by Penny Dolan
So that was how it was. Kitty had been shunted offstage. I disliked Bellina Lander the moment she walked into the theatre, and now I hated her.
‘Oh, Kit! That was terrible!’
‘I haven’t danced on the stage since. Adnam arranged for me to work backstage, because he knows the Aunts, but the rule is that I have to keep out of sight of Bellina Lander.’
Kitty fiddled with her hair and sighed deeply. ‘It doesn’t matter much now, anyway. Miss Tildy brought a new fairy dancer with her when she joined the theatre, so that’s the end of the story. I work, I look after those two little tinselled nuisances,’ she said flatly, ‘and that’s all. And what can I do about it, Mouse? What can anyone do? Nothing!’
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CHAPTER 50
HOMECOMING
Epton Towers was there to welcome the returning travellers, of course.
‘Father!’ Adeline rushed across the tiger-skin rug and knelt by the old man’s chair. ‘How are you? We feared we would never see you again.’ She rested her sun-brown fingers upon his yellowed, wrinkled hand.
‘So good to see you, Father,’ said Albert, though he was somewhat bemused by the sense of emptiness filling the house.
Epsilon’s leathery eyelids blinked, like those of a tortoise waking from a long hibernation. His hands trembled and loosened their grip on the carved chair. He lifted his balding head, with its wisps of white hair, and stared at them.
Albert and Adeline smiled very earnestly back at the old man, waiting for him to get over the shock of their return.
‘I am glad to see you – very, very glad,’ his tremulous voice whispered at last. ‘There was news of a shipwreck, but I did not believe it. I knew you were only lost. I told Scrope that you would return. I did, I did!’
‘Well then, where is my brother?’ asked Albert, cheerfully and energetically. ‘Where’s our son, Pa?’
‘Dear little Mouse! We have missed him so,’ Adeline declared, dabbing her eye. ‘I hope our little boy has given you no trouble.’
For a moment Albert and Adeline held hands. They thought of the baby they left so long ago, lying feverishly in his cot.
Then they listened out for the sound of a boy’s running feet, but there was only a dreadful silence.
‘Where is he, Father?’ asked Albert, suddenly alarmed. ‘Where is our boy Mouse?’
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CHAPTER 51
CLUTCHING AT HAIRS
Dog Toby was sleeping warmly at the foot of my bed. Nick Tick’s mechanical family counted me steadily, rhythmically into a long, deep dream.
Before my much younger eyes there rose the curve of a familiar hill, wreathed in mist. I smelled the rich, new-turned earth.
‘Hello, boy!’ I heard Isaac say. He was walking beside me, though I could not see his face. ‘Like old times, Mouse, like old times.’
The huge horses plodded along the field, heads nodding as they pulled the plough. At the end of the furrow, Isaac steered the horses round, smooth as could be, and we set off again, back up the field, the new furrow appearing behind us.
‘There! Told you I could turn them on a sixpence, boy,’ his gentle voice told me as the mist rolled in again, and the dream disappeared.
I was at once wide awake. ‘Turn them on a sixpence’? Those were words I’d heard in my here and now life, but where? ‘Come on!’ I said, as we sped towards the Albion that day, with little Flora and Dora scuttling along as fast as their feet could carry them.
Right at the back of the theatre, where two great doors allowed for scenery to be moved in or out of the building, there was a yard for carts and a covered shed. This was where Vanya had constructed a pen for the four new arrivals.
The fairy horses trampled the straw nervously, rolling their eyes. They flicked their ears backwards and forwards, sniffing at their strange new home. Their coats shone, and their hoofs were polished. Someone who was not Mr Spangle loved and cared for them, these four fairy ponies who could turn on a sixpence.
Vanya was just opening up a sack of grain.
‘Let me, Vanya?’ I took a handful and held out my palm to the nearest pony. The animal whinnied, tossed its long mane and nudged closer. A second pony pushed towards me, and then the last pair moved closer.
It felt impossible, but was it possible too? I ran my fingers through the nearest mane. Yes! There it was, the single wheat-eared braid that was woven into my memory. Each one of the four fairy ponies had that thin, distinctive plait half hidden in their mane. Each wore that telltale sign.
‘Who brought the ponies to the theatre?’
‘Just a man, Mouse. He spoke kindly to them.’
‘Who was he? Where does he come from?’
‘Mr Spangle sent him, of course.’ Vanya shrugged.
‘What did he look like?’
‘He stooped over. His hair is going grey.’
I turned angrily and put my hopes away. The man could not be Isaac, for he was tall and fair-haired and strong. That was the man I saw in my mind.
‘Not so loud!’ I snapped, as the girls squealed with delight at the ponies. ‘You’ll frighten them.’
I tried to dismiss my memories of big Isaac. I saw him holding me up high, and heard him talking me across the roof beam. Then something skipped in my heart. How long ago was that? Hadn’t years passed for us all? Stupid, stupid, stupid Mouse!
‘Vanya, how can I find that man?’
‘So many questions from our Mouse-boy today!’ Vanya raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Well, you could ask Mr Spangle, but he is not a man who likes to give out information, or . . .
‘Yes. Yes?’
‘This man will come back tomorrow morning. He wants to check the ponies are happy.’
I rushed at Vanya and hugged him. ‘Thank you, thank you!’ I cried.
At last, the night’s performance ended.
‘Kit, please push this note under Nick’s door.’ I didn’t want Mr Tick missing me and raising an alarm.
‘Why?’ She moved closer and looked straight into my eyes.
‘I’ll tell you if it works out.’ I did not want to share my dream. ‘Wish me luck, Kit. I can’t explain now . . .’ I hesitated.
‘In case it isn’t what you want?’ suggested Kitty. ‘Good luck, Mouse. Take care.’
She gathered the girls together, warned them to be very good, and set off into the darkness.
That night I slept at the Albion. As soon as the theatre grew quiet, I wrapped an old cloak round myself and sneaked out to where the ponies were stabled. They whinnied gently, glad of my company. I dozed between the hay bales, waiting for the stooping man, whoever he was.
A shaft of daylight fell across the straw-strewn floor. A man leaned over the pen. A silhouette, murmuring. The ponies trampled about and whinnied so I could not hear his voice. I struggled to my feet, but my mouth was too dry to speak.
‘What be you doing in the straw, boy?’ he said, surprised.
‘Isaac?’ The stable was too dim for me to be convinced.
‘Eh? What did you say? How come you know my name? Wait a moment . . .’ He came towards me with a lurch, his face ready for disappointment. ‘Boy, is that truly you?’ he gasped.
‘Yes, Isaac, I think so. It’s me, Mouse.’
Then the man – the man who was like a father to me – hugged me so tightly and joyously, as if he needed support, and as if he could not believe what was happening.
My dear Isaac! Trouble had lined his face, and his blue eyes, now shining wetly, were sunk under his eyelids. That sunny hair was streaked with frost, and he was no longer the man who could throw me high and catch me, but his smile was the same as ever.
‘Is it truly you? Heavens be praised, boy, heavens be praised! The dear child again, after so long! How you�
�ve grown!’
I can barely speak about that long-awaited meeting. Isaac learned that I was safe and had somewhere to stay. We talked, haltingly, about long-gone days. Then we wiped away our tears and got the four fairy horses fed, and I asked him about Ma.
‘Hanny is well, all told,’ Isaac said, ‘and she will be even better for seeing you.’
Hanny! Why did he not call her Ma? Or Ma Foster? Why did he not say ‘your mother’?
It was a moment I’d imagined for years, but now the chance had come, I needed more time. I wanted to meet this lost Hanny, but felt afraid. I was still angry about the bad times in my life, but I could not bring burning rage to her, whoever she was.
‘Isaac, I can’t come straight away.’ I glanced awkwardly away, blustering to cover my confusion. ‘The Albion’s very busy, and the horses are being tried out onstage today.’
A shadow of sadness touched Isaac’s face. He understood. ‘You aren’t that small infant now, are you, boy? It’s been a long parting for all of us. But remember, Mouse, when the right time comes, she will be glad to see you. Leave a message with the ponies.’ Isaac stroked my cheek as if he still could not believe I was real, and smiled. ‘I will keep you a secret to myself till then. But don’t take too long, Mouse.’
Calmly, Isaac undid his pack and took out a brush. He started to groom those ponies, brushing the dirt from their backs and flanks as he had come to do. I was mesmerised by the sight of him still at this familiar task.
Isaac looked up at me, and his blue eyes shone as they once did. ‘You still one for clambering about, Mouse?’
I blushed. ‘I am. I’m helping get the flying machine ready for Adnam’s new show.’
‘You’re not frightened of being up so high, boy?’ Isaac gave one of his old laughs.
‘Course not,’ I answered, laughing back.
‘You never was, was you, boy?’
Later that day I went back down to the ponies, but only Vanya was there, feeding the greedy things with sugar lumps. They nudged and whinnied and tossed their pretty manes, and there was no Isaac.
I felt ashamed that I hadn’t rushed to see Ma there and then. Why had I turned down that chance? I pulled together the scraps of news he’d given me, but they weren’t much help.
I felt afraid too. How had I let Isaac go so easily, and what would I do if he didn’t come back?
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CHAPTER 52
QUESTION TIME
The gold-framed mirrors reflected the candles in the candelabra, but there was no mood of celebration in the dining room.
Old Epsilon sat in his chair, his face grey. The servants removed the plates. Little of the meal had been eaten.
‘Father,’ insisted Albert, once they were alone again, ‘let us try once more. Where is our boy?’
‘The nursery must have been unused for years,’ Adeline said.
The old man glared sullenly, like a stubborn child. ‘Don’t know.’
‘You must know!’ Albert shouted. ‘He’s your own grandson. You were supposed to take care of the boy.’
Rage blazed in the old man’s eyes. ‘You didn’t ask me to take care of him, did you, Albert? I told you I needed you here, but you chose to go off. With her.’ Epsilon stared malevolently at Adeline. ‘You went chasing off around the globe, looking for seeds and weeds and twigs. You left him behind.’
‘That is not true. We wanted him brought to us when he was well again.’ Adeline replied as sharply as if she’d been stung. ‘We left precise instructions.’
‘And then your ship sank,’ Epsilon added, in doom-laden tones. ‘Didn’t it? Was that part of your careful plans?’
Albert rose from his seat and strode across the room, clenching his fists. ‘Father, did you do nothing for the boy, even then?’
‘Didn’t need to. That nurse of yours took the child away to a farm. Tip-top idea. Healthy place for a young lad.’
‘Hanny took the boy away? Hanny? Why? What was the reason?’ Adeline frowned.
‘Scrope knows. He was the one who stayed here with me while you were on your vain quest, not caring what happened to me or to Epton Towers. He was the one here while you were off and not doing your duty. Scrope did what he had to do. He even arranged for the little chap to go to school somewhere.’ The old man sniffed self-pityingly, ignoring the matter of the dreadful shipwreck. ‘Scrope is the one who can tell you everything.’
‘But where is Scrope?’ asked Albert, exasperated.
‘Don’t know,’ Epsilon said petulantly. ‘I did ask him if I could see the boy, but it never happened. Nobody does what I want.’
‘Please try to think, Father. Where is our little boy? Do you have no clue at all?’ Adeline begged.
‘I told you I don’t, and I am extremely tired now,’ snapped the old man sulkily. He rang a small brass bell nearby. A servant entered and helped Epsilon off to his four-poster bed.
When the room was empty, Albert took Adeline in his arms. ‘Don’t give up hope, dear girl. Tomorrow we will start searching for the boy. Remember, if we were able to track down the lost blue rose of Alexandria, discovering our missing son should be simple. Have courage, my Adeline.’
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CHAPTER 53
FINDERS WEEPERS
Whatever the answer was about my Ma, I needed to know. So I made the message as simple as I could, and tacked it to a beam, above the reach of the greedy ponies.
SUNDAY?
The next day, in Isaac’s uneven lettering, I had an answer.
YES. NINE.
That night, dead dreams dragged themselves around in my head. Who was I meeting? Was it Hanny? My Ma? My mother? I didn’t know. I didn’t even know what I would say to this stranger. If Sunday’s meeting went wrong, I would need someone who could help, who could explain things afterwards. I needed a friend.
Even as I asked, my voice sounded strained. ‘Will you come somewhere with me, Kit?’
The streets were almost empty. All the pie sellers, potato pedlars, flower-girls and apple-women were in bed. Even those who would be going to church or chapel were still in their nightshirts. Pigeons strutted through last night’s litter, cooing.
At the foot of the theatre steps, below the carved gods and goddesses, was Isaac. An ancient blinkered nag waited amiably between the struts of his cart.
‘I see you brought company, Mouse,’ he said. ‘Good day, miss.’
‘Good morning to you too, sir.’ Kitty gave her widest smile.
Isaac helped her on to the cart and beckoned me up. The wooden vehicle creaked in response to its two new passengers. ‘You ready then, boy?’
‘Ready,’ I said, but I had a question. ‘Did you tell Ma I was coming?’
‘No, boy. Thought about it, and reckoned we’ve all seen strange times since we was last together. Maybe what you needs is to witness how Hanny feels about you, for your very own self.’
He pointed a warning finger at me, gently adding, ‘Just you be easy on my girl, Mouse, won’t you?’
We crossed the grey river, where the masts of the ships made a forest on the water. We got out and walked beside the cart up a long hill, past streets of brick houses. Eventually we arrived at a rough heath, dotted with tethered horses, cattle-pens and a few wooden dwellings.
A track across the heath brought us to a grassier patch, where four milking cows patiently chewed the cud, and a pair of donkeys tugged at thistles. Smoke rose from the ramshackle building nearby, half home and half stable.
‘That’s where she is,’ said Isaac, quietly holding Kitty back in the seat. ‘You go first, boy. We’ll follow in a short while.’
As if I was as leaden as my heart felt, I dropped from the cart and walked towards the place.
‘Hello?’ I called.
The
top half of the stable door creaked open, and a comfortable woman with a round apple face appeared. Her features were softer, older, but there was no mistaking the tilt of chin as she lifted her head to welcome a visitor.
I closed my lids, dug my nails into my fists and opened my eyes to see it was still my Ma, blinking and squinting at the daylight.
‘Excuse me, may I come in, please?’ I stammered.
Ma glanced quizzically to Isaac. Then she opened both parts of the door and invited me through into their home.
At the lower end of the building was an area where the beasts could be stabled. At the other end, raised a little, was a simple space with small square shuttered windows. A kettle sang on a hook over the hearth, and the clean-swept floor was covered with bright rag rugs. Beside the hard wooden settle squatted baskets full of logs and the brushes and grooming combs of Isaac’s trade.
Now I was here, I could not speak. All I could do was stare at her face.
‘What do you want then, child?’ she said, looking at me anxiously.
At last I gulped and asked, ‘Are you Ma? Ma Foster?’
She flinched. ‘Oh, that was a long time ago,’ she whispered, anxiously kneading the corner of her apron. Then she pulled herself together and peered at me, speaking kindly. ‘I am sorry. I must have fostered a dozen of the poor little things. Which one are you, child?’
‘I’m your best boy, Ma. I’m Mouse.’ My words sounded hollow.
She studied my patched clothes and shook her head. ‘No, my dear, you can’t be. My Mouse was taken away from me to be made into a gentleman.’
I stepped towards her. Once Ma was taller than me. She could lean over my cradle and pick me up. Now I was taller than she was. I did not expect that.
‘I am Mouse, Ma! Honest!’
Puzzled, she reached up and touched my cheek. Gently she turned my head a little this way and that, as if she was not sure about what she was seeing. Ma and me, we stared at each other as if we were frozen, transfixed, but I cannot say if it was happiness or pain.