Most unusually, Solomon looked surprised, and said, ‘When you say “highest”, you mean . . .?’
‘Not the Almighty,’ said Angela, ‘at least not as far as I know, but definitely the next best thing – a lady who could make some parts of Mister Dodger’s life somewhat easier. I rather think that this is an invitation that would not be repeated if ignored.’
‘Mmm, really? Well, in that case I’d better get my morning dress suit from Jacob and have it cleaned, shall I?’
Quite apart from the cider, the fresh air, the cheese and the stars, the young couple making friends with everybody in the town of Axbridge also got a taste for wall fruit, which the girl had told them was called by the French escargot, while in Somerset they were snails and be damned if they tried to be anything else.
All in all, the pair were a source of amiable mystery to the townsfolk, and everyone seemed to have their own anecdote about the couple, and speculated about them; the lady who did the church flowers said she had seen them in the lane by the river with some kids, teaching them a game called Happy Families. And a farmer declared that he had seen them sitting on a gate with the girl teaching the lad to read, or so it seemed, correcting his pronunciation and everything, for all the world like a school teacher. But, the farmer maintained, the lad seemed to enjoy the whole business and one of the farmer’s mates then mentioned to the regulars in the pub that he had seen the lad every night lying on the warm grass and watching the stars. He said, ‘It were as if the poor devil had never seen them before.’
On the last day, as they said their goodbyes, one of their new friends, who had a pony and trap, took them back up the road to the pub at Star. He took a minor detour on the way to show them the field wherein there was a stone which, it was said, possibly by people who drank all that cider, came alive on some nights and danced around the field.
At that point, just after they had finished watching the stone, in case it was inclined to attempt a little jig for the tourists, Dodger said to his girlfriend in the pure, rustic tones of Somersetshire, ‘Oi reckon we oughta be moving along now, moi goyirl.’
She, smiling like the sun, said, ‘Where bi’st to, my lover?’
Dodger smiled and said, ‘Lunnon.’
And she said, ‘Where folk be so queer, not like ussun.’
Then she kissed him and he kissed her, and in tones more like those of Lunnon than Somerset, he said, ‘My love, do you thinks it possible, that a stone could dance?’
She said, ‘Well, Dodger, if anyone could make a stone dance, it would have to be you.’
After that, two locals from Somerset, who nevertheless had enough money to travel by coach, arrived in London from Bristol. Entirely disregarded, they disappeared into the throng, and paid for accommodation for a single lady in a respectable boarding house while the young man set off to Seven Dials.
The following morning, Dodger took Onan out for a run, and then disappeared down into the sewers. Anyone watching might have noticed that he was rather solemn and carrying a bag, although it is questionable whether rats can tell how solemn a human being is, or indeed know the meaning of the term solemn. The rats might have been surprised later to find, tucked away in the debris of the sewers, carefully placed high above the normal levels of the water, a pair of shiny new shoes.
What Dodger did subsequently nobody saw, but he was most certainly on London Bridge at noon. There he was, staring at the boats going past when a girl with long hair said in a voice that made his bones tingle, ‘’Scuse me, mister, can thee show me the way to Seven Dials, where my aunty lives?’
Dodger, if anyone was watching – and they certainly were – brightened up and said, ‘Are you new here? Capital! Allow me to show you around, it would be my pleasure.’
At that moment a coach pulled up, to the consternation of the drivers of some vehicles behind it. But the coachmen paid them no attention as a woman stepped out, smiled at Dodger, looked intensely at the Somerset maiden, and said after an almost forensic examination, ‘Well now, how surprising, my friend, one might be mistaken in thinking that this young lady was Simplicity herself, but alas, as we both know, the poor girl is most dreadfully deceased. But clearly you, Mister Dodger, are a resilient gentleman, I am aware of that. Since the three of us have strangely met on this bridge, perhaps you would allow me to take you and your new friend to Lavender Hill cemetery, where I was intending to go today, because the stonemason will by now have finished poor Simplicity’s gravestone.’ She turned to the girl and said, ‘What is your name, young lady?’
The girl smiled and said, ‘Serendipity, missus.’ And Angela had to put her hand over her mouth to conceal laughter.
And so they went, all three, to Lavender Hill, where flowers were laid and not surprisingly tears were shed, and then Dodger and the young lady called Serendipity were dropped off again at one of the other bridges where he had been told the Happy Family man had positioned his rather strange cart.
It was, in short, one quite large cage in which was a dog, a cat, a small baboon, a mouse, a couple of birds and a snake, all living together in harmony, like real Christians, as the old man put it.
Serendipity said, ‘Why on earth doesn’t the cat eat the mouse, Dodger?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think the old man is not one to tell you his secrets, but some people say if they are brought up together with some kindness, they become just that, a happy family. Although I have been told that should a mouse who has not yet been introduced to the snake come in through the bars, it would become the snake’s dinner very quickly.’
She held his hand then, and they walked along across the bridges and saw all the entertainments thereon: the men who lifted heavy weights, and the Crown and Anchor men, and the man who sold ham sandwiches, and the man who could stand on his hands upside down. Finally, as the golden light of evening made London look more like a pagan temple, all bronze and shiny, and turned the Thames into a second Ganges, they went home, totally ignoring the Punch and Judy man.
The following morning began with pandemonium outside. When Dodger crept down the stairs and peered out at the street, he saw two men wearing plumed helmets, and a smaller man looking at the same time both self-important and also slightly terrified about where he was. Dodger managed to get the window open and shouted down, ‘What do you want, mister?’ He didn’t like the look of the smaller man, who was obviously the boss – because whenever you see a big man alongside a small man, the little man is generally the boss. The little man now demanded, ‘A gentleman by the name of . . . Mister Dodger?’
Dodger gulped and shouted down, ‘Never heard of him.’
The man looked up and said, ‘Well, sir, I am sad to hear that. But if you do in fact meet the said Mister Dodger, perhaps you would tell him that Her Majesty Queen Victoria has summoned him to Buckingham Palace tomorrow afternoon!’
From behind Dodger, Solomon said blearily, ‘Mmm, Dodger, you cannot ignore a summons from Her Majesty.’
And so Dodger was short of anywhere to dodge to, and he stepped gingerly into the street. People were already gathering, much to the chagrin of the two men with the plumed helmets, because the rumour had run around that Dodger was being taken to the gallows at last and one or two people were talking about fighting back; and naturally, when you have one rumour, it buds little extra rumours. Just for the fun of it.
Now Dodger stood there, blinking, and said, ‘OK, mister, now tell me the truth.’
The small, rather harassed man, trying to maintain a dignified image in a world that had no dignity at all, handed Dodger a document. ‘Make yourself available at the gates of Buckingham Palace at four thirty tomorrow,’ he said, ‘and you will be welcomed in. You may bring members of your family, to the number of three. I shall of course relay to Her Majesty that you have humbly accepted.’
It was a strange, mysterious day after that, even when people lost interest and went about their business, or in some cases as much of anyone else’s business that they could steal. D
odger started it by going for a walk, forsaking the sewers but simply criss-crossing London with Onan, who was overjoyed at this lengthy outing, trotting happily beside him. Eventually Dodger’s legs, who knew him better than he did, took him through Covent Garden and into Fleet Street.
Charlie wasn’t there, but when Dodger asked to meet the editor and said who he was, he was instantly ushered upstairs, where he was told that another seven guineas was accrued to his account. Dodger said that he would like the remaining money in that wretched subscription to please be diverted to make life comfortable for Mister Todd who, he understood, was now incarcerated in Bedlam hospital, a place not suitable for those of a delicate disposition.
Mister Doyle agreed, and moreover promised to see to it that the money would actually get to where it should go. That made Dodger feel better. Then he continued his walking, pausing only to buy a bone from the butcher’s shop for Onan’s lunch. Then he went to a bottle shop and procured a bottle of good brandy and carried it with him down to the river, where he hailed a waterman to take him down to the wharf at Four Farthings.
The coroner was not there, but his officer promised to see to it that this gift, ostensibly from the son of an old lady that he had helped, would get to its intended owner; alas, there were times when you had to hope that people were as good as their word. There really wasn’t much in Four Farthings that wasn’t soon going to be swept up by the bigger boroughs, but Dodger did take a look in the church of St Never, a little-known saint who was in charge of things that didn’t happen, which was why so many young ladies prayed there. He dropped a shilling in the offertory box, but heard the coin hit wood, where he suspected it was likely to be lonely for quite some time.
He found the time to make a detour to the house of Mister and Mrs Mayhew, shaking hands and thanking them for their condolences, and for all the help they had given to the poor late Simplicity, who, said Dodger, if she was alive now, would be very grateful. He was absolutely certain of that, he told them, as certain as if he had heard it from her very own mouth. Then, when he was shown along to the main entrance, he waved the suggestion away and headed down past the green baize door, where he had a cheerful smile even for Mrs Sharples and a pneumatic kiss from Mrs Quickly.
As he wandered back across the river he wondered why he was doing all this, and quite rightly so did Onan, who was having the time of his life, never having had such a long walk in one go. It struck him that there was one person who could tell him. That led to the hiring of another waterman to take him upstream for a while, and then a reasonable walk took him to Miss Serendipity’s boarding house and a growler took the two of them to Angela’s home. The door was opened very respectfully by the butler, who said, ‘Good afternoon, Mister Dodger, I will see if Miss Angela is in.’
In fact, it was less than a minute before Angela appeared. Then, brightening, Dodger told them his news over coffee, and asked Serendipity to accompany him.
Serendipity took the news in a very feminine way, which was to panic that she wouldn’t have anything to wear to the palace, at which point Angela chimed in happily, saying, ‘My dear, you hardly have to worry about that. Perhaps we could have a little visit to my dressmaker; it’s very short notice, but I am sure something can be done.’ She turned to Dodger and said, ‘Talking of dresses reminds me of rings, and so I should like you, Mister Dodger, to tell me exactly what your intentions are? I understand the two of you are engaged; when do you believe that you will be wed? Personally I have never seen the point of long engagements, but there may be . . . difficulties?’
Dodger had thought long and hard about Serendipity and marriage. Officially, as Simplicity, she was still a married lady, but as she herself had said, God could hardly have been at that wedding or He would not have allowed it to turn from love to something so awful. When he’d asked Solomon, the old man had stroked his chin and mmm’d a few times, and then said that surely any Almighty worth believing in would agree. And if not, Solomon would explain it to Him for them. Dodger had chimed in then and said, ‘I don’t know if God was in the sewer, but the Lady definitely was.’
After all, he thought, other than the prince, who would surely keep silent, the only witnesses to the wretched marriage now had been Simplicity and the ring. The ring was gone and Simplicity was dead. So where was the evidence that Simplicity had ever been there at all? It was in a way another kind of fog, and in that fog, he thought, people might make their way to some sunlit uplands.
Now he said firmly, ‘Simplicity was married. But Simplicity is dead. Now I have Serendipity – somebody new, and I’ll help her. But I’m someone new too, and before we marry I’ve got to get a job, and a good one – I shall have to save the toshing for a hobby. But I don’t even know how to get proper work.’
He paused there, because Angela’s smile spoke volumes, which at the moment he could not interpret. ‘Well now,’ she said, ‘if I can believe tittle-tattle, I rather suspect, young Dodger, that shortly in your life you will see again a cheerful but friendly old man with silver hair who might like to give you a holiday in foreign parts. Congratulations to you, young man, and to you too, Miss Serendipity.’
The following day the coach arrived exactly on time and with Serendipity on board. When they set off again Solomon, who seemed to know everything about these matters, said, ‘This is, of course, a private audience. But just remember, Her Majesty is in charge. Do not speak until you are spoken to. Never, ever interrupt and – and I stress this, Dodger – don’t get familiar. Do you understand?’
Some of this information was imparted as they were walking through the palace, which was to a part of Dodger the most target-rich environment he had ever encountered. Even Angela’s place was put to shame. Room followed room and it was an overpowering panorama for someone who had been a snakesman, but he told himself it would never work. No one would have a sack big enough to take away those great big pictures or those great big chairs.
Then suddenly there was another room, and the Queen and Prince Albert were there, and indeed, Dodger noticed, there were flunkies everywhere; standing still in the way a good thief does, because people are quick to notice movement.
Dodger had never heard the word ‘surreal’ but would have used it when Solomon, dressed in all his glory, bowed so low before the Queen that his hair nearly touched the floor. There was a little click and a sudden stillness in the room and Solomon was frantically waving a finger at Dodger, who knew the drill and so stepped forward, smiled nervously at the Queen, wrapped his arms around Solomon, stuck a knee in his back, then brought him upright. To his own dismay, he heard himself say cheerily, ‘Sorry about this, Your Majesty, he gets the twinging screws when he tries that, but no harm done, I’ve knocked him into shape again.’
A splendid-looking girl, he thought – very nobby, of course; that went without saying. Her face was a blank and Prince Albert was looking at Dodger like a man finding a cod fish in his pyjamas. So Dodger took a step back, let Solomon find his feet and tried to look invisible, and at that point the Queen lit up and said brightly, ‘Mister Cohen, it is a great pleasure to meet you at last; I’ve heard so many stories about you. You are not in pain in any way, are you?’ she added in a less royal tone of voice.
Solomon gulped and said, ‘Nothing damaged except my self-esteem, Your Majesty, and may I say that some of the tales they tell about me are not true.’
Prince Albert said, ‘The King of Sweden tells a very good one.’
Solomon blushed under his beard – Dodger could just make that out – and said, ‘If it was the one about the racehorse in the lodge, Your Royal Highness, alas it was true.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said the Prince, ‘I feel quite privileged to meet you, sir.’ He held out his hand to Solomon, and Dodger watched the handshake very carefully, and recognized the Masonic hand of freedom.
The Queen, her eyes on her husband, said, ‘Well, my dear, there is a nice surprise for you.’ Although it was quite a pleasant sentence, it had a little clip on
the end, to remind everybody that that conversation at least was at an end. She turned to Dodger and said, ‘You, then, must be Mister Dodger? You do very well around desperate criminals, I believe. Everyone is still talking about Sweeney Todd. That must have been such a terrible day for you.’
Dodger recognized that it might not be a good idea to deny this fact, even though the day had been more astonishing than terrible. And so he took refuge in: ‘Well, Your Majesty, there he was and there I was, and there the razor was, and that was it really. To be honest, I felt sorry for the poor man.’
‘So I have heard,’ said the Queen. ‘It is a disquieting thought, but it is to your credit, at least. I believe that the young lady beside you is your fiancée, is that not so? Do come here, Miss Serendipity.’
Serendipity stepped forward, and suddenly Dodger found himself somehow outside the room looking down on it, watching how expressions changed and changed again, and then he was back in himself and everything was cheerful and someone had just brought in some tea and there was a definite feeling that things were satisfactory.
Who would dare lie to a queen? he thought. How much did she know? For that matter, how much did Prince Albert know? He was from one of the Germanys, wasn’t he? But that would start him thinking about politics again, and so he chased the thought out of his mind and as time floated back, Serendipity curtsied – rather better than Solomon had bowed – and the room began to be more cheerful.
‘When do you think your wedding will be, my dear?’
Serendipity blushed and said, ‘Dodger says he will have to get a new job first, Your Majesty, so we don’t know yet.’
‘Indeed,’ said the Queen. ‘What is it you do, Mister Dodger, when you are not thwarting criminals?’
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