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 need 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.