‘They’re all there in her sitting room and Mrs Smith has the keys. And we’re allowed to see them once a week.’

‘Wonderful day!’

‘Upstairs they keep their objects with them, they’re always with them. But not down here, down here Mrs Piggott looks after them.’

‘But Madam Rosamud’s lost her object just this morning. And they’ve searched the whole house but still it’s not been found.’

‘A door handle it is.’

‘A lovely brass one.’

‘Then why not just give her another?’ I said.

‘Oh, it wouldn’t be the same.’

‘It wouldn’t be her door handle at all.’

‘It was a lovely thing, I’ve seen it myself. Once, there being a shortage, I was upstairs and allowed to be a body servant for her in her rooms.’

‘A body servant?’ I asked.

‘A body servant is an Iremonger from below who is allowed to dress them above us, to wait on their bodies. It’s a very privileged thing. No one in this dormitory is a body servant, body servants each have their own room.’

‘With chamber pot.’

‘Yes, while we share ours.’

‘But now we are especially not allowed to be in the presence of upstairs Iremongers, not since Madam Rosamud’s door handle went walkabout.’

‘They’ve looked everywhere. Mr Sturridge’s very nervy about it all, everyone’s unhappy. We’d all really love to find the handle, but no one knows where it’s got to. They’ve searched our rooms thoroughly, gone through the mattresses, turned out our pockets, everything, lord knows we’ve encouraged it too, but it’s not anywhere to be found. It’s such a small thing and the house so big.’

‘Do you know what Mrs Piggott’s birth object is?’ I asked.

‘Mrs Piggott’s is a corset, Mr Sturridge’s a ship’s lantern and Mr Briggs’s a shoehorn.’

‘Mr Groom’s is a pair of sugar cutters and Mrs Groom’s a jelly mould. Mrs Smith’s is a key, one key among all those others. I wonder what happened if you found it, I wonder if then you could unlock Mrs Smith!’

‘Think of what would come tumbling out.’

‘I shouldn’t like that at all.’

‘Oooh! Look out, Iremonger, you’re being eaten to death!’

Everyone then in a terrible panic started swiping at their nightdresses. I looked down at my own bare legs, there were insects climbing all around them. I had felt something before but in the darkness I presumed it was the gentle touching of some Iremonger’s fingers, because they had touched and petted me so, but now there was a whining and buzzing about my ears and small things crawling on me.

‘What are they?’ I cried. ‘Get them away!’

‘She’s been bit.’

‘Bit bad.’

‘All that new blood. They do like that.’