smell could have a colour, thought Geoffrey, it would probably be brown. 2
The coach rumbled through the Least Gate and Geoffrey saw, for the first time, City Watchmen in uniforms, dray-horses pulling massive high-sided carts, and tall buildings looming up and blocking out the sky. He saw the commotion and hustle of a street market where pedlars and greengrocers and butchers were shouting out their wares: more people in one place than he had ever seen in his life. After a while, the streets lined with plane trees grew wider and quieter, and the houses had gardens and looked quite grand. The coach gradually slowed and stopped and Thomas, the groom, came around and opened the door with a flourish.
‘Here we are, young sir. Number five Nonesuch Street, your Grand-mama’s house.’
Geoffrey climbed down on to the wide pavement and looked up at the tall house. There were railings and a gate, and a short path leading to steps up to an imposing front door and portico. 3 Thomas took him by the hand and together they climbed the steps. Thomas pulled the bell-pull and there came a distant ringing from inside the house. Geoffrey suddenly felt a little bit frightened. He had, of course, met his Grand-mama a few times, but only when she visited his home. Such occasions were always preceded by his Mama being a bit short-tempered, a lecture on remembering to say ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’, a scurrying of maids, a smell of polish and his Papa retiring hurriedly to his study.
The door creaked open and a tall thin figure dressed all in black and wearing fearsome spectacles looked down at him. He recognized his Grand-mama, who quickly bent down to give him a kiss before he had time to flinch, or pull his head between his shoulder blades like a tortoise. She didn’t say, ‘My how you’ve grown’ or ‘How was your journey?’ or even, ‘How are you?’ But she took him by the hand, and said, ‘I’m so pleased you’ve come to stay, Geoffrey. I expect you’d like some cake.’
Standing behind his Grand-mama in the doorway was a sour-faced maid wearing black and white and looking like a penguin that had inexplicably found a lemon to suck on. ‘This is Lily,’ said Grand-mama. ‘She will take you to your room and show you where to wash your hands before we have tea.’
Lily looked so disapproving and unfriendly that Geoffrey was very grateful that she was just the maid and not someone who might be inclined to kiss him. He thought he’d be lucky to keep his nose if she did. He wasn’t to know, but Lily’s life had been somewhat enriched by being the eldest in a family that otherwise consisted of eleven boys. In her experience small boys were nothing but trouble and the main cause of dirt, untidiness and noise. In her somewhat jaundiced view, the only difference between small boys and small dogs was that small boys couldn’t be left chained up outside.
Lily picked up Geoffrey’s small trunk and, indicating that he should follow her, started up a series of narrowing staircases to the very top of the house and a door marked Nursery. Lily opened the door and put down the trunk.
‘There’s water in the basin for you to wash your face and hands,’ she said. ‘Don’t leave the soap in the water, don’t leave the towel on the floor and don’t splash about. When you’re done, young master, come straight down to the dining room for tea.’ With that Lily left, not exactly slamming the door, but closing it, he thought, with a half-slam – or perhaps it could be called a sl—, because it bounced back afterwards.
Geoffrey could hardly take in all the treasures he could see in the room. There was a stuffed dragon hanging from the ceiling, piles of old books, a skipping rope which he looked at with a sneer, a very worn teddy bear and, best of all, a large wooden rocking horse which had a real mane and leather bridle. He was, however, feeling quite hungry and a bit scared of Lily, so after a quick look around and a
The coach rumbled through the Least Gate and Geoffrey saw, for the first time, City Watchmen in uniforms, dray-horses pulling massive high-sided carts, and tall buildings looming up and blocking out the sky. He saw the commotion and hustle of a street market where pedlars and greengrocers and butchers were shouting out their wares: more people in one place than he had ever seen in his life. After a while, the streets lined with plane trees grew wider and quieter, and the houses had gardens and looked quite grand. The coach gradually slowed and stopped and Thomas, the groom, came around and opened the door with a flourish.
‘Here we are, young sir. Number five Nonesuch Street, your Grand-mama’s house.’
Geoffrey climbed down on to the wide pavement and looked up at the tall house. There were railings and a gate, and a short path leading to steps up to an imposing front door and portico. 3 Thomas took him by the hand and together they climbed the steps. Thomas pulled the bell-pull and there came a distant ringing from inside the house. Geoffrey suddenly felt a little bit frightened. He had, of course, met his Grand-mama a few times, but only when she visited his home. Such occasions were always preceded by his Mama being a bit short-tempered, a lecture on remembering to say ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’, a scurrying of maids, a smell of polish and his Papa retiring hurriedly to his study.
The door creaked open and a tall thin figure dressed all in black and wearing fearsome spectacles looked down at him. He recognized his Grand-mama, who quickly bent down to give him a kiss before he had time to flinch, or pull his head between his shoulder blades like a tortoise. She didn’t say, ‘My how you’ve grown’ or ‘How was your journey?’ or even, ‘How are you?’ But she took him by the hand, and said, ‘I’m so pleased you’ve come to stay, Geoffrey. I expect you’d like some cake.’
Standing behind his Grand-mama in the doorway was a sour-faced maid wearing black and white and looking like a penguin that had inexplicably found a lemon to suck on. ‘This is Lily,’ said Grand-mama. ‘She will take you to your room and show you where to wash your hands before we have tea.’
Lily looked so disapproving and unfriendly that Geoffrey was very grateful that she was just the maid and not someone who might be inclined to kiss him. He thought he’d be lucky to keep his nose if she did. He wasn’t to know, but Lily’s life had been somewhat enriched by being the eldest in a family that otherwise consisted of eleven boys. In her experience small boys were nothing but trouble and the main cause of dirt, untidiness and noise. In her somewhat jaundiced view, the only difference between small boys and small dogs was that small boys couldn’t be left chained up outside.
Lily picked up Geoffrey’s small trunk and, indicating that he should follow her, started up a series of narrowing staircases to the very top of the house and a door marked Nursery. Lily opened the door and put down the trunk.
‘There’s water in the basin for you to wash your face and hands,’ she said. ‘Don’t leave the soap in the water, don’t leave the towel on the floor and don’t splash about. When you’re done, young master, come straight down to the dining room for tea.’ With that Lily left, not exactly slamming the door, but closing it, he thought, with a half-slam – or perhaps it could be called a sl—, because it bounced back afterwards.
Geoffrey could hardly take in all the treasures he could see in the room. There was a stuffed dragon hanging from the ceiling, piles of old books, a skipping rope which he looked at with a sneer, a very worn teddy bear and, best of all, a large wooden rocking horse which had a real mane and leather bridle. He was, however, feeling quite hungry and a bit scared of Lily, so after a quick look around and a
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