‘Oh, you shall, you shall do it. And you will learn to love it or you shall be crushed. How do you think my uncle, my brother, my teacher, my own mother became what they became. They did it with my help. I have an understanding with objects, I can smash them as you have seen. I have never yet met an object I could not smash. Nor yet a person, Clod, nor yet a person. People think they have volition, they do not.’

‘I’m frightened, Grandfather.’

‘And that, Clod,’ said Grandfather, rising, ‘is an excellent place to start. I shall leave you now, I am very late to take the train and business waits for no man. You must dress yourself, Clod, and you must visit your grandmother.’

‘I must see Granny? Are you quite sure?’

‘Dress yourself in your new clothes. Your grandmother wishes to see you. And tomorrow morning, without fail, you shall come with me to the city. In trousers.’

‘Tomorrow!’

‘I’m so glad we had this talk, Clod, so very glad. Do get dressed.’

‘Jack Pike.’

‘James Henry Hayward.’

And he was gone.

A half hour later the train screamed for London.

17

A TIN WATERING CAN

A letter written by Tummis Gurge Oillim Mirck Iremonger, departing resident of Forlichingham Park, London

To my dear family and friends, this letter list.

To my mother and father, my drawings and paintings, my bird articulation.

For my brother Gorrild, my opal cufflinks.

For my sister Monnie, some feathers and the ribbons you so liked.

For my brother Ugh, my books Robinson Crusoe by D. Defoe, The Pilgrim’s Progress by J. Bunyan, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by S.T. Coleridge.

For my brother Flip, my lead soldiers, all but the Coldstream Guards.

For my sister Neg, the Coldstream Guards and my cricket bat.

For my Cousin Bornobby, a release of the debt of ten shillings and four pence you owed me, and a return of the corset catalogue of Jos. Horle & Sons, Burlington Arcade.

For my Cousin Clod, my stamp album, my bird books (Familiar History of Birds by E. Stanley, Birds by Land and Sea by J.M. Boraston, A History of British Birds by T. Bewick, Harmonia Ruralis by J. Bolton, unless Ormily wants one – perhaps you might share), my lintel (and his matchbox), please to look after.

For my Cousin Ormily, my love and this single feather from my seagull, Wateringcan (I do think it was his). Dear Ormily, dearest Ormily and your lovely tin watering can, I kiss you both.

I don’t have anything else.

So sorry.

T.

18

A TAP (MARKED ‘H’ FOR ‘HOT’)

Lucy Pennant’s narrative continued.

The Captain blew his whistle.

‘Open the gate!’

The heap Iremongers charged forth, and I stumbled out with them as fast as I could.

Into the heaps.