Steam

Chapter 6

"Pip, get your scrawny backside in here and pass me my bag!"

Pip heard Crowley all the way from the garden. He stood from the muddy patch of plants he was tending and sprinted to the scullery. As he ran he brushed his hands together and the flecks of dirt flew behind like rotten snowflakes. He reached the door, not too out of breath. He scraped his boots clean of mud, picked up a cloth from the counter and began to walk swiftly to the workshop.

At 15, Pip had a rugged handsomeness to his face, his emerald eyes were deep set and glinted stunningly in the sunlight. His head was shaved and he wore glasses. He was rather short but hardworking and that was what mattered. His arms were pale and skinny, his legs not bony but not muscly either. He was slim and agile therefore perfect for the work he was assigned to at the Crowley residence.

A year before, Alexander had been strolling through the town and spotted him selling matches on a street corner. Upon being questioned, he told him he had been orphaned around 8 months ago and his sisters were left in a workhouse whereas he was left to fend for himself on the cruel streets of London. Being a firm yet fair man who was good at heart, he offered for Pip to come and work as an assistant for Prescott and himself.

Feeling like his prayers had been answered, he accepted immediately and swore that he would be ever grateful and work to the best of his ability for as long as he worked for him. A year on, he had still not broken that promise.

Upon meeting Prescott, he mustered up what manners he knew and introduced himself as Pip, who was prepared to fulfil any task handed to him. He was given a moderately large room in the servants quarters, a bed and bath and three sets of clothes and shoes. He was fed twice a day as were the other servants and he had not complained once since his arrival. He felt lucky to have the things he did, and reminded Alexander and Crowley every day without fail how thankful he was.

He briskly walked through the corridor from the scullery to the main hall, then turned a sharp left, down another long corridor and finally arrived at the workshop door. He strode in and went straight over to the large wooden bench not two metres from the door.

"Come on boy, I don't have all day!"

The handle of the tan leather bag felt smooth and worn against his rough hands. The texture felt familiar as he handed it over to Thomas. Without even glancing up he picked a tool from the depths of the bag and placed it on the floor. He was working at his desk, which was cluttered with who knows what, on a new invention that he refused to explain to anyone apart from Crowley. Pip wasn't too interested in it to be fair; curious of course, as most youths are but the subject failed to fascinate him and he much preferred his manual labor in the gardens. The work was gruelling nor easy and that was how he liked it.

Pip was never in the workshop long enough to appreciate what was in there; he was rarely even in there long enough to take a breath! But today he stood and marvelled at hi surroundings. The room was rectangular and the black and white tiles stretched for quite some way. Alexander stood at the far end this afternoon, looking quizzically at some blueprints pinned up on a huge drawing board. Pip had never seen one like it; it filled almost the whole back wall. Despite its size, the two gentleman had somehow managed to pretty much fill it with numerous blueprints, sketches and notes; all in Alexander's nearly illegible black handwriting. The walls were a concrete grey and were lined with heavy wooden shelves. The lower ones stocked jars and pots of nuts, screws and other miscellaneous pieces of metal. The higher ones carried various sized boxes containing things unknown to Pip.

"I think it's time you ought to get back to the garden, should you not?" Thomas caught Pip unawares and he jumped at his question.

"Oh yes sir, for sure! Don't hesitate to shout if there is anything I can help you with!"

And with that he turned and left the workshop without waiting for a reply. Most likely because he knew the reply would be something along the lines of: "Oh believe me, I would never hesitate my boy!"

Back through the corridors and main hall, through the scullery and out in to the gardens he whistled a tune he'd come up with himself. He'd luckily just finished as Prescott had shouted him and he was to move on to the rose gardens.

The rose gardens were his favourite place to work, especially at this time of year. October time was where there were mild afternoons and evenings where he could work completely at peace among the flowers and golden trees. Also, Victoria would often take strolls late in the afternoon and sing in the gardens. She'd wear her coat and walk for hours between the roses. She'd sing to herself completely unaware of anyone listening. Pip swore on his parents' grave that her's was the most beautiful singing voice he'd even been fortunate enough to hear. Her voice would ring out in the crisp autumn air and rustle the toffee-coloured leaves that crowded the gravel paths. Whenever he heard her come out, he'd scamper off behind a rose bush, or wall and simply sit and listen to her song. It soothed him and he fell completely in love with it after only working there for a few months.

Though he admired Thomas greatly, he envied him incessantly for being so lucky as to have a woman as beautiful as Victoria. Pip often fantasised as he worked what it would be like to be Thomas; to know that she loved you. He loved her with all his heart but knew he never stood a chance. He was simply an assistant to her brother; too young and not important. He hoped one day that he would find another woman he could love, though he would always know deep down she could never compare to Victoria, he believed it would help him to forget her, even for a short while.

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