The Door That Led to Where (9 page)

AJ arrived at Mount Pleasant around six o'clock as planned but there was no sign of Slim. He waited at the corner of Phoenix Place and then started to pace back and forth. He heard a siren in the distance and images of a beaten-up Slim flickered ambulance-blue across his imagination. What if Moses had found him? Then what? Perhaps waiting until Friday had been a day too long. AJ told himself he had to stop thinking the worst about everything.

Finally, at twenty to seven, AJ got through to Slim on his mobile. He sounded so faint that for a moment AJ wasn't sure if there was anybody at the end of the line.

‘Slim – is that you?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Where are you?'

‘Homerton Hospital, in A&E.' Slim's voice sounded shaky, on the brink of tears. ‘Moses tried to kill me, man.'

‘Is anything broken?'

‘Just my heart. Sicknote sat in that pimped-up car of his filing her razor-blade fingernails while Moses beat the shit out of me. She did nothing. Nothing.' His words stumbled on a choke. ‘I was saved by a copper. If he hadn't turned up, I think I'd be in the morgue.'

‘Stay there,' said AJ. ‘I'll pick you up.'

‘What in? You don't drive.'

‘Just stay there.'

‘Moses keeps texting me saying he is waiting outside to kill me.'

‘I'll be there as fast as I can.'

‘You're a real friend, bro.'

AJ had taken fifty pounds from his savings account. He had planned to give it to Elsie towards the rent. But this was an emergency and of all the people he knew Elsie would the first to understand why he had to use it. He hailed a cab.

Slim was squashed next to a vending machine, his face an explosion of bruises. His two black eyes were fixed on the sliding door of A&E. He looked more frightened than a rabbit caught short on a motorway.

‘Come on,' said AJ.

Slim had been given a crutch and he hobbled in an ungainly manner towards the taxi. The cabbie looked none too pleased.

‘If he's drunk,' he said bluntly, ‘I'm not taking him – or you.'

‘He's just bashed up,' said AJ.

Slim sunk down as low as he could in the back of the cab. His mobile bleeped.

‘Was he out there?' he said.

‘Who?' said AJ.

‘Moses, who else? That was another text saying I'm dead meat.'

‘What happened?' asked AJ.

‘I was staying with an uncle who has a garage round the back of Hackney Downs. I thought I was pretty safe there because it's nowhere near Moses's manor. Someone must've seen me. Y'know, I don't think Sicknote would give a monkey's if I was dead. Bloody hell. That's a sad thought.'

AJ was thinking to himself that he had two problems and both of them appeared insurmountable. First, how would Slim climb over the fence in the state he was in, and second, what would he do with Slim once they were through the door?

AJ took out the
Useful Hints for Travellers
book that the professor had sent him and read.

AJ flicked through the book to find what he would be expected to pay. And how far the professor's money might go.

The cab dropped them at the corner of Phoenix Place. In the darkness the car park looked dangerous in a way that only derelict places can.

‘Well,' said Slim. ‘What now?'

The news that AJ expected Slim to climb over the fence did not go down well. In a catalogue of complaints, all of them were to do with the fact that his bones hurt and that Moses would find him.

‘That's called paranoia,' said AJ. He wondered how much to tell Slim before he tried to find the door. Seeing the mess he made climbing over the fence he decided to keep quiet.

‘I'm not staying here in this car park. That's not the plan, is it?' said Slim. He looked about him desperately. ‘I bet there's a guard dog here and if there is it will just go for me – dogs always do. I will be the dog's dinner. Let's leave now.'

‘No,' said AJ. ‘It will be all right, I promise. Just give me a moment to work this out.'

‘Work what out? We're in a deserted car park with lights all round it, so whoever breaks into the car park can be seen. And no doubt we're being recorded on CCTV right this minute.'

Slim's phone bleeped again.

‘What're we doing here?' said Slim. ‘It's bloody freezing.'

AJ took out his mobile phone in order to see better. In its beam he saw the dead growth that looked like the face of the devil.

Slim was decidedly miserable.

‘If you think you're going to hide me here you've got another think coming. This place is dead spooky. I want to go.' In the distance they heard barking. ‘Oh no, that's all we need,' said Slim. ‘I told you there were guard dogs.'

‘Hey, you!' came a voice. ‘This is private property. It belongs to the Royal Mail. You shouldn't be here. You're trespassing.'

‘Great,' said Slim. ‘I wait all week, believing you can save me, only to be taken to a skanky car park where we're going to be arrested and thrown into the jug. I won't be any safer there than out on the streets.'

‘Be quiet,' said AJ. He could see the security guard a way off.

‘I'm calling the police,' the guard shouted.

As the guard began to stride towards them the fog rose and with it the stink of the River Fleet.

‘Quick.'

Slim looked at him as if he was deranged.

‘You gone mad?' he said.

‘No – just do as I tell you. We don't have much time.'

Slim, resigned to a fate unknown, did as he was told.

‘Hold on to me,' said AJ, helping him up.

He could hear Slim's teeth chattering, the bleep of his phone. He could hear the security guard in the fog, the whirl of the police sirens.

And then, just when he thought it was too late, that maybe he had imagined the door, the house, the whole kaboodle, there it was. Never had AJ been so pleased to see anything as he was to see Jobey's Door.

‘It worked, Slim, it worked,' said AJ, a huge grin on his face.

They were standing in the ill-lit hall.

‘Where are we?' said Slim. ‘This is beyond weird. I never saw a house in the car park.'

‘You know the best thing about being here?' said AJ.

‘What?'

‘Moses will never find you.

‘How do you make that out? Moses is just as likely to find me here as anywhere else.'

He took out his phone, stared at it and pressed all its buttons.

‘There's no reception,' he said, shaking it. ‘Where are we? In the Stone Age?'

‘The nineteenth century.'

‘I know you mean well, bro,' said Slim, ‘but this place really gives me the creeps. It feels like a joint ghosts might hang out in.' There was a sound from upstairs and he backed towards the door. A face lit by a single candle peered over the banisters. ‘See? I told you. A ghost.'

‘Mr Jobey,' said Ingleby coming down the stairs, his boots leaving footprints in the dust. ‘Back again. And who might this young man be?'

‘A friend of mine.'

‘A friend of yours. Are you intending to bring all your friends here?'

‘No, Mr Ingleby. Only the ones in trouble.'

‘Many, are they?'

‘Two.'

‘And are you going to introduce me?'

‘This is Slim. Slim, this is Mr Ingleby.'

Slim looked quite bewildered. He'd never seen anyone dressed like the man standing before him, except on TV.

Ingleby went to the cupboard where AJ had left his clothes and unlocked a small door and pulled out a basket.

‘I will take the modern day accoutrements from you.'

‘The what?' said Slim.

Ingleby held out the basket and shook it.

‘I don't have any money, if that's what you want,' said Slim.

‘Give him your mobile and anything synthetic, including your trainers,' hissed AJ.

‘Why would I want to do that? My mobile is my lifeline, my trainers are priceless.'

‘Not here, they're not,' said AJ, putting his own phone and the brogues that were two sizes too big in the basket.

Reluctantly Slim handed over his and finally let go of his crutch.

‘What's all this in aid of?' he asked. ‘That crutch belongs to the NHS.'

Ingleby said not a word as he locked them all away. Then as if he had touched something dirty, he dusted his hands.

‘Come, Mr Slim,' he said. ‘We'll find you clothes more suitable for today's climate.'

In his socks, Slim hobbled upstairs after Ingleby. AJ put on the clothes that he'd left there. When Slim reappeared AJ was surprised by how good he looked. Being lanky, he had always appeared a little scrawny, but these clothes padded him out and gave him an air of elegance. Even with two black eyes you could tell he was a man about town.

He whispered to AJ, ‘Moses would never touch a toff such as I, would he?' Then, seeing that Ingleby intended to take them out the front door, said, ‘You know the Old Bill are out there with dogs? And they are waiting for us.'

‘I doubt it,' said Ingleby.

The door opened onto a different world and, as far as Slim was concerned, a different planet.

‘Where the fuck are we?'

‘The great and terrible metropolis of London, a world unto itself,' said Ingelby, hailing a hackney cab. ‘Fetter Lane,' he said, opening the door.

Outside, the fog had gathered its forces and was now so thick that only a globe of lamplight gave any indication as to where the road ended and the pavement began. Horses, carts and people appeared out of the fog to disappear almost at once.

‘Bloody hell,' said Slim. ‘This must be costing a fortune – the fog, the sets, the scenery. I wonder what they're filming.'

‘They're not filming anything,' said AJ.

‘What's going on then?'

Ingleby answered.

‘Mr Slim, you and your friend Mr Jobey are time travellers.'

‘You're not serious? I mean, that's a joke, right?' said Slim.

‘No,' said Ingleby. ‘And the first rule of time travel is that you never – and I mean never – whisper a word to anyone about the future.'

The hackney cab pulled up outside a boarding house. Ingleby had explained on the journey that it was run by a Mrs Furby who was a widow and sadly had never found herself another husband. AJ had imagined Mrs Furby to be old and, by the surprise on his face when they were greeted in the hall by an attractive woman in her early twenties, so had Slim.

‘You're very welcome,' she said, taking them all into the parlour.

‘These are two travellers who have just arrived in London,' explained Ingleby. ‘They have good money and are trustworthy gents.'

‘Honoured, I am sure. I like to think that I keep a regular and clean house, with honest and God-fearing boarders.'

Slim looked completely done in. His face was white, his bruises multiple shades of blue and purple. Mrs Furby turned up the oil lamp and put her hands to her mouth at the sight of him. An expression of horror came over her face.

‘The world is a pretty kettle of fish,' she said, ‘when a foreigner is accosted on his way to this great city.' She paused for a moment and then said, ‘Highwaymen?' but before Ingleby could answer she had already concluded that Slim must have fought them off and that the rogues were no doubt lying in a ditch. Slim was quite lost for words and his silence convinced her that she was right. ‘And you travelled all the way from Italy?'

AJ interrupted before Slim could say, no, Stoke Newington.

‘No, he's of Turkish origin.'

‘Turkish?' she said. She showed them to the top of the house and opened a door to a set of rooms: two bedrooms and a small parlour, sparsely furnished but as clean as a whistle. ‘I hope this is to your satisfaction.'

‘Where's the  … '

AJ kicked Slim, who was on the verge of asking where the bog was.

‘Yes,' said AJ. ‘It's perfect, thank you.'

Ingleby left, saying he would return tomorrow.

There were three other boarders in the house: a widow and her daughter, a plain girl who had little to say, and a man who announced himself as Mr Flint who did not appear to be a bright spark. The food, though, was excellent and the conversation was led by Mrs Furby, who made up for the quietness of her guests.

‘My father went to Constantinople, Mr Slim,' said Mrs Furby, handing him a plate of steak and kidney pudding. ‘He died at Waterloo.'

Slim opened his mouth to comment but AJ kicked him again and he said nothing.

‘It isn't called Constantinople any more,' said Slim when they were alone in their rooms. ‘She should have said Istanbul. And how did her father come to die at Waterloo? Do you think he was pushed onto the rails? Or maybe committed suicide?'

‘She wasn't talking about the station, she was talking about the Battle of Waterloo. You know, the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon, and all that.'

‘Bloody hell,' said Slim. ‘I wish I'd paid more attention to geography and history. Especially history.'

‘Tomorrow,' said AJ, taking off his jacket, ‘I need to see someone.'

‘Who?' said Slim.

AJ chose not to answer the question. He planned to pay another visit to Miss Esme. He felt that now he and Miss Esme knew each other a little better he could bring up the subject of the papers on his next visit. He wasn't sure quite how to go about it without a phone. He couldn't just turn up on her door step again. It wasn't, he knew, the correct thing to do.

‘What are you doing?' Slim asked.

‘Writing a message.'

‘Who to?'

‘No one you know. Now, listen, I need you to find out how much this money is worth, what it'll buy.'

He gave Slim the notes the professor had sent him. ‘Don't let anyone cheat you out of it.'

‘Cheat
me
?' said Slim indignantly. ‘I haven't spent two years working in Dalston Market without learning something.'