The Tigers in the Tower

by Julia Golding

  “Sahira, a word, please.” Her aunt held out her hand, this time in a gesture that indicated Sahira should take it in hers. “May we use your office, Mr Pence?”

  “Of course, Mrs Bracewell.” He paused, clearing his throat with a loud “ahem”. “And the reward?”

  At the mention of “reward” all three Newtons shamelessly thrust out their hands. Harry smacked the boys lightly on the head, a signal that he would get first pick.

  She passed Mr Pence a stack of gold coins from her reticule, which he promptly handed over to Harry.

  “All square, Newton?” asked Mr Pence.

  “Yes, sir.” Harry grinned and bowed out. “See you later, boys.”

  “Tommy, Alf, lessons have started.” With that hint, the twins sulked their way upstairs. “I’ll be just outside, madam,” said Mr Pence.

  “Is that really necessary?” Mrs Bracewell asked.

  “The girl’s a desperate creature,” said Mr Pence. “I’ve already had to take the rod to her for lying and you saw for yourself that she won’t stay with decent folk. Who knows what she’s capable of?” He left the room but through the open door Sahira could see him hovering outside, listening in.

  “Please, sit, child,” Mrs Bracewell said.

  Sahira limped to an upright chair.

  “You’re injured? Oh, and your feet!” The lady kneeled and looked them over, hesitant to touch her grubby skin. “You must bathe these immediately. You really must get used to wearing shoes, my dear. This is London, not the jungle. My foolish brother did you no favours not teaching you such things.”

  That stung more than her toes. “Baba wasn’t foolish. They took the boots off me.”

  Mrs Bracewell stood up. “I suppose they did have a villainous look. Well, I’m pleased you know that much at least.” She was talking about Sahira in her hearing as if she were some wild child raised by wolves. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

  “My mother died too,” Sahira said pointedly.

  “And her, of course. I didn’t meet her, you understand?” Meaning, Sahira supposed, that she was never quite real to Mrs Bracewell. “My child, I came because John received a note from you via the little Peel boy asking for help. It said to go to the Tower of London, but that sounded most peculiar.”

  “It’s where I work,” she said defensively.

  “Yes, well.” The lady’s tone suggested she didn’t want to touch that problematic subject – a girl, working at a man’s job. “He told me where you were living and was most insistent I came to see that you were all right. Imagine my shock when I found you’d been missing for a few days and no one had looked for you.”

  At that moment Sahira wished she could have stayed missing.

  “Why did you run away?” Mrs Bracewell asked.

  Where to start? Mr Pence’s shadow lay across the entrance. He was listening. “I’m unhappy here.”

  Mrs Bracewell sat down in a chair across from Sahira. “Oh, my dear, I can imagine it’s a difficult adjustment for you, but you have to accept that nothing is going to bring your parents back.” She sounded like the missionary lady from the boat. “You have to make peace with your new life.”

  “You’ve not come to offer me a place in your home, have you?” she asked. She knew the answer; the lawyer had shattered any dreams she’d had of that happening.

  “Me? Oh, Sahira, I… my husband… there are difficulties you wouldn’t understand,” her aunt answered, appearing flustered.

  “I do understand,” Sahira said. “You don’t want to acknowledge me as a member of your family because my mother was from India and I’m different from you.”

  The lady looked embarrassed. “That does present a problem. People are very quick to judge and my girls are about to… well, never mind that.”

  “It’s been explained to me. They won’t make good marriages if I’m there.” Sahira made herself shrug, though she was far from indifferent on the subject. It wasn’t the first time she’d been treated like a leper. “My family in India on my mother’s side thought I was a disgrace too.”

  “You’re not a disgrace!” Mrs Bracewell got up and walked to the window.

  “Really? Everyone treats me as if I am.”

  Something about the tone of her voice made Mrs Bracewell turn and look at her. “You do sound a lot like Richard when you say that. My brother always drove a coach and horses through society’s conventions.”

  Sahira felt the anger bubbling inside her, fuelled by her disappointment that her aunt wasn’t going to stand by her. It was exhausting having hope after hope stripped from her. She stood up. “Thank you for visiting, Aunt. I don’t expect you to worry about me anymore. Please don’t pay people to fetch me back if I run away again. I’d prefer to make my own way in the world. I won’t be staying here long.”

  “But Sahira, we haven’t talked yet about what to do –”

  “I know what you’re going to do,” Sahira interrupted. “You’re going to leave me here and tell me to be good.”

  “That does seem the best course of action,” she said, but with a little doubt in her tone. Even she must have noticed it wasn’t a nice place for a child.

  “But I hate it here!” Tears came despite herself. “They are cruel and despise me, but maybe you think that’s just how it is for orphans like me – that I won’t get anything better anywhere else?”

  “I can’t help how society sees children with your background,” said her aunt stiffly. “Please, don’t cry.”

  “My father would think you were the disgrace – not me!” Sahira shouted.

  Mr Pence stepped in, cane tapping at his side. “Madam, you can see now what I’m dealing with.”

  The lady cleared her throat. “Please, leave us, Mr Pence.” She waited for the man to go and this time shut the door behind him. She turned to Sahira. “You’re right. Richard probably would think that way – but then as a man he always had more choices than I did. If it weren’t for… well, I won’t burden you with my reasons. I can see you have too much pride to listen to them. Sahira, I want you to be happy.”

  “H… how can I b… be happy?” she spluttered. That was impossible, like asking for a sunbird or a unicorn. Sahira curled up around her boots. She felt like her aunt had taken a knife to her. This cool compassion was worse than the Newtons’ and Pences’ scorn.

  “Time heals all wounds.” Sahira felt the slightest of touches on her neck. “I will check on you regularly despite what you say and ask Mr Pence to be patient with you. I won’t allow anyone to mistreat you, I promise.”

  There was no point in this conversation. Sahira knew that her aunt was fooling herself because she didn’t really want to take responsibility. Once she left, any restraint Mr Pence was showing would leave with her.

  “I really don’t think you or anyone else will be able to stop them,” Sahira said quietly. Still hugging her boots, she bobbed a shallow curtsey and left the room. Just like Rama and Sita, she had no choice but to return to her cage.

  CHAPTER 16

  June 1830. The King was dead, long live the King. In the menagerie, the lion, George Junior, was swiftly renamed William and life carried on as usual. Except, thought Sahira, idly wiping the glass in the monkey room, there was a feeling that they were all living on borrowed time. The Duke of Wellington was circling the menagerie like a wolf does an old ewe that it knows is too feeble to fight it off. The stoop to Mr Cops’s shoulders was getting more pronounced even as his wife’s belly grew rounder. Sahira could see him approaching across the courtyard. He must be worrying he would lose his position just as Mrs Cops gave birth to their first child.

  “How do, Sahira?” he called, finding her just finishing up her cleaning.

  “Well enough,” she said. This had become her standard answer. She was well enough to carry on living this half life she was trapped inside. One day she would be old enough to make her own decisions about where she could live – but not yet. “How’s Mrs Cops?”

  “Good, thank y
ou. Resting.” He patted a stool beside him. “I want a word, so you don’t hear it from anyone else first.”

  What now? thought Sahira bleakly. Was he going to tell her she couldn’t work here any longer? The boost brought by the novelty of tigers was wearing off and visitor numbers subsiding. In summer, people were travelling further afield for their pleasures and the richer ones were going to the new zoological gardens in Regent’s Park. Mr Cops was having to cut corners, buying cheaper grain for the birds and less meat for the big cats. But if he sent her away so she couldn’t escape here each day, then she would have no reason to carry on.

  “You won’t have failed to notice that things aren’t that rosy at the moment,” Mr Cops said heavily.

  She nodded.

  “I’m thinking of making some drastic changes so the rest of the menagerie can survive.”

  “You want me to go?” Sahira blurted out.

  “What? You? No! No, nothing like that.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, lass. I didn’t realize that was what you were thinking. You work twice as hard as my other keepers. I’ll keep you around as long as I can, I promise.” He smiled reassuringly.

  The relief felt like being washed off her feet by a warm wave of the Indian Ocean. “Thank you.”

  “I fear you won’t like the rest of what I’ve got to say though so brace yourself.” He gave her a challenging look.

  “Ned?”

  He shook his head. “Stop making wild guesses, Sahira, and let me explain.”

  She folded her hands in her lap and waited.

  “I need to raise some money – and quickly. I’ve bills that could see me in gaol if I don’t pay them. I have to sell some of the animals – they’re the only property that I can shift quick enough. I’ve got a buyer for a family of marmosets, but that isn’t going to solve the cash flow problem.” He paused, a look of hesitation on his face. “So I’ve accepted Jamrach’s offer for the tigers.”

  Sahira shot up from her seat with that hornet sting of surprise. “What!”

  Mr Cops’s face was the picture of guilt but he carried on regardless. “I know what they mean to you –”

  “You don’t!”

  “But the offer is more than fair – generous – some rich man with a park. He wants them –”

  “He’s going to hunt them – you know that’s what happens to big cats when they’re bought by rich men!” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “That’s possible. I can’t control what he does with them, but I really think he’ll understand that they’re too valuable to sacrifice to sport,” he explained, his voice wavering.

  “You don’t believe that – I can tell you don’t.”

  Mr Cops hung his head. “I have no choice, Sahira.”

  “I thought you understood – I thought you loved these animals?”

  “I do, but I have to think of the whole menagerie, not just two creatures. The new zoological gardens have also offered to take them off my hands, but for much less money. I’d prefer that but I don’t think I can afford it.”

  “But they’d live, yes? Surely, that has to be better?” Sahira pleaded.

  “The sum they’re offering won’t be enough to save this place.”

  Sahira’s mind raced with anything that she could suggest to make him change his mind. “Talk to the zoological people – ask for more money!”

  He shook his head.

  “Let me bargain with them. I’m good at that – really I am. I used to do it in India all the time…”

  “Sahira –”

  “I’ll go there right now – persuade them.” She was up and running before he could stop her.

  “Sahira, don’t be a fool. They won’t listen to you!” he called after her.

  No, but they might listen to the son of the Home Secretary, she thought.

  Ned caught up with her as she hurried to the gate, Nebbie trotting behind.

  “Sahira, where are you going?”

  “Tigers – zoological gardens or death – Bobby,” she managed through pants. She had a stitch already. Since the Newtons had marched her back to the orphanage, her hip had hurt worse than ever if she rushed.

  Ned was never slow. “You’re going to Master Bobby’s? You won’t make it across town.”

  Sahira gritted her teeth. “Yes, I will.”

  Ned caught her arm. “Ride Nebbie. I’ll take you. Master Bobby will definitely come down to see you if you have the zebra.”

  She had to admit it was a good plan – if they could get there without being mobbed by local children wanting to share the fun. There was no time for second thoughts. Sahira got on the back of the zebra, who was now used to putting up with riders and only tried to nip Ned once for his pains.

  “Right, you can tell me what’s going on as we go,” said Ned. He looked up at her. “To think before I met you I only had Cook to worry about!”

  As her initial desperation settled now she was doing something to help, Sahira had time to feel a little like the Pied Piper of Hamelin as they headed across town with a following of the curious. Carriages drew up to look, an omnibus rumbled to a stop to let them cross the road first, and workmen put down their tools to cheer and whistle. Ned turned prospective riders away with a firm shake of the head – all business today. He led them without taking a wrong turn right to the mews behind Bobby Peel’s house. Leaving Sahira in charge of Nebbie, he went to the back door to deliver a message, having already done this on her behalf a few weeks ago. Then they waited, Sahira sitting on a mounting block while Ned led Nebbie to a horse trough.

  They heard the voices on the back stairs before they saw the speakers.

  “A zebra, you say? How fascinating! And here was I thinking I was the one invited to give the lesson on the animal kingdom!” That tone belonged to a young man in his early twenties. He came into view – straight brown hair already in retreat up his forehead, heavy eyebrows, and deep set eyes that gave the impression he peered out at the world like an animal deep in a den.

  “I can’t say it’s a normal occurrence, Charles, but Bobby does have a way of making unusual friends,” said Mr Evesham, the tutor.

  Sahira now saw her cousin John and Bobby with the older men. John waved hesitantly at her and she gave him a slight smile. It wasn’t his fault his mother didn’t want a cuckoo in the nest.

  Bobby bounded over. “Miss Clive – Ned – Nebbie!” He chose to bow to the zebra, which was so like him that Sahira’s smile became a genuine one. “Have you come to tea?”

  “Miss Clive.” Mr Evesham nodded to her. “Please, allow me to introduce my good friend, Charles Darwin. He’s a Cambridge man like me, and quite an enthusiast for all things animal and vegetable.”

  “Minerals are exceedingly interesting too,” added Mr Darwin, bowing to her. “Don’t forget that, Evie. Geology – age of the earth – all this is vital to understanding how things have come to be.”

  Evie? Sober Mr Evesham had that as a nickname?

  John touched Sahira’s arm. “How are you, Cousin?”

  Sad? Lonely? Desperate? “Well enough.”

  He swallowed and nodded. “I –”

  She had no time for his apologies. “Bobby, I need you to take me to the new zoological gardens.”

  Her young friend looked taken aback at the sudden demand. “What? Now?”

  “Yes, now.” She hadn’t come across London on a zebra just to make a diary date for some distant future.

  “But…” Bobby looked to his tutor.

  “Perhaps you should explain?” said Mr Evesham.

  “My tigers –”

  “The girl has tigers?” asked Mr Darwin before Mr Evesham hushed him.

  “– Mr Cops has to sell them but the zoological society isn’t offering enough. If they don’t go there, then some rich man is going to buy them and shoot them.”

  “Shoot them? Are you sure?” Mr Evesham asked incredulously.

  She nodded. Why else would he want them?

  “I see,”
the tutor continued. “And what do you think you can do at the zoo?”

  Sahira noted the odd new word – zoo. “I will bargain with them. Please, I’ve got to try.”

  There was a yelp from Mr Darwin. He’d just discovered that, despite their resemblance to horses, zebras were not friendly creatures.

  Mr Evesham consulted his watch.

  “Please, sir,” pleaded Bobby. “We were studying nature this afternoon with your friend. We can just tell Mama that you decided to take the lecture to the zoological gardens. In fact, wouldn’t that be better for my education?”

  “You make your case very well, Bobby,” agreed the tutor. “We’ll leave this creature here – who knows what they would do if we took a zebra to the gate.”

  “Probably try to acquire it,” said Mr Darwin, shaking his hand to rid it of the pain of nipped fingers.

  Bobby clapped his hands excitedly. “Thank you! Thank you! I’ll get James to fetch a carriage.”

  “I’ll ask James. You will be a gentleman and offer your guest refreshments,” corrected the tutor. “They’ve come a long way already. Ned, while we go to the zoo, you will walk your charge back to the Tower. I take it he is here with permission of the keeper?”

  “Not exactly,” confessed Ned.

  Mr Evesham sighed. “Then you’d better go back at once. I’ll send a footman with you.” He held up a finger. “Straight back, mind; no stops to earn a few pennies.”

  “Spoilsport,” muttered Ned.

  With Ned and Nebbie sent to the Tower in the company of a young footman, the rest of the party headed in the family coach to Regent’s Park. The new zoological gardens were being constructed on the northern side, entry only for those who had permission from one of the Fellows of the Zoological Society. As expected, Sahira found that the word of Bobby Peel – a son of one of these – was enough to get them all inside the gate. The zoo did look promising: unlike the cramped quarters at the Tower, the cages were set among gardens. Families strolled along the wide paths, the animals placed in their ornate enclosures almost as an afterthought among the hoop-rolling, ball-playing children. If you ignored the small size of the cages, you could almost think it a paradise.