Free Elijah’s Mermaid by Essie Fox Page B

much relieved when Papa made the stern intervention, ‘Freddie, the boy is but fourteen years.’
    ‘Why, Millais was less than that when he trained at the Royal Academy and . . .’ Freddie’s challenge was boldly begun, though soon broken off with a lengthy sigh, after which came his earnest apology. ‘Ah . . . Augustus. Forgive me. I grow too enthused and forget myself. I shall simply count my blessings that Elijah and Lily are here today . . . not to mention yourself, my dear old friend!’
    The tinny tinkle of porcelain alerted my senses to Papa’s nerves, for his hands were shaking violently while pouring some coffee into his cup. He looked down at his plate, his breaths too loud. He did not attempt to return Freddie’s smile. And me, I did try to look cheerful but my heart felt as heavy as lead in my breast because for the very first time in my life I realised there would come a day when my brother might think to go away, to leave me alone in Kingsland House.
    But how fickle the sorrows of youth can be, because even that cloud on the distant horizon melted away into clear blue skies when Freddie took my hand in his and announced we should make a trip to Cremorne.
    Freddie was paying at the gate. Papa loitered a little way off, and Elijah and I were standing between, me fidgety, shuffling from foot to foot while glancing back towards the pier and the steamboat from which we had disembarked, having sailed all the way from Hungerford Bridge with the engine vibrating and rumbling below, and a flutter of flags and bells above and the constant shouts of ‘Creeee-morne! Creee-morne!’ I was sad when we puttered to a halt, the vessel then banging against the pier’s landing so hard that I had to clutch Freddie’s arm until the violent rocking stopped and, at last, we were able to disembark and return to the safety of firm, dry land where, crushed in with a small tide of humanity, we streamed along the riverside path – and then caught our very first sight of the gardens – and just like a heaven it seemed to me, with everything manicured, shining, green, and that day in May so very warm I would gladly have kicked off my stockings and shoes and paddled about in the fountains. But there would be no dillydallying. Freddie had ordered a table for lunch, marching us off towards the hotel, where, thankfully, there was cold ginger beer to wash down the devilled kidneys, the platters with lobster and shrimp on ice, followed by sorbets and coffees and cakes which left me so bloated and full inside I thought I should never eat again – which was when Uncle Freddie drew out his gold watch, springing up from his seat to make the announcement, ‘Come along . . . come along! We must be off. We don’t want to miss the aquatic displays!’
    Next thing, the human dynamo had whirled us through a theatre’s doors, where we were amazed to see a stage made up of a huge glass aquarium. The audience was rather thin, barely numbering more than twenty souls, but each of us ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ with glee when presented with ‘The
Beckwith Frog
. . . one of
the world’s finest acrobats
’, who dived into the water, gyrating among all the goldfish and eels, or else walked back and forth on his hands while consuming a bottle of milk in one – all the time with his head completely submerged!
    ‘You didn’t get that in Kingsland!’ Elijah nudged my sideand laughed, and too soon the spectacular came to an end and a man called Professor Beckwith appeared – he being the human frog’s trainer – and once he and his protégé had bowed, sated with our hurrahs and pattering claps, the professor proclaimed two other shows for the audience’s delectation that day. I was sorely tempted by the sound of Signor Rosci’s ‘Educated Monkeys’, which were due to perform on the lawns at three, though all thoughts of that wonder were soon eclipsed when he spoke about the mermaid tent, and what was enticingly described as being ‘
half