Timekeeper (Timekeeper #1)(27)

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.”

Danny gripped the mouthpiece harder. “This is her son. She’s not in. May I take a message?”

“I’m returning her call about the bookkeeping position here in Chelmsford. Will you let her know she’s been selected for an interview in two weeks’ time? Thursday, at ten o’clock.”

Chelmsford?

His throat was too tight to swallow, but he let out a strangled, “Yes.”

“Thank you, dear. Have a nice day.”

He stared at the telephone until a loud and unpleasant blaring exploded from the receiver, then slammed it down and went upstairs. He couldn’t remember how to put away his socks. The rubbish bin stayed overturned where he’d kicked it. Unable to stand the questions that stabbed the backs of his eyes, he retreated to bed.

The front door opened and closed around ten. Danny had dozed off, and his stomach was hollow and vengeful. He went downstairs as if marching to the gallows.

His mother was puffing on a cigarette in the kitchen, flitting about like a worker bee. Smoke streaked the air in gray clouds. Danny waved them away.

“Mum?”

“Still up, are you? How’s the auto?”

“Cass has it in the shop. It needs a new boiler.”

Leila clucked her tongue. “Can’t be helped, the poor thing is getting on in years.” She dragged a pot onto the stove. “Had a chat with Cassie’s mum. She told me Cassie’s going to a social dance. You’ll be going, I hope? There’s a nice suit in your closet you never wear. I’ll straighten it up and make sure it still fits.”

“Mum?” He waited until she turned around. Leila’s face had become lined around her mouth, her lips pursed as if she always thought she were smoking. Runaway curls had sprung free from her coiffure, giving her a particularly mad look. Her shoulders sagged with exhaustion.

“What is it, Danny?”

He took a deep breath. “Why have you applied to a job in Chelmsford?”

She stood stock-still, her dark eyes like a frightened deer’s when the hunter’s caught a glimpse of it. She turned and rearranged the pot, then grabbed a few potatoes on the counter.

“Mum.”

“It’ll pay more than my current job,” she said, studying the potato in her hand. “Much more.”

“Chelmsford is at least two hours away. How d’you expect to get there every day?” When she remained quiet, he finally understood. “You want us to move?”

“Chelmsford’s a nice place, and—”

“My life’s in London,” he said. “My friends, my job, my—everything’s here, Mum! Everything is in London.”