by Jane Kerr
The warning was unnecessary because Danny couldn’t speak. It was as though he’d been knocked sideways. Shock spread through his body, loosening the muscles from his bones.
Larkin was still watching him carefully. ‘So, this is goodbye. Maybe our paths will cross again, one day. I’d like to think so.’ He lifted his hat. ‘But one more thing, Danny. Stay here . . . at Belle Vue. Because Scatcherd won’t risk coming to Manchester. There are too many people searching for him. And even he can’t hate you enough to take the chance.’
Larkin strode away across the courtyard but Danny didn’t watch him go. He was too busy staring at the picture. Carefully, he traced a finger over each fine brushstroke. Across the woman’s delicate chin; around the wide eyes, and along the black ink of her hair. And only after a long time did it occur to him to examine the back of the wooden frame.
Five letters were etched across the panel. He was fairly sure what they spelt, but he sounded out each letter just to be certain.
A-n-a-y-a.
An-ay-a.
Anaya.
His heart raced. He didn’t know for certain if the woman was his mother. Or if any part of what Larkin had told him was true. There had been so many lies it was difficult to sort out what was real from what was false.
But one day he would find out; one day he would discover the truth about who he was and why he’d been abandoned. Without a voice. Or a home. Or a name.
But not now.
Now he was going to make the most of the life he had. The life he had at Belle Vue. Because he had very nearly let it slip from his fingers. And he thought that probably would have been the worst mistake of his life.
‘Come on, Danny!’ Mr Jameson stood in the doorway of Belle Vue House, waving a hand. ‘We’re all waitin’ for you. Supper’s on the table. Hurry up!’
And Danny ran across the courtyard to where the front door was wide open for him.
‘Coming, Pa!’ he shouted. ‘Coming!’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The star of The Great Animal Escapade is, of course, Maharajah – but the elephant existed beyond these pages. In real life, he was part of a travelling menagerie until he was sold at auction in Edinburgh in 1872.
His new owner was James Jennison, of the Belle Vue Zoological Gardens in Manchester. Jennison hoped to transport his new acquisition to Belle Vue by train but moments after boarding the rail carriage at Edinburgh Station, Maharajah ripped it apart.
So instead, Jennison decided to walk Maharajah to Manchester. The two-hundred-and-twenty mile journey took ten days and attracted huge attention – from newspapers and the public.
That real-life story was the inspiration for my first book, The Elephant Thief, but Maharajah’s adventures did not stop there.
Over the next decade, he became a much-loved favourite at Belle Vue, giving rides to thousands of visiting children, and taking part in parades through Manchester.
But perhaps his most high-profile role was as the star of the military-themed firework shows staged each year on the island in the middle of Belle Vue’s lake. Local men – paid in pies and beer – were enlisted to play soldiers and act out scenes from historic battles.
Huge painted canvases – covering more than 30,000 square feet – formed the backdrop to these dramatic performances, while overhead, rockets and fireworks coloured the sky.
One of the most successful of these spectaculars was ‘The Prince of Calcutta’ in 1876. Jennison’s nephew George was dressed as a young Prince of Wales and rode ‘a huge but docile’ Maharajah on to centre stage. (The show was attended by the real Lord Mayor of Manchester).
But the displays were not without danger. Almost every night, the wooden stage caught fire and on one occasion in 1883, flames broke out on the island destroying half the painted scenery.
Like my fictional Belle Vue, the park boasted a number of attractions – including a menagerie, ornamental maze, dance hall, archery field, several tearooms and Italian gardens. And as it became more self-sufficient, many businesses were set up, employing hundreds of local people. Among them was a firework factory, smithy, coopers, gasworks, ice works, brewery and bakery.
Such was Belle Vue’s success, that Jennison launched his own omnibus service to transport visitors to and from the park, and a rail service ran to the nearby Longsight Station every half hour.
But the zoological gardens were not popular with everyone. Local clergy denounced Belle Vue from the pulpit, and wardens at St James’ Church in Gorton demanded Jennison stop business during Sunday services. His reply was, ‘I’m like you: I make my living on Sundays.’ They didn’t bother him after that.
During this period, there were a number of animal escapes. In 1874, a lioness jumped through an enclosure window to get free, terrifying a passing nightwatchman. Fortunately, a keeper found her fifty yards away and calmly encouraged her back inside.
I used all these real-life stories as inspiration for The Great Animal Escapade, alongside another notable tale told by George Jennison. He remembered Maharajah walking across a bridge over Belle Vue Lake, when one of the planks broke beneath his weight. He fell, splintering a tusk so badly that it had to be sawn off ‘with great loss of blood’.
There are many more incredible tales of the Belle Vue menagerie during its Victorian era. But now, with modern eyes, they can be seen in a different light. The zoo animals were not always protected and cared for in the way they would be today. Rather, they were treated as sources of entertainment – often dressed up, made to perform, and act like humans. And there was little thought given to preserving endangered species – the last-ever Tasmanian emu died in captivity in 1873, and the sole surviving quagga (a type of zebra) in 1883. Both have featured in my books.
But views were changing. Charles Darwin had published his work highlighting the common origins between humans and animals. The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals had been established, closely followed by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons. People were starting to understand that in order to keep species alive, they needed to be protected.
I’ve tried to place my fictional Belle Vue at the forefront of that conservation movement – thanks to William Saddleworth’s ‘modern ideas’ and Danny’s instinctive understanding of animals. But in reality, Belle Vue was simply not forward-thinking and innovative enough, and after 140 years as a zoo, it closed in 1977.
As for Maharajah, he lived for ten years at Belle Vue before dying of pneumonia in 1882 at the age of eighteen – relatively young for an elephant. His skeleton is on display at the Manchester Museum where, interestingly, the tips of both tusks are broken off.
But he still attracts thousands of visitors. Because, as Jennison once said, ‘Of the many elephants, Maharajah was the chief.’
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, there are many people to thank for helping to write this story. Firstly, my thanks to my publishers, Chicken House, and in particular to Barry Cunningham who once again took a chance on me.
And thanks also to my fantastic editor Rachel Leyshon (there’s always a voice in my head as I write, asking what would Rachel say?); to Laura Myers for her patience with the occasional missed deadline and my red ink scrawl; and to Claire McKenna who smoothed out all the rough edges. To Jazz Bartlett and Laura Smythe for their tireless and creative efforts to publicize a very new author. And to all of the other chickens – Rachel Hickman, Kesia Lupo, Elinor Bagenal, Esther Waller, Sarah Wilson and Lucy Horrocks – for their help and support.
I must also mention the author Brian Keaney and my agent David Smith for getting me to this place. I don’t think I would be here without them.
Further thanks to Henry McGhie and the Manchester Museum – where Maharajah’s skeleton is still on display. I have been there many times over the past few years, and never tire of it.
And my gratitude to Hannah Williamson and all at the Manchester Art Gallery for allowing me a special viewing of what is probably the only image of Maharajah – Heyw
ood Hardy’s ‘The Dispute Toll’. The painting had a major impact on how I wrote about Maharajah.
This story would not have been possible without two fantastic books about Belle Vue: The Elephant Who Walked To Manchester by David Barnaby, and The Belle Vue Story by Robert Nicholls. The affection they both have for the menagerie shines through – and made my research a lot easier.
A special thank you to Emma Martin, Judy Lyons and all at Stanley Grove Primary School and the Bright Futures Educational Trust – for bringing my book characters to life for their ‘Bigger Book Bash’, as well as during the Manchester Day parade. Seeing Maharajah, Danny and Hetty leap from my pages into real life remains one of my best days as an author.
I must also thank the library services who shortlisted my first book, The Elephant Thief, for their children’s book awards. After this past year, I have renewed respect for librarians and their committed work to get our children reading. I’m in awe.
Thank you again to all those friends who bought my book out of loyalty and then read it out of enjoyment (at least, that’s what they told to me). And special gratitude to all those at BBC Radio Manchester for their enthusiasm, support and spreading the word.
And also special thanks to my family. To my mum, who has to be the world’s best cheerleader for my writing. I’m so grateful she’s on my side. To my dad and Brenda for their unwavering support and enthusiasm. To my brother, who gave me one of the best compliments of my writing career. And to all the Kerrs, new and old, for championing the books wherever they go.
And finally, to AJ, Alexandra and Ben – thank you for giving me space, time and cups of tea. I could never have done it without you.
Published by Scholastic Australia Pty Ltd
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First edition published by Chicken House, 2019
This electronic edition published by Scholastic Australia Pty Ltd, 2019
E-PUB/MOBI eISBN: 978-1-74383-334-6
Text © Jane Kerr 2019
Cover and interior design by Steve Wells
Illustration © Alexis Snell 2019
Jane Kerr asserts her moral rights as the author of this work.
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