everything a person fears when they are trapped in a dark place.
‘Well,’ began the nephew, his voice now a little more strained and his smile a little more forced. ‘The Golem is a man made from clay. He is brought to life by means of magic and serves as a slave to his master.
‘There is a story of Rabbi Loeb in Prague many, many years ago, who created such a Golem and brought it to life, and it served my people there, guarding them and doing work for them. He was a giant, you see – much like your good self – and very strong.’
‘And what happened to him?’ said Creecher, seemingly fascinated by the tale.
‘The Golem?’ said the nephew, rubbing his clammy hands together. ‘Well, he ran amok, I’m afraid, and the rabbi was forced to destroy him and return him to the dust from which he had come. It is a fairy tale. Nothing more. But my uncle is from that part of the world, you see, and these things have a special grip on his mind.’
Creecher made no response, but Billy could sense that, for whatever reason, he had attached some significance to this yarn.
‘Between me and you, my friends, Uncle is not much longer for this world.’
He opened his hands and shrugged.
‘But I am here to do what I can to help keep the business afloat,’ he continued. ‘So what can I do for you, gentlemen – in return for those goods you offered us?’
‘I need new clothes and shoes,’ said Billy. ‘Nothing too smart, but smart enough. I need to be able to pass as a servant or a delivery boy. Respectable, but not too much. I want to blend in.’
The nephew nodded his way through Billy’s specifications.
‘You want to be invisible. I understand. You’re pretty much my height and build,’ said the nephew, looking Billy up and down. ‘We can find you something, I’m sure.’
‘Hey!’ said Billy. ‘I don’t want your cast-offs, mind. They don’t have to be new, but they need to be decent.’
The nephew recoiled theatrically, clutching his heart.
‘I’m offended that you would even think I’d pull a trick like that.’
‘Him, too,’ said Billy, ignoring the protests. ‘He needs new clothes and all.’
The nephew raised his eyebrows and tapped his fingers together. ‘That will be more of a challenge,’ he said with a grin.
‘Yeah – but you can do it?’ asked Billy.
The nephew nodded.
‘Everything is possible, my friend. We do a little business with Mr Bartholomew down the road.’
‘The undertaker,’ Billy told Creecher.
‘He had a fearful tall man through his hands last week. I was wondering where we’d find a buyer for those clothes. You ain’t got no objection to wearing a dead man’s clothes?’
‘None,’ said Creecher, with a wry smile.
‘Very well, then,’ said the nephew. ‘He wasn’t quite your height, of course,’ he continued with a nervous chuckle. ‘But with a few alterations here and there. If I can just take a few measurements?’
Billy looked at Creecher, who after a moment nodded his assent. The nephew took a pencil and small pad from one waistcoat pocket and a tape measure from the other.
‘Now then, now then,’ he said, dragging a chair noisily over to Creecher. He passed the candle to Billy and climbed up to stand on the chair. He was still not as tall as the giant, his eyes level with Creecher’s teeth. Billy saw him recoil from the foul breath and grinned.
‘I . . . I . . . I feel a little dizzy,’ said the nephew shakily. ‘What a curious view of the world you must have, my friend.’
‘His name’s –’
‘I don’t need to know names,’ said the nephew, putting a finger to his lips. ‘No need to know more than you need to know, eh? Knowledge is a fine thing, of course, but it can stretch your neck, too. Or those of your acquaintance.’
Billy nodded.
‘Now then, my mighty friend,’ said the nephew, ‘if I could just ask you to raise your arms.’
He passed the tape round Creecher’s chest, not without a little difficulty,
‘Well,’ began the nephew, his voice now a little more strained and his smile a little more forced. ‘The Golem is a man made from clay. He is brought to life by means of magic and serves as a slave to his master.
‘There is a story of Rabbi Loeb in Prague many, many years ago, who created such a Golem and brought it to life, and it served my people there, guarding them and doing work for them. He was a giant, you see – much like your good self – and very strong.’
‘And what happened to him?’ said Creecher, seemingly fascinated by the tale.
‘The Golem?’ said the nephew, rubbing his clammy hands together. ‘Well, he ran amok, I’m afraid, and the rabbi was forced to destroy him and return him to the dust from which he had come. It is a fairy tale. Nothing more. But my uncle is from that part of the world, you see, and these things have a special grip on his mind.’
Creecher made no response, but Billy could sense that, for whatever reason, he had attached some significance to this yarn.
‘Between me and you, my friends, Uncle is not much longer for this world.’
He opened his hands and shrugged.
‘But I am here to do what I can to help keep the business afloat,’ he continued. ‘So what can I do for you, gentlemen – in return for those goods you offered us?’
‘I need new clothes and shoes,’ said Billy. ‘Nothing too smart, but smart enough. I need to be able to pass as a servant or a delivery boy. Respectable, but not too much. I want to blend in.’
The nephew nodded his way through Billy’s specifications.
‘You want to be invisible. I understand. You’re pretty much my height and build,’ said the nephew, looking Billy up and down. ‘We can find you something, I’m sure.’
‘Hey!’ said Billy. ‘I don’t want your cast-offs, mind. They don’t have to be new, but they need to be decent.’
The nephew recoiled theatrically, clutching his heart.
‘I’m offended that you would even think I’d pull a trick like that.’
‘Him, too,’ said Billy, ignoring the protests. ‘He needs new clothes and all.’
The nephew raised his eyebrows and tapped his fingers together. ‘That will be more of a challenge,’ he said with a grin.
‘Yeah – but you can do it?’ asked Billy.
The nephew nodded.
‘Everything is possible, my friend. We do a little business with Mr Bartholomew down the road.’
‘The undertaker,’ Billy told Creecher.
‘He had a fearful tall man through his hands last week. I was wondering where we’d find a buyer for those clothes. You ain’t got no objection to wearing a dead man’s clothes?’
‘None,’ said Creecher, with a wry smile.
‘Very well, then,’ said the nephew. ‘He wasn’t quite your height, of course,’ he continued with a nervous chuckle. ‘But with a few alterations here and there. If I can just take a few measurements?’
Billy looked at Creecher, who after a moment nodded his assent. The nephew took a pencil and small pad from one waistcoat pocket and a tape measure from the other.
‘Now then, now then,’ he said, dragging a chair noisily over to Creecher. He passed the candle to Billy and climbed up to stand on the chair. He was still not as tall as the giant, his eyes level with Creecher’s teeth. Billy saw him recoil from the foul breath and grinned.
‘I . . . I . . . I feel a little dizzy,’ said the nephew shakily. ‘What a curious view of the world you must have, my friend.’
‘His name’s –’
‘I don’t need to know names,’ said the nephew, putting a finger to his lips. ‘No need to know more than you need to know, eh? Knowledge is a fine thing, of course, but it can stretch your neck, too. Or those of your acquaintance.’
Billy nodded.
‘Now then, my mighty friend,’ said the nephew, ‘if I could just ask you to raise your arms.’
He passed the tape round Creecher’s chest, not without a little difficulty,
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