The Witches of Chiswick

30

When your credit no longer holds good at the Dorchester, move on to the Savoy. And when the Savoy refuses to cater to your needs without further payment, then call upon Simpsons to accommodate you. And when Simpsons will no longer do this, and threatens to retain your luggage and personal effects subsequent to the settling of your bill, then it is time to take humble lodgings in Whitechapel, or board a steamer across the Channel to begin once more at the top.

So much, Hugo Rune had taught to Will.

But, as Rune had worn out his welcome at all of London’s top hotels several years before Will met him, and as Will could no longer return to the Dorchester, it was at the Savoy that Will chose to spend the night with his companions.

“Lord Peter Whimsy,” said the other Will as Will had instructed him to do, “travelling with my charge, Master Makepiece Scribbens, the famous Brentford Snail Boy, and his nurse and nanny, Miss Poppins. A three-bedroomed suite, if you will.”

The benign automaton desk clerk at the Savoy smiled obsequiously and turned the visitors book in the other Will’s direction for him to sign. “Your luggage, your Lordship?” he asked.

“I am Lord Peter Whimsy!” said the other Will. “I do not have luggage. Whatever I require is tailored to my needs, as and when I require it. And I require it now. Have a tailor, a shoemaker, and a representative from Asprey sent up to my suite at the soonest.”

“Yes, your Lordship.”

The suite was splendid enough in its way: three bedrooms and a bathroom leading from a central sitter, with a well-stocked mini-bar and a great deal of comfortable furniture.

Tim sprawled upon a box ottoman.

“I hope the tailor doesn’t take too long,” said he. “Being dressed as the Brentford Snail Boy really doesn’t suit my image.”

“Oh, too bad,” said Will. “I just love being dressed as Miss Poppins.”

“I think it looks rather good on you.”

“I’m fine with Mr Gwynplaine Dhark’s outfit,” said the other Will. “And I will rejoice forever in the memory of him handcuffed in that cell wearing nothing but his underpants. Thank you, at least, for that.”

“I’m glad it made you happy,” said Will.

“Momentarily. But I’m gloomy enough now because by now our escape will have been discovered. And we will be at the top of the most wanted list. We’re in bigger trouble than ever.”

“Don’t go putting a downer on things,” said Tim, fishing into the mini-bar. “We’re free, we escaped, and it was all down to Will.”

“It was all down to Master Makepiece Scribbens,” said Will. “It was his idea.”

“Our pictures will be in all the papers tomorrow,” said the other Will. “We should flee to France, or America, or Australia.”

“Do you have a plan ‘D’, Will?” Tim asked.

“In a few minutes from now,” said Will, “in fact, in possibly less than a ‘trice’ and a ‘twinkling’, a tailor and a shoemaker and a representative from Asprey will arrive. This is Victorian London. Our new clothes and shoes, accoutrements, cufflinks and whatnots will be ready for us by the morning. When we have them, we will leave. I have to sort out all this witch business, I know I do. I know that it’s me who has to do the thwarting. And I know that I will do the thwarting, because if I didn’t, then my other self here wouldn’t exist. I have to do it, no matter what it means for me.”

“And me,” said Tim. “What about me? If you do this, then the me that is me may cease to exist.”

“Which is why I have to do it my way. Not as it is written in The Book Of Rune.” Will pulled The Book Of Rune from his bodice and flung it onto the bed. “I have to save both our futures somehow.”

“How?” Tim asked.

“I don’t know, but if I do it differently, things will be different. Perhaps both futures will exist. Perhaps both futures always existed. I don’t know. This is very complicated, Tim, and I don’t understand it. I’m just making it up as I go along.”

“Like the author,” said Tim.

“What author?” asked Will.

“Any author,” said Tim. “They just make it all up as they go along.”

“No they don’t,” said Will. “Authors research everything. They plan every chapter, paragraph and sentence. They never waste a word. That’s what makes them such very special people.”

“Turn it in, chief,” said Barry. “Everyone knows that authors are a lot of drunken bums.”

“All I know,” said Will, “is that I’m really messed up. Rune has been murdered. The witches are on to me. There’s trouble after trouble. But I will sort it, somehow.”

“You won’t,” said the other Will. “We’ll both die. You cannot cheat your fate and neither can I. And believe me, I tried.”

“And you’ll keep on trying,” said Will. “Because you are me and that’s what we do.”

A knock came at the door.

Tim drew out his pistol.

Will made him put it away. “It’ll be the tailor and the shoemaker and the representative from Asprey,” he told Tim, and to his other self Will said, “let them measure you up and order two suits of clothes. I’ll go and hide in the bathroom until they’re gone, I don’t want to be seen dressed like this.”

Tailors and shoemakers and a representative from Asprey entered. Measuring ups were done, accoutrements, cufflinks and whatnots were chosen. Tailors and shoemakers and the representative from Asprey departed.

“What now?” asked Tim.

“Dinner,” said Will returning from the bathroom. “I believe that the Savoy serves a particularly fine cod and chips. We’ll have some sent up.”

They wined and dined and then they wined some more, and brandied also. And when the brandy was gone they emptied the mini-bar.

And the other Will cheered up once more and even laughed at a joke Tim told him that concerned a pop star and a plastic surgeon, although he didn’t really understand it. And when they all had finally drunk themselves to oblivion, they slept where they sat, or lay, for it had been, all in all, a stressful day for them.

Although possibly less stressful than the days that were to follow, like the following one, for instance.