinkled on the forehead. But Audrey was frightened.

‘I dare not,’ she whispered reverently. ‘On my, life I dare not take it.’

Audrey felt an arm close comfortingly around her shoulders.

‘Do not be afraid, Audrey my love.’

She jumped up and looked around – that was her father’s voice!

‘Where are you?’ she cried, taking a step back. But an invisible arm guided her gently back to the Green Mouse.

‘Take it and wear it always,’ Albert’s voice told her.

‘But Father, I can’t see you. Where have you been? We’ve missed you so much!’

‘The mousebrass, Audrey.’

‘When can I see you?’

Albert’s voice grew faint. ‘I promise you will see me before the end, my darling child. Now, the Green Mouse is waiting.’

Audrey looked into the eyes of the Green Mouse once more and took the mousebrass.

‘That’s funny,’ said Master Oldnose. ‘I don’t remember putting one of those in the bag.’

Audrey stared at him. The Green Mouse, the light – everything had gone and all was normal. ‘Sorry?’ she managed at last.

‘Your cat charm! Don’t remember that ’un.’

Audrey looked at the mousebrass in her paw. It resembled a cat’s face with narrow eyes and whiskers. Confused she turned around. ‘But my father was here with the Green Mouse.’

Master Oldnose tried to calm her down. ‘Now, now, it’s all the excitement of the day; last year Algy Coltfoot thought he saw pink rats jumping the moon. Your dad isn’t here lass. You know that don’t you?’

Audrey glared at him angrily. ‘But don’t you remember anything?’

‘No I don’t. Now go and show your mum what you’ve got. Oh, and send in the next one.’

So Audrey left the chambers, positive that her father was alive somewhere. But how could she get to him? Who would know where to find him?

‘Oh that is lovely darling,’ said her mother when she saw the mousebrass gleaming around her neck. ‘Oh, yes, the Anti-Cat charm,’ joined in Mrs Chitter. ‘Haven’t seen one of those for a long time. Not very useful around here though, is it?’

‘Mrs Chitter,’ Audrey began. ‘What were you saying about Madame Akkikuyu before?’

‘Well now, if she isn’t the best fortune-teller around these days – knows all sorts of things – uses cards or the crystal, whatever you prefer.’

‘And have you been to her?’

‘Er . . . well personally, if that is what you mean, as in “have I spoken to her?” Well – no. Although others nave told me of their experience with the famous diviner of the future.’

‘Where do you think she will be now?’ Audrey tried to sound as casual as she could.

‘Ah, child you have me there. I’m afraid you missed your chance: she was in the garden last night, but by now she’s probably taking a short cut to her next venue – through the sewers.’

‘Beyond the Grille?’

Mrs Chitter nodded wisely. ‘Yes, on the other side, where none here dares to venture, I’m afraid. Oh look Gwen – the children are painting the side of the grottoes. You missed out there, Audrey. What is Arthur depicting? Oh my, good gracious – a rat with two heads, eight legs, and three tails. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so horrid – you ought to watch that boy Gwen. What’s he writing under it? Can you see, Audrey?’

‘Jupiter,’ she replied.

The moon was high when Audrey slipped out of bed. Carefully she dressed, anxious not to wake Arthur. She yawned sleepily and tied the pink ribbon in her hair. In the moonlight the silver bells looked like small blue globes. Audrey picked them up gingerly and they made no noise. She slipped them on to the end of her tail and moved silently out of the Skirtings.

In the dark the hall was a different world. Tall shadows covered the walls, altering them into areas of pale moonlight and black caverns; deep shade and soft moonglow. Audrey could not tell the solid objects from the illusions.

She noticed that all the decorations had been cleared. Audrey was glad of that. She remembered the hateful masks and nameless horror of the cold. Crossing the hall Audrey took deep breaths and dug her nails into her palms. The long shadows of the banister rail scored her path with deep diagonal stripes.

For a moment she paused: the entrance to the cellar reared before her. It was a great door with peeling paint – the first gateway to the Grille. Audrey looked around nervously. Every instinct told her to go back. ‘Beware the Grille’, she had always been warned and ‘Trust no ratfolk’

The door was ajar. Even the moonlight seemed afraid to cross the threshold. It was a deep dark beyond.

‘Come on,’ she told herself. ‘That fortune-teller is the only hope I have of finding Father.’ At this, Audrey bit her lip and went down into the cellar. Descending the stone steps she was surprised to find that there was some light: a strange yellow haze was filtering from a hole in the ceiling from the street above.

The cellar was strewn with large wooden crates, weird objects and rolls of musty-smelling paper. Around the far wall a space had been cleared. Audrey stared at it in silence. Gaping like an open mouth was the Grille.

In the gloom she took in everything. The iron leaf pattern and the rusted corner, just as she had always heard it described by her elders as they spoke in hushed tones around the winter fires. On the wall surrounding it, strange charms were scrawled – simple protections against the sewer folk painted long ago by brave and frightened mice. Then to one side of the Grille she saw a fresher piece of artwork: a picture of the dreadful two-headed Jupiter. Audrey smiled ruefully. Arthur must have been down here.

Somewhere beyond this portal lurked this dark and evil god. His power seeped through the sewers like the water they contained.

Suddenly she looked up. Without realising she had walked right up to the Grille. She shook her head. What uncanny forces drifted through the Grille to tantalise the unwary and cloud the judgement of the wise? Once more Audrey thought of her father alone and lost. She crouched down and crawled through the rusted gap.

Madame Akkikuyu revived herself with a draught of some coarse liquor she had brewed herself. She threw back her head and slowly swallowed. She felt it burn all the way down her throat. It had been a disappointing few days. No trade, no pickings. She hoped her next venue would prove more profitable. Still, a few more potions on display might be a good idea.

Madame Akkikuyu unloaded her pack, wondering what to boil up. Her herb pouches were nearly empty.

‘Ach,’ she muttered, ‘not much here, not much. Poor little mouselets need something for their health. Potions make them strong, make them happy,’ she laughed. ‘Make them a little bit dead sometimes too.’

She was a large black rat, a traveller, trading anything for anything. She had voyaged from Morocco on a cargo ship when she was a very young rat maiden and now she wandered around dealing in potions. Madame Akkikuyu loved to put on a show for her customers. A tattooed face adorned her right ear and a red shawl with white spots covered her shoulders. She took out her pot and filled it with sewer water. ‘Ah the powers of the elements – fire and water,’ she said, taking a sip from the pot and licking her teeth. One of them had been broken long ago when a love philtre had gone terribly wrong and her client’s bereaved father had driven her away with stones.

She had no magic – just a rudimentary knowledge of poisons. Of course she pretended to all her customers that she had “the gift”, but it was all a fake. But how she longed and how she dreamed! Power and knowledge of evil things were what she had always craved but never possessed. She had come to accept that she was nothing but a third-rate phoney and it rankled.

Akkikuyu heaved the pot on to one of the pipes that ran along the ledge. She never knew how it worked but long ago she had discovered the secret of undying flame. With her knife she poked and struck the pipe till a vapour hissed from the puncture. Humming softly she struck two stones together and the sparks ignited a blue flame.

‘Very good,’ she muttered. The rat waited for the water to boil as she hunted in her bags for leaves and powders. ‘’Twill do,’ she said, examining a peculiar dried object, and threw it into the pot. As she searched Akkikuyu brought dreadful things to light. Shrivelled frogs’ feet, the head of a kitten drowned at birth, a lark’s heart wrapped in paper and a rabbit’s eye stuck through with pins. She never cared what went into her pot. She didn’t drink her own potions.

She poured some yellow powder into the water and took a long bone from her untidy knotted hair. With this she gave the mixture a vigorous stir. Thick, mustard-coloured smoke issued from the pot. She sat down satisfied and left the pot to simmer for a while.

She liked the sewers. The dark did not frighten her – nor did Jupiter’s rats. She threw a good punch and always had her knife in her belt. She had given many a hard time in the past so they generally left her alone.

She fumbled in a bag and took out some peanuts and half a soggy biscuit. She chewed as she contemplated her next venue. ‘Maybe Greenwich I should try,’ she thought aloud. ‘The, young bushy squirrels will be awake now. Yes, I remember they like fortunes told there. But be careful Akkikuyu. That old one, she is wily wise and snoopy smart.’ The rat smiled unpleasantly and thought how nice a squirrel tail would look wrapped around her shoulders. ‘Hmmmm, there I shall go,’ she decided.

Akkikuyu leaned back on the sewer wall, and sighed. It was time to rest. She yawned and closed her eyes. A long march lay ahead and just for the moment she was comfortable. One more swig of liquor and she was at peace with the dark, listening to the echoes in the sewer. The water running below, the steady drips falling – a quiet cool place. Slowly Madame Akkikuyu drifted off into sleep, pleasant and deep with rich, restful, wicked dreams.

She awoke gradually, her long whiskers twitching. Somehow the air was different. Akkikuyu opened one eye and grumbled. Something was approaching. She could hear soft footsteps.

‘Not rat,’ she calculated, too soft, too nervous – ah, mouselet maybe! All alone too. But why? Mousey no belong here. Maybe come to visit Akkikuyu. How brave, how venturesome,’ the rat chuckled, ‘and how stupid.’

Audrey saw a blue flickering glow ahead. She had not gone far but it was enough to tell her about the sewers: the treacherous pools of slime and the awful smells. She had been expecting to see hordes of rats swarming around down here – but somehow the empty loneliness was worse. The source of the blue light was around the next corner. Audrey had no idea what it might be. Was it Jupiter? In all the stories she had heard he could breathe fire. There was also a terrible smell, like something bad cooking. She stopped and wondered if she dared turn the bend to see what it was. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to go back.