Amelia Dee and the Peacock Lamp

by Odo Hirsch

  She felt terrible. She had let herself down. Again. She was a coward.

  She hesitated, still peering out the door as the driver passed her on the way back to the car.

  ‘Amelia!’

  Amelia jumped. It was Mrs Ellis, in the hall behind her.

  ‘What are you doing there, Amelia? Are you coming in or going out?’

  ‘I’m just . . .’

  ‘Well? Make up your mind.’

  ‘Ummm . . .’

  ‘In or out? Quickly . . . Alright, out you go, then! Go on. Out you go!’

  Amelia stepped outside. A moment later, Mrs Ellis closed the door behind her.

  Amelia stood there, not knowing what to do next. Was she going to wait here for an hour until the Princess came out? And then what? Run away again?

  The cream-coloured car was in front of her. Inside waited the driver, Asha, as he always did.

  Of course. Asha . . .

  Amelia walked around the car and knocked on the window.

  The driver gave a start, but didn’t respond.

  ‘I have to talk to you,’ said Amelia, pointing at him. For some reason, she mouthed the words, as if he couldn’t possibly hear her, although there was only a thin window between them.

  Asha shook his head.

  ‘Me . . . You . . .’ mouthed Amelia again, pointing. ‘Please . . .’

  The old man was starting to look very perturbed.

  ‘Pleeeeeeeeease . . .’

  Asha looked away in agitation. Amelia watched him beseechingly. She leaned over the front of the car until she caught his eye again. She wouldn’t let him ignore her. Finally he opened the door. Amelia stepped back and he got out. Asha straightened up – as much as he could – and very carefully, before he said anything, he put on his hat. Only then, when it was properly adjusted on his head, did he address Amelia.

  ‘Can I help you, Mademoiselle Amelia?’

  ‘You remember my name!’ said Amelia in surprise.

  ‘Of course I remember your name, Mademoiselle,’ said the old man. ‘I must remember all the names, because my mistress forgets.’

  ‘Do you remember my friends?’ asked Amelia.

  ‘Mademoiselle Eugenie and Master Kevin.’

  Amelia grinned.

  ‘Can I help you, Mademoiselle?’ said Asha again. ‘This is not usual. I am supposed not to get out of the car. Only for you I do it, Mademoiselle Amelia. Because you insist.’

  ‘Oh.’ Amelia was serious again. ‘I have something I would like you to give to the Princess.’

  Asha looked away uncomfortably.

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Mademoiselle,’ began the old man apologetically. ‘I must not take anything for the Princess. It is an iron rule.’

  ‘Sounds like you have a lot of rules.’

  Asha shrugged. ‘This is a rule, Mademoiselle.’

  ‘Do a lot of people try to give her things?’

  ‘No.’

  Amelia frowned. ‘Then . . .’

  The old man sighed. ‘It is a custom from the days when things were different,’ he said quietly. ‘The Shan and Shanna, her parents, in Irafia they could not take a single step without people trying to give them gifts.’

  Amelia understood. In the Princess’s world, in the prison she inhabited inside her head, nothing had changed since the moment before the revolution broke out. In reality, no one wanted to give her anything, but by giving instructions to her servant to refuse gifts, she could still pretend that they did.

  ‘It’s only a small thing that I want to give her,’ said Amelia.

  The old man shook his head.

  ‘It’s not worth anything. I mean, to buy.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the old man.

  ‘Please, sir.’

  ‘Don’t call me sir. I am not a sir, Mademoiselle Amelia. I am a servant.’

  ‘Please, Asha. Please.’ Amelia kept gazing at him, until he couldn’t help but meet her eye. ‘Please. For me.’

  The old man frowned. ‘I have never broken this rule, Mademoiselle Amelia. But for you, because of what you have done . . .’

  ‘What have I done?’

  ‘You think my Princess feels nothing. You think she is as hard, as hard as stone.’

  ‘No,’ said Amelia quickly, although that was exactly the way she would have described her.

  ‘She is not like this. Please understand. From the moment she sees the lamp again, something is happening inside her.’

  ‘What?’ whispered Amelia.

  ‘I do not know, Mademoiselle. But she is harsh, harsh. Harsher than ever. I know her. For sixty years, I know her. I know what this means, Mademoiselle.’

  ‘Don’t call me Mademoiselle. I’m Amelia.’

  ‘But Mademoiselle . . .’

  ‘Amelia. Say it. Please.’

  The old man hesitated. ‘Amelia. Something is happening inside my Princess.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Something. I do not know. It is because she sees the lamp.’

  Amelia stared. Nothing seemed more important now than to give the Princess the story. She thrust the pages into the old man’s hand. ‘Give this to her, Asha.’ ‘What is it?’

  ‘A story.’

  The old man frowned.

  ‘Give it to her, Asha. Please. For me.’

  CHAPTER 23

  Amelia could see the scene clearly. She walked around the corner into Marburg Street. There was the cream-coloured car, and in it the Princess was waiting, as she had waited once before. Asha got out and opened the door for her, and then the Princess got out, and she greeted Amelia, and she was warm, and gentle, and polite, and grateful, and it was all because of the story Amelia had given her. The Princess had changed. It was perfect.

  There was only one problem. It didn’t happen. The whole scene was in Amelia’s imagination. And that was where it stayed.

  At first, Amelia really thought it might happen. Every time she came around the corner she expected to see the car waiting. The things Asha had said made her think that something actually was changing inside the Princess. But as the days passed, and the car didn’t appear, Amelia realised she was deluding herself. She wondered whether Asha had even given the Princess the story. Maybe he had taken it only in order to get rid of her, and then had thrown it away. Amelia wouldn’t have blamed him. After all, if the Princess was harsher than ever, maybe she would fire him if he broke the iron rule about taking gifts for her. And where would he get another job, an old servant like him? Still, Amelia didn’t really believe Asha wouldn’t keep his word. Much more likely that he had given the story to the Princess, and she had simply ignored it. It seemed ridiculous now to have expected anything else. The Princess had been angry and bitter for fifty-nine years. If something was happening inside her, it was probably just making her more angry and bitter.

  Amelia licked a Gooseberry and Almond double cone at the Sticky Sunday, thinking about it. Suddenly she was aware that Eugenie and Kevin had stopped talking. She looked around.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Eugenie.

  ‘Well what?’ asked Amelia.

  ‘You heard me. What do you think?’

  ‘Ummmm . . .’

  Kevin grinned. ‘I don’t think she did hear you.’

  Amelia had no idea what Eugenie had just been talking about.

  ‘Well!’ said Eugenie, and she put her nose in the air. ‘I don’t see the point of going out with your friends if you’re just going to sit there and think your own thoughts.’

  ‘What am I supposed to be doing?’

  ‘Listening to ours!’

  Amelia sighed. The sad thing was that Eugenie probably believed that.

  ‘It’s a shame she didn’t get on with the Princess,’ said Kevin to Amelia. ‘They’re so well matched, don’t you think?’

  ‘I did get on with her!’ retorted Eugenie. ‘You tell such lies, both of you. To listen to you, you’d think she didn’t say a word to me.’

  ‘Eugenie,’ said Am
elia, ‘she didn’t say a—’

  Eugenie’s hand shot up, palm out. ‘No, I won’t listen to that,’ she said, and she turned her head, and her nose went even higher in the air, if that was possible.

  Kevin looked at Amelia. ‘So what were you thinking about just now?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Amelia.

  Kevin looked at her sceptically. ‘Alright. If that’s what you say.’

  There was silence. They licked their ice-creams. Or frozen yoghurt, in Eugenie’s case.

  Amelia stared vacantly out the window. ‘Do you think people can change?’ she murmured after a while.

  Kevin looked out the window. ‘Who?’

  ‘No, I mean in general. I don’t know. Anyone.’

  Kevin frowned. ‘I think some people can change.’

  ‘Of course people can change,’ snapped Eugenie, who still wasn’t really talking to them. Except she couldn’t help herself when it came to giving an opinion.

  ‘Like who?’ asked Amelia. ‘Who do we know who’s changed? Come on. Really changed?’

  They all thought.

  ‘There was that boy in . . . No, sorry,’ said Kevin. ‘Forget it.’

  There was silence.

  ‘What about Estelle Wesselheimer?’ said Eugenie.

  ‘What about Estelle Wesselheimer?’

  ‘She changed.’

  ‘Yeah, but she changed for the worse!’ said Kevin.

  ‘No one said she had to change for the better,’ replied Eugenie, who was very close to putting her nose back in the air.

  ‘That’s true,’ said Amelia. ‘So does that mean people can change, but not for the better? Is that what we’re saying? Can’t we think of a single example?’

  They all frowned.

  ‘I’m sure we could,’ murmured Kevin, ‘if we had the time.’

  Amelia shook her head. How depressing! They couldn’t think of a single kid who had changed for the better. And if kids couldn’t change for the better, how much less likely would it be for adults, who were set in their ways?

  ‘Boris Golkov!’ said Kevin suddenly. ‘He changed! Boris Golkov used to pull the wings off flies. Do you remember? When we were in grade three.’

  ‘He did,’ said Eugenie.

  ‘He doesn’t any more.’

  ‘He probably pulls them off birds instead,’ said Eugenie.

  ‘No, he’s really nice. He doesn’t hurt anything.’

  ‘So he changed,’ said Amelia. ‘Why? What happened?’

  ‘His mum almost died in a car accident,’ said Eugenie. ‘She was in hospital for months.’

  Kevin shook his head. ‘That was before he started pulling the wings off flies.’

  ‘It was after.’

  ‘It was before.’

  ‘After!’

  ‘Before!’

  ‘I think it’s safe to say none of us knows for certain,’ said Amelia.

  ‘I do,’ muttered Kevin.

  ‘So do I,’ muttered Eugenie.

  Amelia sighed. She crunched into her cone. Even if Boris Golkov had changed for the better – and Amelia wasn’t certain he had, because she couldn’t remember him pulling the wings off flies in the first place – one example of a kid from the third grade was hardly reassuring.

  ‘Why do you ask, anyway?’ said Kevin.

  ‘Oh, I was just wondering. You know . . . I was just thinking about the Princess . . .’

  ‘The Princess?’ Kevin laughed. ‘She’ll never change.’

  ‘Never,’ said Eugenie.

  Amelia looked at them in consternation. ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’s a bitter old bag. Nothing could change her till the day she dies.’

  ‘She’s a princess,’ said Eugenie, throwing Kevin a disdainful glance. ‘Princesses don’t change. They don’t need to.’

  Kevin rolled his eyes. ‘I suppose she told you that, did she? During that conversation you two had? How long did it go on for again? An hour?’

  Eugenie put up her hand. She refused to answer.

  ‘I don’t know what would have to happen to change someone like the Princess,’ said Kevin to Amelia. ‘An earthquake, probably.’

  ‘Why should an earthquake change her?’ demanded Eugenie.

  ‘You’re right,’ said Kevin. ‘It wouldn’t.’

  Amelia nodded glumly. It was so discouraging. The truth was so obvious, even Kevin and Eugenie were agreeing! How often did that happen? Amelia felt more ridiculous than ever about expecting the Princess to change, whatever Asha said.

  ‘What do you think someone like that would do if someone did try to change her?’ asked Amelia quietly.

  Kevin laughed. ‘I don’t think you’d want to know!’

  Eugenie started laughing as well, then suddenly stopped. Her eyes narrowed. ‘That isn’t what you tried to do, is it?’

  ‘When?’ said Amelia, as if she had no idea what Eugenie was talking about.

  ‘The first time you met her. What did happen that day? You never told us.’

  ‘Nothing happened.’

  Eugenie looked at her knowingly. ‘And the lamp? You never told us how you originally came to tell the Princess about the lamp.’

  Kevin nodded. ‘That’s right. How did you come to tell her about the lamp?’

  Amelia didn’t reply. She had just about made up her mind to tell Eugenie and Kevin that she liked to write stories. After all, she had told her parents, and it had turned out to be a lot simpler than she expected. They actually seemed pleased to hear it. But that was probably because they were her parents. And they weren’t the most normal parents in the world, Amelia knew, anyone would have had to admit that. There was no reason to suppose that Kevin and Eugenie would be pleased to hear about her stories. But they wouldn’t necessarily laugh at her. And if they did laugh at her, Amelia had decided, that would just show what kind of friends they were.

  Still, it was going to take some courage, and it would be a lot easier if the timing was right. The timing now was just about as wrong as it could be. She had written two stories for the Princess, and each one had just seemed to make the Princess angrier. Telling Eugenie and Kevin about those didn’t seem like a great way to start.

  They were still watching her.

  Amelia got up. ‘I’m going home.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ said Kevin.

  ‘Yes. I’m just going home.’

  She left the shop. Kevin and Eugenie left with her.

  ‘You don’t need to come with me.’

  ‘It’s alright,’ said Kevin.

  Amelia glanced at Eugenie, who raised an eyebrow.

  Soon they turned the corner into Marburg Street.

  Amelia stopped dead. For a second, she was literally rigid. The scene was exactly as she had imagined it.

  There was the cream-coloured car, in front of the green house, with Asha in the front seat, and the Princess waiting in the back.

  ‘Amelia,’ said Kevin. ‘Are you okay?’

  Amelia nodded. But her throat was dry. Her stomach had tightened in a knot. This wasn’t how it was meant to be, this wasn’t how she had imagined herself feeling. But that was because she knew why the Princess was really here. Not for the reasons she had imagined, but to tell her what she thought of her story. To tell her it was a fenceee. To tell her what she thought of her impudence, her sheer cheek, in giving it to her. And then, as a result, to demand to take the lamp back.

  And all of this in front of Kevin and Eugenie!

  Amelia wanted to turn around and run. But it was too late. Asha had seen them. He was getting out of the car. He was putting on his hat.

  CHAPTER 24

  The old man straightened up, as much as he could, to face the three children.

  ‘Mademoiselle Amelia Dee,’ he announced. ‘Her Serenity the Princess Parvin Kha-Douri requests the privilege of seeing the peacock lamp once again.’

  Amelia stared.

  ‘She probably wants to make you give it back to her,’ whispered Kevin.

 
; ‘Why not?’ whispered Eugenie. ‘It’s hers really, isn’t it?’

  ‘Mademoiselle Amelia?’ said Asha. He waited expectantly. There was nothing in his face to show what had happened, if anything, since they last met.

  ‘Yes,’ whispered Amelia. She spoke louder. ‘Yes, the Princess can see it if she wants. If that’s what she wants to do.’

  Asha nodded. He walked around the car and opened the back door.

  The Princess got out. She glanced at Amelia. Their eyes met.

  Eugenie dropped in a curtsy. The Princess walked past her.

  Amelia opened the door. Down the hall she went. The Princess followed. Amelia stood aside and waited for the Princess to go up.

  ‘Watch the stairs,’ said Amelia. ‘The wires . . .’

  ‘Yes, I remember,’ said the Princess, and started up the stairs.

  They followed her. At the top, the Princess stopped and gazed at the lamp.

  Amelia’s father came up the stairs, and then Amelia’s mother, and then Mrs Ellis, as if the presence of the Princess had somehow communicated itself to every room of the house. Eventually Asha came up the stairs as well, holding his hat.

  But no one spoke. Not even Amelia’s father.

  The Princess continued to stare. The minutes passed. Still the Princess stared.

  Finally she murmured something.

  ‘What was that?’ whispered Kevin.

  ‘I think she said “happy lamp”,’ whispered Eugenie. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’m the one to ask,’ replied Eugenie, and she glanced meaningfully at Amelia.

  Tears were rolling down the Princess’s cheek. ‘Happy lamp,’ she murmured again.

  Suddenly the Princess turned away. She faced the wall, and put out a hand. Asha gave her a handkerchief. The Princess composed herself.