“What book?”
Nanny quickly changed the subject. “Look at you! You’ll catch your death. A sickly child like you abseiling down Buckingham Palace dressed only in your pyjamas! You must have gone bananas! Now come here, my little prince!”
The lady drew the boy close and gave him a big hug. Instantly, she could feel how cold he was. Alfred looked over her shoulder and saw that The Book of Albion was not in its usual place in the cabinet. Instead, it was on a pile of books on a small table. He thought that was strange, but said nothing.
“Ooh! You’re frozen solid!” continued Nanny. “We’ll have to put you straight in a steaming-hot bath. Now come on…”
“No,” replied the prince.
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I haven’t come this far to be put in the bath.”
“Shower?”
“No!”
“Sink?”
“No!”
“Bidet?”*
“No!” barked the boy. Why on earth would he need a bidet at this moment in time?
“I’m looking for an answer!” stated Alfred.
“An answer to what?” asked Nanny.
“To why my mother was taken to the Tower.”
Nanny shook her head and tutted. “Ooh yes, I heard your poor mother being dragged away. Shouting and screaming, she was. I tried to stop the guards.”
“You did?” asked Alfred.
“Oh yes! I gave them a piece of my mind and no mistake! Even jumped on the back of one!”
“What happened?”
The old lady shook her head sorrowfully.
“I was no match for them. Must have been six of them taking her off. They threw me to the floor.”
“Oh no, Nanny. Are you all right?”
“Black and blue, I am,” she said, rubbing her arms. “But Nanny’s a tough old bird. I will survive.” She smiled, showing off her false teeth that went CLICKETY-CLACK whenever she spoke.
“Do you believe Mama could really be a TRAITOR?”
Nanny sighed heavily. “It seems far-fetched, but you never know. Sometimes the enemy is closer than you think.”
This sent shivers down the boy’s spine.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean, maybe, just maybe, it’s true.”
Alfred felt sick at the thought. Mama, a TRAITOR?
“Now come on, my little prince. You’re not a well boy. You need to get straight to bed. And double helpings of Nanny’s special eggy-wegg in the morning.”
Alfred gulped. He didn’t much like Nanny’s special eggy-wegg. Even though he’d been given them every single day of his life he didn’t have the heart to tell her. There were no fresh eggs in the palace, or indeed anywhere any more, so these scrambled eggy-weggs were made with powdered egg. They tasted funny. Funny peculiar, not funny ha ha.*
“I am not going to bed!” announced the boy, before yawning. The events of the night had left him absolutely shattered, but he was determined to fight on.
“Yes, you are. Straight to bed, young man, and no arguing!”
“BUT—!”
Suddenly Nanny stood very still. A noise had distracted her. She brought her finger up to her lips to silence him. Then, with her eyes, she indicated the door at the far end of the library. Alfred tiptoed over to it, and then bent to peer through the keyhole.
Nanny was right. There was someone or something out there. He put his little eye up to the keyhole and found a giant eye staring back at him.
“Huh!” the boy gasped.
“SHUSH!” shushed Nanny, as quietly as she could shush.
The All-Seeing Eye was hovering outside the door. Alfred felt a wave of fear CRASH over him.
He didn’t move and eventually the eye hovered off down the long corridor.
Alfred waited until it was a safe distance away, before tiptoeing past the shelves and shelves of books back to Nanny.
“Who was it?” she whispered.
“It was the Eye,” whispered Alfred.
“Oh, I can’t bear that great big nosy beachball! I once caught it spying on me when I was on the lavvy! Dirty blighter! Did it see you?”
“I don’t know,” said the boy with a gulp.
“Well, did it, or didn’t it?” she pressed, clearly concerned.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Maybe!” she fretted. “Then maybe we will both be sent to the Tower! We need to get out of here. And fast!”
“Should I go back the way I came in?”
“THE WINDOW? No, no, no!” snapped Nanny. “You are lucky the guards didn’t see you. Someone scaling the wall of the palace at night! You could have been blasted from here to Timbuktu!”
“Then how?”
Just then, they heard the handle on the door to the library turn.
CLICK
Someone was about to
march in.
* * *
* If you don’t know what a bidet is, ask someone French, or someone with a really stinky bottom. Or, better still, someone French with a really stinky bottom.
* It would be weird if eggs tasted hilarious.
The old lady grabbed the prince by the hand, so he was standing right next to her at the library fireplace. Before Alfred could ask Nanny what she was doing, she turned the little hand of the gold carriage clock on top of the fireplace anticlockwise.
WHIRR!
As if by magic, the pair were spun into another room.
WHOOSH!
“I never knew this room was here,” hissed Alfred.
“SHUSH!” shushed Nanny. “They still might hear us.”
They listened out for voices in the library next door, as they stood in a tiny windowless room full of junk.
There was a rusty metal bath, a broken bicycle, a dog-chewed cricket bat, a weather-beaten picnic basket, a mouldy croquet set and a battered old Victorian pram with a wonky wheel. Alfred had been all over the palace, but he had never been in here. Hardly surprising, as the room had no door.
“Is this a secret room?” he whispered.
“SHUSH!” shushed Nanny.
There were a couple of old, chipped cut-glass tumblers on a side table. Nanny picked one up and passed the other to the boy. She then placed the top of the tumbler to the wall, and the bottom to her ear. Alfred followed suit. Next door they could hear someone pacing around the library.
Who was it? What were they looking for?
Whoever it was, and whatever they were looking for, at last it sounded as if they’d found it. After a short while, the pair heard the library door close. They were safe. For now.
“In answer to your question, my little prince,” began Nanny, “legend has it that there are many secret rooms and passages all over Buckingham Palace. I know of just a few.”
“They must have been built here during World War Two!”
“Yes! For the royal family back then, in case that stinker Hitler invaded.”
“King George the Sixth!”
“Oh, my little prince, you’ve been reading all those books piled up in your bedroom.”
“History books are my favourite.”
“I know!”
“George the Sixth had a wife and two daughters,” continued the boy. “The elder one became Elizabeth the Second.”
“Full marks, clever clogs! Elizabeth the Second. What a ruler she was. We’ll never see her like again.”
Prince Alfred, who was next in line to the throne, nodded his head sorrowfully. He knew more than anyone of his failings. If only he could be more like the great kings and queens of the past. But nature had played him a cruel trick. He was a sickly child.
All of a sudden, Alfred thought he saw something move under an old dustsheet.
With his eyes, he indicated the pile.
Nanny mimed, “What?”
Whatever it was moved again.
Nanny nodded and began tiptoeing over to the sheet. The boy stayed close behind, holding on to her cardigan for dear lif
e.
The sheet rose into the air. It looked like a ghost. Alfred wanted to scream, but didn’t dare make a sound.
The thing stretched out its arms.
Nanny reached out her hand and closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear it either. With one hand, she
whipped off
the sheet to reveal...
A little girl.
Dressed in rags. Her face, hands and feet blackened with dirt. She was a pathetic sight.
“All right?” chirped the girl.
“Who are you?” demanded Alfred.
“Who are you?” she asked back.
“I asked first.”
“What do you think you’re doing sneaking in here from the outside?” demanded Nanny. “Well?”
Alfred noticed that the girl was pongy. Pongy was putting it politely. Pongy is low on the STINKY SCALE.
However, being well brought up, Alfred was far too polite to mention that the little girl smelled something rotten.
Nanny snatched a broken candelabra and brandished it like a weapon.
“Don’t beat me!” pleaded the girl.
“How do we know you’re not one of the revolutionaries?” demanded Nanny.
“I am not. I swear.”
Alfred noticed the girl was dripping wet.
“You’re soaked!” he exclaimed.
“How did you get into Buckingham Palace?” said Nanny. “This place is a fortress. Come on! Out with it!”
“I swam.”
“Nonsense!” scoffed Nanny.
“No, it ain’t,” snapped the girl. “Years ago, there was all these trains that ran under the city.”
“The London Underground?” replied Alfred. “I have a book on it upstairs in my room. It hasn’t run for fifty years.”
“Yeah. Most of the tunnels collapsed ages ago, but there is one that is all flooded.”
“Flooded?” asked the boy.
“Yeah. This tunnel is underwater. Leads all the way from the Thames to right under the palace.”
“Well, in all my years of working here I never knew that,” remarked the old lady.
“It’s a secret,” hissed the girl. “Nobody knows.”
“Well, I know now,” replied Nanny.
“Me too!” added Alfred.
“Silly girl,” said Nanny.
But the girl was not going to be mocked like this. “You don’t know exactly where it is, though, do ya?” she retorted, before a smug grin settled on her face.
Alfred smirked. This little one had spirit!
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mite.”
“Might what?”
“No, just Mite.”
“Might as in M I G H T or as in M I T E?”
“I dunno spelling. They call me ‘Mite’ cos I’m a little mite.”
“That’s M I T E,” he said.
The girl just shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, “I don’t care.”
“You still haven’t told us why you’ve broken into Buckingham Palace!” snapped Nanny.
Mite gulped. “I was starvin’. My belly hurts something horrible with the hunger. I was looking for the kitchen to rob some food, then I heard footsteps and hid in here.”
“Did you not have your dinner?” asked Alfred.
“Dinner?” she exclaimed. “What planet are you on? A nibble of a mouldy old biscuit is all I’ve had all day!”
“Really?” The prince was flabbergasted.
“You have absolutely no idea about life outside this place, do ya?”
“Well, I er…”
“In here, you’ve got everything. Outside we’ve got nothing. The story is there’s mountains and mountains of food in this palace, but the King just won’t share it,” continued Mite. “Stuff I’ve only ever dreamed of. Cakes and sweets and chocolate!” she said, her eyes gleefully lighting up at the thought.
“Don’t have the eggy-wegg,” offered Alfred.
Nanny gave the boy a filthy look.
“Well, I’m sure we can give you some food,” he added.
“We will do no such thing!” huffed Nanny. “We don’t want to encourage her. First it’s her, then we will be swamped by the great unwashed! No! She is very lucky not to have been shot on sight by the guards.”
“Shot or starved to death,” mused Mite. “I was willing to take me chances. You don’t know what it’s like out there. That’s why one day there is going to be a revolution!”
“I have heard quite enough of this!” snapped Nanny.
“I’m sure there is something we can do to help all those on the outside,” said Alfred.
“Oh yeah? What are you going to do, then, posh boy?”
Alfred stammered. “Well, I, er…”
The truth was, he didn’t have the faintest idea.
“Who are ya anyway?” she asked.
“You don’t know?” spluttered the prince.
“Should I?”
“I am the prince!” he announced grandly. As if there were no other way to announce you were royalty.
“Prince of what?” asked the girl.
“Prince of…” For once the prince was lost for words.
“Prince of Nothing!” she announced.
Judging by the look on Nanny’s face, she had heard quite enough.
“How dare you be so rude!” snapped Nanny.
“It’s true! No one out there has seen you royals for years. All we see is the face of this Lord Protector. Goodness knows what he’s up to!”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you!” chided Nanny. “You show me where this underground river thingy is, and I’ll let you go.”
The girl thought for a moment. “I’ll show you where it is if you give me some chocolate!”
“The cheek of it!” exclaimed Nanny.
“Please, Nanny,” implored Alfred. “Let’s give Mite some chocolate. And some for her family.”
“I don’t have any family. Me mum and dad were shot by the royal guards when I was only three.”
“Oh no,” whispered Alfred. “I am so sorry.”
“I am sorry too.”
“There must have been a reason,” said Nanny. “Perhaps they were revolutionaries?”
“They were shot for stealing a loaf of bread.”
Alfred was shocked to his core. So this was what his country had become!
“That’s evil!” he said.
“Show me how you got into the palace,” said Nanny, changing the subject, “and I will bring you the biggest bar of chocolate you could ever imagine.”
“I can imagine a really big bar! Like ginormous!”
“Then show me where you broke into the palace. RIGHT. NOW.”
The little girl looked at her with suspicion in her eyes. “I don’t trust you, old lady. I don’t trust you one bit.”
“Nanny has looked after me my whole life!” announced Alfred, jumping to her defence. “I couldn’t trust her more!”
Mite looked the boy up and down. “And I don’t trust you either, Prince of Nothing! I’ll find me own chocolate!”
With that, she threw the dustsheet over their heads.
Alfred and Nanny coughed and spluttered in all the dust. When they’d pulled the sheet off, the girl was gone.
“Mite?” called out Alfred. “Mite?”
They paced around the junk room, but there was no sign of the little girl anywhere. She had simply disappeared. Perhaps
she
was
a ghost,
after
all…
“What a nasty little wretch!” was Nanny’s verdict.
“She was just hungry,” reasoned Alfred.
“She’s a thief, young man. And thieves like her belong in the Tower.”
The prince wasn’t so sure. She was only a child like him. And she was hungry. It wasn’t right that the people of Britain lived like that.
“Now, my little prince, we need to get you back to your bedroom.”
Alf
red didn’t want to go back. Being in his bedroom was boring, and he had detective work to do.
“Not now, Nanny!”
“Yes now! The question is, how?”
Alfred peered around the room of junk, and spotted a bicycle. “Could I cycle back?”
Nanny did not look convinced. “Do you know how to ride a bike?”
“No.”
“Well, I would say no, then. Not really time for lessons right now.”
“No.”
The pair fell silent for a moment, before the old lady exclaimed, “Oh! Nanny has an idea! And it’s a goody!”
“What?”
“Hide in that old pram.”
“The pram?” Now it was Alfred’s turn to look unconvinced.
“YES!”
“I am not getting into a pram.”
“You never used to complain!”
“That was when I was a baby! What use is the pram anyway?”
“I can pretend I am using it to wheel some clean blankets up to your bedroom.”
“At this late hour?”
“I’ll say you’ve wet the bed.”
Alfred was not impressed. He hadn’t wet the bed for… well, a long, long time.
He peered into the pram. It was full of festering old blankets that must have been damp for decades. Now they had things growing on them. And the things growing on them had things growing on them! And the things growing on them had things growing on them too!
“In there?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes. In there.”
“You mean actually inside the pram?”
“Yes, of course inside, you great nit!”
“But it STINKS!”
“Stinky is better than dead! Now come on, climb in!”
In truth, the smell was RANK, which is higher up the STINKY SCALE than STINKY.
The old lady smiled an expectant smile. Alfred sighed and with real difficulty clambered into the pram. It was so tight that his knees were wedged up under his chin. What’s more, it was even more PONGDOCIOUS than he had first thought. The smell was positively medieval, which may have been the era when those blankets had last been washed.
“I’m in!” said Alfred, covering his mouth for fear he might barf.
“I’d better cover you up!” said Nanny, pulling a musty old blanket over his head.
The Beast of Buckingham Palace Page 4