The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison (3 page)

‘Oh, you know Twit. He always tries to be bright and jolly. You never know what he’s thinking deep down.’

‘Yes, you’re right there. I like that fieldmouse – reminds me of someone I knew once – best friend I ever had. Twit’s mighty fond of his cousin there – it’ll be a tragic blow to his little heart.’

A soft footfall behind them made them both turn sharply – but it was only Arthur.

‘Hullo Mr Triton,’ he said politely. ‘Audrey, I’ve managed to put Mother to bed and she’s asleep now, but I think Piccadilly’s having trouble with Twit – he needs to rest, but won’t settle. Be can’t stop worrying!’

‘Right, I’ll get him out of that,’ said Thomas firmly and he fixed his hat back on his head. ‘Come with me, miss, and you miladdo, stay here. I’ll see to my young matey.’ The midshipmouse strode from the Chitters’ home with Audrey following.

‘Mr Triton,’ she said, catching up with him. ‘What did you mean before when you saw me and said I was the very one?’

‘It wasn’t just to see poor Oswald that I came,’ he explained as they entered the Brown’s home, ‘but to see you as well.’

‘Me?’ asked Audrey, puzzled. She had not spoken to the midshipmouse very much during the brief times that he had visited the Skirtings and she wondered what he was up to.

‘Aye lass,’ he continued. ‘I’ve a message for you.’ She looked blank as Thomas Triton charged into Arthur and Piccadilly’s bedroom.

The city mouse was trying to get Twit to stay in bed. He had heated him some milk and honey but the fieldmouse would not rest. When Thomas barged in Twit grinned in spite of himself.

‘How do!’ he said.

‘Ahoy there matey,’ Thomas said sternly. ‘What you doin’ lyin’ in yer bunk on a day like this?’ The midshipmouse winked a startled Piccadilly into silence. ‘Get up lad, there’s folk to see!’

‘But he’s only just gone to bed,’ exclaimed Audrey.

Without turning round to look at her, Thomas said, ‘You, miss, had better make yourself presentable. What has happened to your hair?’

‘I . . . I didn’t put my ribbon in,’ stammered Audrey.

‘Then chop chop lass. Go do whatever you do to make a good impression. Someone wants to see you.’

‘Who’s that then Thomas?’ asked Twit, curiosity banishing the weary lines around his eyes.

The midshipmouse feigned astonishment. ‘Why, the Starwife, lad – didn’t I say?’

Twit’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘What? Her that lives in Greenwich under those funny buildings I saw when the bats flew me over?’

‘Aye matey. First thing this morning, when it was still dark, I had a message from herself delivered by one of her younger jumpy squirrels – took me a long time to calm him down. They are a watery lot! Well the gist of the story is,’ Thomas now turned to Audrey, ‘that the Starwife wants to see you, Miss Brown, and she won’t be kept waitin’. I’ve come to fetch you, and miladdo here is welcome to join us.’

For a second Twit’s heart leapt, but when he thought of Oswald it sank down deeper and lower than ever. Sadly he shook his head. ‘I can’t come, Thomas. Oswald won’t see the end of the day – my place is here.’

The midshipmouse put his paw on Twit’s shoulder. ‘Lad, I promise you we’ll be back for that time. If Oswald leaves us, I swear you’ll be at his side.’

Twit blinked. He trusted his seafaring friend so much, yet how could he be so certain? Thomas’ eyes bore into him and under their solemn gaze the little fieldmouse felt sure that he was right.

‘I’ll just go an’ have a quick swill,’ Twit said, running out of the bedroom.

Audrey stared at Thomas and began to say something when a stem command from him sent her dashing off to find her ribbon.

Thomas Triton sighed and smiled at Piccadilly. ‘I’ll not keep them away long. The easiest bit’s been done – I’ve got them to go. Your job’s not as simple. Pray to the Green Mouse that the Chitter lad hangs on till we return!’

Thomas Triton led a flustered Audrey and Twit across the hall. Through the cellar door they slipped and jumped down the stone steps beyond. Thomas strode through the cellar gloom to the Grille.

Wrought in iron with twirling leaf patterns this had always been an object of fear and dread. And indeed, when Jupiter the terrible God of the Rats had been alive it had possessed strange powers.

Now Audrey shivered as she stood before it, recalling how she had been dragged through the Grille by an evil band of rats. Twit backed away from it slightly. He remembered the horrible effect that the black enchantments had had upon Arthur. Only Thomas dared to touch the Grille.

With a hearty laugh he looked at the others. ‘Jupiter is dead,’ he reminded them. ‘Whatever forces were lurking in or beyond this grating are long gone.’ As if to prove it he banged an iron leaf with his fist. ‘The spells are as cold and lifeless as the mangy moggy who made them.’ The midshipmouse chuckled and squeezed himself through the rusted gap in the Grille.

‘This is the quickest way to Greenwich,’ he said, popping up on the other side. Audrey and Twit still hesitated so Thomas pulled a silly face. It looked so ridiculous that they couldn’t help laughing. Perhaps the Grille was an ordinary metal grating after all. Audrey and Twit crawled through the gap and joined Thomas.

Down into the sewers they went. Although it was a hot summer day in the outside world here it was chill and damp. Audrey had forgotten how bleak it all was. So many ugly memories were kindled by everything around her: the musty, stale smell of the dark running-water, the slippery slime on the ledges and the weird echoes which floated through the old air. Around every corner there was a dark memory.

Thomas sensed her unease and remarked casually, ‘I use the sewers quite a bit now. I never get lost, me. I can find my way home on a black foggy night with no moon and my hat over my eyes.’ Twit chuckled softly and Audrey was grateful to the midshipmouse; he took her mind off things.

‘Now there ain’t no more rats down ’ere,’ Twit piped up, ‘there’s no danger of us gettin’ peeled, is there Thomas?’

‘’Sright matey.’

‘But won’t others arrive and take over where Jupiter’s rats left off?’ Audrey asked, doubtfully looking over her shoulder.

‘No, rats are mostly cowardly,’ answered Thomas. ‘Only the fear of Jupiter gave them a false sort of courage. Ask that city mouse – he’ll tell you how cringey they are in the city. You just have to cuff ’em about the head if they start gettin’ uppity.’

Audrey felt relieved. Like Twit she found the midshipmouse to be a comforting figure. He was so sure of himself that it rubbed off on to everyone he was with. Audrey’s thoughts returned to Oswald lying in his bed. She shook her head to dispel that image and tried to think of something else. ‘Tell me about the Starwife, please Mr Triton,’ she asked.

‘She’m the grand dame of the squirrels,’ put in Twit.

‘Yes, but what can she want of me?’ asked Audrey, baffled. ‘I’d never heard of her before.’

‘Maybe,’ said Thomas, ‘but she’s obviously heard of you. Somehow the name Audrey Brown has reached her ancient ears. Rumours spread quickly she must have heard about Jupiter’s downfall and wants to know all the details of it.’

‘Yes, but you were there as well Mr Triton. You could have told her, surely?’

‘True, I was there on the altar when that old monster was sent to his watery grave – but you did the sendin’ remember, and it was your mousebrass that toppled him.’

‘What shall I tell her then?’ asked Audrey nervously. Thomas whirled round. ‘Why the truth, lass, and nothing but that! Don’t go addin’ bits or leavin’ stuff out, or your ears’ll ring for weeks after. It’s plain speaking in the Starwife’s dreys and chambers – and that only when you’re spoken to.’

‘Have you seen her then Mr Triton?’ pressed Audrey, desperate to know as much as possible about the strange personage she was about to meet.

‘That I have,’ he replied cautiously. ‘When I first came and settled round here I was summoned to meet her.’ Thomas grew grave and added, ‘There were matters which I needed to talk to her about.’ He stroked his white whiskers and cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been hurled around by tempests on angry, foaming seas and nearly got drowned twice, but I don’t mind telling you that I’ve never been so skittish as when I went to her dreys. And I was shakin’ even worse when I came out of them!’

Twit whistled softly. He couldn’t imagine sturdy Thomas being afraid of anything. What a creature this Starwife must be! ‘What did she do to you, Thomas?’ he asked wide-eyed.

‘Well I went in there, knees-a-knockin’. I’d heard many a strange tale of the Greenwich Starwife, and only an idiot would go into her chambers unabashed. Well, down some tunnels I was took and there behind a fancy curtain was the Starwife. Oh, she saw right through me, knew everything about me – what I’d done, what I hoped to do – uncanny that was. I think I made a right tomfool of myself in front of her. She weren’t impressed with her new neighbour at all. Still, I came away feeling better, but I ain’t clapped eyes on her since.’

‘And this morning you got a message from her about me,’ added Audrey.

‘Yes, that surprised me no end.’ Thomas paused and looked at Audrey. ‘In fact, it’s so rare an occurrence that I’d be careful, if I were you, Miss Brown.’

Audrey was worried. She imagined the Starwife to be as bad as the rats. Her thoughts must have showed plainly on her face, for Thomas added, ‘Oh she won’t eat you, but the Starwife has motives of her own. She never does nothing for nothing. Sometimes she can be as subtle as Jupiter himself, and that’s what I’m puzzled about. So I say again just watch yourself.’

‘You don’t encourage me, Mr Triton. I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to this. I’d rather go back to the Skirtings.’

‘Too late for that, miss. Here we are now.’

They had come to the end of the sewer journey and a small passage lay before them, at the end of which bright sunlight streamed through the holes in a grate.

Thomas led them down it and they followed him to the outside world.

The mice stood outside Greenwich Park. Before them the green lawns stretched away up to the Observatory hill. The sweet scent of freshly mown grass tingled their noses.

Twit breathed it in deeply. ‘Oh,’ he sighed, ‘that do lighten me heart.’

The fieldmouse leapt into the mounds of drying grass cuttings. Gurgling with delight he burrowed down into the soft damp darkness where the fragrances tugged at his memories and visions of home swam before him. Snug in the grass cave Twit’s tiny eyes sparkled. The city was no place for him – he belonged to the open fields where corn swayed high above and ripened slowly in the sun until it burned with golden splendour.

The grass rustled above his head and the harsh dazzle of midday broke around him.

‘Come on matey!’ laughed Thomas parting the cuttings. ‘Not far to the Starwife now.’

Twit scrambled out of the mound wiping his forehead with a clump of the sweetest, dampest grass. Audrey smiled at him as he rubbed it into his hair.

‘Luvverly,’ he exclaimed, ‘I feel bright and breezy now.’ She had to agree: the fresh clean scent of the grass cleansed her nose of the smell of the sickroom.

‘We better catch up with Mr Triton,’ Audrey suggested. ‘Just look how he’s marching off.’

‘I’m thinkin’ old Thomas ain’t happy about meetin’ that there Starwife again.’

‘Well I don’t want to meet her a first time. She sounds like a right old battleaxe – I’m telling you Twit, no matter who she is I’m in no mood for a bad-tempered old squirrel.’

‘Oh I am,’ cried Twit. ‘Anything to be out of those dark rooms for a while.’

They ran after Thomas, skirting round the tangled roots of the large trees. Gradually the three mice made their way up the hill.

Thomas’ brows were knitted together in concentration. They avoided the paths and kept on the grass, obeying their instincts of survival – out of sight, out of danger.

The further up the hill they went the more thoughtful and quiet Thomas became. By the time they were halfway up he was positively frowning and his tail switched to and fro irritably. Audrey caught his mood and stayed silent. Only Twit chirped up now and again, gasping at the view and remembering when the bats had flown him over this very hill.

Presently the Observatory buildings drew near. How high they were with their onion-shaped domes and solid walls! They sat proudly on top of the hill, fringed by railings and thick rhododendron bushes.

‘Look,’ called Twit suddenly. ‘In those bushes there. No, it’s gone now.’

‘What was it?’ asked Audrey.

‘A squirrel,’ explained the fieldmouse. ‘It were watchin’ us – didn’t half give me a shock. There it was a-starin’ straight at me – grey as ash then
poof!
It darted away as speedy as anything.’

‘How long do you think it had been watching us?’ asked Audrey, slightly unnerved. She had never seen a squirrel before.

Thomas glared into the bushes. ‘They’ve been keeping an eye on us ever since we stepped into the park. Thought they were being clever, but I spotted them a-spying and jumping from branch to branch over our heads. Let them scurry and keep her informed of our progress. Like a spider in a wide web she is, gathering news – you’d be surprised at what she hears,’ he added grimly.

Audrey twisted the lace of her skirt between her fingers. ‘Mr Triton,’ she began nervously. ‘I don’t want to see her now. Please can we go back?’

‘No lass,’ Thomas sighed, shaking his head.

‘She has summoned you and you’ve come this far. Don’t let an old jaded rover like me frighten you now. Courtesy must be kept and you never know – maybe the old boot’s mellowed since last I saw her.’

Twit giggled at Thomas’ description of the Starwife. ‘I can’t wait,’ he babbled excitedly.

‘Right ho matey,’ said Thomas, ‘let’s take the cat by the whiskers.’ The midshipmouse ducked under a railing and scampered up the bush-covered bank. Audrey and Twit followed.

Thomas Triton stooped and sat down in the mossy shade of the dark-leaved rhododendrons.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Audrey in surprise. ‘I thought we were going to find the Starwife.’

‘We’ve come as far as we can on our own,’ said Thomas solemnly. ‘I’m waiting for our escort.’

Twit blinked and peered around them. The shadows under the thick bushes were deep. ‘I don’t see no-ones,’ he whispered. ‘Where is this escort, Thomas?’

‘Oh they’re here,’ replied the midshipmouse dryly. ‘I’m just waiting for them to find their guts and show themselves.’