The Derring-Do Club and the Year of the Chrononauts by David Wake Page A

good of you,” said Charlotte. She took the proffered glass, turning it to drink from the clean side.
    “Bottoms up,” said the girl.
    Charlotte took a swig: it tasted of juniper berries and–
    “Ahh!” she spat the burning liquid across the room. “It’s cough medicine.”
    The girls all squawked with joy, coming to life for the first time since Charlotte’s arrival.
    “Quiet!” It was Madam Waggstaff. “We have a Gentleman Caller.”
    The girls sat upright, leaning forward and suddenly attentive, as Madam Waggstaff ushered in a portly gentleman with wide whiskers.
    “Oh, Madam Waggstaff,” he chortled. “You wicked woman. Wicked, wicked, I see you have a new lovely.”
    “Yes, this is… Desiree.”
    Charlotte stood and offered her hand: “Charlotte.”
    “Oh, and so forward and eager, I like that.”
    There was a general groan from behind Charlotte, but Charlotte was used to other girls in class being stupid.
    “Number three,” said Madam Waggstaff.
    “Oh, perfect,” said the Gentleman.
    Charlotte wondered what to do until Madam Waggstaff waved her to a door. This led along a passage with other doors on either side, but none of them had numbers. Charlotte had actually been to the Savoy when her sister, Georgina, had married Captain Merryweather, and that had been an altogether different arrangement.
    “This one, my lovely,” said the Gentleman.
    “Thank you,” said Charlotte, remembering her Ps and Qs. “Well, that will–”
    The man came in too!
    “A little entertainment if you will.”
    “Ah, of course,” said Charlotte. She understood: clearly Madam Waggstaff’s clients were expected to keep one another amused in the evenings. She looked around for the pianoforte, but there was only a bed in the room. This was probably a lucky escape for the Gentleman as Charlotte hadn’t practised her scales, or her violin, in simply ages.
    The man sat on the bed loosening his cravat as he ogled at Charlotte expectantly.
    “I can recite the Henry Vth speech before Agincourt or Queen Elizabeth’s before the Armada,” Charlotte suggested.
    “You can take off your clothes.”
    “Of course, I… I beg your pardon?”
    “No need to be shy with me, my lovely.”
    He reached across and grabbed hold of her.
    Charlotte fought back, but he was a big man and pulled her down upon the covers. The bed creaked and complained, jiggling up and down upon its springs. He was on top of her, fumbling for her undoings. Charlotte jabbed with her elbow, slipped out from under him and fell into an uncomfortable heap on the floor.
    “Come now!” the man said, getting high–pitched, “Madam Waggstaff will beat you if you aren’t nice to me.”
    Charlotte’s hand brushed against a sturdy handle. She grabbed it, lifted it and swung with all her strength. There was a mighty clang when the heavy metal object connected with the man’s pudgy face. He went down. The weapon was full of liquid, which went everywhere, cascading down onto the fallen body.
    “Euurghh,” said Charlotte. She dropped the pot. “Yuk! Yuk!”
    The door burst open: “What’s going on?” Madam Waggstaff demanded.
    “He attacked me!”
    “He did?”
    “Yes,” said Charlotte, “he tried to take my clothes off.”
    Madam Waggstaff’s mouth dropped open. The few teeth she had were rotten and she reeked of Juniper cordial.
    “You ungrateful girl, you’ve killed him!”
    The man groaned on the floor to give lie to that statement.
    “He attacked me!” Charlotte repeated.
    “Of course he attacked you,” Madam Waggstaff wailed.
    “He came into the room! He attacked me. So I hit him. With the chamber pot.”
    “We’ve only your word against his, and our Mister Foxley here is a proper Gentleman, Right Honourable and everything. Wait until Mister Waggstaff hears about this, you wicked girl.”
    “I’m not doing lines.”
    “Don’t you know what to do with a Gentleman Caller?”
    “Of course, I do,” said Charlotte, indignantly, because