by Jane Tulloch
The next week one of the little monkeys was unwell. It transpired that he had eaten a paper tissue, which had blown in through the bars of the cage. Hector was heartbroken seeing the little creature struggling to breathe as it was transported back to the big zoo. He sincerely hoped that the vets there could save it. Even Henry’s cheery whistle and greeting couldn’t lift his black mood. The bird tried his very best version of ‘Scotland the Brave’ and ‘Good morning, doc’. Hector sighed. The bird sighed too. Hector stared at him in surprise. He’s really good, he thought.
Luckily, the chipmunks and the quails appeared to be thriving and continued to interest the public but not as much as the squirrel monkeys and Hector continued his assiduous guard over them. He continued to have to shout at various thoughtless types who tried to torment the animals. One chilly Tuesday he actually had to wrench a child away from the monkey’s cage as she poked her grandmother’s walking stick through bars. “How dare you!” shouted the grandmother. “Let go of Natalie at once.”
Hector responded angrily that the little brat should be under better control.
“How dare you,” came again. “I shall speak to the management about this. Do you know who I am?”
Very unfortunately Hector then responded “No. Don’t you?” She turned wordlessly away drawing Natalie after her, the little brat throwing him a triumphant look over her shoulder.
Hector ground his teeth. This was getting to be too much. He daren’t go for breaks now. How could he trust the public to treat his animals with the respect they deserved? He sank down to the ground, the wall at his back, and looked at the menagerie in despair. Ten to one she’d report him, he’d be sacked and then what would happen to the animals he cared about so much? He’d stopped thinking of his time there as part of his vet course: he had been unable to bear the thought of abandoning his furry and feathered charges. Hector had always been a very focused boy who gave his all to whatever cause he had espoused. His parents had despaired at his refusal to participate in the school cadet force on principle. “He’s too young to have principles,” his solicitor father had raged at one point.
Now came the greatest challenge to his principles. He sprang to his feet and without apparent thought unlocked and threw open the monkeys’ cage. The few people around looked startled as he then moved on to Henry’s cage and opened its little door too. He then stalked off through the glass Tea Room and downstairs leaving for good. The monkeys, curious little creatures, were very fond of Hector who had looked after them so well and who fed them such carefully prepared food. The leader set off after Hector and the entire troupe scampered and swung out through to the door behind him chattering and squealing excitedly. Henry, the mynah bird, examined the open door to his cage, looked down at the quail below him and decided, on balance, that he should leave them to it. He stepped forward and off his perch then sailed off over the roof-tops whistling happily.
Meanwhile the monkeys were having a wonderful time down below in the store. They were making the most of the unaccustomed space and freedom and swung from the lamps hanging below each gallery. They were very interested in all the various items on display. Plates were picked up briefly in tiny hands then discarded with a smash, hats tried on and thrown away. At one point the uncontrolled screaming of Miss Piper led several of the little creatures to let themselves down rather badly in their fright but they rapidly collected their wits enabling them to throw the resultant excrement at random passers-by.
“Well I never expected that in Murrays!” one respectable matron was heard to say. Her companion then asked interestedly, “Where did you expect to be pelted with that stuff?” She nodded indicating the revolting matter now adhering to her friend’s good coat, being too respectable to use any of the conventional words.
The entire shop was soon alight with excitement. Miss Murray ran to the roof but of course that was too late. Barry Hughes’ team of store detectives had been quick to alert him to the mayhem going on throughout the building. Either the monkeys had been through a department or were feared to be on their way. Panic was in the air. This was Barry’s big moment. How could they be trapped?
Hector, who knew them and their ways, was long gone. With no time to spare, Barry thought through the possibilities. It seemed likely they were trying to get down to the ground. If all the potential exit doors were closed they would eventually get to Toys in the basement. He rounded up his best men – well, those men least likely to panic or do anything silly. They passed down through the floors closing doors as they went. He gave the order to close the entrances to the building. Staff apologised to startled customers now corralled near the doors in Perfumery and Cosmetics and Menswear.
Barry’s plan began to work and the monkeys eventually arrived down in Toys. Miss Paterson had begged to be allowed to stay and help. The toy department was a sort of paradise for the little creatures who loved the brightly coloured toys and games in there. Finally, inexorably, they made their way, drawn irresistibly to the substantial Wendy House. The first monkey clattered in there followed by the others. They crouched there happily huddled together. Moving rapidly, Barry and his men, including Miss Paterson, threw a large travelling rug, ‘liberated’ en route from the Travel and Luggage department, over the entire structure. The men held it down on all sides. The escapees were thus recaptured and screeched their dismay. Shortly afterwards Miss Murray and staff from the zoo arrived with a very large travelling cage into which they efficiently transferred the occupants of the Wendy House. Barry and his men heaved a sigh of relief. Gradually his heart rate returned to normal. Adrenalin had a lot to answer for, he thought. “Well done, men!” he called out. “Tea all round on me in the canteen,” he announced grandly.
At next day’s management meeting the attendees reviewed the events of the day before.
“Well at least no one was hurt,” opened Mrs Pegram brightly.
“More by luck than judgement,” responded Mr McElvey, to Miss Murray’s obvious irritation.
“Well, what’s to be done?” Mr Soames asked. “Has there been an estimate of damage?”
“We’ve not lost much,” said Mr Philipson who had been analysing the situation financially. “Damage to our reputation is probably the worst aspect. It was a shame about Lady Priscilla’s coat.”
Miss Murray groaned. “Oh that young man, that Hector, I’d like to give him a piece of my mind. Where is he? What’s happened to him?”
“He’s back at the zoo. In a lot of trouble. Seems like he might be kicked out of the veterinary course for knowingly endangering the lives of animals in his care.” Mrs Pegram had been checking up on Hector’s fate. She had a great deal of sympathy for him and could quite understand how he had been feeling. She too had observed and deplored the behaviour of the great British public faced with captive animals. She had put in a good word for him.
“Well, I hope he does get sacked from the course. Thoughtless young idiot.” Mr McElvey had no patience for people who threatened profit levels, animal lovers or not.
“Are the monkeys OK?” enquired Mr Soames.
“Apparently yes,” said Mrs Pegram. “They were shaken up and stressed but are expected to be OK. The one they had to take away before died though. Hector wasn’t wrong to be concerned for them.”
There was a silence. A guilty one, hoped Mrs Pegram.
“Shame about that bird,” interjected Mr Philipson eventually. “I quite liked him. Seemed a very intelligent chap to me.”
They all nodded. Henry had been popular.
“Now, to business.”
The meeting moved on. They decided to close the menagerie itself and keep the glass Tea Room open only in the summer. The cosier one in the attic floor had proved popular and was to be kept open: it could be booked out for small functions and special events. In fact it was declared an unexpected success and a good use of previously empty space. It was highly profitable. Miss Murray and Mr McElvey exchanged glances. Each felt that they had somehow triumphed. The Roof Ga
rden and Menagerie had been a failure, which pleased him, but the attic café had been a success, which pleased her. Neither had been entirely wrong.
Henry’s swoop to freedom had opened up a new life for him. The other birds were not intimidated by this strange bird’s plain dark colouring and left him alone. He soon found friends, perching on office window-sills throughout the city and entertaining the workers who delighted in feeding him. His other main haunt and pleasure was landing near elderly people sitting on park benches and greeting them loudly in his usual way. His repertoire extended: he whistled ‘Scotland the Brave’, said ‘Good morning, doc’, but this was now followed by ‘Bloody hell, it’s a bird’ in the exact tone of a startled pensioner.
Chapter16
Elizabeth’s Day Out
Elizabeth was a very nice woman, everyone agreed. She was no bother at all and enjoyed everything that her friends and family did for her. She particularly enjoyed her holidays in Scotland each year. Much as she enjoyed these trips, the weather often cast a damper on planned outings. It was on one such of these miserable days of peculiarly Scottish dreich weather that she and Cecily sat over the lunch table staring gloomily out of the window.
“What a miserable day – I’m so bored. Surely there must be something we can do this afternoon?” she enquired of no one in particular.
Cecily looked up from reading the Scotsman. “I don’t know.” She looked at the clock on the sideboard. “It’s quite late, almost a quarter to three. Is there anything you had in mind?”
“Not really,” Elizabeth replied in a vague tone. “I suppose I should be getting on with some small jobs, but I’m just not in the mood this afternoon.”
Cecily regarded her friend in some alarm – this was not like Elizabeth. Neither of them spoke for a while and time passed slowly. Elizabeth continued to stare out the window drumming her fingers on the table until Cecily read out from the newspaper that Murrays department store was celebrating its centenary that month.
“Goodness – one hundred years of Murrays,” Elizabeth mused. “I always liked that shop. Haven’t been back for ages.” She had a thought. “Let’s go and wander round Murrays right now, see what new things they have in stock and maybe have a coffee in the Tea Room?”
“Well, that’s an idea,” Cecily agreed thoughtfully. “Why not? I’ll see if Derek can give us a run over.”
With the plan agreed, the two women made their way to their bedrooms to collect appropriate rainwear. Elizabeth emerged first, drowning in a huge raincoat of her husband’s.
“That won’t do, dear,” Cecily informed her on her arrival in the hall. “Surely you’ve got something a bit, well, neater.” As she was divesting herself of this garment a cry arose from the back of the house.
“I say, where’s my bloody mackintosh?” Elizabeth’s husband was also going out apparently and wanted his coat. Elizabeth winced but handed it over reluctantly.
“What shall I wear now?” she complained as she searched through the large number of jackets and coats hanging on the pegs in the cloakroom. She felt foolish not having had anything suitable packed for Scottish weather. I’m losing it, she thought. Fancy no raincoat for a Scottish holiday. At last, a pale blue anorak was located that fitted well enough. It looked like one of her daughter Anne’s.
Cecily looked at her. “It’s not really you, though, is it?” she commented.
“It’ll do fine,” Elizabeth said firmly. “Now let’s get going. Is Derek ready?”
He was and the ladies clambered into the car.
“Where to, ladies?” he enquired politely.
“Murrays side entrance, please.” They set off.
Derek managed to find a parking spot close by.
“I suppose I have to come too?” he grumbled. He was in no mood to wander aimlessly around women’s-wear departments.
Elizabeth smiled. “I think so, Derek. We’ll treat you to a cup of coffee and a scone.”
Derek noticed that only Cecily was carrying a shopping bag, which meant he knew he would have the job of carrying anything Elizabeth purchased back to the car.
The three of them entered and walked through Menswear to the Grand Hall. Elizabeth noticed, in passing, a small plaque. On stopping to read it the ladies thought how sad it was that such a young man should lose his life here. Involuntarily they cast a glance up to the third-floor gallery above them. The light from the arching cupola illuminating Linens on the third floor, China and Glass on the second and Ladies Separates on the floor directly above them. Without saying more they walked on through to the Shoe department. Derek sighed inwardly.
Elizabeth was quite interested in the possibility of a new pair of court shoes. She was not a very tall lady and preferred to wear shoes that gave her a bit of height but that were not uncomfortable – a tricky combination to find. However, today she was in luck. They walked quickly to the display.
Miss Scott had been left in charge of the department as Mrs Havers, the senior sales assistant, had gone ‘to a meeting’.
“More likely having a fag,” Miss Scott had grumbled at Mrs Havers’ departing back. She observed the approaching ladies with disinterest. Boring. Boring. Boring. They’ll want something ‘comfy’ she suspected, not inaccurately. “Now?” she said apparently as a greeting and addressed somewhere over the ladies’ shoulders. The ladies looked up.
“Yes, please. I’d like to try these in a size four, please, and do you have them in any other colours?” Elizabeth asked. She held out a pair of shoes with heels but which also had a small platform sole thus reducing the slope of the foot but also giving height. Perfect, she had thought.
Miss Scott sighed and called out over her shoulder, “I’ll just check,” as she walked away. Cecily and Elizabeth sat down.
She returned ten minutes later with three pairs of the shoes. Elizabeth tried them on and walked around admiring them in the little mirrors set around the floor of the department. “Ideal,” she pronounced. “Now what other colours do they come in?”
Miss Scott looked at her as though she was very stupid and indicated the ones she’d brought through “These, of course, the navy, black and brown.” She had a thought then added contemptuously, “There’s silver and gold too but I didn’t reckon you were the sort that went in for that sort of thing.”
There was a slight pause. Neither Cecily nor Elizabeth was accustomed to such off-hand – in fact downright rude – treatment. Icily, Elizabeth said, “I’d like to try both, please.” Miss Scott shrugged and with raised eyebrows slouched off back to the stockroom.
Having tried the silver and gold versions Elizabeth decided to have all five pairs. They were expensive, of course, but she’d been looking for such comfortable shoes for a long time and was happy to find them. The startled Miss Scott went over to the till to process payment for such a large purchase.
“How would you like to pay for these, madam?”
To her surprise, it was Derek who presented a card. “Could you charge them to this account, please?”
Miss Scott’s eyes widened and she swallowed rapidly.
“Certainly, sir, at once, sir,” she garbled.
“Please have them sent to the side door for collection. We’ll collect them as we leave,” he drawled. “If you have a minute.” He had not been impressed by service in Murrays so far.
Elizabeth whirled round looking about her. “Where next?” she wondered out loud.
“How about that coffee?” Cecily suggested.
“Good idea. Let’s go to that nice third-floor Tea Room. I’m not so keen on the modern one on the first floor.” Elizabeth had said this as they stepped into the lift conveniently waiting for them outside the shoe department.
Jock, whose lift it was, nodded in silent agreement. He’d always preferred the ladies who frequented the third-floor Tea Room to the smart ones who liked that modern noisy one on the first floor with its chrome and hard edges.
They walked into the Tea Room and quickly located a nice table fo
r two. Elizabeth demurred. “Derek must join us. We can’t have him sitting on his own.” They found another table for three in a corner in a quiet section of the room.
“Well, this is nice,” smiled Elizabeth looking round.
Derek felt awkward enough in this clearly ‘ladies-only’ space, but he was used to fitting in with Elizabeth and Cecily’s plans.
A waitress bustled over. “Well, what is it to be today ladies?” she asked, ignoring Derek.
“This can be my treat,” Cecily said. “What would you like?”
“Coffee for me, please,” requested Elizabeth, “and, do you know, I really fancy a cheese scone!”
“A cheese scone?” mused Cecily “I haven’t had one of those in years. What an excellent suggestion.”
Elizabeth glowed in anticipation of a delicious treat. Not for long though.
“Fruit or plain only here,” said the waitress in a monotone. “There’s no call for cheese scones.”
Facetiously, Derek chipped in, “Well, we’re calling for them!”
“Call all you like but you’re no getting them, sonny.” The waitress lapsed into the vernacular with a harsh look at Derek. He quailed.
Crestfallen, they agreed to three coffees and three plain scones.
“The service in Murrays isn’t very, well, nice any more, is it?” lamented Elizabeth. “That girl in the shoe department was awful. At least the lift attendant was polite.”
