Dodger

chapter 12

In which Dodger mixes with the gentry, Disraeli accepts a challenge and Dodger proves to be a quick learner



DODGER STARED OUT of the cab as they rattled westwards with the words ‘I’m going to see Simplicity again’ etching themselves on his heart, or so it felt, and suddenly he thought of Simplicity being dead. Dead, and therefore no trouble to anybody – no reason for wars, no reason for people to prowl the streets with malice aforethought.

There had to be a way! Right now, she was a girl that no one wanted; that was to say, no one other than him. As the fog delivered the stink of the Thames to his nostrils, a click in his brain signalled a successful conclusion, and all that remained was the fine details. There were a few things he couldn’t quite see, but with the Lady on his side, he thought they would drop into his hand.

‘A remarkable woman, is Miss Burdett-Coutts,’ Solomon was saying. ‘She is an heiress, and also a major philanthropist, which is somebody who gives their money away to the poor and needy – which I must make clear to you, young man, doesn’t mean you, you being neither poor nor needy, just occasionally knee-deep in sewage.’

Solomon seemed very taken with his little joke, and it would have been like kicking Onan to do anything other than applaud, and so Dodger pulled his mind away from Simplicity and said, ‘That was a good one! Why on earth does she want to give so much money away?’

They were passing through Leicester Square and Solomon said, ‘Because she feels that she should. She pays for the ragged schools, which give some children at least an elementary education and funds mmm scholarships and bursaries, which I must tell you means giving brighter pupils the chance to go to university for an even better education. That’s all they know about her down at the synagogue, apart from the fact that she keeps bees, and you need to be a very mmm sensible person to keep bees – someone who thinks about things, plans ahead and thinks about the future. A very thorough lady, in fact, who I assume does not wish to die rich. Which I’ve always considered to be mmm an admirable ambition. A very singular lady and a power in her own right.’

He paused. ‘I wonder who else there is likely to be at this little soirée since she knows so many important people. In a sense, I rather suspect you might see tonight some more of the mmm powerhouse of politics. Of course, the lords and elected members debate the issues of the day in Parliament itself, but I strongly suspect that here in London the actual outcomes have a lot to do with the things that people say to other people over a drink. The process of ratifying what they have decided amongst themselves may be a variant of mmm what is known as proportional representation, but on the whole it all seems to work, if somewhat mmm erratically.’

He warmed to his subject. ‘What I really like about the English is that they don’t have theories. No Englishman would ever have said, “I think, therefore I am.” Although possibly he might have said, “I think, therefore I am, I think.” The world can have too much order, alas. Ah, here we are at last. Mind your manners and remember what I told you about how to eat with so much cutlery1 – which, I have to reiterate, I would rather you did not attempt to steal. I know you to be a well-intentioned young man, but occasionally you get a little mmm absent-minded around small light objects; please refrain from the habit of a lifetime, just for tonight, please?’

‘I’m not a thief!’ said Dodger. ‘I can’t help it if things are left lying around.’ Then he nudged Solomon’s arm and said, ‘Just kidding. I will be on my best behaviour and a credit to my wonderful unmentionables – I’ve never had a garment that fitted so well in the groin. If I’d known what it feels like to be among the gentry I would have applied for a ticket a long time ago!’

The driver stopped just short of their destination; private coaches and growlers were politely jostling to disgorge their passengers without their drivers having to swear at one another more than usual. They got out and walked up the steps of the very pleasant building Dodger had hardly noticed the night before. Solomon raised his hand to knock on the door and magically the door opened before he had touched it, to reveal Geoffrey the butler.

The important thing to do, Dodger thought, was to keep close to Solomon, who seemed to be entirely in his element. The guests were still coming in, and most of them knew one another, and they certainly knew where the drinks were, and therefore Dodger and Solomon were ignored right up until Charlie and Mister Disraeli returned together from wherever it was they had huddled to exchange current information.

Disraeli made a beeline for Solomon and said, ‘How nice it is to see you here!’ They shook hands, but Dodger read from their faces that here were two people who distrusted each other quite a lot. Then Disraeli, with a glint in his eye, turned to Dodger and said, ‘Oh, wonderful, the young tosher transmuted into a gentleman! Excellent!’

This slightly annoyed Dodger, though he couldn’t exactly figure out why, but he said, ‘Yes, sir, indeed, tonight I am a gentleman and tomorrow I might turn out to be a tosher again!’ As the words dropped into Dodger’s ears, his brain clicked again, telling him: This is the opportunity, don’t mess it up! And so, grinning, he added, ‘I can be a gentleman, and I can be a tosher; can you be a tosher, Mister Disraeli?’

For a moment, and probably entirely unnoticed by anyone else in the throng apart from the four of them, there was a moment when the world froze, and then thawed instantly the moment Mister Disraeli had decided what to do, which was to smile like the morning sun with a knife in its teeth. He said, ‘My dear boy, do you think I would make a tosher? Hardly a profession I had reason to contemplate, I must say!’

He had to pause because Charlie had slapped him on the back, saying, ‘It’s just scrambling in the mud to find the hidden treasure, my friend, and I might suggest it is remarkably like politics! If I was you I would take the opportunity to learn something very valuable about the world. I always do!’

Disraeli glanced at Dodger and said, ‘Well, now I come to think of it, quite possibly a reconnaissance of the underbelly of the city would be sensible at this time.’

‘And indeed,’ said Charlie, grinning like a man who has dropped a sixpence and picked up a crown, ‘it would show, do you not think, that you are being very careful of public opinion in the matter of drainage in this city, which is in fact antiquated and noisome, to say the least. A canny politician would, I am sure, like to show his concern for this scandalous state of affairs. Our friends in Punch magazine would certainly portray you as a forward-looking politician, careful of the city as a whole.’

For a moment Disraeli looked rather solemn, playing with his little goatee beard as if lost in thought, then he said, ‘Yes indeed, Charlie, I think you may have a point.’

It seemed to Dodger that the two men were each hatching plans of their own; he could smell the smell of a man who scents an opportunity and was deciding how to bend it to his own advantage, just like he was. He thought, Good old Charlie knows that whether Mister Disraeli comes out of the sewer covered in richards or covered in diamonds, Charlie will have covered a very good story.

Disraeli lit up like a very enthusiastic candle and his smile broadened as he turned and said, ‘Very well, Mister Dodger, let no one say that I am averse to a challenge. I will indeed, if you are prepared to be my Virgil, take a subterranean ramble with you in the public interest. Let me see – the day after tomorrow perhaps? After all, a politician should do more than just talk!’

He looked around approvingly, and Dodger said, ‘I’d like you to understand, sir, I ain’t a virgin, you just ask Ginny-Come-Lately! But I would be quite happy to give you a little tour, sir. Not near the hospitals, of course. The breweries are pretty good; down there, even the rats smell good.’

At that point Miss Burdett-Coutts passed, circulating among her growing crowd of guests, and Charlie said, ‘Here’s a go, Angela. Ben and young Dodger here are hatching up a scheme to go down into our wretched sewers shortly, on a voyage of exploration for the public good. Don’t you think that is a fine thing?’

‘Are they? I certainly hope they tidy themselves up before they come back here again!’ Angela smiled at Dodger, held out her hand and said, ‘So nice to see you again, Mister Dodger. I see you have raised your game considerably when it comes to your clothing. Excellent!’

Dodger took the lady’s outstretched hand and kissed it, to her surprise and his own, but to the great edification and amusement of both Charlie and Disraeli; Solomon certainly hadn’t told him to do this but, well, he was Dodger, and Miss Burdett-Coutts was smiling as if a favourite dog had done a good trick, but at the same time would quite like the dog to know that it was only allowed one bite. The unspoken code was that once was fine and twice would be taking liberties, and she was sure that Dodger would not need telling twice.

She looked at Solomon and said, ‘Ah, the most learned Mister Cohen, I presume? I have heard so much about you. I believe the Papal Nuncio told me a wonderful story about your perspicacity.’ She turned back to Dodger and said, ‘Mister Dodger, I believe you might be interested to meet Miss Simplicity Parish, a cousin of mine from the country.’

Almost immediately, Simplicity stepped out from behind Miss Coutts, and for Dodger every single person in the room once again disappeared, leaving only Simplicity. After a moment, Simplicity, clearly realizing that if she didn’t say anything, Dodger was likely to be there with his mouth open for the rest of the evening, held out her hand and said, ‘My word, so you are the famous Mister Dodger. I am very happy to meet you.’

Angela, glancing at Dodger, said, ‘When dinner is announced, I would be happy for you to take Miss Simplicity through to the dining area. You may sit beside me so that the proprieties are maintained.’ Having neatly put Simplicity and Dodger together, Miss Coutts then cased the room, Dodger thought, like a burglar anxious to find every piece of silverware, scanning all the newcomers milling around. ‘Do you see that gentleman over there, by the fireplace?’ she said with a small gesture of her head. ‘That is Sir George Cayley, who certainly has demonstrated to us exactly why birds are able to fly and I believe is determined to see that humans do the same, although I suspect that William Henderson might beat him to it – I have been hearing much about his prototype steam-powered aerial carriage. If things look promising, I might consider funding further progress. It would be such a boon for mankind. Just imagine if you could fly to France in one day!’

That would be like the railways, Dodger thought. If you had money, you find someone who is, you are sure, going to change the world, and get more money back if it works. After all, money doesn’t do much when it’s just standing still. It’s when it’s moving around that it really works. He felt quite pleased with himself for coming up with this observation.

One of the guests had cracked a joke on the other side of the room and there was general laughter, and then in a low voice Angela said to Dodger and Simplicity, ‘Do you see that rather taciturn gentleman over there who looks as if he lost a guinea and found a farthing? That’s Charles Babbage, and he has made a machine that can add up, and that’s very interesting and I am very fond of interesting people. Although in his case, he is not really very keen on other people at all, apart from having excellent taste when it comes to his lady friends. And I see that Mister Cohen is already in conversation with Mister Babbage and his friend, Ada Lovelace, who is a most elegant lady and a credit to her father. I am sure they will have a lot to talk about. If ever there is a man who introduces himself, it is Mister Cohen.’ Suddenly she said happily, ‘Ah, there’s Sir Robert Peel. I’m so glad he could come. I was told that he had been held up on a bit of business at Scotland Yard.’ She swept away into the chattering throng.

Sir Robert Peel? The boss of the crushers! Being a tosher wasn’t exactly illegal – Grandad had told Dodger a coin was a coin, and if you picked it out of the mud, well, who knew whose coin it had been? Mind you, there was the little matter of getting into the sewers, that probably being a matter of trespass. Nobody bothered all that much though, except for the work gangs, who thought that loose coinage was their legal perk. The public at large didn’t care a fig; toshers could scrabble in the dark and come up with a copper or two, or they could scrabble in the dark and die, at no extra charge.

But peelers, well, sometimes they had their own interpretation of the spirit of the law, and some of them saw it as their duty to make life a little more tricky for those people on the edge of society, which was why they were having so many fights with the Cockney lads, which amounted to a small war.

Toshers were small fry, but in the rookeries, well, peelers were the enemy. Dodger didn’t know the word ‘visceral’, he just understood the situation: you would do yourself no good mixing with the peelers, and now here he was in the same room as their boss and, as sure as sixpence, Angela was going to introduce Dodger to him. He told himself that he had done nothing wrong – well, maybe a few things hardly worth mentioning and mostly a long time ago – but if you came from the rookeries the peelers didn’t listen for long.

On the other hand, of course, he thought, it was quite possible that Angela might object to people being arrested in her house.

He didn’t panic, because people on the tosh who panicked would sooner or later knock themselves out and lose their bearings. But Simplicity was watching him with a slightly worried smile, and by sheer main force he calmed himself down as if nothing had happened, because in fact nothing had happened, and by degrees he was feeling better. All he had to do was not get excited and keep as far away as possible from Sir Robert.

To his surprise, Simplicity stroked his hand and said, ‘Are you all right, Dodger? I know you have had such a busy time, all because of me, and I am so very grateful.’

Charlie and Disraeli had drifted off on another current in this room, where it appeared that nobody stood in one place for very long before seeing somebody else that they also wanted to talk to. So gossip and people oscillated through the air, with at the moment himself and Simplicity in a little bubble.

He managed to say, ‘Oh, don’t worry about me, miss. How is life here?’

‘Angela is very kind,’ said Simplicity. ‘Really very kind, and . . . how can I put this . . .? Very understanding.’

Dodger said, ‘I asked you this once before, and now things is different but there’s no change in the question. What would you like to happen next? Do you want to stay here?’

Her face went solemn. ‘Yes, Angela is very kind. But I know I am here because I am a problem, and I do not wish to be a problem. Sooner or later, problems get solved. I wonder how that might happen.’

Dodger looked around, but no one was paying them any attention so he plucked up his courage and said, ‘Supposing as you could go somewhere where you could be anybody you wanted to be? Not no problem to nobody. Because, you see, I think I might have a plan. It’s quite a good plan, but I only got one part this evening so I’m still working on it. It might be risky and it could mean a bit of play-acting, but if I trust in the Lady, I think it will work – she has never let me down this far.’ Then he had to explain to her who the Lady was.

At last, Simplicity said, ‘I see. I mean, I think I see. But, dear Dodger, would I be right in believing that the success of this plan will end up with you and me together somewhere safe?’

Dodger cleared his throat. ‘Yes, that is the plan.’

She stared at him. There was always something delightfully solemn in the way Simplicity spoke, and she said softly, ‘I think that would be an excellent plan, Dodger, don’t you?’

Dodger said, ‘You agree?’

‘Oh yes, indeed, you are kind, very kind. I don’t know about loving; we shall see. I have had what I believed was love, but it was an untrue thing, what I think is called a forgery, a bad coin, and not what I thought it was.’ She hesitated. ‘What I thought of as a shining sixpence proved to be a farthing, as you would say. But I have found that kindness lasts a lot longer than love, because my mother always said that kindness was love in disguise. And, Dodger, where you are, the world seems to fizz. You make everything seem possible.’

At a moment like this, for a boy like Dodger who would trip over his own mental feet, he said, ‘Of course we don’t have to stay together if you don’t want to.’

Simplicity smiled. ‘Dodger, this may be hard for you to understand, but sometimes you should just stop talking.’

And as Dodger blushed, dinner was announced.

Miss Burdett-Coutts led the party into dinner, accompanied by a tall man with a severe flinty look on his face and, Dodger noticed in horror, dressed in exactly the same clothes as Dodger – a fact that made him unaccountably nervous. What was it that Izzy had said before giving him and Solomon such a good deal? Dodger, I’ve got a really good deal on this wonderful new suit with wonderful and cherished unmentionables because some apprentice tailor got the sizes wrong first time.

Yes, his frock coat was exactly like Dodger’s, and the man had opened the coat to reveal the splendid blue silk shirt that was the spit and image, apart from a trifling matter of size, to the one which Dodger was wearing; and now, oh dear, because he had been looking at the man, the man was now looking at him with the same sharp expression, causing hairs to rise on Dodger in places where he had never known he had hairs. But they had paid for the clothes, hadn’t they, fair and square? He knew that Solomon had most definitely got a receipt, Solomon being the kind of person who was almost as anxious about getting the receipt as he was about getting the relevant merchandise itself.

In this moment of slight panic Dodger recognized, coming towards them, Henry Mayhew and his wife, and indeed Simplicity was running towards Jane Mayhew to give her a hug.

While that was going on, Henry held out his hands to Dodger and said cheerfully, ‘The man of the moment. Mister Dodger, I have made a study of the multiple classes of people in London, and it does seem to me that you are climbing the ladder faster, if I may say so, than a chimpanzee.’ He smiled nervously and said, ‘No offence, of course.’ And indeed no offence was taken as Dodger had no idea what a chimpanzee was and made a mental note to ask Solomon later.

So Dodger took Simplicity somewhat nervously on his arm and followed the Mayhews into the dining room. And succeeded in parking her exactly where Angela had intended, according to the smile of approval.

Then Angela turned to him and said, ‘Well now, Dodger, I wonder if you have met my very good friend Sir Robert Peel? I suspect you may have some things in common.’ Her eyes twinkled as she introduced the two men, as if she was actually introducing the two sets of matching trousers.

Sir Robert Peel smiled, although because of Dodger’s nerves, it seemed to him more like a grimace, and said, ‘Oh yes, the Hero of Fleet Street. I would very much like to have a quiet word with you.’

Dodger looked into those eyes and they had ‘copper’ all over them. He thought: Is that always how it’s going to be? Always being the man who took down Sweeney Todd? Well, it was useful, no doubt about it, but somehow it was awkward as well, like wearing another man’s trousers, which in a sense was what he was doing right now. And the man was still watching him carefully, as if sizing him up.

People were now sitting down. Dodger was urged towards the chair next to Angela, with Simplicity already seated on his other side and Solomon beside her. Sir Robert – or ‘Dear Rob’, as Angela called him – sat on Angela’s other side.

In a lowered voice, Angela said to him, ‘Does it hurt? You wince when somebody calls you the Hero of Fleet Street. Do you not notice that? Charlie tells me that you are quite clear that people should know that the facts of the matter are not as they seem, and I suggest that you feel that every commendation for you is a damnation for Mister Todd, and I must say that this is to your credit. One feels there was another kind of heroism, of the kind which is often ignored. I will bear this in mind because I do have some influence. Sometimes a word in the right place can do a lot of good.’ She smiled then, and said, ‘Do you like it, scrabbling in the sewers for money? Tell the truth now!’

‘I don’t need to tell a lie,’ said Dodger. ‘It’s freedom, miss, that’s the truth, and pretty safe if you keep your wits about you and use your head. I reckon I earns more than a chimney sweep any day of the week, and soot, well it’s terrible stuff, miss, not good for you at all. Bad for you inside and out, my oath! But when I come back from the tosh, well, good old lye soap does the trick. Not what you would call fancy, but you do feel clean.’

The conversation had to stop there as waiters came past, and after the noise of the plates and the – oh so much – cutlery, Miss Burdett-Coutts said, ‘You appear to be everywhere and into everything, according to my informants, rather like the famous, or if you prefer, the infamous highwayman Dick Turpin. Have you heard of him, young man? What do you think about his extraordinary ride to York on his mare Black Bess? I believe they are doing plays about him now and the public just love him, because he was a scallywag.’

Looking apprehensively at the meal put in front of him, Dodger said, ‘I have heard about the gent, madam, and I like the way he put a shine on the world. But I think he was clever, and far too clever to ride all the way to York. Too risky, and while I have to say I ain’t – I beg your pardon, I am not – a horseman, I reckon that he would have knackered the horse within an hour if he’d done it as fast as they said. No, I reckon he rushed up to some of his mates what he knew to be not all that matey and shouted out something like, “Pray for me, my lads, for I am going to try to get to York this very night!” And o’ course, you see, you can be certain that when you have a price on your head like he did, his mates would have instantly peached on him to the runners within ten minutes, by which time, I’d bet you a crown, our friend Dick would be in the West End with his moustache a different colour, walking around with two sporting ladies arm-in-arm. That’s what’s clever; just legging it don’t do the trick, though I know they got him in the end. If I was him, I’d’ve dressed up as a priest and just laid low somewhere until everybody had forgotten about me. Sorry for the lecture, miss, but you did ask.’

Angela laughed. ‘Your reputation goes before you, Mister Dodger, as a young man of great courage and indeed understanding. Now it would seem you are a man of strategy and a breath of fresh air!’ She put her hand on his arm and said, ‘Are you a church-going man at all, Mister Dodger?’

‘No, miss. Take it from me, miss, Solomon does the believing for both of us, depend upon it! I reckon he tells the Almighty what to do. But don’t worry, I heard that Jesus walked on water, so he might know a little bit about toshing, but I ain’t seen him down there. I mean no offence; mind you, in the dark you don’t see everybody.’

He noticed Angela’s smile become a little strained before coming back to normal, whereupon she said, ‘Well, Mister Dodger, it would appear that an unbeliever might put some believers to shame.’ He assumed from this that once again he had got away with it, even though he wasn’t quite sure what the ‘it’ was.

Now, at last, Dodger was able to pay attention to the food in front of him: a rather good bowl of vegetable soup, even better than the stuff that Solomon made, and he said so as soon as he finished it, noticing as he did so that no one else had dived into the soup with the same alacrity.

‘It’s called julienne,’ said Angela. ‘I really don’t know why that is so. I envy you your appetite!’

Cheered up by this, Dodger said, ‘Can I have some more?’ Out of the corner of his eye he saw Charlie wearing the familiar expression of a man enjoying the fun.

Angela followed his gaze and said, ‘Charlie writes books, you know? I often wonder where he gets all his ideas from. As for the soup I’m sure there is plenty more, but there is a very nice turbot to follow, after which there will be roast saddle of mutton and that will be followed by roast quails. If, young man, you haven’t exploded by then, there will follow a compote of cherries – very sweet. I see you haven’t touched your wine; it is quite a decent sauvignon blanc, and I think you would like it.’ As Dodger reached for the glass, she turned to answer a question from Sir Robert Peel on her other side.

Dodger did like the wine, and because he was Dodger he thought, Well, this is pretty good stuff so I will drink it very slowly. After all, he very seldom drank wine, although Solomon used to buy some stuff at Passover which was so sweet it made your teeth ache. Dodger generally liked beer or stout, especially stout in the winter; they were simple drinks for simple people, and Dodger did not wish to become a complicated person, which he certainly would become if he drank more than one glass of this wine.

Solomon had told him beforehand that there could be a different wine with every course with meals like this; he had to wonder how on earth people would get back home. So, while Angela spoke to Sir Robert Peel and Simplicity delicately finished her own bowl of soup, he treasured the little glass, taking a small sip at a time. Oh, he had been rascally drunk occasionally, but while it had looked a good idea at the time it never looked quite the same later on when you woke up, and it was very hard to go on the tosh without your mind being clear. Of course, not throwing up a lot helped too, and more than anything he didn’t want to disgrace himself in any way in front of all these nobby people, and while Simplicity was watching. And she was watching.

So was the turbot, which came past on a silver tray before being distributed among the guests. It was big and fat, but you had never seen such a sorry expression on the face of a fish before, although perhaps it might have been cheered up by the fact that along with the rather piquant sauce it tasted very nice. Dodger was more at his ease now; the dinner was going well, people were chattering to one another, and it was all rather jolly. It was still jolly when the roast saddle of mutton turned up, slightly yellow and rather greasy, and to a lad as energetic as Dodger, pure pleasure, although he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten so much. In the attic, the meals prepared by Solomon were . . . wholesome, and enough. Meat came in small amounts, more a seasoning than the whole meal, and generally the basis of a thick soup or nourishing gruel. He was aware now of a general tightness of the stomach; but good mutton was the food of the gods, and therefore it would be totally unrighteous not to do it justice.

Things were going well; he had listened to Solomon on the subject of which knife and fork you should use for each course,2 he had tucked his napkin in his neck, and he could definitely do this sort of thing every night. But he knew that he had been ignoring – how could he? – Simplicity, who was, he saw, very politely listening to one of Solomon’s stories now, with every semblance of interest, which was right and proper because Solomon could surprise you every time.

Just as he turned to look at her, she turned to look at him, and said, ‘It’s rather droll, Dodger, that you appear to be dressed like a slightly smaller version of Sir Robert.’ Here she lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Much more handsome, and you don’t scowl as much. But I must say you look like two peas in a pod.’

Dodger said, ‘He’s a lot older and bigger than me.’

A remark which caused Simplicity to smile and say, ‘Sometimes I think English people don’t always think about what they say; if you look inside any pod of peas, you will see that they are all sizes. The pea pod shapes them differently.’

He stared at her with his mouth open. Because firstly, he realized he often shelled peas for Solomon and had never really bothered what shape any of them were, and secondly, here was Simplicity telling him something new. Not for the first time, he thought, Yes, Simplicity is not simple.

She laughed softly. ‘You don’t know anything about me, Dodger.’

‘Well, I expect that someone will let me find out some more at some time, please?’

‘I have very fat legs!’ she announced.

The chances of getting very fat at all in the rookeries were small, but Dodger had never heard of any girl saying that her legs were too thin, and so he said, in the silence that followed her remark, ‘I don’t want to be indelicate, miss, but that is a matter of opinion – your opinion obviously, but alas I have as yet been unable to form one for myself.’

It wasn’t quite an uproar, he thought, more like a halfway up roar, but Dodger heard variations on the theme of ‘I’d say!’ And quite a few examples of that hard-to-describe noise that people make when they are pretending to be shocked, but really are just rather amused and possibly also relieved. It was probably Charlie who said, ‘Excellent, worthy of the famous Beau Brummel himself!’

Solomon’s face was absolutely blank, as if he hadn’t heard, and Angela, God bless her, was chuckling. This was very useful, Dodger thought, because she was the hostess, and an incredibly rich woman, and quite clearly to everybody there she was perfectly happy about what was going on, thus defying anyone who thought otherwise. After all, who would want to disagree with one of the richest women in the world?

Around them there grew then a sort of comfortable buzz as people finished their drinks and in some cases started them again anew, and at this point Dodger realized that he certainly needed the jakes, and he had no idea where they would be, except of course they would be downstairs. In a world of unmentionables – real, erratic and sometimes invisible – he was not going to ask a lady where he could go to take a piss.

Then he found himself looking into the eyes of Sir Robert Peel, who was grinning round Angela like a cat who has seen a mouse, and the boss of the peelers said, ‘Ah, Mister Dodger, I rather suspect from the way in which you are searching about that you are looking for a place of some easement; allow me to escort you, because I myself am noticing the same urgency.’

Dodger was in no position to refuse. Sir Robert exchanged a nod with Angela and piloted Dodger out of the room and down some steps, ushering him eventually into something like a paradise made of mahogany and gleaming brass and copper.

It sparkled; it was a palace. The jakes in the rookeries were crowded, dark and stank; you would be better off going outside, and many did – which meant that walking along an alleyway at night was a very big adventure. Solomon, always fastidious about this sort of thing, had his own portable bucket with a little well-scrubbed wooden lid for those moments when a man just wanted a nice sit-down. One of Dodger’s chores was to take the bucket to the nearest cesspit, but these were overflowing most of the time; anyway, every night the honey wagons came round, which did a little something to improve matters when the workers shovelled up the stuff and away it went, along with the horse muck too. But however often the honey wagons came along, and however hard the dunykin divers scoured the septic tanks, you were never very far from yesterday’s dinner. But this place, well, this was amazing, and although he knew what the hole in the shiny mahogany was for, it seemed like sacrilege to use it. And what was this? Sheets of paper, all cut out ready for use, just like Solomon did with the Jewish Chronicle, and there were mirrors too, and little soaps in a large bowl, soft and smelling nice on the hands. Dodger couldn’t help pocketing some – despite the company – because there were so many of them.

He took a few moments to be stupefied, despite the pressure on his bladder and a certain nervousness about being cooped up in the same room as the boss of the peelers who, he noticed, was now sitting quite happily in a very expensive chair and lighting a cigar.

Sir Robert Peel smiled at him and said, ‘Please don’t stand on ceremony, Mister Dodger; I am in no hurry and, of course, as you must have realized, I am also between you and the doorway.’

This information, just as he was addressing himself to the ornate and gleaming pan in front of him, dropped Dodger into a state where the business in hand was turning out to be impossible. He glanced over his shoulder. Sir Robert wasn’t even looking at him, but was simply enjoying his cigar, like a man with all the time in the world. But since nothing actually bad was happening now, Dodger got a grip on his . . . fears and had to admire the perfect workings of this wondrous new contraption. When he had finished, the voice of Sir Robert, still in his chair, said laconically, ‘Now you pull the porcelain knob on the chain to your left.’

Dodger had been wondering what that was for. It was surely waiting to be pulled, wasn’t it? But why? To let people know that you had finished? Did it ring a bell so that people didn’t come in and disturb you? Oh well, he gave the nice little ceramic knob on the end of the chain a casual but hopeful pull, then backed away from the bowl, just in case this really was the wrong thing to have done and despite everything he was going to get into trouble . . . except the water gurgled around the pan, leaving the place spotless. Now that was a thing worth having!

He swung round and said, ‘Yes, sir, I know what to do. And I know you are having a little game, sir. I am wondering what you want from me.’

Sir Robert looked at the tip of his cigar as if he had not seen it before, and said very casually, ‘I would very much like to know how you did that murder in the sewers this afternoon.’

Inside Dodger, the turbot and all his little friends rushed to escape the sinking Dodger, and for a moment he thought he would make a terrible mess on that shiny floor until he reminded himself, I never murdered anyone, didn’t want to, didn’t have time. So he said, ‘What murder would this be?’ quelling the turbot and telling it to mind its manners. ‘I never murdered nobody, never!’

The head of all the policemen in London said cheerfully, ‘Well now, it’s funny you should say that, because I believe you, but sad to say we have a dead body in the morgue and two men who say you put the poor fellow in there. And the funny thing is, and you might laugh at this, I do not believe them. There is a corpse, certainly, reported to us by a gentleman known around and about as Manky Smith – probably known to you as well?’

‘Manky Smith? He’s a boozer, walks around all the time with wet pants. He would peach anybody for a pint of porter. I bet the other one was Crouching Angus, an old sweat with one and a half legs.’

The man had said that he didn’t think that Dodger had murdered anybody and that was a good thing, wasn’t it? A very good thing, but nevertheless the chief peeler had that look about him you learned to recognize after you had had a few run-ins with authority. It said that authority wanted you to know that authority always had the upper hand, and that you had just better mind your manners for the moment, because you were the enemy of authority unless authority told you that you weren’t.

Mister Peel was watching him with a slight smile on his face – you must never ignore the smile on the face of a peeler – and Dodger thought, This one is the king of the peelers, the big Peel himself, so even a dodger knows when not to dodge. He said, watching that smile, ‘You say that you don’t think I murdered anybody, but there are two people saying I done it, right? Who’s the body what was murdered? And why ain’t you taking their word against mine?’

Very calmly, Sir Robert said, ‘Frankly, my men know them and say that they wouldn’t take the testimony of those two if the Archangel Gabriel was standing beside them and had given them a reference.’ He smiled the smile of a policeman, which was only slightly better than the smile of a tiger, and said, ‘And I’m not taking your word as anything, Mister Dodger, but I am inclined to take the word of Solomon Cohen, who is very well thought of in the Jewish community. While I engaged him in conversation earlier this evening – and quite clearly he knew nothing of this accusation, nor did I say anything of it to him – he was kind enough to mention that you have spent almost the whole day in his company, a fact which can be verified by a number of reputable merchants, including my own tailors, which I can see with my own eyes. But I ask myself, if this murder took place only a few hours ago, why did this allegation reach me instantly, do you think?’

Before Dodger could say anything, Sir Robert continued. ‘I think that you have made enemies because, as Ben tells me, you appear to be compounding your heroic deeds by keeping a certain young woman safe while she is in our country. I salute you for that, but this situation cannot go on for ever. There are indications that . . . others involved in this affair are growing increasingly impatient.’

He drew on his cigar and lazily blew out a cloud of blue smoke; it drifted and curled around Dodger’s head like an aromatic fog.

‘There has clearly been a murder,’ the head of the peelers stated, ‘and indeed I must make certain that somebody is brought to justice – despite the fact that the corpse concerned was a gentleman who was known as a man who got things done, for a fee, with no questions asked and certainly no questions answered. He was a lawyer until the other lawyers found him out, and then he became what we call an accommodator, and a particularly good one because he knew all the lawyers’ tricks. He was very good at introducing people who needed crimes committed to people who wanted to be paid for committing crimes and, of course, he would skim something off the top for his expenses without ever getting his hands dirty. Now he turns up quite professionally dead, meaning neat and clean and not involving any third party. A very neat job. And a very silent corpse. They might as well have done the washing up and fed the cat before they left. His name was Sharp Bob.’

Sharp Bob was dead! So someone had got to him, Dodger thought. But now he had other questions. What had this Sharp Bob known? Had he been working on his own, just to make some specie . . .? Or under the orders of someone else? For that government Mister Disraeli had spoken of?

‘All the policemen know about you, Mister Dodger,’ Sir Robert was saying, ‘and the old Bow Street boys did as well: always suspected, never impeached, never had to stand in front of the beak. One old lad I knew said some people believed you were protected by the Lady of the Sewers, and I believe that you may now need all the protection you can get. We are not the Bow Street runners, Mister Dodger; we are clever men – your friend Charlie Dickens is in fact quite fascinated by our procedures.’ Sir Robert sighed, and went on, ‘Indeed, I sometimes suspect he would love to be a peeler if I let him; he’d make a good copper if he didn’t scribble, scribble, scribble all the time, I am sure. We know what goes on, Mister Dodger, but sometimes we don’t see the need to tell people everything that we know.’

He paused to take another puff on his cigar, before continuing, ‘I do know, however, that one or two people with associations to the aforesaid Sharp Bob are said to have recently run up against a gentleman known to all and sundry as Dodger, and ended up the worst for it. One . . . employee, shall we say, appears to have had an unfortunate and terminal accident only yesterday morning – the kind involving his being run over by a coach and four in a busy street not too far from your own neighbourhood. Run over twice, it would appear . . . with no witnesses whatsoever.’

Dodger’s mind was racing. Someone else had got to the other cove who had beaten Simplicity, then – someone who hadn’t held back from killing. Now it began to seem that everyone connected with this affair was ending up dead . . .

‘We are rather wondering,’ Sir Robert mused, ‘if there might be another player here now; people are getting restive and want to see this whole matter cleared up. Of course, a keen policeman would still automatically think that said Mister Dodger, being somewhat annoyed by the lackeys of Sharp Bob, might see that some harm came to him or his associates. However, as all London knows, you were otherwise engaged yesterday morning at Mister Todd’s establishment. You appear to be a lucky man, Dodger. A man who is normally invisible has become surprisingly visible at just the right moments.’ He paused. ‘Although my informants do tell me there is a further known associate of both of these two late gentlemen who was seen sporting a broken nose this morning, whilst also walking in a rather peculiar fashion . . . this may need further investigation. Are you with me? I see that you are remaining quiet; very sensible of you.’

The boss of the peelers stood up, knocking the ash off the end of his cigar into a small silver ashtray. ‘Mister Dodger, I am the head of the police force, which makes me a policeman, but I am also a politician. I am sure that someone as smart as you is aware that politicians – who in theory wield a great deal of power – can sometimes get somewhat tangled up when it comes to using it, knowing that their every move is going to be watched and questioned. Agents watch every port – good heavens, you yourself must know that; there isn’t a mudlark or an urchin on every quay who wouldn’t keep an eye open for anyone for a cost. But there are indeed some of us who, whilst publicly toeing the government line, feel that an innocent person who has sought sanctuary in Britain should not be sent back to where she does not want to go. Good Lord, man, we are British! We should not bow to the demands of anyone. There must surely be a way to resolve this situation without risking a war.’

Dodger’s mouth fell open. A war? Over Simplicity?

‘Mister Dodger,’ the head of the peelers continued, ‘you and Miss Simplicity appear to be a reason why people are being killed. And why more people might be, unless we can resolve this, and very soon, since you must by now also realize that this affair has ramifications beyond Miss Simplicity and yourself. Now I know that you are very keen to see that the young lady in question comes to no harm, and as your friend Charlie has said, when the kings and queens and knights and rooks find it difficult to move, the pawn may win the game. Like Charlie, I therefore believe that somebody not so readily associated with the government could indeed be the very man to help us find a solution.’ His voice dropped as he said, more softly, ‘You are the freest free agent that I can possibly imagine, and frankly, Mister Dodger, and I will deny this if ever you repeat it publicly and you may be sure that my word will be taken against yours, one of the reasons I’m talking to you now is to tell you that whatever you may be planning, you must not break the law. Since I have just now stepped out of this room and any voice you may be hearing cannot possibly be mine, I must, however, point out to you that there are times when the law may be somewhat . . . flexible.’

He moved closer to the door and said, ‘And now, without another word, we will both stroll back to the others as if we had just been discussing the very latest in modern sanitation, and I will find you again when I need to. We will’ – he paused – ‘be watching you with interest.’ The head of the peelers looked at Dodger’s panicked expression and smiled again. ‘Don’t worry unduly; in the meantime, we have a homicide – that just means a dead body really. Who knows? He might have been meeting a client in rather insalubrious surroundings and banged his head on something and some people got the wrong idea. And, Mister Dodger, this conversation and everything to do with it has never existed. Do you understand?’

At last Dodger found his tongue and he simply said, ‘Understand what, sir?’

‘You are a quick learner, Mister Dodger. Incidentally, you appear to have no other name than Dodger, Mister Dodger. I know you were brought up in an orphanage, but surely they gave you a name?’

More than a name, Dodger thought, and I bet you already know it, Mister Peel. Then he said, ‘Yes, they did. They called me Pip Stick! Are you happy now? Because I’m not! How about that for a name? Think of all the fun people can have with that and a small boy; and they did, Mister Peel, they certainly did. It’s writ down in the workhouse, all official like. Mister Pip Stick, just my luck. Hard luck. Mind you,’ he added, ‘now I come to think of it, Mister Pip Stick had to know how to fight. And to dodge. And to kick and bite. And run. Oh, and how he could run, and climb and twist.’ He hesitated and added, ‘Not that I’m sayin’ that it was a good name to have, oh dear me, no.’

The dinner was almost over when Dodger got back to his seat, and a few minutes later Angela tapped a wineglass with a spoon, very gently, and announced, ‘My friends, custom and practice these days is that ladies withdraw to the withdrawing room while all the gentlemen stay behind, and as you know I find this rather irksome because I’d quite like to talk to some gentlemen, and I’m sure some gentlemen might like to talk to some ladies. After all, these are modern times and we are all people of the world; I daresay none of us in this eminent company require a chaperone. I shall go to the drawing room and await all comers!’

To Dodger’s surprise one of the richest women in the world then grasped his arm. ‘Now, Mister Dodger,’ she said, ‘I would like to talk to you about reading. Solomon tells me that you seldom make any attempt at reading and can barely cipher something approximating your name. This is not good enough, young man! A person of your calibre has no business being illiterate. Normally I would suggest that you should get enrolled in one of my ragged schools, but I fancy you would consider yourself too old for that, so instead, and so that I may begin to instil in you a love of words and the way they can be used, you will promise me that tomorrow night you will come with me and young Simplicity to the theatre to see the new production of William Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar.’

She straightened up and added, ‘Mister Cohen may accompany us too if he would be so kind. You must raise your play, Mister Dodger, because no man should waste his life tramping through sewers when he could be sailing through literature and the theatre. Raise your play, Mister Dodger, raise your play! You already have the gingerbread, time to get the gilt!’ She paused and looked at Dodger’s expression. ‘You are looking at me with your mouth open,’ she added. ‘Is there anything that I have just said that you might not have understood?’

Dodger hesitated, but not for long. ‘Yes, miss. I am rather busy but I would like to go and see the play, and I have seen gingerbread with gilt on it in some baker’s shop, but for the life of me I don’t know what that has to do with anything.’

‘One day, Dodger, you should ask Solomon what a metaphor is.’

‘There’s another thing I want to ask please, miss,’ said Dodger. ‘That is, how can you be sure that nothing bad could happen to Miss Simplicity in the theatre; they are big places with lots of people in them.’

Angela smiled. ‘Sometimes the best place to hide something is exactly where no one would think to look. But if they do, then surely, Mister Dodger, we will be one step closer to reaching a happy conclusion to this affair? Simplicity will be in no danger – I have the ways and means to see that all of us will be able to enjoy the evening unmolested, you can be sure of that. My footmen have – you might say – hidden talents. But we may gain more than an evening’s entertainment from the excursion.’

She very carefully steered him then into yet another very well-appointed room in which comfy chairs were in abundance and so, on the whole, was everything else. Up in the attic Solomon had nothing that was not practical. The old man had his work table and a very narrow bed, and behind his curtain Dodger had a bedroll and a number of blankets, and if it was a cold winter sometimes Onan as well; the smell could get bad, but Onan was polite enough not to acknowledge it. But this room was full of . . . well, things! Things that as far as Dodger could see were there just to be seen, or perhaps things that were designed to have other things put on top of them, or inside them. It also had enormous displays of flowers in great big vases, and the place looked like Covent Garden. He wondered why people needed all these things, when he himself could carry everything he owned in quite a small bag, not counting the bedroll. It seemed to be something that happened when you were rich, like in the Mayhews’ house but with more knobs on.

But he pushed that aside in his mind to make way for his plan. It was a good plan, a shiny one, and it had come together finally because Mister Disraeli had tried to make fun of him. All evening long he had been piecing it together, trying to figure out which parts were likely to be straightforward – such as the breeches – and which parts there were where you would just have to trust to your luck; and the Lady, of course.

Tomorrow was going to be a very busy day.

He was looking around for Solomon when somebody else tapped him on the shoulder and said very politely, ‘I’m very sorry to intervene, but I hear that you habitually frequent the sewerage system.’

The unwanted enquirer was a young man some ten years older than himself with the beginnings of a very curly moustache in the current fashion, and the way the question was asked made Dodger suspect that the man might be something of an enthusiast when it came to drains. He was a gentleman who wanted to talk about drains and he – that is to say, Dodger – had to be polite, and so there was nothing for it but to smile nicely and say, ‘I’m no expert, sir, but since you ask, I am a tosher and I reckon I’ve been down every drain anybody can get down in the Square Mile, and then some. And you, sir, are . . .?’ He smiled so as not to give offence.

‘Oh dear, how remiss of me. Bazalgette, Joseph Bazalgette; here is my card, sir. May I say that if you are thinking of a journey into the sewers I would be most pleased if I could come with you. Indeed, I would be honoured!’

Dodger turned the card over and over in his fingers, gave in and said, ‘I was planning an . . . expedition with Mister Disraeli and Mister Dickens. The day after tomorrow, I believe. Perhaps one more . . .?’ After all, he thought, it could fit in very well with his plans, especially if one of the aforesaid gentlemen should change their minds, or find themselves ‘otherwise engaged’, as he believed it was described.

Mister Bazalgette was beaming with delight. Yes, he was an enthusiast for sure. A man who liked numbers and wheels and machinery, and quite possibly sewers. Mister Bazalgette, Dodger thought, might just be a gift from the Lady. ‘You must surely know,’ Bazalgette burbled, as if reading his mind, ‘although perhaps you don’t, that the first people to undertake the work of building these sewers were the Romans. Indeed they believed in a goddess of the sewers, whom I believe is commonly known as “the Lady” and gave her a name – Cloacina. You may be interested to learn that not so long ago a gentleman here in England called Matthews wrote a poem to her, following the example of the Romans, imploring her to help him with – how can I put it? – a way to make smoother his bodily functions, which the poem suggests were something of a morning trial to him.’

From what Dodger had heard, the Romans were sharp coves and had built other things besides sewers, like roads. But now, without any warning, it turned out that they had also worshipped the Lady. Those Romans, according to Solomon, were tough and rough and merciless if you went up against them . . . and they had believed in the Lady. Well now, Dodger had prayed to the Lady to be sure, but he was never, well, definite when he did – sort of only half believing. Now it turned out that all those big warriors were once upon a time in this city kneeling down to her to make their richards a bit more squishy. There could be no better endorsement. Now more than ever, Dodger – admittedly via a roundabout route – was a believer.

Mister Bazalgette was coughing. ‘Are you all right, Mister Dodger?’ he queried. ‘You looked a bit far away for a while.’

Dodger hustled back to reality, smiled at the man and said, ‘Everything is fine, sir.’

Then a hand dropped on his shoulder, and gleefully Charlie said, ‘Excuse me, Mister Bazalgette, I thought I must remind our friend about that trip into the sewers. Benjamin too, because those of us who are his friends would love to see what the dapper chappie will make of the subterranean experience, especially if he slips over in it, and of course I sincerely hope that does not happen. I wonder what shoes he will wear?’ Charlie was smiling, in Dodger’s opinion with a certain touch of cheerful malice – not the nasty sort as such, but maybe the sort you use to tell one of your chums that he is getting too big for his boots. Dodger wouldn’t mind betting that Charlie’s mind was suggesting that the sewer excursion could just possibly be very entertaining as well as instructive.

As people milled around him saying their goodbyes to one another, Dodger said to Charlie, ‘I expect you gentlemen are all very busy, so for this trip let us meet at The Lion in Seven Dials. It won’t be a difficult walk from there to where we start and you could keep the growler there. The day after tomorrow, wasn’t it? Maybe seven o’clock? The sunlight will be low and you will be amazed how far it reaches into the sewers, like it was trying to fill them up.’ Then he added, ‘No offence to you, gentlemen, but if I take you down there and something nasty happens to any of you, I will be very upset and so will you. So I’ll do a little walk around there early in the day to make sure there ain’t going to be any problems because you never know. So, if it ain’t on, I’ll make shift to let you know so that it’s postponed.’

Charlie grinned with glee. ‘Now that’s a sensible precaution, Dodger. What a shame Henry is unable to join us! But I for one cannot wait to join this little odyssey. How about you, Mister Bazalgette?’

The engineer’s eyes sparkled. He said, ‘I will bring along my theodolite, my most waterproof boots, my most expendable trousers and, knowing something about sewers, good stout leather breeches will be your friend. Thank you so much for this, young man. I very much look forward to seeing you the day after tomorrow. And if possible to meeting your Lady.’

As Mister Bazalgette headed off to find his coach, Charlie turned to Dodger and asked, his face a mask, ‘What lady might that be?’

Dodger hurriedly explained. ‘I was talking about the Lady, our Lady of the Sewers, sir, and if you reach for your notebook now I think I would just about pull your fingers off, sir, ’cos this is stuff that should not be known, sir.’

Charlie said, ‘Are you telling me, Dodger, that you truly believe that there is some kind of a goddess in the sewers?’

‘No, sir, not a goddess, not for the likes of us,’ Dodger continued. ‘Gods and goddesses are for the likes of people who go to church, sir. They laugh at people like us, but she doesn’t. There is no salvation, sir, not with her, because there is nothing to be saved from, sir. But, like I say, if you get on well with her then one day she might show you something of great worth. Everybody has got to believe in something; that’s all it takes. That’s why, because of this, I decided to rescue Simplicity, you see. I mean, how could I have heard all the screaming above the noise of the storm? But I heard it right enough. And so I have to think that I have been guided on a journey and I don’t know where all the steps are, and I know the people who are my betters would like to see Simplicity shut away in some bleak house somewhere, so as she would cause no trouble. I won’t stand for it, sir, whoever they are. I said I didn’t want you to write things down!’

This came out fast and Charlie’s pencil fell away from his notebook and, flustered, he said, ‘My apologies, Mister Dodger. My attempt at jotting a thought down had nothing to do with Miss Simplicity, I can assure you.’

Dodger jumped as Angela appeared at their side and said, ‘Changing times, Mister Dodger. A young queen on the throne and a new world of possibilities. Your world, should you choose to make it so.’ She leaned closer and whispered, ‘I know that Sir Robert has spoken to you, and I know why. There are wheels within wheels. Make certain now that you’re not crushed between them. I admire men of resource who are prepared to make some difference in the world, and on occasion, as you know, I like to help them up. And, Mister Dodger, like you I cannot abide bullies. I do not like men who trample on others.’ She paused and handed him a slip of paper. ‘Something my dear friend Sir Robert just said to me makes me feel that you could find this place very interesting.’

Dodger glanced at the piece of paper, feeling embarrassed. ‘Excuse me, miss,’ he said. ‘Is this the way to one of your ragged schools?’

He saw her eyebrows narrow until she looked quite fierce. ‘Not exactly, Mister Dodger; it is where I think you might like to teach someone a lesson. But do please feel free to call on me at need.’

And now Solomon loomed like a revelation, a pink one and slightly fatter than Dodger remembered. ‘Have you said all your goodbyes and thank yous? Say goodbye to Miss Simplicity, and then you and myself must be going, Onan will be pining.’

Dodger turned round, and there was Simplicity, who simply said, ‘How very nice to see you again, my hero, and I look forward to going to the theatre with you tomorrow, I really do.’

As he and Solomon were leaving, Simplicity, standing next to her new hostess in the doorway, blew him a kiss and Dodger was suddenly floating on air.

1 Frankly, most of the time, Dodger ate using his fingers unless Sol told him off.

2 Solomon had said, ‘Don’t bother about the fish slice; nobody bothers with the fish slice, it is there as an ornament, just to show people that you have a fish slice.’