Home was not his first stop, despite Cassie’s command to rest. That’s all everyone ever wanted him to do now. As if he could sleep his life away until he woke one morning to find all his problems solved.
He went to the Mechanics Affairs building to ask if there was any news about the Maldon tower. The protesters were there again, a mix of people complaining about things they couldn’t control. One woman held up a sign that read THE GOD OF TIME WILL BE REVIVED! A man with a thick mustache was shouting at her about paganism and how there was only one true God.
Danny ran through the masses and into the building. The atrium was congested with busy mechanics and apprentices. He took to the stairs, first checking to see if he had any new assignments, but he found nothing in his folder. Vexed, he made his way to the Lead’s office.
Two older mechanics walked down the hall toward him. Danny’s breath caught when he saw who they were. Tom and George were both well-respected, having been mechanics for over thirty years. Tom was tall and broad, while George was short and stocky, but both wore the same look of importance that was not quite arrogance.
Both were on the Maldon assignment.
The bigger one, Tom, walked with a heavy limp. He had lost his right leg to an infected bullet wound in the Crimean War twenty years before. Since then, he’d worn a mechanical prosthetic.
Someone in Shere had recalled Tom’s limp, identifying him as the mechanic who had worked on the tower before Danny arrived. Seeing him now, Danny couldn’t stop the shiver that rolled down his spine. He’d never liked Tom. Perhaps it was because his father and Matthias had never got on with him. Maybe because Tom had been Lucas Wakefield’s mentor, and had always turned a blind eye whenever Lucas decided to poke and prod at Danny. There was something about the man that bothered him, some gruff distance.
The two older men were in deep in conversation, but stopped as soon as they saw Danny. George sighed.
“Hello, Danny,” Tom said warily.
This wasn’t their first meeting since the accident. They had endured Danny’s glares and suspicion. But since they’d been put in charge of the new Maldon tower, Danny had to change his approach.
“Hello,” Danny mumbled. “I was wondering—I mean, how are you?”
“Get to the point, boy.”
Danny swallowed. He noticed that Tom was holding a long roll of paper in his hand. His heart leapt. “Are those the blueprints for the new Maldon tower?”
The mechanics exchanged a look. George tilted his head slightly, an inquiry, but Tom replied with a slight but clear shake of his own. “Danny—”
“I’d like to know how it’s coming along. I’m sure you’ve been there recently.”
“If the Lead hasn’t said anything, we can’t discuss it with you,” Tom said. “Be patient.”
Danny, already tipping into frustration, allowed this to be the push he needed. “No. I’m tired of being patient. I have a right to know what’s going on.”
“Move, boy,” Tom grunted, but Danny stood his ground and curled his hands into fists.
“I want to see those blueprints!”
Tom grabbed him by the vest and pushed him against the wall. Danny tried to pry the man’s hand away, but it was thick and strong, like Matthias’s. He wished his old friend were here to punch Tom in the jaw for him.
“Listen, you annoying bleeder, I don’t care if you think you’ve got a right to know. Hundreds of people with family stuck in Maldon deserve to know, but you don’t see us lining them up for a rally. Don’t think you can try to bully us just because you’re the Lead’s favorite. I don’t care if you’re a broken little boy who needs to be treated special. That act’s not working on me.”
“C’mon, Tom,” George murmured. “Leave the lad alone.”
Tom frowned before releasing Danny’s vest.
Danny leaned against the wall, fighting for breath as the two mechanics walked away without another word.
A broken little boy. An act. The Lead’s favorite. None of it was true. But standing there, his chest throbbing with anger and disappointment, Danny wanted to believe at least one of them.
He took a steam-run omnibus home, leaving him with only a sixpence in his pocket. The house was empty. His mother was working late again.
Danny stared into the pantry and rubbed a finger over his lips. If only life could be like the fairy tales: a short obstacle to overcome and a reunion at the end of it, with a small chance of blindness or a dragon thrown in to make things interesting.
He jerked when the telephone rang. Thinking it might be Cassie or the Lead, he banged a shoulder against the kitchen door to hurry into the hall.
When he answered, an unfamiliar woman’s voice floated from the receiver into his disappointed ear.
“Is this the Hart residence?”
“Yes, who’s calling?”
“Elizabeth Collins, over at the McClure and Gambol Firm. I spoke to a Mrs. Hart the other day.”