by Penny Dolan
We all put a brave face on it. The Aunts rummaged in their cupboards and hampers. They pulled out shirts and stiff collars, tweed jackets and breeches and caps for me to wear. They had so many garments that Aunt Indigo suggested packing a large leather bag for me, in case more things were needed.
Once upon a time, when I was much smaller and knew far less than now, my own dear Ma had done this for me. I could not help feeling angry. I had been found, but I was no longer free.
‘Do stop fidgeting, Mouse,’ said Aunt Violet. ‘And, for heaven’s sake, take that sulky look off your face when you meet these people.’
Why did I have to? ‘If this lady really is my mother, she won’t care how I look, will she?’ I protested.
‘Not really, Mouse, but I suspect that you will care,’ Aunt Violet remarked wisely.
‘And we care, child! We don’t want your mother thinking we kept you like a ragamuffin,’ snapped Aunt Indigo. ‘Do you want to shame us, and Nick Tick? Do you want her to think we used you as a scullery boy? Put on these boots, and be quick about it.’
The well-polished boots pinched.
‘Scullery clothes are more comfortable,’ I muttered ungratefully, but the Aunts just laughed.
‘Hands?’ Aunt Indigo checked my fingernails. She checked behind my ears, which were sticking out through my tufty hair, as they had always done. She tried one last time to make my hair lie down, which it wouldn’t.
‘Where’s Kitty?’ I longed to see her. Since my accident, we had not met, though Flora and Dora had brought me little notes. Things had changed, everywhere. Was Kitty too busy with her own life and new-found father, or was I too busy with everything that was happening to me?
A swift glance passed between the two women. ‘Kitty went to the theatre early,’ said Aunt Violet. ‘I think she was afraid to watch you leave.’
Afraid? What of? How, when we both had what we’d wanted, and we had people who were here to help us, could things feel so uncertain? Had not Adnam himself promised he would take me to the Grand Imperial Hotel and the meeting with my apparent parents?
‘Life is often complicated, Mouse,’ Vanya had said. ‘Believe me, Hugo Adnam will be the best person to have by your side in such a place and at such a moment.’
I hoped he was right, but I so wished that Kit was here too.
Adnam, being Adnam, rapped at the Aunts’ front door. I had never seen it used before.
‘Typical of the man. Always loved making dramatic entrances,’ grumbled Aunt Indigo, scraping the warped timber across the uneven floor. ‘So here you are, Hugo.’
Adnam appeared imposingly respectable. He wore a solemnly dark suit and cravat. He carried a top hat and a cane. Nobody could have had better polished boots. He gave a crooked smile, as if to tell me he was the same Hugo Adnam inside.
‘Once more unto the breach then, young Mouse,’ he declaimed. ‘Our carriage awaits.’
‘Goodbye, Mouse,’ said the Aunts, waving. ‘Goodbye!’
As I tried to shout that this was not goodbye, the carriage set off at a brisk pace, toppling me back on to the seat.
Adnam placed his hat and cane neatly on the seat and studied my face. ‘So, Mouse. Another act begins for you. It starts with a very serious scene indeed. Now you must think – what do you want to happen? What are the scenes in your head? Believe me, a man in his time may play many parts, but it is always a good idea to think about them first.’
I didn’t answer. With all that was happening around me I thought I had no choice in the matter.
He sighed. This was the true Adnam talking, with all his masks stripped away. ‘Listen, Mouse, you are too old to be a babe in the wood. You can no longer be a little boy lost. You will have a magic carpet spread out before your very eyes, so consider. Who do you want to be? Who are you? You must think about that, dear boy, you really must, because decisions will be made.’
I was thinking as hard as I could, but I had no answer.
‘Remember, all the world’s a stage, and men and women merely players,’ he murmured, ‘so choose the role that makes you happy in your heart.’
The horses trotted on.
Huge gilded doors wreathed with brass foliage swished open as we entered the Grand Imperial Hotel.
This place was nothing like the straw-strewn taverns where I had whooped and squawked alongside Punchman, delighting the raucous crowds. This was not like the jostling, excited realm of the Albion. This was like entering an enchanted mirage of a palace, where all worldly sound was hushed.
Lamps and chandeliers glowed around us, even though it was midday. Vast porcelain vases full of roses poured out their perfumes, so the hotel smelled sweeter than the Fairy Queen’s own bower. Beside every corner or column, a host of brass-buttoned attendants awaited our command.
Adnam strode to the hotel’s reception desk. A bald man, glossy as a pork butcher at a wedding, was immediately attentive. He regarded me as if I was a scuttling rat, but he smiled expansively at the great actor. I had seen Arthur Boddy playing his comic butler role in just such an overblown manner.
‘You are expected in the Marlborough Suite, Mr Adnam, sir. You will find it on the seventh floor.’
Several heads turned at the famous name, but Adnam ignored them.
‘Have you been in a lift before, Mouse?’ Adnam asked conversationally, as we strolled across the wide marble floor towards what seemed like a double gateway. ‘Modern invention. They’ll be everywhere soon.’
Warm gusts of oily air puffed out from the shaft. A metal crate hissed down an iron shaft and shuddered to a stop at our level. The lift-boy merrily rattled apart the ornate folding gates, and a flock of chattering ladies exited enthusiastically, trooping towards the tea room.
‘Going up?’ called the lift-boy, proudly in charge of this merry toy.
Behind the great ropes and chains holding this shining elevator, I heard echoes of the broken tray-hoist clattering down into the kitchen of Murkstone Hall. This lift was not for me.
Before Adnam could speak, I went racing up the imposing stairs two or three at a time, smearing the brass banister rail with my fingers. In my fear, I forgot I was speeding towards another life until I slid to a breathless halt outside the gilded doors of the Marlborough Suite.
Smiling and at ease, Adnam strolled from the clanking lift. He winked. ‘Here we go, Mouse!’
On either side of a blazing fire sat a lady and a gentleman, dressed in expensive mourning garments. They were fine rich folk, although their skin was tanned like that of any field labourer.
My parents gazed at me, searching for the infant they had left. Repeated in every mirror around that room was an almost grown boy who gazed back at them. He was someone I knew very well and they did not.
The fine lady, with her bright brown eyes, was alert as a squirrel. Straight away she spoke.
‘How are you yourself, child?’
‘Better now, thank you, madam. My arm aches where I fell on it.’
‘And your side?’
‘Bruised, madam, but I hope to be well enough to return to the play soon.’ I had planned these words.
She was surprised by my reply and hid it by picking at the thick lace of her cuffs.
‘I am not sure that will be happening,’ she remarked, her voice low but insistent. Then she raised her eyebrows at Adnam. ‘What did you tell the boy about us?’
‘I left it to you to tell him what you want him to know,’ Adnam said most diplomatically, giving a half-bow.
‘Then where do I begin?’ the lady asked herself. Sighing deeply, she beckoned me closer. ‘Mouse, I want to look at you properly. Come here.’
I walked over. As she studied me, I noticed the freckles under her brown skin and the small scars of toil on her ungloved hands. She was rather proud and awkward, but there was a
n interested look in her eyes that I could not help liking.
‘Do you still have that medal that saved you, child?’
From the way she spoke, the medal must have been discussed before. I rummaged in my pocket and held out the little piece of silver that had kept me safe from that shot. I kept my fingers curled tightly over it.
‘Do you know what this object is?’ she asked.
‘I did not until Mr Nick explained it to me. It is a compass.’
‘Clever Mr Nick. And what is this creature on it?’
She asked me as if I was a little child, so my answer came somewhat sulkily. ‘A mouse. That’s easy to see.’
It was also easy to see that my silvery whiskery mouse was twisted where the bullet had struck the metal. He seemed to be twirling around, awkwardly searching after his own tail.
‘Do you see these letters?’ she said, pointing. The man, Albert, stepped forward, as if he was uncertain what to do. What did this pair want from me?
‘The letters say Mouse. That’s my name. That’s what people call me. That’s why it belongs to me.’
‘Not quite. Look again. There are five single letters: M.O.U.S.E.’
She glanced up at the man, who rested his hand on my shoulder before speaking to me softly.
‘Boy, we did call you Mouse. When you were born, you were the very tiniest thing, with your round brown eyes and tufty hair and those little ears! But the letters are really the initials of your own name: Marcus Octavius Ulysses Septimus Epton.
‘Do you think you could get used to being that boy, Mouse?’
Who? What? Marcus Octavius who? ‘Pardon, sir?’ I stuttered.
The man repeated the long list. ‘Epton is your family name, Mouse. Do you understand?’
‘No, I’m just Mouse, sir. All my life I’ve been Mouse.’
‘It’s not easy to become somebody else, but you are our son. You are our Marcus,’ said the lady.
I glanced helplessly across at Adnam.
‘I’m sure you’ll find that this is all true, Mouse,’ he told me.
I stepped back, away from them. ‘Then where have you been all this time? What have you been doing? Why have I never seen you?’ I asked. ‘They said you were drowned.’
‘Not drowned. Lost!’ the lady said, wistfully. ‘Long years of it!’
‘We were shipwrecked,’ said the man, ‘on a small tropical island. Lived there for years. Only found by chance. Son, we did not intend to be without you for so long.’
I remembered Nick’s mechanical galleons plunging up and down on the painted billows, bound for the dreadful reef of rocks. ‘A very long time?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘We found many things: plants and seeds and trees and strange flowers and more . . .’ The woman was trying to explain the time away.
‘But we could not get back to you, Mouse,’ the man told me. ‘Not till now.’
‘Oh!’ For a while we said nothing. My heart was beating hard.
A knock, an uneven rattling sound, and a waiter pushed in a fully laden tea trolley almost higher than himself, before backing out again hurriedly. The trolley stood like a huge silver barrow on the flowery carpet, brimming over with cakes and sandwiches.
To live like this must be almost like being on a stage, even if this audience was a flurry of servants and maids, people like my Ma. I was wishing I could see her now, and wishing I could remember more of the things she told me.
I gazed around. Over on a grand piano was the portrait of a long-faced man with an unhappy scowl. The frame was wreathed in black leaves.
‘My brother,’ said the gentleman in a troubled voice. ‘Name of Scrope. I think he once knew you, young Mouse.’
Sadness shaded the man’s pleasant face. My own confusion had blinkered me to all the fresh signs of mourning.
‘I am sorry, sir.’
‘Good lad,’ he said, and patted my head with hesitant friendliness.
‘Now –’ he sat down purposefully – ‘here is the matter, Mouse. We are your own parents. We have a home to offer you.’
Parents? Home? These words were unreal to me. I had had neither for so long, not as most people thought of them.
Parents? I had found my own sorts of parents. Wayland and Punchman. The Aunts and Vanya and Nick. Even Adnam, who now stood beside me. I had my own Isaac and Ma too. What did I need with this unknown mother and father? I had Kitty and Flora and Dora for sisters. I had little Dog Toby.
Home? I had lived in so many places, good, bad and wretched. What would I want with the grand home they were offering me?
‘We will arrange the date as soon as possible,’ said the man.
‘Come as soon as you like, Mouse,’ the woman said eagerly. ‘We are ready to welcome you back. Now?’
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Not today. Or tomorrow. I do not know you as my father or my mother. I’m sorry.’ I glanced about awkwardly, feeling an urge to run. ‘Even if that is what you are.’
‘I see,’ said the man. The woman closed her eyes, and I saw tears glimmer there.
I was sure I would have to go with these people sometime soon. But what would my life be like with these strangers? I did not know what they wanted of me. I glanced across at Adnam, urging him to end this meeting.
‘Odds bodkins!’ he declared, eyeing the great gilt clock on the mantelpiece. ‘The world of the Albion Theatre is calling!’ He announced this as grandly as if he was King Theseus. ‘Madam, sir, I must take the boy with me, though I promise I won’t let him fly yet. It may be best to take things slowly. Mouse is happy where he is for now. Pray send word when you want to meet again.’
My parents smiled rather stiffly and sadly.
‘Bow, Mouse,’ suggested Adnam, so I bowed as respectfully as he did. ‘Bid your good parents adieu!’
Parents? Such a strange word when I had lived without them for so long.
We made our exit. This time I hurried into the lift, too confused to be afraid. The boy whistled as he slammed the gate across and the cage descended the long lift shaft.
The great Hugo Adnam smiled at me mischievously. ‘Mouse, we have escaped! These rich people! They always want you to fit in with their plans. If there is one thing I have learned in my life, it is that one must decide for oneself. Remember that, my boy.’
As we stepped on to the carpeted entrance hall, Adnam added, almost shyly, ‘Now, will you help me by taking a message to the Aunts, Mouse?’
A distinguished person passed us, preparing to ascend in the lift. He chewed on his moustache and swayed in his boots, as if he had awkward news to reveal.
The staff at the reception desk began muttering and scurrying quietly about.
‘Police again? Who’s not dead?’ I heard, as well as a tired sigh. ‘Must we fold all the black crepe away again?’
.
CHAPTER 83
MAKING UP
The Aunts’ parlour was full of baskets of flowers and hampers full of delicacies. Adnam had presented these gifts with an unusual modesty. The Aunts nodded graciously.
‘Thank you for these gifts, Hugo, and the message Mouse brought,’ said Aunt Indigo. ‘It’s about time you came to see us and the girls properly, you know.’
‘Even if our darling Katherine was dead, you didn’t have to stay away, Hugo,’ added Aunt Violet.
‘I did not mean to neglect you all,’ Adnam said, ‘but . . . but . . .’
‘But you were in pain, like us?’ suggested Aunt Violet, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. ‘Silly boy, Hugo.’
Fumbling in his long coat, Adnam brought out two paper parcels. The ribbons revealed two pretty china dolls dressed in silk and satin. The twins cooed with delight.
‘Is it really true,’ said Flora ‘that you are
our Papa?’
‘Really, really, really true?’ enquired Dora.
‘Yes,’ whispered Adnam, almost inaudibly.
‘Then we shall kiss you on the cheek,’ said Flora, smiling very precisely.
‘Because that is what you do to a long-lost Papa in a story,’ Dora told him.
Then the two girls kissed their fairy-tale father just as if they were acting a scene in a play. They played it most perfectly.
Adnam knew their response for what it was – a make-believe greeting for an imaginary father. They had been well trained, these two young actresses.
He felt a lump in his throat. One day the girls would know him for who he was, but they did not yet. He had stayed out of their lives too long. He had stayed out of Kitty’s life too. As Flora and Dora trotted off triumphantly with their pretty prizes, Adnam’s eyes filled with real-life tears.
‘I missed my Katherine so much I could not bear it. I was so angry when she died,’ he told the Aunts.
‘So were we, Hugo,’ said Aunt Violet, with a hot spark of fury. ‘Don’t you forget that! Sometimes one just has to face the hard things in life, even if one doesn’t like what one sees.’
‘And think of that when you are offering that young boy advice, won’t you?’ added Aunt Indigo.
.
CHAPTER 84
THE LAST ACT
I knew the day would come, changing my life. Each night I tossed and turned, waiting for the light.
‘It is a most good chance, Mouse!’ Vanya told me, beaming. ‘A grand life and you can learn to be happy in it!’
Then Vanya and Nick whispered together, their minds already full of their next theatrical invention.
The Aunts, having heard about the Grand Imperial Hotel, muttered ancient proverbs about riches and eyes of needles. Flora and Dora were bursting with delight. They imagined me as Aladdin in a house of treasures. But Kitty, my dear friend? She was always busy. We had not yet met, not yet spoken.
I had to find a place of balance, a space where I could think things through, before the final summons arrived. Not for the first time, I paced the streets alone.
