“Quickly! This way!” intoned Arabella, grabbing her brother's hand.
“Wait!” Said Alex, “It is extremely crowded. Please do not get lost in the rabble’.
But she was too distracted and not really listening to him. She pulled on his hand harder and he felt her damp palm slip a little in his grasp. He gripped tighter and was pulled by his thirteen year old sister into the throng like a minnow sliding upstream.
“Look, I can see one!” said Arabella excitedly. Alex extended his neck in the direction that she was motioning. Sure enough. There, plodding nonchalantly along the cobbled bridleway was an enormous Elephant. Not one Elephant, in fact, but eight. They formed a procession up Guildhall Hill. Each was tied to the other with a puny rope that looked like it would snap immediately if the mammals had decided to change direction at their own whim. They dwarfed the hundreds of humans who had come out in swarms to see the spectacle of the exotic in their own city.
“They are absolutely HUGE!” gasped Arabella. The most exotic animal she had seen was a Marsh Harrier while out walking around a nearby Broad. Alex, trying to take it all in his stride, was also now a little flabbergasted.
Bernards and Braeburns Circus had arrived by railway and was bringing the Circus up to Chapelfield gardens from the station at Thorpe. The parade was used as advertising for the spectacular show and the people of Norwich had been excited for weeks to see the animals stomping through the streets.
The day was hot and the animals had a musty, not unpleasant smell. Alex, however, was not a fan of large crowds and now found himself fenced in by hot sweaty people whose attention, absorbed by the spectacle meant that they were barging unintentionally into each other. Not a situation Alex desired to be in. The children had been allowed to take the afternoon of school to attend the event and Arabella had incessantly badgered her brother about going to see the elephants.
Suddenly, the parade stopped and the crowd grew apprehensive. Apparently out of nowhere appeared five funny men, their white makeup dripping on their perspiring faces. They each carried a large bucket of water which they offered to the Elephants. The elephants snaked their trunks into the water and then lifted them triumphantly in the air and with a loud trumpeting noise sprayed themselves and some of the crowd, who were now hooting with amazement and frivolity as the cold water showered them.
With this one of the men produced a giant bass drum and started beating time. The parade started up the hill and the crowd, hypnotized in their wonder, fell in line and started following the crazy spectacle up past the Guildhall building, a church-like medieval building standing by the market place which had recently been functioning as a mini-courthouse.
As the noise diminished outside, the Clerk of the court gave the signal for the next case to commence. The court had been halted while the hullabaloo outside was taking place on the pretence that there was too much noise but in reality it was because most of the staff wanted to go and peek outside at the elephants.
Six or seven people inside the room had re-convened under the impression that this being a civil case did not need a great deal of time or attention. It should be over quite quickly as it was merely a case of finding the right person and signing some documents. The clerk of the court stood up and announced “calling Jennifer Hermia Hall to the room”. At this there was a general shuffling that sent dust motes flying in the summer light beams and Jennifer Hall entered through the small wooden door and stood in the dock, she was nervous and feeling rather seen after a good eighteen months of hiding from people. There were only a handful of people in the room. The hearing had been called to clarify the terms of her probate to be released on her eighteenth birthday. Jennifer squinted as the afternoon sun sliced through the upper windows and fell into her eyes.
The building was small and ornate, with wooden seating encircling a polished floor. At the far end of the hall was a large chair encased in marble pillars leading up to a small pediment above which was an oil painting of the city's crest. A door at the back of the room opened up and an elderly man appeared and made his way surprisingly sprightly to the seat. He had rather large bushy eyebrows whose undisciplined hairs seemed to be echoed by similar ones on his ivory wig, which looked like it may have seen better days. His half rim glasses and crows feet only served to give him a look that he was half asleep. The clerk, once again stood and announced.
“The right honorable Judge Giles Higginbottam” and at this Higginbottam banged his gavel authoritatively. He began to preamble.
“Right… right, then. No need to fuss.”
There was then five minutes of shuffling authoritarian gobbledygook between the judge and the other court servants. Papers were brought in and then dismissed. People bumbled around in the room with no apparent purpose and the judge, seemingly presiding over all this for his guilt chair, seemed slightly flustered all the way through. Jennifer, who was extremely unused to being in stuffy, busy environments was already beginning to feel quite queasy with it all. Eventually things seemed to settle.
“Right then, the case of Probate for Hall and Hall- it would appear that, after some dispute, it is correct that the title deeds to the building on Bethel street formerly known as Halls Skating Rink may pass upon the living sole heir which is you Miss Hall.”
Even though Kitty had confirmed this to her she still couldn’t believe it. “There must be some mistake” whispered a small voice in her head.
“There must be some mistake” came the sharp male voice. Jennifer looked over to see a man, who was now standing, move to take the floor. He was handsome with flinty features and slicked black nape length hair. He wore a suit of black with a short collar and a long jacket. His skin was pale but not unattractive. His eyes were piercing and his gaze now turned to Jennifer Hall on the far side of the room.
“I have documents that proclaim legality of the guaranteed sale of the buildings before the bequeathed, this is an arrangement claused in lieu of debts by the deceased”. He held aloft a ream of tatty looking documents.
“... and you are” sniffed Judge Higginbottom, looking over at the man.
“Marius Pople Dek, Solicitor. My clients have a claim to the building.”
There was a slight murmur around the room at this turn of events.
“I was under the impression that this was an open and shut case…” the judge sounded petulantly disappointed like a small child.
Pople Dek swooped upon the judge, nipping up onto a chair to reach the Dias and placing the bundle of papers before him “this related to sub clause 347 section d in the articles and amendments section of this loan agreement here; I think you will find it all in order’.
“Yes, well,” said Higginbottom. He was clearly not enamored with the idea of reading the text in detail. “Go on then, what is your case?”.
Throughout this Jennifer had been still reeling in the shock that there was anything left of their family estate in the first place. She had experienced a riptide of emotion, at once feeling angry at her absent parents and rather relieved that this rather snakily handsome man had arrived and confirmed her idea that some error had occurred. But then.. there was something else. The recent adventure with Daeden and Alex. Kitty Witches and the improbable storm. The fact that there had always been some sense of the magical in her life and that Kitty had warned her that this next step was very important. She was suddenly sure that this was the moment that she had spoken about. But was she supposed to do it? She tried to recall Kittys words. Hadn’t she said “There are those out there who wouldn't want you to know” and then Daeden had made some quip about people wanting to kill them.
Suddenly Jenny felt that sheerness of being again. At this moment Marius Pople Dek looked directly at her, he had been speaking for a while “...The property actually, by default, belongs to my client”. Once again those flinty eyes and she could swear she saw, just for a moment, a not unfriendly smile shimmer across his face. A flirtatious hint of connection. Jennifer looked away and gave a small shudder- but somewhere inside something had just very slightly melted that she chose to ignore.
Judge Higginbottam, the occurrence of this new direction momentarily stalling him, had started to splutter. “Well, then I think we should take a look at this and reconvene at a later time.” When Jenny suddenly found herself saying;
“Article 4 Simpson 3.7- he cannot proceed as long as the claimant has filed for variance. This nullifies the claim as the debtor is deceased and cannot reclaim by fact of them being… well… dead.”
She had no idea where this came from. Pople Dek smiled again at her, but this time there was ice in his look. Perhaps to intimidate her further he started to move towards her. She thought “He’s just stalling for time- he knew the court would find out his claim was rubbish pretty quickly- he just needed a few days.” She had no idea where the sentence she had just uttered had come from but had the idea that at some point she had ‘learnt’ it down pat.
She suddenly knew she had no time to wait in acting upon the situation.
“I think you will also find that the above article requires this to be acted on within 72 hours of the filled obstruction therefore your decision needs to be made today.” Once again, the words tumbled out.
The judge had surrounded himself with clerks and underlings who were leafing through books but contentedly nodding, which all bode well for Jennifer. Marius Pople Dek however was barely holding back his anger and pacing the gallery like a rampant bull.
He was muttering “Most unsatisfactory… no way that…damn her eyes!”
After what seemed like an hour but was in fact about twelve minutes the Judge reconvened the room and said.
“Well Miss Hall it appears you are correct and the client has no grounds here for the reasons you have stated. I must say firstly that I commend your knowledge of the law young lady. You are a credit to your family and I very much used to enjoy Skating, dancing and other general frivolity when the place was open. You, however, Mr Pople Dek seem to be acting on the part of bad company. This cynical and jaded attempt at obstructing this rightful probate would have been found out fairly quickly so one has to wonder why you bothered. I have half a mind to hold you in contempt of court but since this is a small matter I will let you go but I will be wary of your soliciting on behalf of any party in the future.”
He let out a small puff like a tired horse.
“I rule that Miss Hall has her title deed and the matter is hereby closed. Thank you in advance”. He banged his gavel twice.
And with that the court descended back into the flurry of activity it had previously had and Jennifer turned to leave but she suddenly caught sight of Pople Dek eyeing her from the shadows near the door. Rather than looking angry and beaten that little, knowing smile was again on his face and with his two hands almost clasped together in prayer he mocked a
little gestures of two hand claps staring directly at Jenny and then turned with a flourish and left the room.
“Reverendly dislikeable” said Jennifer, but if she would have had a mirror she would have seen she also had a tiny smile and the beginnings of a blush.
Outside, the spectacle of the elephants had now passed and Alex and Arabella had wandered up St. Benedicts street in the direction of home. Alex had bought his sister an ice cream and the two had ambled lazilly in the sunshine of the late day. Neither were particularly bothered about getting back as their father, Enoch, was at home and therefore they could expect a sermon upon arrival. It didn’t seem to need to be anything these days. Just the mere act of existence seemed to warrant their fathers disapproval. He was stridently religious and visited St. Thomas’s Church daily after working all day at Sturgeons as an engineer making farm equipment. He held the Bible to such esteem that he frequently used it to justify his harsh restrictions and overblown punishments of the two children. Alex was particularly worried about Arabella. He, as the older child felt that he could weather the intemperate fathers moods and moral sermoning, but his little sister, so sweet and fragile in his eyes, would only end up scarred by the familial altercations.
He found his mind wandering to the strange day at the beach. Surely the wind hadn’t blown Kitty and the tent away, that was just… His mind drew a blank. No, they had left Kitty and her strange white bear where they had found her, he was sure of it. His mind was playing tricks with him as if he were in a fever. The whole thing had a strange sandy frosting of unreality to it that for some reason made it difficult to pin down the exact sequence of events. One thing he did know, however, was that he was extremely interested in Jenny Hall. He had obsessively thought of her since their last meeting. There was a lusty desire in his thoughts, for sure, but there was an intrigue as well. He wanted to be near her again and to take in the soft damask and lightly floral scent of her being. Her company was intoxicating. Perhaps in rebellion at his father, Alex had discovered a taste for gin. It was a heady liquid which made him feel content and brought out his inner romantic emotions if he consumed more than two glasses. This was how being around Jenny felt. There was a floating numbness to her presence that he desired to be around all of the time.
They had come to their house. The three bedroomed red brick house on Earlham Road was very comfortable. His father earned a good wage managing the company that made state of the art farm machinery. Unfortunately life within the walls was not as pleasant as the exterior made out. His father was always short and clipped and often annoyed and angry. The house was in a perpetual state of terror that at any point his father might break into a long, shouting diatribe about how they should align themselves exactly with the strict scriptures that religion dictated.
They came in through the backdoor to find their mother sitting at the kitchen table. She had a large scrapbook in front of her. It was her habit to collect sea shells from the beach and make prints of them in her book. Alex and Arabella knew she did this when she was in one of her ‘quieter’ moods. Her mother was prone to lengthy bouts of melancholy. Although she would never say it, the children were convinced that this was a by-product of having to live with a man who never seemed to be able to settle down.
She looked up with a laboured but genuine smile.
“Ah, You two- how were the elephants?”
“Magnificent” said Arabella, placing a gentle kiss on her mothers cheek.
“Your father is in his study” said Adelia Zingle with a practiced warning the children were only too used too. Now Alex could hear the faint murmur of the phonograph playing some unidentifiable orchestral melody.
“These are lovely, Mother,” said Arabella, placing her hand on the book.
Her mother smiled. “Why thank you my sweet. Such wonders to be found by the seaside”
This comment suddenly brought about an influx of memory in Alex. It was like he had been pushing it further and further away. But suddenly the moments in the tent on the beach had become as clearly printed as the shapes of the shells in his mothers book. He remembered what he had sworn to protect and the oath he had taken.
“If you will excuse me” he said and made his way up into his room.
Surprisingly, Alex’s bedroom was the one place he was allowed solace. The strict house rules didn’t apply in his own space. Even though the room was very cluttered it wasn’t messy and Alex knew the whereabouts of every collected thing, every useful relic. He was always thinking about what he could make with the things he picked up. His ambition however was not usually met by his ability. Things were half made, half thought- started but never completed. He often lacked the one tool or ingredient to see his ideas to fruition. His ideas always seemed to require a new level of understanding to get them to the point of mastery. With so many pots on the fire, he never seemed to get to the point of finishing anything.
He briefly flicked through his new composition. He had decided to write a piece of music, but finding normal notation too inaccessible, had plumped for writing it in an entirely made up musical language that consisted of lumps and bumps of oblongs. The idea is that he would know how to play it this way but unfortunately he had forgotten to teach himself his own new language in the output. This means that he was relatively unable to decipher his own imaginings. Alex sighed as he flicked through the pages, imagining how fantastic it might sound.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore apart from Jenny Hall. He would write an entirely new opus, he thought thrillingly. Something about water and light. Perhaps something more feminine. It was at this point he suddenly realised that he had no idea why he was standing here. He moved over to the gable window and stared out at the back garden.
Where was Jenny? More importantly, why wasn’t he with her? He suddenly had the urge to leave the house and find her. This would not be allowed by his father. It was coming up to dinner and then he was expected to spend an hour of study before strict bedtime. There was no way Enoch would allow him out, even on this hot summer evening. He briefly considered jumping from the window but Alex had nursed a fear of heights from a young age- what had happened again? The thought didn’t settle.
Something caught his attention. A small movement beyond the outer wall. A familiar short dark silhouette in the already waning sunshine. Was that Daeden?
The figure appeared to wave at home, no not wave- beckon.
Alex suddenly became alert. He had to get out of here. His mind raced for ideas and excuses. His father, although not completely disapproving, found his friendship with Daeden- like most things- intolerable. However his christian beliefs led him to take pity on the boy, who he considered a pauper. Alex suddenly hit on a plan that if he appealed directly to his fathers ideals he may be allowed. Construct an emergency, he thought. Enoch wouldn’t approve but if he planted the right seeds in the right way his father would not be able to reject his son's compassionate need to help his poor fellow friend.
Don’t think- just do it.
He found himself leaving his room and was back downstairs walking towards the door of his fathers study. Each step the plan resolved in his mind. Each moment added another sureproof layer to his lie. He was terrified of the encounter. His father had a way of coercively turning any adverse idea back against him. But Alex was ready to fight for this moment. The idea of seeing Jenny was pulling too strongly. He knocked on the door.
Nothing.
Inside the music was still playing. His sister and mother were busy in the kitchen evidenced by the clanking of cutlery and plates. He knocked again.
Still nothing. The music hit a slow and romantic section with long legato strings.
Every fibre of Alex's being said not to do it, but he tried the door. Unexpectedly it was not locked. It breezed open. There was the desk. There was the stack of books, the phonograph and the laid out drafts of machinery. But there was no Enoch Zingle. His fathers chair was empty.
Alex gasped in surprise. There had never been a time when his father was absent in any way. Particularly not when his mother had plainly told him he was in his study. If his father had been in any other room of the house then this would have been made explicitly clear by his loud voice and imposing aura.
Two things happened simultaneously. He knew that something was wrong, the order of things had been interrupted. He also knew that to ask his mother and sister what had happened would ruin his one chance of escape.
I went looking for him.
It was his moment. Alex, silently backed out of the room and tiptoed down the hallway. He quietly unfastened the front door and darted into the balmy evening air.