These were different days.
As the crowd realised that they were in the presence of their queen, a woman who’d reigned over them for more than sixty years, they erupted in wild cheers, throwing their hats into the air.
“HURRAH!”
The golden carriage turned to the right to pass through the gates of the museum, and Elsie seized her chance. While the sky was black with hats, she leaped off the branch of the tree…
W H O O S H!
…and landed on top of the Queen’s carriage.
THUD!
With all the noise and commotion, no one seemed to notice this huge breach of security.
Elsie lay down flat on the roof of the carriage so she wouldn’t be seen. In 1899, anyone getting this close to Her Majesty without an invitation might very well pay the price with their life.
The carriage sped into the grounds of the museum, and came to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps. Elsie lifted her head a tiny bit, and peeked over the side of the carriage.
Thousands of faces were pushed up against the metal railings, open mouths roaring their approval for their queen.
“HURRAH!”
The carriage wobbled slightly as Her Majesty stepped out. The Queen was old and frail, and tottered up the stone steps, helped by a handsome Indian attendant in a turban.
She was dressed from head to toe in black and wore a solemn look on her face. That was because she was in deep mourning for her husband, Prince Albert, even though he had died nearly forty years before. Not wanting to disappoint the crowd, the Queen slowly turned round and gave them a polite wave.
“HURRAH!”
While all eyes were on the royal guest, Elsie slid off the roof and lowered herself down the side of the carriage. There she hid behind a wheel.
The hullabaloo must have startled the horses…
“NEIGH! NEIGH!”
…as the carriage shunted backwards a little. Elsie thought she was going to be trampled to death by the horses’ hooves, but the carriage driver cracked his whip…
SNAP!
…and ordered…
“WHOA!”
Elsie let out a sigh of relief as the horses came to a juddering stop.
The girl watched from her hiding place as the Queen was greeted with a bow by the director of the museum, the portly Sir Ray Lankester, and led inside.
The huge wooden doors were closed behind her.
THUD.
Now Elsie wasn’t feeling too clever. All around her she could see the legs of policemen. How was she going to get inside that museum without anyone seeing her? She was desperate to do so, but Elsie had more chance of becoming the next Archbishop of Canterbury.
As she pondered her next move on her hands and knees, the most unexpected thing happened. The carriage moved off, leaving the girl hiding behind nothing at all. She was concealed only by some air.
Air is the worst thing to find yourself hiding behind. Other bad ones include:
Elsie was in deep, deep doo-doo.
“HA! HA!” the crowd outside the Natural History Museum all laughed when the little urchin was revealed hiding behind the air.
The policemen looked around in confusion.
“THERE!”
The crowd pointed at the girl, and eventually the policemen saw what was right under their noses.
They formed a circle round this uninvited guest, and began closing in on her.
Having lived on the streets, Elsie was no stranger to running away from the police, or the “rozzers”* as those who spent most of their time running away from the police called them.
The policemen crouched down and stretched out their arms, sure that she would try to escape by running through their legs.
“We’ve got you!” growled the chief of police, Commissioner Barker. He was a heavy man with a tiny postage stamp of a moustache stuck over his top lip.
The circle was closing.
The policemen linked arms to make themselves into a human net.
There was no way out.
Spotting the truncheons dangling from their belts, a daring thought crossed Elsie’s mind. Just as the policemen were looming over her, she grabbed two of the truncheons with each hand, yanking them as hard as she could.
This brought the policemen crashing towards one another.
Their heads knocked together.
“OW!”
“OOF!”
“ARGH!”
Dazed and confused, the policemen tumbled backwards, and collapsed on to the ground.
From above, the scene looked like a flower, with Elsie the centre and the policemen all splayed-out petals.
This brilliant move by the urchin instantly won over the crowd, and they cheered.
“HURRAH!”
No one wanted to see an army of policemen win against one little mite.
However, there was no time to lap up the attention of the crowd. Elsie darted up the steps towards the entrance to the Natural History Museum. Another squad of policemen stood guard in front of the huge wooden doors. They drew their truncheons, ready to give this little creature a ruddy good bashing.
Not wanting to receive a bashing, be it a good or a bad one (neither sounded appealing), Elsie slid down the handrail. To one side of the building entrance was a drainpipe.
There was no time to think. What with her monkey feet, Elsie was soon halfway up it.
“HURRAH!” cheered the crowd once more.
One bold policeman gave chase up the drainpipe, but not being blessed with monkey feet he instantly slid back down.
W H I Z Z !
“ARGH!”
His bottom landed right on top of another policeman’s face.
BOING!
“POOH!” complained the one whose nose was now stuck up the other’s rear end.
Needless to say, this perfect piece of slapstick was greeted by howls of laughter from the crowd.
“HA! HA! HA!”
“AFTER HER, YOU FOOLS!” barked Barker.
“Right away, Commissioner, sir!” said one.
“FORM A LADDER!” ordered the commissioner.
“How are we gonna do that?”
“Heaviest at the bottom.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir.”
Barker fumed. His tiny moustache twitched. “I am not part of the ladder! I am in charge! Now, the heaviest at the bottom, then the next heaviest, then the next, and so on and so forth.”
The policemen all started arguing among themselves. No one wanted to be at the bottom.
“I’m the lightest!”
“No. I’m the lightest!”
“You’re the heaviest by far!”
“I’ve lost weight.”
“You still look fat.”
“I’ve just got a round face.”
“SHE’S GETTING AWAY!” thundered Barker.
The girl was nearing the top of the drainpipe. The commissioner took charge of his human ladder, quickly ordering who went where. Soon the policemen were reluctantly climbing on top of one another.
Needless to say, this amateur acrobatics act immediately came crashing to the ground.
“O O F!”
“OUCH!”
“ARGH!”
“EEK!”
“HELP! Someone’s trodden on me bits!”
The crowd whooped and cheered at this brilliant piece of entertainment.
“HURRAH!”
By this time, Elsie had reached the roof of the museum. She took a moment to acknowledge her adoring audience, and gave them a little bow.
The crowd burst into wild applause.
“YES!”
“SHE’S DONE IT!”
“GO! GO! GO!”
The little girl hurried over the sloping roofs to the far side of the building, her monkey feet gripping the lead. For a moment, looking over the rooftops of London, she felt immortal. However, when a tile slipped from under her, she suddenly felt distinctly mortal.
The tile exploded on to t
he ground.
Instantly, Elsie slammed down on to the roof…
THUD!
…and began sliding down it at speed.
“AAAH!”
The girl rolled over in a desperate attempt to grab on to the roof. Just as she was about to fly off, she managed to hook her fingers round the guttering. However, Elsie was going so fast she swung forward. Her fingers unhooked and she felt herself hurtling through the air.
“NOOO!”
Elsie flew forward and burst through a stained-glass window.
SHATTER!
She rolled down some stone steps before landing on top of a glass cabinet that housed the skeleton of a sabre-toothed tiger.
THUD!
Elsie came down with such force that the sheet of glass on which she landed began to crack.
K E R C H U N K !
Like a shaft of lightning splintering through the sky, the crack shot across the glass.
BING!
In a split second, the glass panel at the top of the cabinet misted over as it became a thousand tiny pieces. Elsie knew exactly what was going to happen next, but was powerless to stop it. She gulped. The glass crumbled beneath her, and Elsie fell into the cabinet, landing on the back of the sabre-toothed tiger.
Now the girl was trapped inside the glass cabinet, and with all the noise from the window smashing she was sure to have drawn attention to herself. If only there were some way of breaking one of the glass walls, but they were inches thick. However hard she thumped with her fists, it just wouldn’t break.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Feeling that there was little chance of the sabre-toothed tiger skeleton missing it, she pulled out one of its sabre-toothed teeth. With an almighty swing of her arm, she bashed the sharp end of the tooth against the glass.
BUNK!
SMASH!
It immediately splintered, and the tiny pieces of glass showered down like rain.
P A T T E R !
Not needing the tooth any more, Elsie stuck it back where she’d found it, and patted the sabre-toothed tiger skeleton in thanks.
“Good boy!”
The sound of bootsteps echoed along the corridor.
It must be the museum’s head of security, Mr Clout. Elsie knew she had to make a run for it. Having no shoes on her feet, she carefully stepped over the pieces of broken glass, and charged off down a corridor.
Staying close to the walls and keeping out of the light – something she had learned from the rats at the orphanage – she found a balcony overlooking the main hall.
From the top floor of the museum, Elsie looked down on the historic scene.
Sitting on a grand chair that made her look even smaller than her actual size (and she already looked extremely small) was . Gathered behind her was a sea of old men with white beards, spectacles and stern expressions. They looked like learned men: scientists, explorers and politicians.
Mr Clout circled the room like a hungry shark, ready to attack anyone who made a lunge for Her Majesty. Commissioner Barker was doing the exact same thing. The pair kept on bumping into each other.
“OOF!”
“OUT OF THE WAY, YOU FOOL!” growled Barker.
Masked by a red velvet curtain, something the size of a house was standing in front of the tiny queen.
A portly man stepped forward and addressed the gathering. He was the director of the Natural History Museum, Sir Ray Lankester.
“Your Majesty, my lords, gentlemen…” he began.
“SPEAK UP!” shouted .
Elsie put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. She wouldn’t have had Her Majesty down as a heckler.
Poor Lankester looked aghast, as you might if the most powerful person in the world was barracking you. The man tried to carry on as best he could.
“YOUR MAJESTY, MY LORDS, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he began again, his voice cracking with nerves. “As director of the Natural History Museum, it is a huge honour to house what I am sure you will all agree is the greatest find of the century. When a group of explorers set off across the Arctic…”
“GET ON WITH IT!” shouted the Queen.
“Yes, yes, of course, Your Majesty. I am very sorry. I know you have an empire to run. Will you please do us all the honour of unveiling this creature dubbed the ‘Ice Monster’, which has been perfectly preserved in the ice for thousands of years?”
With some difficulty, the Queen stood up. Her handsome attendant Abdul Karim went to help her.
“I can do it, thank you very much, Munshi!”* she snapped.
“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he purred.
“Actually, can you help me?” she asked, looking a little wobbly.
Abdul gracefully took her arm, and she shuffled over to the exhibit.
“It gives one great pleasure,” began the Queen, “to declare this woolly mammoth open.”
With that, she tugged on the cord, and the velvet curtain slipped to the floor.
S I L E N C E.
There it was.
In all its glory.
Housed in a huge glass tank.
Suspended in ice.
The mammoth.
Perfectly preserved.
It was impossible to believe it had been dead for ten thousand years. To all appearances, it could have died yesterday.
The creature looked like a cross between an elephant and a teddy bear. The tusks were long and curled, like the moustaches of many of the fusty old men gathered in the museum. Between the tusks hung a long, furry trunk. The mammoth’s body was covered in coarse brown hair, with a thicker and darker tuft on its head like a wig. Its legs were as wide as tree trunks, leading down to four clumpy feet. Its eyes were open. They were small and black, and shaped like tears.
For Elsie, it was love at first sight. This was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her heart soared, and her mind began dancing with pictures.
Here she was stroking the animal’s fur. There she was riding on its back. Then she was being held by its long, furry trunk.
Just as she was flying off into a land of make-believe, Elsie sensed someone standing right behind her. The girl was frozen in fear. She couldn’t even turn her head to look round. Then she felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder. Elsie gasped for air to let out a cry…
“HUH!”
…but she couldn’t.
A hand was covering her mouth.
“Shush!” came the voice behind her. “Don’t give yourself away.”
Elsie knew that voice. It was the only adult voice she ever remembered speaking to her in a tone of kindness.
Dotty’s.
Elsie turned round and whispered, “Thank goodness it’s you.”
“Everyone, but everyone, is looking for you, young miss.”
“I know. I’m not supposed to be here.”
“You don’t say!” replied the cleaning lady. “Truth be told, I’m not supposed to be here either. A humble cleaner isn’t allowed to be in the same room as Her Queen the Majesty.”
“Her Majesty the Queen?”
Dotty looked at the girl as if she were bonkers. “That’s what I said. But I couldn’t resist being here. I love our Queen.” Dotty gazed down proudly at the lady. “Ooh, that reminds me. I must buy a stamp.”
Two stories below, the Queen was looking up at the frozen creature.
“Well, well, well. So this is the famous ‘Ice Monster’?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the director. “It is a huge feat of engineering for the museum to keep the animal’s body conserved like this. That pipe you can see hanging down from the ceiling blows cold air into the tank through that hatch to keep the ice it is packed in frozen.”
“It’s a bit small for a monster.”
Lankester was once again blindsided by the lady.
“Well, I, er, um,” he spluttered. “I can only apologise, Your Majesty, but this mammoth is probably only a year or so old. It’s a child, really.”
The Queen looked lost in thought f
or a moment. “Have you got any bigger ones?”
Lankester looked desperately around at the faces of the assembled great and good for help, but none came.
“Er, um, no. I am afraid not, ma’am. Finding any prehistoric creature, let alone one in such perfect condition, is extremely rare. This is the find of the century.”
“Mmm. My dear departed husband, Prince Albert, would have liked it. Such a shame he isn’t here with me to see this. Albert loved animals. I am more of an opera fan myself, aren’t I, Munshi?”
Her elegant companion smiled weakly. “You have a unique singing voice, Your Majesty.”
His wry answer made the old lady chuckle.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
The chuckle turned into a cough.
“Huh, huh, huh.”
A concerned Abdul steadied her.
“Thank you, Munshi. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Nor me without you, Your Majesty.”
The unlikely pair shared a smile, then the Queen looked back up at the mammoth.
“Does it do anything?” she enquired.
“I am so sorry, Your Majesty, what do you mean?” replied Lankester. Sweat was now pouring off his brow.
“Like a trick?” she asked with girlish excitement.
The museum’s director paused before he spoke, gathering his thoughts. “Sadly not, Your Majesty. This creature has been dead for ten thousand years. So, as dead goes, I would say you can’t get much deader. It’s as dead as dead can be.”
“Oh. That is a shame. I suppose it is rather pretty, if you like that sort of thing. Which I do.”
Lankester shuffled awkwardly. “Do you have any other questions, Your Majesty?”
The Queen thought for a moment. “When are we having the tea and cake? I was dragged halfway across London to come here. These days I don’t like to leave the palace too much. At my age, it all becomes a bit of a bother. But my eyes lit up at the promise of tea and cake, you see, and I haven’t seen so much as a scone.”
The Ice Monster Page 3