and wobbled on his chair. Once the measurement was taken he jotted it down in his notebook with a whistle.
‘If you could hold that there,’ he said to Creecher, asking the giant to hold the tip of the tape to the back of his collar while he hopped from the chair and straightened the tape out to measure the length from the collar to the floor. Again he noted the measurement and again he whistled, half in admiration and half in amazement.
He measured the giant’s boots from heel to toe and across the width.
‘Bigger than these,’ said Creecher. ‘They crush my feet.’
‘They will have to be specially made, of course, but I know a cobbler who will do a good job. He’ll be happy to take the two pairs of boots in payment, if that’s all right with you?’
Billy nodded.
‘While I’m down here,’ said the nephew, putting the tip of the tape to Creecher’s groin. The giant roared and shoved him away.
‘Easy, easy!’ said the nephew. ‘I meant no harm. It’s what we do to measure the trouser length. It does make you wonder, though, don’t it? The size of him and what not.’
Creecher clenched his fist and moved forward. Billy chuckled, then Gratz called from the next room.
‘It’s all right, Uncle,’ shouted the nephew. ‘The gentlemen have almost finished.’
Creecher calmed himself and stepped back, scowling.
‘I think maybe you ought to guess,’ said Billy, grinning.
‘I think we’ll guess at the waist, too,’ said the nephew breathlessly. ‘That’s enough measuring for one day.’
‘When will they be done?’ Billy asked.
‘Beginning of next week good enough?’
‘The end of this week,’ said Creecher.
‘Of course. Right you are, gentlemen,’ said the nephew. ‘You know the way out, don’t you?’
Creecher walked to the door and Billy followed him.
‘Terrible thing about Fletcher,’ said the nephew as Billy was about to leave.
‘Yeah?’ said Billy, with all the disinterest he could muster.
‘Found him in Fleet Ditch, they did. Skull crushed in like a walnut.’
‘He had a lot of enemies,’ said Billy more coolly than he felt.
His mind reeled. So Creecher had dealt with Fletcher, after all. Billy could not deny it was a relief to be rid of him, but this reminder of the dreadful power of the giant unnerved him.
The nephew smiled and nodded, studying Billy’s face intently.
‘So he did, my friend. So he did.’
CHAPTER X.
A rancid mist drifted in from the river. It tasted of rotten fish. Billy coughed and spat on to the pavement, yawned and stretched.
It was a cold morning: crypt cold. Horses made their way warily over the treacherous cobbles, steam rising from their sweating flanks. Cartwheels skittered and squeaked. Hunched drivers clenched their teeth.
Billy stood under an archway waiting for Frankenstein and Clerval to emerge from their rooms on the opposite side of the street. He stomped his feet and blew into his clasped hands, trying to warm them.
The air was so chilled he could feel it stinging his flesh, biting into his fingertips, his nose, his ears. It seemed to have sucked the life out of everything and everyone around him, slowing the world down to a snail’s pace and painting it a dozen shades of dull grey.
Billy cursed the two foreigners, who he was sure were sitting next to a raging fire, eating a warm and hearty breakfast while he stood freezing his balls off outside.
All this waiting for Frankenstein and Clerval had given him time to think – perhaps too much time. Rumination was a novelty for Billy. He had rarely had great cause to think much beyond where his next meal was going to come from, or where he was going to sleep.
But since meeting Creecher, when his life had taken this new course, he found more and more that his head was full of thoughts, all crowding in on each other.
Sometimes he thought about his mother, although he tried not to. Thinking about his time with her was like holding his hand over a flame: he could only do it
‘If you could hold that there,’ he said to Creecher, asking the giant to hold the tip of the tape to the back of his collar while he hopped from the chair and straightened the tape out to measure the length from the collar to the floor. Again he noted the measurement and again he whistled, half in admiration and half in amazement.
He measured the giant’s boots from heel to toe and across the width.
‘Bigger than these,’ said Creecher. ‘They crush my feet.’
‘They will have to be specially made, of course, but I know a cobbler who will do a good job. He’ll be happy to take the two pairs of boots in payment, if that’s all right with you?’
Billy nodded.
‘While I’m down here,’ said the nephew, putting the tip of the tape to Creecher’s groin. The giant roared and shoved him away.
‘Easy, easy!’ said the nephew. ‘I meant no harm. It’s what we do to measure the trouser length. It does make you wonder, though, don’t it? The size of him and what not.’
Creecher clenched his fist and moved forward. Billy chuckled, then Gratz called from the next room.
‘It’s all right, Uncle,’ shouted the nephew. ‘The gentlemen have almost finished.’
Creecher calmed himself and stepped back, scowling.
‘I think maybe you ought to guess,’ said Billy, grinning.
‘I think we’ll guess at the waist, too,’ said the nephew breathlessly. ‘That’s enough measuring for one day.’
‘When will they be done?’ Billy asked.
‘Beginning of next week good enough?’
‘The end of this week,’ said Creecher.
‘Of course. Right you are, gentlemen,’ said the nephew. ‘You know the way out, don’t you?’
Creecher walked to the door and Billy followed him.
‘Terrible thing about Fletcher,’ said the nephew as Billy was about to leave.
‘Yeah?’ said Billy, with all the disinterest he could muster.
‘Found him in Fleet Ditch, they did. Skull crushed in like a walnut.’
‘He had a lot of enemies,’ said Billy more coolly than he felt.
His mind reeled. So Creecher had dealt with Fletcher, after all. Billy could not deny it was a relief to be rid of him, but this reminder of the dreadful power of the giant unnerved him.
The nephew smiled and nodded, studying Billy’s face intently.
‘So he did, my friend. So he did.’
CHAPTER X.
A rancid mist drifted in from the river. It tasted of rotten fish. Billy coughed and spat on to the pavement, yawned and stretched.
It was a cold morning: crypt cold. Horses made their way warily over the treacherous cobbles, steam rising from their sweating flanks. Cartwheels skittered and squeaked. Hunched drivers clenched their teeth.
Billy stood under an archway waiting for Frankenstein and Clerval to emerge from their rooms on the opposite side of the street. He stomped his feet and blew into his clasped hands, trying to warm them.
The air was so chilled he could feel it stinging his flesh, biting into his fingertips, his nose, his ears. It seemed to have sucked the life out of everything and everyone around him, slowing the world down to a snail’s pace and painting it a dozen shades of dull grey.
Billy cursed the two foreigners, who he was sure were sitting next to a raging fire, eating a warm and hearty breakfast while he stood freezing his balls off outside.
All this waiting for Frankenstein and Clerval had given him time to think – perhaps too much time. Rumination was a novelty for Billy. He had rarely had great cause to think much beyond where his next meal was going to come from, or where he was going to sleep.
But since meeting Creecher, when his life had taken this new course, he found more and more that his head was full of thoughts, all crowding in on each other.
Sometimes he thought about his mother, although he tried not to. Thinking about his time with her was like holding his hand over a flame: he could only do it
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