‘Are you hungry, Deborah?’ She nodded. ‘Well, why don’t I get you some food?’ He jumped up and crept into Edgware Road, returned some seconds later with two pastries, intricate things encrusted with pistachios and icing sugar, which he put in Deborah’s lap.
She bit into one, licked her lips. She was obviously hungry.
‘I was asleep,’ she said, honey muffling her voice. ‘I heard the rats in my sleep and they woke me up. Oh, it’s OK. I’m glad I’m awake. I wasn’t sleeping very well, actually, I was dreaming horrible things.’
‘Wasn’t waking to a plague of rats a horrible thing?’
She laughed jerkily.
‘Only at first,’ she said. ‘Now I know they do what you tell them I don’t mind so much. It’s very cold.’ She had finished the pastries. She had eaten very fast.
There was a faint scratching. The rats were becoming impatient. Saul barked a brief order to be quiet and the sound ceased. It feels so easy, he thought, so simple to take control like this. It didn’t even excite him.
‘Do you want to go to sleep, Deborah?’
‘What do you mean? Her voice was suddenly suspicious, even afraid. She almost whined in her trepidation, and bundled herself up into her sleeping bag. Saul reached out to reassure her and she shrank away from him in horror and he realized with a sinking feeling that she had heard such a line before, but spoken with different intent.’
Saul knew that the streets were brutal.
He wondered how often she had been raped.
He moved his hands away, held them up in surrender.
‘I’m sorry, Deborah, I didn’t mean anything. I’m just not tired. I’m lonely, and I thought we could go for a wander.’ She still looked at him with terrified eyes. ‘The won’t… I’ll go, if you want.’ He did not want to leave. ‘I want to show you around. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.’
‘I don’t know I don’t know what you want to do…’ she moaned.
‘Don’t you want to do something?’ he said desperately. ‘Aren’t you bored? I swear I won’t touch you, won’t do anything, I just want some company…’
He looked at her and saw her wavering. He put on a silly expression, a clownish sad face, sniffed theatrically, nauseating himself.
Deborah laughed nervously.
‘Please,’ he said, ‘let’s go.’
‘Oh… OK…’ She looked pleased, even though nervous.
He grinned at her reassuringly.
He felt ill at ease, shockingly clumsy. Even the simplest mannerism cost him huge effort. He was relieved that he had not frightened her away.
‘I’ll take you up to the roofs, if you want, Deborah, and I’ll show you the quick way of getting around London on foot. Can I…’ He paused. ‘Can I bring the rats?’
Chapter Seventeen
Bring them, bring the rats, she said, after a little persuasion. It was obvious that, despite her fear, she was fascinated. Saul gave a long whistle and the rats appeared again, eager to show willing.
He did not know how it was he commanded them. It seemed to make no difference what words he used, or if he whistled, or gave a brief shout. He could not think an order for it to be obeyed, he had to make a sound, but the rats seemed to understand him through an empathy, not through language. He invested the sound he made with the spirit of an order for it to be obeyed.
He made the rats line up in rows, to Deborah’s delight. He made them move forward and backwards. When he had shown off and made the rats ridiculous, taking away Deborah’s fear, she would even touch one. She stroked it nervously as Saul murmured deep in his throat, held the rat in thrall so it would not panic, bite or run.
‘No offence or anything, Saul, but you smell, you know,’ she said.
‘It’s where I live. Smell it again; it’s not as bad as you think at first.’
She leaned over and sniffed him, wrinkled up her nose and shook her head apologetically.
‘You’ll get used to it,’ he said.
When she had lost her fear he suggested that they move. She looked nervous again, but nodded.
‘Which way?’ she said.
‘Do you trust me?’ Saul said.
‘I think so…’
‘Then hold on to me. We’re going up, straight up the walls.’
She did not understand at first, and when she did she was terrified, refused to believe that Saul could carry her. He reached out to her gently, slowly so as not to intimidate her, and when he was sure she did not mind being touched, he lifted her easily, held her with his arms outstretched, feeling his muscles snap hard with rat-strength. She laughed delightedly.
He felt like a superhero.
Ratman, he thought as he held her. Doing good with his bizarre rat-powers. Helping the mentally ill. Carrying them around London faster than shit through a sewer. He sneered at himself.
‘See. I told you I could carry you. Let me put you on my back.’
‘Mnnnn…’ Deborah swung her face from side to side like a flattered child, smiling a little. ‘MnnnnOK.’
‘Great. Let’s go.’ The rats scampered a little closer, hearing the dynamism in Saul’s voice.
Deborah still looked at them nervously every time they moved, but she had forgotten most of her fear.
Saul bent down and offered her his back. She stepped out of the sleeping-bag.
‘Shall I take this?’ she said, and Saul shook his head.
‘Just hide it. I’ll bring you back here.’
Deborah gingerly clambered onto Saul’s back, and he was struck once again by the fact that it was only her tenuous grip on reality that meant she would do as he suggested. Approach most people with the offer to piggyback them across the roofs and he would not have met with such a willing response.
The irony, of course, being that she was right to trust him.
He rose to his feet and she shrieked as if she was on a fairground ride.
‘Gentle, gentle!’ she yelled, and he hissed at her to keep her voice down.
He strode into the passage, and all around him he heard the pattering of hundreds of rat feet. This is bow I changed worlds, he thought, carried to my new city on the back of a rat. What goes around comes around.
He stopped below a window, its sill nine feet above the pavement.
‘See you up top,’ he hissed at the rats, who disappeared in a flurry, as before. He heard the scrape of claws on brick.
Saul jumped up and grasped the window, and Deborah shouted, a yell which did not die away but ballooned in terror as her fingers fought for purchase on his back. His feet swung above the ground, the toes of his prison-issue shoes scraping the wall.
He called for her to shut up, but she would not, and words began to form in her protest.
‘Stopstopstop,’ she wailed and Saul, mindful of discovery, hauled himself at speed up into the space by the window, flattened himself against the glass, reached up again, determined to pull Deborah out of earshot before she could order him down.
He scrambled up the building. Not yet as fast as King Rat, but so smooth, he thought to himself as he climbed. Terror had stopped Deborah’s voice. I know that feeling, thought Saul, and smiled. He would bring this to a close as fast as he could.
Her weight on his back was only a minor irritation. This was not a hard wall to climb. It was festooned with windows and cracks and protuberances and drainpipes. But Saul knew that to Deborah it was just so much unbreachable brick. This building had a flat roof contained by rails, one of which he grasped now and tugged at, raising himself and his cargo up onto the skyline.