‘In this house,’ Mrs Piggott said, smiling at me, but with a certain sadness in her eyes, ‘you shall be called Iremonger, you mustn’t think anything of it, it’s just our way, it is the custom here, you understand, and I am not the maker of customs. You shall be called Iremonger like everyone else, only I and Mr Sturridge the butler and Mr Briggs the underbutler and Mr Smith the lock and Mr and Mrs Groom the cooks have their names, for we have high positions and they have need, those upstairs, to summon us by our names, but everyone else is just and only Iremonger. There now, do you understand, Iremonger?’

‘My name is Lucy Pennant,’ I said.

‘No. You are not being quick, my dear. It hurts, I know it hurts, but we are a family here, and not without our kindnesses. It will seem strange for a little while, but then, soon enough, it shan’t any more, dear Iremonger.’

‘Lucy Pennant,’ I said.

‘No!’ she said now with a little more force though trying to keep her smile. ‘That person is not to be mentioned … we’ll call you Iremonger. Iremonger is what you are now. You should not want me to be unhappy, Iremonger, should you? I am quite a personage, when unhappy I am a spirit, a force, a character. You should not want that, should you?’

‘No, I shouldn’t, but …’

‘No, Mrs Piggott,’ she said.

‘No, Mrs Piggott,’ I repeated.

‘Very good then. Your duties shall be explained to you. What sort of an Iremonger are you, I wonder? What do you have to recommend you? Whatever you have shall not surprise me. I have seen everything. We have Iremongers here who try to claim attention in all the most foolish of ways; there are Iremongers of mine who don’t walk, and Iremongers who don’t see, and Iremongers who can’t hear, we have Iremongers that say they talk to ghosts, and Iremongers who predict things, Iremongers who climb up chimney flues, we have Iremongers who never stop sleeping, and Iremongers who do not go to sleep. We have short Iremongers and long Iremongers, we have Iremongers that laugh and Iremongers that don’t, we have Iremongers, we certainly do, all sorts. All here. And now we have you. And that’s very nice, isn’t it? And we’ll soon get to know you, and you to know us. Well then, and there you are near the bottom, and higher up am I, and what sort of Iremonger am I? I’m Claar Piggott, full Iremonger several generations back, but still holding liquid of that inextinguishable spirit. Claar, but you must refer to me as Mrs Piggott.’

She put her own dry finger to my lips.

‘Now then,’ she said, ‘empty your pockets. There are to be no things here, none whatsoever, it is an uncluttered haven down here.’