Page 38 of The Fulbourn: Pitch & Sickle

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE CRIMSONBow was actually a small theatre. And its rather bland exterior and simple unobtrusive signage belied a sumptuous interior which had Silas marvelling. The journey from station to premises had been brief, no more than a quarter of an hour, heading southwest out of the centre of the city to where the only traffic was their own carriage. Nancy told them that the university used the Bow for rehearsals while the ADC Theatre was being renovated and enlarged. It had been an opportunity too good to overlook when the freehold was offered up, just last year.

Carrying the sleeping Tilly in his arms, Silas stepped through the black-lacquered doors and into a foyer trimmed floor to ceiling with lush reds and golds. Lengths of fabric draped the walls and framed an assortment of gilded mirrors and paintings, women and men in elaborate costumes. One artwork of particular note was a woman wearing a papier mâché horse head, complete with a mane and a lush tail spilling from her lacy bloomers. The dull thump of music came from another room.

‘Oh, I do like this place.’ Pitch squeezed Silas’s arm.

‘Of course you do.’

Rounded burgundy pots filled each corner, bursting with meticulously cared-for palms and ferns. The moment Silas laid eyes on the greenery, he relaxed. Not that he held any fear about accepting Miss Erwood’s generous offer, but to find such welcome surrounds, a suggestion that there was someone else here who enjoyed a decent plant as much as he did, endeared him to the place at once. Pitch could have his costumes; Silas was very happy with his palms.

The air held the unmistakable tinges of wood smoke and liquor. Pitch stared around with unabashed delight.

‘Oh fuck, I can taste the whisky already,’ he sighed.

‘Pitch,’ Silas whispered, nodding his head at the fae child in his arms. Tilly’s mother had stopped outside to speak with some departing guests, all of whom had been ludicrously drunk.

‘It can’t understand words, Silas,’ Pitch scoffed. ‘Now put it down, it’s not yours, and though I have many talents, I cannot give you one. Nor do I wish to.’ He waved his fingers in front of his nose. ‘Smelly bloody things, they are.’

Silas laughed and played along. ‘Terribly offensive, yes.’ An odd melancholy tinged the lightness of his words. He was never to know that look Tilly gave to her mother. Of child to parent. And he could not even recall if in his human life he had yearned for such a thing.

‘Sorry about that, my dears.’ Miss Erwood bustled back in, gathering the sleeping Tilly from Silas with a grateful smile. The child did not stir at all. ‘Now, how about those drinks. I’ll get her off to bed first of course. If you just head through those doors –’

The mentioned doors swept open, parting to reveal a woman with an astonishing head of brilliant orange hair, twisted and piled on her head in a maniacal fashion and woven through with lengths of pearls and all kinds of sparkly things. She was heavy-set, generous helpings of flesh thickening her bared arms, her breasts two great pillows of stark white spilling over a black-and-white-striped bodice. Her choker held a unique cameo: a naked woman twisting in the rhythm of a silent dance.

‘Nance! Baby girl. You’re back at last. I’ve missed your sorely.’ She swept up to Miss Erwood, and it was very evident that this friendship extended deeper than society preferred. Silas was pleased to see that Miss Erwood did not hold back for their benefit, planting a firm kiss upon the woman’s heavily rouged lips.

‘And I you, Ada.’ She brushed a crooked finger across Adamaris’s chin, unspoken affection passing between them. ‘Now I must get Tilly to bed.’

‘Oh wait, let me get my fix of her.’ Adamaris pressed her nose into the child’s white hair and breathed in deep. ‘Too quiet without her, without you both. I’m going with you next time you see the specialist. I’ve been near to bursting all afternoon to hear what was said.’

‘I’m sorry, we were running so late for the train that I could not call. I shall tell you every word of course, but do not fret. There are no significant changes to worry us.’ Nancy rubbed her partner’s arm. ‘Now, may I introduce some splendid guests that are here at my behest.’ She gestured towards Silas. ‘Mr Bellingham was an absolute knight in shining armour on the train. Tilly slept on him and dribbled, no doubt, for a good hour.’

‘He was able to get her to sleep?’ Ada’s shock lit her face.

Nancy nodded fervently. ‘And she did not move an inch for near on an hour in his arms. Mr Bellingham’s an angel in disguise, I dare say. I’ve offered the Bellinghams our spare room this evening. They’ve made an unexpected trip up and have not yet booked anywhere to stay. I promised them drinks because Mr Bell–’

‘Arthur, please.’ Silas dispensed with formality, but not with deception. ‘And my companion is…Thaddeus.’ Silas was too busy wondering why he’d selected such a cumbersome name to realise his error.

‘Thaddeus, eh?’ Ada’s drawn-on black brow lifted as she stared at Pitch, who in turn was giving Silas a look that could have turned the potted palms brown and crinkled.

‘Yes,’ he said dryly. ‘That is indeed my name. I’ve been found out.’

‘Oh yes, of course,’ Nancy gasped. ‘This makes perfect sense now. I knew there was something about the two of you. How wonderful. Gentlemen, I assure you, you areverywelcome here.’

‘You could not have found a better place.’ Ada’s rouge smeared one of her teeth, evident now her smile was so wide. ‘Come on through, you’ve made it in time for the last show.’

‘I’ll just get Tilly settled and be back to join you as soon as I can.’ Nancy blew Ada a kiss and stepped through a smaller door hidden behind a length of shining gold fabric.

‘I’ll have your absinthe ready and waiting, my love,’ Ada called. ‘Come, come, gentlemen.’

Ada went ahead, pushing the doors with a flourish. The hubbub of a crowd met them in a dimly lit room dank with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes and something richer: the heat of bodies, not unpleasant, but ripe enough to make Silas’s eyes flutter.

‘Thaddeus, really?’ Pitch muttered, coming in to link his arm through Silas’s. ‘I’d prefer Percy if you must know.’

‘Percy?’ Silas laughed, not without some relief to know the daemon wasn’t angry he’d spoiled the ruse. ‘That’s awful.’

‘How dare you, sir. Percy’s mother and father thought it most fitting.’