The Borribles Read online

  "A Rumble."

  "Some people call them Rumbles," Spiff was bitter. "I know what I call them; bloody scavengers, no better than you or me for all their la-di-dah manners. Years of them I've seen, sneerin' at us, down their hoity-toity snouts. Thieves they are, just like us, only they call it finding. A copper would call it stealing by finding. They're a bit quick at it too, mate, I can tell you; why an old lady has only got to put down her bag of peppermints to scratch herself and there they are, gone in a flash. Bloody hypocrites! Drop a gob-stopper and you won't hear it hit the ground, one of these little bleeders has scooped it up in mid-air. Keeping the place clean they call it, huh, so clean there's nothing left for anyone else."

  Knocker and Lightfinger looked at each other. They had never seen Spiff so angry.

  "Oh, come on, Spiff," said Lightfinger carelessly, "it can't be that bad, the Rumbles have never done me any harm."

  Spiff jumped a foot from the floor. "Don't you know anything about the old days," he cried, "the struggles and fights we had to win free? Why those times were terrible."

  "Oh, I know about it all right but that was your time, not mine," and Lightfinger leaned against the wall, crossed his ankles and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  "Don't care was made to care," said Spiff sententiously, "and history repeats itself, in fact it don't repeat itself, it just goes on being the same."

  "Well, what are we going to do with this rabbit, anyway?" asked Knocker.

  "Lock it up in the cupboard," said Spiff rubbing his chin. "I'll call an Annual General Emergency Session tomorrow. You two can run down the street with the message right now, before you go to bed. I know the others won't like it but this is an emergency and we will have to act and think together for once!"

  Spiff took one last look at the Rumble, then he shoved his Borrible hat further onto his head, spun on his heels and left the room. Knocker got the prisoner to his feet and locked him in the store-cupboard, then he and Lightfinger left by the basement door and spent the next few hours informing all the Borribles in the High Street what was afoot. The Annual General Emergency Session was set for the next morning at ten o'clock. Finally the two exhuasted lookouts got to their own room at the top of Spiff's house and they climbed into a bundle of old blankets and sacks that formed their bed.

  "Ho, ho, oh, ho," yawned Knocker, "what a day." "Goo 'night," said Lightfinger, and was immediately asleep.

  A Borrible's main business is to stay alive. This is an occupation that takes up most of his time; getting food from what is left about, finding stuff before it is lost and knocking food off barrows and out of the store-rooms of supermarkets and such like. That is why Borribles live round shopping centres and along street-markets like Brixton and Petticoat Lane. Then again much of their provisions come from the gear that falls off lorries, which happens a lot in London with the bumpy roads.

  So important is that aspect of their life that they have many proverbs about it and they are all gathered together in The Borrible Book of Proverbs. Some of these sayings are very ancient, like "That which falls off a lorry belongs to he who follows the lorry," and "That which is found has never been lost." One of their favourites is, "It is impossible to lose that which does not belong to you," and Borribles use that one a lot to people who complain about their thieving.

  By eight o'clock on the morning following the capture of Timbucktoo Rumble, Battersea High Street market was in full swing. There were barrows and stalls along each side of the road and so little space was left for traffic that not a car dared venture down there. The barrows had been shoved very close together and it was easy for a Borrible to crawl underneath them from one end of the street to the other, picking up fruit on the way. Some Borribles mingled with the shoppers on the pavements, others looked into carrier bags and asked questions, creating diversions while their mates "did the shopping". It was a good way to get breakfast.

  The costermongers shouted at each other and at prospective customers, urging them to buy. There were barrows selling fruit, ironmongery, fish and large crabs; the shops had their doors wide open and friends were drinking tea in Notarianni's cafe and chatting their heads off. The pie-and-eel shop, Brown's, was doing a fine business and people from the different blocks of buildings, Archer House, Eaton House and White House, were loafing about the street and talking about passing bets in Ernie Swash's. The noise was so great that it rose right up the side of the house where Knocker and Lightfinger were sleeping and woke them in their bed on the floor.

  Knocker sat up and shoved his companion. "Come on, breakfast." They had both been out so late the night before that when they came back it had been bright morning. Some of the costers had been putting out their barrows and loading them up, so the two Borribles had had no trouble in getting provisions. Breakfast was there beside them: one grapefruit, two oranges and two large doughnuts with jam.

  Lightfinger rubbed his eyes and the sacks and blankets dropped from him. He reached for an orange, bit it open and sucked hard, making a lot of noise. The orange was wonderful, it had been chilled to ice crystals by the lorry journeys to and from Covent Garden. "Ooaagh," he groaned with pleasure, "that's lovely"

  "We'd better hurry up," said Knocker, "we don't want to miss the meeting."

  Halfway down the High Street was an old and disused brickbuilt hall. It had last been occupied by photographers called "Scots of London," but they had gone long since and now the shop fell within the province of the Borribles. It was here that Spiff had asked the other stewards of the High Street to meet him, and as it was a special meeting any other Borrible who wanted could come and listen and eventually make comments, if he wished.

  Inside the hall Spiff stood on the stage talking away as fast as he could go. He was listened to, very seriously, by about a score of his colleagues. Other Borribles, ragged, dirty and inquisitive, slipped in through the side entrances and stood about, wondering what was going on. They did not have long to wait.

  Spiff stepped to the front of the stage and held up both his arms like a politician. He shouted several times and gradually the noise in the hall became less and less until eventually there was a kind of excited silence. The stewards behind Spiff took their seats and leaned forward attentively. Spiff looked all round and then began to speak, relishing the occasion, for if he had a weakness at all, it was a delight in speechifying.

  "Brother and sister Borribles, I am pleased to see so many of you here, for today is a day of decision. Our way of life is threatened and we must either act together or perish."

  The hall went quieter and the tension rose.

  "Not to beat about the bush, I'll give you the facts, then I'll tell you what me, and the rest of your elected representatives, have decided, and then, in due order, we shall put it to the general vote. Right, the facts. Last night, our chief lookout and his assistant . . ."

  All heads turned to Knocker and Lightfinger.

  ". . . while on a routine inspection of the Battersea area discovered that we had been invaded by the Rumbles."

  The crowd drew in a deep breath and then let it out again in a long explosion and Spiff looked round for effect and more silence.

  "It seems that a large force came down here, all the way from Rumbledom, and occupied the Park for several hours. They were digging! Now, in my opinion, this can only be a preparation for a take-over of Battersea, an erosion of our freedom, a new and subtle kind of slavery and a clipping of ears. Things have been bearable as long as the Rumbles have stayed in Rumbledom, where they belong, but this is something else."

  Murmurs of assent came from the assembly but Spiff held up his hand and went on.

  "There is only one answer, my friends, pre-emptive defence. We must attack before we are attacked. We, my brother stewards and I, have evolved a plan to destroy the Rumbles at the heart of their organisation. However . . ."

  Spiff broke off for a second and admonished the ceiling with a grubby finger.

  ". . . to carry out this plan we shall nee
d to search carefully among the ranks of the nameless. From those who have not yet had their first adventure we must select the bravest, the slyest, the craftiest and the most resourceful. It is not only the enemy we have to fear, but the enormous distance between us and him, dangerous terrain. The Rumble is confident in his stronghold, blinded by his own conceit, safe, so he thinks, in the security of his own riches and comfort, but that is where we shall strike, with a handful of chosen Borribles. We shall need dedicated volunteers but remember, those who go may never return. Blood will be spilt."

  At this there was a terrific hush in the hall and the Borribles looked at each other with trepidation. An adventure was one thing, death another.

  "We feel," went on Spiff, "that Battersea should not bear this brunt alone. All London Borribles are involved. To this end messages will be sent out over the city and certain tribes will be asked to send their likeliest un-named champions to us for training and instruction. Likewise, from among the ranks of the Battersea nameless, we shall choose one who shows the greatest promise. We intend to approach the following groups: the Totters of Tooting, the Wendles of Wandsworth, the Stumpers of Stepney, the Whitechapel Wallopers, the Peckham Punch-uppers, the Neasden Nudgers and the Hoxton Humpers. Details of the raid will be worked out when all the candidates have arrived."

  Spiff stopped for breath and the hall became alive and buzzed with conversation. Who, people wondered, would be chosen as the Battersea representative on the expedition? An honour, yes, but what a danger too.

  Knocker swore to himself; "Wish I didn't have my name already, that's a real adventure that is, wish I could go."

  Spiff called for quiet again, and got it, after a while. Now he prepared for his moment of high drama. He made a sign to the side of the stage and the prisoner was brought on for all to see. There was a stunned silence. The Rumble was still taped round the snout but its beady eyes glowed a fearful red and it stood upright and unmoved.

  "This," shouted Spiff, "is the enemy, no braver than us, no more dangerous, but he is difficult of access, well-protected in his burrows, he is rich and he is powerful, thinks himself superior to all Borribles by divine right. This is the enemy who wants to take Battersea into his grasp. Even now they may be digging under the streets to emerge in your very back-yard, even now they may be undermining your way of life, silently, like dirty moles."

  Spiff took a deep breath and shook his arms in front of his body as if he was emptying a sack of cement and the crowd stirred with emotion. Spiff raised his voice a further notch. "This is the enemy, brothers, and we all know that he must be stopped at all costs, yes, but more than that, he must be eliminated, and who are the Borribles to do it? Why we are!"

  An enormous cheer gushed from the audience. "Throw it in the river," came a voice from the back of the hall, "with a bicycle round its neck."

  This suggestion was so popular that it was taken up on all sides.

  "Yeah," came the shout, "in the river, steal a bike someone."

  Spiff smiled indulgently."I understand your feelings, brothers," he looked at the Rumble, "but I have a better plan. Let me explain. The one thing that these objects fear above all others," he touched the Rumble lightly with a disdainful finger, "is discovery! They would hate to be unmasked and shown for what they really are. In their mythology the greatest possible disaster is what they call the Great Rumble Hunt. Their whole world is built on a false confidence, friends; the Great Rumble Hunt will destroy that confidence, and we, the Borribles of Battersea, will start that Rumble Hunt. But," Spiff had to shout across the cheering, "this is to be a war of nerves, we want them to know that something really nasty is on the way . . . us! And that is where this little rodent comes in. We propose to stick a notice onto the fur of this—carpet bag, and send it back along the chain of Borribles, right back to Rumbledom, where it will be discovered in an exhausted and dishevelled state as proof that we mean business. The message will say, 'The Great Rumble Hunt is on. Beware the Borribles!' All those in favour say 'Aye'."

  Another enormous cheer rose from the assembly. Borribles clasped each other, jumped up and down and shouted, "We'll show 'em, we'll teach those rabbits to come down here." Only Knocker was unhappy, wishing he could get rid of his name.

  The stewards on the stage left with Spiff and the prisoner and the hall gradually emptied as the various groups of Borribles made their way back to their own houses, cellars and sheds, to discuss the morning meeting and to wonder who would be chosen as the Battersea champion to go with the others. Those who were not known for their bravery kept very quiet and decided not to call attention to themselves, for there are Borribles who go right through life without ever earning themselves a name. But there are others of a different stamp, and they ran back to the market directly from the meeting, stole some paper and, without delay, sat down and wrote a note to Spiff begging for the position.

  Knocker walked back to his house, alone. Lightfinger had gone off on a food raid but Knocker wasn't hungry. He felt thwarted. He knew that there was absolutely no chance of him being considered for the expediton to Rumbledom. He went into the basement of the deserted house and made his way upstairs. As he passed Spiff's door it was thrown open and the steward appeared, beaming.

  "Right, lad," he said, "in here, just the bloke we want, look lively, the others want a word with you."

  Knocker stepped inside the room and found it crowded with the stewards who had been on the stage with Spiff. The prisoner had disappeared. Knocker took off his woollen cap and held it in his hands; he had good pointed ears showing a high range of intelligence and alertness. The stewards nodded in approval. They were sitting round the room comfortably relaxed on upholstered orange-boxes and little grape-barrels. Spiff settled into a fine armchair that must have fallen off a very expensive furniture lorry or removal van.

  "Sit down, lad," he said. "We wanted to thank you for your good work last night, champion that was, champion." He consulted a sheaf of papers. "Now to business; we want to ask your advice. As you may know, there are eight Rumbles in the Rumble High Command. I feel that if we can eliminate them, the rest of the Rumble social structure will fall to pieces and they won't have time to interfere with us any more. So that's why we are sending eight Borribles only, one for each High Rumble. There will be one from Tooting, Hoxton, Wandsworth—you heard all that already. But, Knocker, who are we going to send from Battersea?"

  "The point is," said one of the other stewards, "you are out and about a lot, you see a lot of Borribles in action, who do you think would be a good choice?"

  Knocker thought for a while. "It's tricky," he said at length, "there's quite a few who are good. There's a bunch of bright lads down by Morgan's Crucible Works, some others under the railway arches at Battersea Park Station, but I think the brightest of the lot, out of the whole Borough, is one who lives up on Lavender Hill, bright as a button and smart as paint."

  "Whereabouts does he hang out?" asked another steward.

  "Underneath the nick," said Knocker, who had been saving up the surprise.

  "Underneath the nick!" cried a dozen voices. "He must be mad."

  Knocker laughed. "Oh, no. Bright. There's a stack of rooms that are left empty each and every night. It's centrally heated, blankets galore, constant electricity and hot water. You name it, he's got it. In fact he's got some of the Woollies thinking he's a local lad and in the daytime he often does the odd errand for 'em. You see he doesn't even have to do a lot of thieving; he's got almost everything he needs on the spot."

  "I should have known about this before," said Spiff, looking a bit disgruntled.

  "I'm sorry," explained Knocker, "but I was hoping to make the boy a lookout for us. I was waiting for the right adventure to come up so that he could get a name, and I think this must be it."

  Spiff looked round at the other stewards.

  "Carried," he said, and they nodded. "Right, that's settled. Now, Knocker, I want you to send a runner up to Lavender Hill and get that wazzisname dow
n here. As soon as the champions come in from the other Boroughs we shall have to begin a training session. As well as that, I want you to get some volunteers to do some spare-time thieving. We're going to need lots of things for the expeditionary force, grub, weather-proof clothing, good catapults, watches, compasses, anything that might be useful. You are our best lookout so I want you to organise the provisioning of the expedition. I know you've got your own thieving to do, and so have the others, but do what you can. This expedition cannot afford to fail."

  Knocker nodded. His heart was bursting with pride, he was being involved, which was more than he had dared to hope. "Is there a chance of anything else, Spiff?"

  "What do you mean? You can't go on it, you know, that's a rule."

  "I know that. It's, well, you said they would have to be trained. I'm a good Borrible lookout, well, I could train them . . . couldn't I?"

  Spiff gave Knocker a long look, a look that went right through the Borrible and saw everything. "Hmm," he said, smiling a secret smile, "you are keen, aren't you? How many names have you got?"

  "Just the one," answered Knocker feeling uncomfortable.

  Spiff chuckled and looked at the other stewards. "He reminds me of me," he said. "Well, brothers, shall he train the team?"

  The motion was passed and Knocker was delighted. He wasn't the chief lookout for nothing and he knew how to get his own way. He got up to go, feeling proud and also grateful to Spiff. The steward detained him.

  "Here, take this envelope, it's instructions about the Rumble, he's downstairs in the cupboard. Send him packing, try not to let anyone see him, they might chuck him in the river anyway."

  Knocker ran downstairs and opened the cupboard. Sure enough the Rumble was there, his paws still tied behind him and a notice glued onto his fur, which had gone all spiky and dirty.