Benny Nutters: Secrets Under London

by Ann Michaels

  Chapter 2.

  Museums and Spice and All Things Nice

  I was rambling about Hyde Park one Saturday morning, about one month after finding the secret room, when I thought I might go and have a gander at the Natural History Museum. So, off I set at a brisk pace, in the direction of that august institution.

  One hour later, I stood panting at the gates, gaping at that great cathedral of science, on Cromwell Road, Kensington. But I simply stood for a moment, taking in the massive edifice, which glinted in the weak sunshine and felt the bloom of my good fortune. How privileged I was, to have such a palace of wonders in walking distance, which I could visit. Especially, since I had not a penny on me.

  I cantered inside and after recovering from the magnificence of the grand and glorious main hall, I wandered over to take a closer view of Dippy the dinosaur.

  The original Dippy was actually a Diplodocus dinosaur, or more correctly, its fossilised bones, which were uncovered in Wyoming, USA in 1898. A millionaire named Andrew Carnegie, hearing about these bones, decided he was going to procure them for his museum in Pittsburgh. Further evidence of the wonders and honours money can bring, was demonstrated, when the dinosaur was named Diplodocus carnegii, after its owner. I prefer Dippy myself.

  I was staring at Dippy most intently, when I became aware of a pair of boiling, blue eyes, blistering my very marrow. I looked about, and then down, and saw a small, yet appealing young creature, of the girl variety.

  ‘Hello’, she said in an odd nasal tone, ‘I’m Alice and this here is my brother, Owen. I looked at Alice and then at Owen, and smiled. Alice grinned back, toothily, but Owen smiled, in a hesitant sort of manner. Then I stuck out my hand, in the way that my grandmother had once taught me, and said, ‘how do you do?’

  Alice bent over and started to whoop with laughter, drawing every eye in the place upon us. Owen flushed slightly, taking on a slightly pink appearance, and hissed loudly in her ear, ‘belt up Alice, or we’ll be tossed out’.

  Immediately, Alice stood up, opened her eyes very wide, and shut her mouth firmly. ‘Sorry’, she said to her brother, who looked exactly like her, except, he was somewhat bigger, and in a boy form.

  ‘It’s just that I knew he’d be beaut as soon as I saw him, and he is! I was just so wrapped’, said Alice, hopping about like a bunny needing some lithium.

  Owen pressed his fingers onto his eyes, and shook his head. Then, he turned to me and said; ‘G’day, I hope you’re not too upset by the antics of my sister here?’ he didn’t wait for me to reply, but rushed on, ‘It seems that she has taken a fancy to you. She does that sometimes.’ He sighed, and then continued, ‘mostly it works out alright, but it can be heaps embarrassing!’

  I smiled at the pair and assured them both that, I was not upset. I even had to stop myself from wanting to bow to them, over and over again: so few people actually take any interest in me, at all, other than Uncle Crispy.

  ‘Usually, when I am out and about, I wonder if I am invisible, or have a bad smell’, I found myself thinking and saying, much to my amazement. Owen and Alice both looked grim and began to nod their heads, ‘Yes, we feel pretty much the same, don’t we Alice?’

  ‘It’s because we are from Australia’, said Alice. ‘They call us colonials and convicts, sometimes. And, we can’t really say anything, because, we do actually have two convicts in the family tree, don’t we Owen?’

  ‘Yep, so dad says. But who cares! That was a long time ago. What’s it got to do with us, now?’

  ‘Of course,’ continued Alice, ‘it took me a while to realise that, they hate us. I thought at first when, people said, ‘you Australians are so interesting’, that they liked us. They didn’t. They didn’t’ at all. Mostly, though, they ignore us’.

  ‘Aaah, they’re a bunch of snobs!’ growled Owen….well, not all of them, of course. But at my school, I never feel like I ever say, or do the right thing’.

  There was a loud silence for a moment, as we just stood there thinking about our own situations. Then, Alice asked me, ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘I am called Benroy, by my parent’s, but my Uncle Crispy calls me Benedict’.

  ‘Alice looked serious. ‘Yeah… Nah. I will call you Benny. You look like a Benny, doesn’t he Owen?’

  Owen grinned suddenly and his face transformed. It was like the sun had suddenly come out from behind a grey cloud; I felt like I needed a pair of sun glasses, but instead, I grinned back.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and have a look around at some of the old and gross stuff in here’, said Alice, as she grabbed Owen and me by the shirt sleeves. ‘We have to be home by 3 o clock, cos Rhonda and Bruce are going to the theatre to see Cats. Again!’

  We started to walk toward the open doorway, which led into the museum, and I felt absurdly happy. I suddenly had company; perhaps even friends!

  For the next hour, we trundled past a kaleidoscope of insects skewered onto boards; we eyeballed interesting rocks and minerals, learning how they were made millions of years ago; we ogled odd creatures, floating in jars of alcohol, and looked upon the remains’ of huge, strange animals, long since extinct. And we talked.

  I told Owen and Alice about my parents’ in India and how they worshipped The Phoenix. Alice started to laugh loudly, and said, ‘but this bird doesn’t actually exist, right? Does it?’

  Owen glared at his sister and she pretended to be contrite, except that she kept sniggering. I wasn’t upset, though, because I agreed with her. I also thought that it was absurd to devote your life to a bird, which only appeared to exist in folk tales. But, they were my parents, and so, I simply smiled.

  Our Parent’s, Rhonda and Bruce, are big show-offs’, stated Alice matter-a-factly.

  ‘You call your parents, Rhonda and Bruce!’ I exclaimed in amazement.

  ‘Yeah, they prefer being called Rhonda and Bruce. They both decided before they had us, that, having children wouldn’t change anything’, stated Owen flatly.

  I was puzzled.

  ‘Bruce is in sales and Rhonda is a personal trainer’, Owen paused, and then shifted his focus. ‘We were pretty happy back in Sydney, but we had to move over here for their careers. Now, we have to live in this shoe-box sized place in Knightsbridge, because Bruce says that, it gives the right impression.’

  We came upon a room filled with taxidermied animals. ‘How creepy!’ shivered Alice, ‘I don’t like it’. I gazed upon the beady, glass eyes of some type of mountain goat, and said, ‘my Uncle Crispy has lots of these in his library on the third floor’. Alice and Owen’s mouth’s dropped open, and they gaped at me like a couple of ninnies’.

  ‘Please tell us that we will be invited to this place’, Alice cried, evidently forgetting her dislike of the stuffed beasts, but a second before.

  ‘Yes, you may visit tomorrow if you wish’, I declared.

  ‘Are you dinky-di? I mean, really?’ Spluttered Owen.

  I nodded, like a demented horse.

  ‘We’ll be there tomorrow arvo, with bells on!’ Owen pronounced, as Alice smiled and slipped her arm through mine.

  I was sad when my new friends had to bid me farewell, a short time later. But I stood and watched them for a while, as they walked down the road, waving and smiling, and then, as they broke into a run. I continued to watch, until they were swallowed up, by the growing darkness of the winter afternoon, and by people scurrying like lab animals, toward home.