booksnew/build/shrike/OEBPS/shrike26.xhtml

328 lines
19 KiB
HTML

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en">
<head>
<meta name="generator" content=
"HTML Tidy for Windows (vers 14 February 2006), see www.w3.org" />
<title>Chapter 26</title>
<link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="imperaWeb.css" />
<link rel="stylesheet" type=
"application/vnd.adobe-page-template+xml" href=
"page-template.xpgt" />
</head>
<body>
<div id="text">
<div class="section" id="xhtmldocuments">
<h2>26</h2>
<p>Just after the bodyless head of Votek Visotsky had been
painfully kicked by Jim Deakin, Fergus Milby and Danny Cullen were
nearing the top of the towering chimney next to the old forge just
across the river from the old railway warehouses.</p>
<p>The twin stacks, a feature of the town's skyline, had been the
subject of acrimonious letters in the Gazette for years. In the
sixties, when the forge had shut down the primary furnace, it had
planned to dismantle the big stack which stood shoulder to shoulder
with its twin, great shotgun barrels of brick aiming for the
heavens. The outcry had been considerable. The Levenax Society had
protested in lengthy denunciation of the vandalism to the
industrial history of the town. It would destroy a landmark, they
thundered. There was no concern for the tons of hot fumes that had
spilled from the great stacks for years, not only polluting the
atmosphere and covering the town in thick flaky sulphurous ash
whenever the wind blew the wrong way, but also befouling the clean
white bedsheets on drying greens all across town and as far as
Barloan Harbour eight miles up the firth. There was also little
said, landmark-wise, about the demolition of the tenements in Wee
Donegal and the subsequent building of the gaunt and towering
housing blocks, or the blast of smoke and steam from the vents in
the distillery with their greasy overlay of malting barley.</p>
<p>The opposing faction who agreed with the demolition said it was
an ugly old brick thing, an eyesore remnant of the sweated labour
of the industrial revolution which made the Levenford look like a
dirty old mill town. The sooner it was gone, they countered, the
better. At the end of the day, the town fathers, whose gift for
planning was such that they would to blight the whole town and the
surrounding area within the decade, decided to keep the stacks for
their historic value. The forge owner, William Thomson, a second
cousin of the desk sergeant in Levenford Police Station, shrugged
his shoulders, happy enough that he would not have to pay a fortune
to have the stack removed brick by brick. Explosive demolition was
out of the question because of the close proximity of the other
chimney which was still venting charcoal fumes from the secondary
furnace. Ten years after that, Thomson had sold out, just before
the bottom dropped out of the foundry industry. The business had
kept going for another twenty years or so, hammering out great
girders and beams for the rig yard and the diminishing building
industry.</p>
<p>In the last couple of weeks, there had been some concern over
the state of the north chimney. In the winter gales, a crumbling
half-brick had come sailing down and punctured a neat hole not only
through the corrugated iron shed which served as a shithouse for
the dozen or so foundrymen, but had punched its way right through
the vitreous china pan, sending shards of jagged porcelain
scattering like shrapnel in every direction. In the third trap
along, old Bernie Maguire, who operated the charcoal hopper, was
doing a crossword, hunkered over like a dying junkie, dungarees at
his knees. Bernie should have been back at the hopper ten minutes
before, but, being prone to constipation, he was trying, with some
effort to work out more than just the difficult crossword clues.
The fact that his trousers were puddled around his ankles saved him
from serious injury from the kniving porcelain flack. When the
brick hit, travelling at enormous speed after a fall of nearly two
hundred feet, it exploded like cannon-shot. Shards of china blasted
out under the spaces of the door and the side walls. It tore
Bernie's trousers to shreds and punched neat pin-holes through the
thin cabin sides of the neighbouring traps. One small sliver sliced
through a vein on Bernie's skinny calf and the resultant fine spray
of blood was fifteen minutes in the staunching. The other men had
come running out at the deafening noise and hauled the door open to
find Bernie lying in a heap across the newspaper, pencil still in
hand, the air pink from his spraying blood. They also discovered,
to their disgust, that the falling brick had done the old fellow
one favour. It had miraculously cured his constipation.</p>
<p>Two weeks later, another brick had come down, though it had
blasted itself to powder, forming a quite spectacular sunburst
pattern in Pompeiian red on the concrete a few feet away from the
chimney. The manager of the English conglomerate which had taken
over the forge finally got authority to bring in the steeplejacks
to find out whether the stack needed a repair, or whether its time
had finally come.</p>
<p>It had taken Fergus Milby and his apprentice Danny Cullen a week
to get the ladders close to the top. It was dangerous, arduous and
quite exhausting work, but the two-man team were the only
steeplejacks in Levenford or any of the nearby towns. There was
always work for them somewhere, and in the current jobs climate,
the danger was worth it. To the untrained eye, the ladders looked
flimsy, a delicate spidertrack up the side of the brick cylinder.
In fact the light aluminium frames which locked one to the other,
could easily take the weight of six men. The major difficulty lay
in the tedious task of raising one length to fit it in place, using
the wire bands which travelled the girth of the chimney. It would
have been less exhausting and less dangerous, to hire a crane for
the job, but it would have taken twice as long and three times the
cost to erect one of the spindly jack-up jobs.</p>
<p>The original builders had placed metal slots between the bricks,
which made the job easier, but still, it took them eight days to
get up to the top. Some time on the Thursday afternoon, while
Superintendent Cowie was haranguing Jack Fallon in his office,
attempting to browbeat him with dire but meaningless threats, they
were putting the last section in place. Danny Cullen, eager to be
first to the top, hooked his rope into one of the stanchions,
making sure his safety harness was still attached with its
anti-slip grip to the guide. He eased himself onto the flat
surface, eight brick-widths thick because of the tapering of the
construction, and carefully raised himself to his feet, sliding the
guide over the edge with practised proficiency. He used the
contraction hooks to hold the ladder in place, twisting the handles
on the threads to bring the aluminium spars hard against the
brickwork. Fergus Milby had told him there were two kinds of
steeplejack, the slow or the dead, or as Fergus himself had put it,
the careful ones or the stupid splattered bastards on the deck.
Danny didn't want to join the ranks of the splattered. He stood up,
avoiding a space where a brick had worked free and fallen off, and
looked across the town from the top of the chimney. The view was
quite spectacular. He could see the top of the blocks of Latta
Court and its neighbours. Across on the other side of town, the
great square red hulk of the distillery belched its perpetual plume
of steam, like a slumbering volcano.</p>
<p>Up here there was almost dead silence, apart from the mewling of
a seagull passing below, a grey kite far down, a bird seen from the
wrong angle. Sound travels, but for some reason, it does not easily
travel <em>upwards.</em> There was no sound of traffic, except for
the very muted, toytown clatter of a train heading out from the
station. Little model cars were silently crossing the old bridge in
twos and threes, followed by a dinky little bus. Almost directly
below, just out in the river, the boats looked neat and clean, like
yachts at a classy marina, though Danny knew these boats were all
paint-peeled and slimed with dirt and bird crap, half of them
unpainted and the others only half-painted by weekend watermen. The
distance gave a cleanliness and neatness to everything. He strolled
casually around the edge, a twenty-year-old boy gifted with a sense
of balance and a natural affinity for heights. He looked down and
saw Fergy Milby climb slowly towards him, unconsciously adjusting
his safety clip with every two steps. His flat cap was on
backwards, to keep the peak away from the steps of the ladder.
Fergus was a careful mover who had instilled the slow-motion
moon-mountain climb into his apprentice. Danny stepped to the side.
Steeplejacks did not give each other a hand. There were too many
ways to lose your balance that way. The tradesman had regaled his
assistant, ever since he had started three years before, with tales
of men who'd taken a tumble down a chimney, or gone sailing off to
convert themselves into the ranks of the splattered. Fergus was
graphic if nothing else.</p>
<p>"Not bad, Danny-boy," he said when he got to the top and sat,
feet dangling over the drop. It was Fergus's joke on the younger
man's Irish catholic heritage. The steeplejack wasn't of the faith
himself, but unlike many of his persuasion in the town, to whom
religion meant little more than the colour of jersey a football
team wore, it didn't matter a damn to him. He didn't watch football
anyway.</p>
<p>He opened his tobacco tin and rolled himself a customary
crumpled cigarette, tamped the end on the nearest brick, lit up and
drew in a deep breath.</p>
<p>"Haven't been up here since I was your age," he said, gazing out
over the toytown panorama.</p>
<p>"You helped build it then?" Danny asked, grinning at his own
joke.</p>
<p>"Watch it," the boss said gruffly, although he was used to the
boy's comments. They worked well together, and in fact, the best
compliment the steeplejack could make was that he felt safe with
Danny Cullen. "You want to become a <em>splatteree</em>?" he shot
back.</p>
<p>The younger man sauntered around the rim of the chimney as if it
were a wide path through a park. He automatically raised his feet
to avoid the copper straps which snaked up over the sides and
crossed the flat, each of them corresponding to the points of the
compass. He was looking north, towards the mountains looming over
Loch Corran in the distance, when something jarred him as being out
of place. He turned back to Fergus who was contentedly puffing on
his cigarette.</p>
<p>"What's happened to the conductors," he asked.</p>
<p>"Eh, what's that?" Fergus asked, turning round with a casual,
yet careful movement. He'd twisted his cap round so the peak
shadowed his eyes.</p>
<p>"The lightning spikes, they're gone."</p>
<p>Fergus followed the curve of the chimney. On the top flat, it
was eight feet across the inner edges, and about three times that
in circumference. The copper ribbons were stappled to the bricks
with lead fold-over flaps. They travelled to the inner edge where
the four-pronged steel aerials should have been, a precaution
against bolts of lightning striking the inner surface and possibly
travelling down to the furnaces below. From where Fergus was
sitting, he could see the furthest one had been twisted right down
inside the funnel of the chimney.</p>
<p>"I'll be damned," he said, getting to his feet. "There's
something stuck there."</p>
<p>"And here," Danny boy said. "What is it?"</p>
<p>He got to his knees and looked down the black hole. Something
was snagged on the spike which had been bent right down inside the
shaft and then curled back up on itself. It looked like a bundle of
rags, dirty and withered.</p>
<p>"Probably blown up and snagged in the gales," he said. He
reached down and hauled at the tattered bundle. It was stuck on the
upcurved hooks of metal. He worried at it, holding on to the far
edge of the chimney for leverage. The material ripped and the thing
came free with a muted tearing sound. He drew it upwards and as he
did, a foetid smell of rot came wafting up the funnel.</p>
<p>"Jesus, that stinks!" he said, face screwed up with disgust. He
could feel the stench clog thickly in the back of his throat. He
heaved the tattered mess up and onto the flat. A piece of dirty,
mouldering cloth flapped back in the light breeze and a small brown
round thing lolled out and clonked against the bricks.</p>
<p>"What in the name of.." he said, then let out a long breath of
relief.</p>
<p>"It's a doll," he said. "For a moment I thought it was a kid. By
god it smells to high heaven."</p>
<p>"How the hell did it get up here?" Fergus asked. "We must have
ben the first folk up this height in twenty year."</p>
<p>"I don't know. Must have been up here for ages." He turned round
and shoved the bundle towards Fergus. Just below him, another
tangled mass hung from the spike nearest him, this one not much
bigger. He stretched his hand down and worried at the cloth until
it came free and drew this one out of the hole. If anything this
one smelt worse.</p>
<p>As he laid it down, something flopped stiffly onto the
brickwork. It was dark and stick-like. It looked like a monkey's
paw.</p>
<p>"It's another one," Danny said. Fergus could hear his gullet
work to try to keep the stench out of his throat. The apprentice
was poking at a small torn hood. "I think somebody's been playing
a..."</p>
<p>He never finished his sentence. Fergus was sitting casually,
with one hand behind him and a foot cocked on the edge while the
other dangled over the drop. Unexpectedly Danny jerked backwards as
if he'd been bitten by an adder. Fergus saw him scramble to his
feet with alarming speed, the kind of speed people who work in high
places have nightmares about. His boot snicked the inner rim of the
chimney. A piece of brick crumbled off and tumbled into the dark
well. Danny tilted to the side, suddenly off balance, arms
windmilling. One foot was out over the shaft, while the rest of his
body was teetering on the edge of the chimney.</p>
<p>Fergus moved faster than he believed possible. Danny began to
fall, and a cry of surprise and fright blurted out. His boss
whirled, got to one knee and his hand shot out. He grabbed Danny by
the belt, inadvertently knocking the wind right out of him with the
force of the strike and with a powerful heave, he swung him back
from the edge and down onto the flat. Danny's backside hit the hard
surface with a solid thud and he yelped again, this time in pain.
He twisted to the side, almost went over the edge again, caught
himself and then froze.</p>
<p>"Are you off your head?" Fergus bawled. "Bloody idiot, you were
nearly a goner there. What in the name of Christ's the matter with
you."</p>
<p>"It's <em>that</em>," Danny bleated, pounting into the chimney.
The mangy truss of cloth had slipped into the well, but had snagged
again on one of the upturned hooks beside an even larger flaking
bundle.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"It's not a doll," Danny murmured. "It's a baby."</p>
<p>"What are you playing at?" Fergus said. "What would a baby be
doing up here."</p>
<p>"But <em>look</em>," Danny insisted. "It's a baby, and it's
<em>dead."</em></p>
<p>Fergus' hands were still shaking from the sudden exertion and
the terrible fright he'd got when he thought his apprentice was
about to topple into the chimney. He lit another cigarette, with
some difficulty, and took another long draw before letting his
breath out in a stuttering sigh.</p>
<p>He got to one knee again and came close to where Danny sat, both
hands firmly gripped on the brickwork. He followed the young man's
eyes and stared at the small dirty pile. He reached a hand forward
carefully and drew back a piece of mildewed fabric. Despite the
care, the material tore in his hand with a whispering rip.</p>
<p>The small wizened face gazed up at him from blind crumpled
sockets. Its lips were stretched back tight and dry, exposing gums
which were bare except for two tiny teeth which protruded in the
centre of the bottom of the jaw. The skull was shiny and brown and
both little ears were like shrivelled autumn leaves. Fergus pulled
the cloth back further and the foetid, sickly sweet stench
blossomed like the scent of a poisonous flower.</p>
<p>"Dear god," he breathed. With great gentleness, he pulled back
the ragged cloth. Just below the neck, the small, fragile ribs were
like wires pushing through a thin, tight membrane, and below them,
there was a gaping hole. With the movement, something black and
slimy dribbled inside the cavity and the stink was suddenly so bad
the steeplejack found his own throat try to clamp itself shut.</p>
<p>He pulled himself back in revulsion and sat, staring at the dead
face. Danny watched him white faced. Without a word, Fergus reached
down and unhooked the other shape and hefted it out onto the
surface. It came up easily, like a little pile of rags. He laid it
gently down and unwrapped it from a dirty grey shawl. Danny heard
his intake of breath.</p>
<p>The dead child had the wizened face of a mummy. He could see,
under the parchment-like ochre skin the zig-zag suture lines where
the skull-plates joined and in the centre, a deep depression as if
it had been struck a vicious blow with a club, but was where the
soft membrane of the fontanelle, where the bones had yet to form
and knit, had sagged. The baby was so young its bones hadn't even
had time to form. Below the little chin there was nothing at all of
the throat. The skin puckered and curled on each side of a gaping
wound in which Fergus could see the neck-bones push through dried
muscle.</p>
<p>He laid the thing down, almost reverently and turned away. His
eye had caught the other things hanging from the lightning
conductors, an arm's span below the lip of the chimney. He did not
want to see any more.</p>
<p>"I'd better go back down and tell somebody," he said numbly.</p>
<p>"I'll come with you," Danny said. He edged away from the
mouldering corpses and clipped his safety rig onto the cable which
was suspended from the clamp.</p>
<p>"No," Fergus told him. "You'd better stay here. You're in no fit
state to climb. Look at you, shaking like a leaf."</p>
<p>"You can't leave me up here," Danny protested, his voice rising.
"I'm not staying with these."</p>
<p>"Och, don't be daft," Fergie retorted.</p>
<p>"I don't care," whined. "You're not leaving me up here with dead
bodies. No bloody way."</p>
<p>Fergus shrugged. He clipped his own lead onto the braided cable
and started making the long climb down. Danny followed so close he
almost stepped in his boss's fingers.</p>
<p>Five minutes later they were in the forge manager's office.
Almost before Fergy Milby put the phone down, the wail of sirens
started up on the other side of the river.</p>
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>