‘I say one thing for you, Cat: you’ve got more pluck than all me boys put together,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Almost there now.’
The feeling of the air changed as we entered the building. It smelt damp and foul as if rubbish had accumulated here for years and festered where it lay. Shepherd turned me round a few times then took off my blindfold. I couldn’t see exactly what part of the building we were in because all the windows were boarded. The only light came from a lantern swinging from a hook in the ceiling. Plaster hung loosely from the walls like trailing bandages, giving a glimpse of dark rooms beyond.
‘Where’s Pedro?’ I asked. This room was empty, apart from two wooden chairs and a table.
‘I told you ’e was bein’ kept close,’ said Shepherd, going to an iron ring set in the floor and pulling on it. With a creak, he raised the trapdoor to reveal a windowless hole in the belly of this rotting corpse of a house.
‘Who’s there?’ a faint voice called up from inside.
‘Pedro!’ I cried, rushing to the edge of the cavity.
‘Is that you, Cat? Have you come to get me out?’ Pedro asked, his voice full of hope.
‘Nah, Blackie,’ Shepherd called out cheerfully. ‘But she can come down and visit you if she wants.’ He took a ladder that was leaning against a wall and lowered it into the hole. ‘Off you go, Cat. Give a whistle when you want to come up.’ He handed me the lantern and settled himself down at the table, conjuring up a bottle from the pockets of his jacket to keep him company.
I’d come this far: I had to go the last few steps even if they were into a pit no bigger than a cupboard and darker than a moonless night. I could touch the damp walls with my arms outstretched – it was frighteningly like being trapped in a chimney flue. I’d heard of sweeps who had got stuck and suffocated in the dark: it had always been one of my worst nightmares to imagine their suffering. Biting down hard on my fear, I descended the ladder and held up my lantern. Pedro was sitting on the edge of a mattress, empty plate and bottle by his side, staring at me in amazement.
I put the lantern on the floor and hugged him. ‘It’s so good to see you again, Pedro,’ I said, half-sobbing.
Pedro pulled away. ‘Have they caught you too?’ he asked fearfully.
‘No. Shepherd brought me here.’
‘Why?’
‘No idea. He said you asked to see me.’
‘I did – but I thought he was joking when he said he’d bring you. He’s been quite decent really.’ Pedro looked down at the floor. He seemed different somehow – resigned, crushed, weighed down by the memories of the past. ‘He talks to me when he’s got the time, makes sure I have enough food and water. He’s told the boys who guard me not to hurt me.’
That put a new complexion on things.
‘I didn’t realize,’ I said softly.
‘Didn’t realize what?’
‘That he’s your gaoler.’
‘Of course. My master’s paid him to keep me here – like he paid that piano tuner to snatch me from the house.’
‘Your old master, Pedro,’ I corrected him, worried by this new turn of phrase.
Pedro said nothing, but he let go of my hand.
‘What’s going to happen to you? Do you know?’ I asked, trying to be practical.
‘They’re taking me to Jamaica, they say. That’s if I don’t manage to kill myself first, of course.’ He gave me a bitter smile. ‘I tried to throw myself off that wooden bridge up there but they caught me. That’s why I’m down here.’
I’d contemplated giving Pedro the knife but this changed my mind. If I couldn’t get him out of here tonight, I certainly wasn’t going to leave him alone with it.
‘Look, Pedro, it’s only Shepherd up there at the moment. He’s unarmed. Why don’t we try and make a run for it?’ I whispered.
‘No,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ I asked, beginning to feel annoyed by his defeatism. ‘If we’re quick enough up the ladder, we can overpower him and escape.’
‘This is why.’ He pointed to his neck. I lifted the lantern and saw that he was wearing an iron collar attached by a chain to the wall.
‘Oh, Pedro!’ I couldn’t help it: I began to cry. All that I had been through over the last few weeks, all that Pedro was suffering, came out in a storm of tears. I buried my head on his shoulder. He held me tight, offering comfort when it was him that needed it most.
‘You mustn’t worry about me, Cat,’ he said bravely. ‘It won’t be so bad. I’ll find a way out in the end. They can’t watch me forever.’
‘We’ll help you,’ I said, furious with myself. I wiped my eyes on my cloak. ‘Mr Sharp knows how to stop you being taken against your will.’
‘He has to find me first,’ said Pedro grimly.
‘And we will. I know where you are now. That’s got to help. You mustn’t give up hope.’ I couldn’t leave him like this. I wished I could give him something to remind him that he had friends. Of course! ‘Have this.’ I pressed the pottery medallion into his hand. ‘And you should take this back too.’ I threaded the pearl earring through his lobe. ‘It’s a sign of your freedom, Pedro – of your talent and your success.’
Pedro gripped the medallion hard and then touched his earring back in its old familiar place. ‘Thank you, Cat. I’m going to miss you.’
‘Not for long, because we’ll both be back home soon.’
‘Home?’ he asked wistfully.
‘Drury Lane, of course.’ I sat back next to him, arm against arm, looking up at the open trapdoor. ‘Theatre Royal, Drury Lane.’
‘Well, well, well! If it ain’t the little gal herself, flown right into the net.’ I gave a scream as Kingston Hawkins’ head appeared in the black square above us. ‘Ain’t that just dandy.’
‘Careful, Cat!’ hissed Pedro as I scaled the ladder as fast as I could, anger at being trapped running red hot through my veins.
‘Boil, you lying toad!’ I yelled, sure that this had all been part of his grand plan for the night.
Hawkins raised his foot to kick me back down the ladder but he was hauled back by Shepherd.