I was told it was time for me to come and meet my family. I was ushered back into the kitchen and all the cooks and serving men and girls all came over and looked at me with considerable thoroughness, I was moved on, one after the other after the other.

‘Welcome home,’ each said to me.

‘Ah, welcome, here she is at last, home! Home!’

‘Home!’

‘Home!’

And they looked so pleased to see me, and many of them were tearful and kissed me as if I really was a very dear person to them, a beloved one at last returned, that I thought all right, I don’t mind a hug now and then, and soon I was hugging them back. One by one they all hugged me, young men came up and held me close to them, and some seemed to smell me. But then in all that warmth and kindness there was the sound of someone clearing his throat and all the Iremongers darted back to their various stations and I was left on my own before a very tall man with considerable eyebrows, in very smart dress clothes, black tie and tails, who ushered me towards him, and I went forward.

‘I,’ came a voice so low it was almost hard to make out, his noises like rumbles, ‘am Mr Sturridge, the butler. I sing the song of Heap House, it is a song of order and correctness, it is the noise of right and dignity. It is the noise of these halls, these many stories, it is the sound of every chamber in this great palace which is, though undeserving, our home too. We live amongst these pillar roots, underground beneath them that move above us and are above us and that is how it should be. Heap House sticks into the ground like a mighty flagpole, and thus a part of it must be buried from sight. Our part is for ever in the deep and its only light is candle and gas lamp. We are the roots, the great roots of the plant that grows above. We dwell beneath the earth where we belong, and here we labour, each at his station. I am the keep, I am the keep-it-in-place, I am brush and dustpan, I am polish and bite. How do you do?’

I bowed to the huge man.

‘Welcome. Tomorrow, Iremonger,’ he said, pausing a moment before announcing, ‘fireplaces.’ The serving Iremongers around me bristled at that word, and several patted my shoulders in approval, and said with great encouragement, ‘You work above ground, above ground!’

‘Now,’ said the butler.

A man stood out from behind him, I hadn’t seen him before. This I would learn was the underbutler, a very greasy-looking man, who nodded at me and then rang a bell.