Frozen Billy by Anne Fine

the captain!’
    â€˜What shall we do?’
    â€˜Do? Only one thing to do, Clarrie!’
    And without the least hesitation, my brave uncle charged at the gangplank.
    As he hurtled past, one of the sailors reached out. But all he took in hand was Uncle Len’s billowing sleeve, and the cheap theatre silk tore so easily that all he was left with was a handful of wet cloth.
    At the top of the gangplank, Uncle Len darted a look first one way along the deck, then the other, then vanished through a pair of rain-lashed doors. And though the two sailors at the bottom of the gangplank seemed to make great play of waving their arms and opening their mouths wide, I fear their enthusiastic cries of ‘Stowaway! Stowaway!’ must have been totally blown away by the wind, for the sailor at the top appeared quite deaf to their warnings.
    Now, one by one, the last of the ship’s crew finished their tasks on the quayside and hurried aboard. The dockhands loosed the cables. And as the powerful little tugs turned to their task, the great boat began pulling at the last of its moorings.
    I ran back. ‘Will! They’re laying hands on the gangplank. Time to go!’
    And from my bodice I slid out the last, and strangest, of all my treasures:
    A perfect bill of lading, carefully signed by the Import and Export Officer, Mr Henderson, and stolen by me the day Mrs Trimble punished me for leaving by setting me to file it along with a hundred others. You don’t work all day with fine fabrics without learning how to remove the stains that spoil: soot, blood – and even ink. So in my very last hour in the shop I’d dabbed away with my tiny little pad of bleach to wipe out both the name of the ship and its commander. And, a little while later, in my own good time, I had refilled the blank space so neatly: Name of the carrier: The Fresh Hope . Under the command of: Captain Percival – and made one or two tiny alterations more – until this official form was turned into the very passport of happiness.
    And now I held it stiffly between my fingers. And Will and I were ready to do our training at the Alhambra proud and make the grandest show of things. I only wish that Madame Terrazini could have been there to watch as we faced one another and let our cloaks slide to the ground.
    Now, with our painted faces and colourful dolls’ attire, we looked a strange pair indeed.
    Will picked up the carrying box as if it were our travelling suitcase. Stiffly, he offered me an arm. Stiffly, I took it.
    Together we made our eyes go huge and round and expressionless, and stepped out like puppets from behind the crates. In the wind, only the two of us could hear the eerie tapping of our feet on the cobbles as we picked our knees up high and made our way over to the sailors unlashing the gangplank.
    We came up close. Will swivelled his eyes in their sockets to hold one sailor in a steady gaze as the other one ran for our cloaks. Twisting my upper body, I bent from the waist to drop the bill of lading from my stiffened fingers into his hand as we went past.
    He smiled. But my face stayed as still as painted tin, and so did Will’s. We never blinked. Arm in arm, we took our tiny mechanical steps ridge by ridge up the gangplank.
    A call came down. ‘What says the bill of lading?’
    But it had been easy enough, with a pen twist, to change, not just the date on the paperwork, but also the words ‘ two silk rolls ’ into ‘ two silk dolls ’.

    And if there was a wink from the sailor at the top as he cried, ‘Gangplank away!’ then I’m the last to tell. All I will say is that those three grand seafarers, Jamie and Bert and Luis, kept to their story.
    â€˜Two quite amazing dolls, Captain!’
    â€˜Monstrous! Uncanny! Perfect automata!’
    â€˜Capitán, if you had seen them – on that night, and in that dark – I swear you, too, would have read the bill of lading, and