Benny Nutters: Secrets Under London

by Ann Michaels

  Chapter 8

  Seeking and Finding

  In the afternoon, I read Lord Byron’s poem over and over, but I kept coming back to the bit of the poem, which said, Within the "Lion's mouth". This had to be a clue, I thought. So then, I began to walk through the house, on a search for lions. There were plenty.

  In Uncle Crispy’s library, I climbed onto a chair and examined the lion’s head on the wall. But I found nothing. But as I did so, I thought about how, I really could understand how Uncle Crispy felt about the gruesome animal remains’, which filled this house. He found them sad and disturbing, but he could not bring himself to throw them away, as though, their lives had meant nothing. And Uncle Crispy, also, had tried to atone for the actions of his barbaric ancestors, in his desire to rewild the lands of Blackstock Manor, but in that, he had been thwarted.

  I continued trotting around the library, searching for anything lion related. Near the window, hanging right over Uncle Crispy’s wingback chair, there hung small a painting, in a timber frame, carved to look like bamboo, of one of the four lions which sat at the base of Nelson's Column in Trafalgar Square. I’d never really taken much interest in this artwork before.

  I took the painting down. On the back, there were three lines of writing, written in a loopy black script:

  Tis said the lion will turn and flee,

  lions o'er the jackal sway,

  vaults beneath the mosaic stone (?)

  These words were from Byron’s poem, The Siege of Corinth. But why did the last line have the question mark after it? I could find nothing else suspicious, or helpful, though. And it did occur to me to wonder, if it was possible that, the uranium, or whatever the missing shipment was, could be hidden under Trafalgar Square, in the centre of London. Perhaps one of the lion statues had a secret door in the side. It would be worth having a look, I thought.

  The lion statues in Trafalgar Square were Barbary lions, which were native to North Africa. I thought that this fact would have appealed to my grandfather, who, had spent so much time in Africa, and who had disappeared there. Another thought came into my mind. I had recently read that, Hitler had planned to invade Britain during the last war, and take Nelson’s Column and transport it to Berlin. As a place to hide something important and dangerous, Trafalgar Square could be seen as symbolic, but perhaps also, very risky.

  I trundled along to Uncle Crispy’s bedroom, which was on the same floor as his library, and pushed the heavy door open. It was dark and cold inside.

  I tip-toed into the room and pushed back the heavy, peacock blue, velvet curtains and the weak sunlight rushed in. It was a simple and sparsely furnished room, with a three door wardrobe, on squat cabriole legs; a matching chest of drawers, and a single bed, accompanied by two bedside tables, all constructed of burr walnut. On the walls, however, I could see a suite of paintings, but only one featured a lion. I looked it over carefully, but there was nothing interesting there. I crept into the attached bathroom, and immediately noticed the lion’s head tap head. Could that be a clue? I did not know, but it did not seem likely.

  I continued looking about on the second floor, and then on the ground floor. I found various lion figurines, door handles, and pictures that had previously passed under my radar. It is funny how often, you only notice things, when you are actually looking for them, and yet, they were there all the time.

  I was tired and hungry now, so I gave up and trundled into the kitchen to make a sandwich. Polly was working at the kitchen bench, up to her elbows in flour, making a huge bean and potato pie. Cogwhistle was seated at the kitchen table reading through the Lord Byron poem, searching for a clue, a code, or secret message. Or anything useful. I didn’t tell Polly or Cogwhistle about what I had found, as I wanted to think on these clues for a while.

  ‘Lawks, this here scribbling sets up me bristles!’ Cogwhistle exclaimed loudly.

  ‘Why is that?’ I asked.

  ‘If this gent had just listened to the Francesca dame, he could have avoided a shedload of to-do’.

  ‘What are you nattering about Bevis me love? Asked Polly reasonably. ’Where’s the romance in you? The Bevis Cogwhistle I knew, way back when, was a true romantic gentleman.’

  ‘Aw, Edna, me luv, I know I’m carrying on like a pork chop….’

  Polly toddled over to Cogwhistle, and patted him on the shoulder, with her floury hands; puffs of flour rose up like mushroom clouds, as Cogwhistle gazed adoringly, like a cane toad, in monsoon season, at Polly.

  I set about assembling my favourite sandwich: curried egg and lettuce, on black, rye bread. None of those plastic hamburgers for me! I have always found it rather disturbing, (well since I can remember) to see people eating food which looks like it has come off an assembly line. I then drank a glass of milk, and I was just getting ready to continue my investigations, when Cogwhistle, released from his spell, addressed me:

  ‘Benny, my boy, I been meaning to have a bit of a gab with you since the morning, coz Millie slipped me a pair of two way radios. She wanted you to ‘ave ‘em, she said. She reckons they might come in right handy’. He then shoved a small, shiny box at me, with a picture on the cover of what I called walkie talkies.’ I felt excited. I wanted to tell Owen and Alice straight away, but I couldn’t, as I didn’t have their telephone number. It dawned on me then, that, with this equipment, we would be able to communicate easily. A tidal wave of pleasure and anticipation crashed within me.

  Polly handed me a bag of batteries and smiled, her eyes as warm as toast, and off I went.

  I decided then that, I might try and slip over to Earls Court and see Alice and give her one of the walkie talkies. I knew it was no good trying to see Owen, as he often had to spend Saturday with his father, learning to be a sales guru. He hated it. Today he was working as a sales spruiker at a discount shop in Brixton, where he had to say things like:

  This is a liquidation sale; prices are cheap, cheap, cheap. Come in and get yourself a bargain.

  I could imagine Owen squirming with discomfort, red as a lobster, and detesting every moment, wishing a hole would appear in the ground, so he could disappear.

  Alice, however, said that she would be in Earls Court today, as her mother, Rhonda, worshipped Princess Diana; she would often drag Alice around with her, to take photos of places that Princess Diana used to go, or live. Alice’s mother, also, had a collection of memorabilia and kitsch on one shelf of their microscopic apartment, dedicated to Princess Diana; Alice said that she usually tried to close her eyes, when she had to walk past it, because it just reminded her to be sad.

  I scooted to my room and slipped on the Inverness cape and deerstalker hat that, I had found in a trunk in the attic. Uncle Crispy said that they had belonged to his father: my great-grandfather, who had been a great fan of Sherlock Holmes, back in the day. Except for a few moth holes, the cape and hat were in wonderful condition.

  I slid out the front door and bolted down the road to the Bayswater Train Station. I soon hopped a train, which ran through Notting Hill; jumped off the packed sardine can at Kensington, and spent a moment catching my breath, after having had my nose crushed into the armpit of a very large and smelly tourist, fresh off a 16 hour flight; so he said. Then, I bounded onto another train to Earls Court, which was packed with a posse of Australian’s, who were blathering on, with those strange drawn out, strangulated vowels, about lobbing down to the Swagman Pub and watching a bit of footy. Now I understood why Earls Court was often called kangaroo Valley!

  Having reached Earls Court, I wasn’t exactly sure of where to go, or what to do. So I took off running and tore down, street after street, looking out for Alice and her mother. I peered into shops, and scrutinised the cars, which passed me by. As I zipped along, I read the various plaques affixed to buildings, which told about the famous inhabitants, who once lived here; like, Harold Carter, who discovered Tutankhamen’s tomb; Alfred Hitchcock, the famous film maker, and Princess Diana. Then, I caught sight of Alice and her m
other.

  With a face like a Cumulonimbus cloud, Alice, was moving behind her mother in a dragging-her-feet-kind-of-manner. She had two large black cameras hanging around her skinny neck, which seemed to weigh her down with great heaviness. However, as I jogged closer, I saw Alice’s dull eyes come to life; she tore off the cameras at high speed, shoved them toward her mother, who was clopping along on gigantic, wooden, platform shoes and wearing a tight fitting t-shirt, plastered with an incongruous picture of Princess Diana, wearing a woolly jumper, emblazoned with a koala.

  ‘Benny! Benny! It’s grouse to see you…...’

  Alice was running around me in circles, whilst her mother stared at me with a flinty, dingo eye. I, however, said good Morning, in my most polite manner, but she merely held out her paw, and gave me a smile that, you may expect on a shark. I think that Alice’s mother was angry with me for showing up, and disturbing her day.

  Quickly, I told Alice all about what had happened at Millie’s and how I wanted to search Trafalgar Square. Then, I fished one of the walkie talkies out of the pocket of my cape. Alice’s eyes goggled and she grabbed out greedily, and whipped the device into a small backpack, shaped like a giant dog’s bone. Meanwhile, her mother, Rhonda, had stomped off. But she soon turned around, and glared at Alice. Alice gave me a wink, and whispered, ‘we’ll talk soon’. Then she jogged off after her mother, whilst making rude gestures at me, behind her back.

  I laughed like a flushing toilet for a moment, and then, I thought, what to do now? I was feeling a bit disappointed, if you want to know the truth, as I had hoped to spend the afternoon with Alice. I decided that, the only thing that I could do, at this point, was, go home. I walked slowly back to the train station, and this time, probably because I was walking slower and noticing things around me, I saw a police box, which looked exactly like the Tardis in Doctor Who, standing right outside the train station at Earls Court.

  I pranced over to this lonesome looking Tardis and gently pushed the door; it opened, and I entered.

  What seems to have happened after this was very strange, and decidingly, odd. However, as I actually woke up on the floor of the police box, sometime later, with a sore head and a metal pipe looming over me, it is likely that, I had just been hallucinating or dreaming, after knocking myself out. You see, a metal bar had been installed to strengthen the structure inside the police box, but I didn’t see it, as my eyes had not adjusted to the darkness, as I stepped inside the box. Of course, probably, I was not supposed to be in there, anyway.

  So, in this alternate reality, I had felt something snuffling on my leg. I looked down and saw k-9, that robotic dog from Doctor Who, wagging its tail; then it said in that happy, chipper voice, ‘I have come from Gallifrey to help you find the Konami Code’. Next thing, I found myself with the 10th Doctor Who. The one that Alice said was a bit of a spunk, at the Acropolis in Athens, hundreds of years ago. But there were lions attacking us. I didn’t feel afraid, though, as I was trying to have a good gander about, so, I could tell Uncle Crispy all about it, later. To cut a long story short, The Doctor saved us from the jaws of theses fairly ferocious lions, when he produced his sonic screwdriver and started to tickle the beasts, and we were able to get away. It all gets pretty weird after this (well, weirder), but we stopped some aliens from blowing up the Acropolis, but then confusingly, these aliens turned out to be space police. And then, we found some explosives in a cave. But all I can think about, was, how human history would have been very different, if we did not save Athens from being blown up.

  In my mind, it was like, Athens and Greece, had come to represent freedom.

  I was feeling a bit dizzy, as I picked myself off the floor, but I did manage to hop on the train, and head home. When I got there, it was time for dinner.

  I sat down at the dining table with Uncle Crispy, Polly, and Cogwhistle, and we supped on bean and potato pie. Polly lit the giant candelabras, which sat on the table, and Cogwhistle began to tell us a short yarn, about his boyhood dreams:

  ‘When I was a wee tiddler, me granny used to tell me tales about these blokes –they were always blokes in them days – who were the unofficial thief-takers of London Town. These blokes, who did patrol the streets and pinch the crooks, were called the Bow Street Runners. And becoming one of them, is what I had me heart set on, when I got shot with me days slaving over a slate. Well forward fast some years, and there I was, ready to march down to Bow Street, a young strapping lad of 15, when suddenly, I finds out that, the Runners had been given their marching orders back in 1839! And so, that was that. I had to wait me a few years more, and I goes into the army life.’

  As Cogwhistle had told us this tale in a self-mocking way, we all started to laugh and Uncle Crispy banged the table, whilst he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. He said, between guffawing noises, ‘it’s like wanting to be a town crier, for crying out loud!’

  Afterwards, we ate some cinnamon ice-cream with peaches, and then, we began to natter.

  ‘We are not sure if this misplaced shipment is actually uranium; that is merely Millie’s assumption’, Uncle Crispy said, suddenly serious, after I asked him, what his thoughts were.

  ‘If Millie says its uranium, then that’s what it likely be’, Cogwhistle added firmly.

  ‘I have been searching this house, and inspecting anything to do with lions, I piped up.

  ‘Oh, I doubt that you will find anything, Benedict. I have examined this house with a fine tooth comb……although, I did not find that secret trap door, to the underground citadel, so who knows,’ added Uncle Crispy, thoughtfully.

  After dinner, I read this most ‘pucca’ book, in the small library for an hour, which maji had sent along with the Harry Potter book. It was a thin volume, all about Narasimha, a ‘man-lion’, who came to save the world from great wickedness. Narasimha could not be killed, though, because he was half man and half animal. I really enjoyed this tale, but it was short, and I soon finished reading it. I yelled out good night to Edgar, and then, I climbed the stairs to my bedroom and fell into my soft and comfortable bed, and soon fell fast asleep.