The Educated Ape and Other Wonders of the Worlds

  ‘Pretty pictures,’ Lord Brentford remarked. ‘Read the Classics at Oxford, you know. Remember that one well enough.’ And he gestured to a vast and intricate representation of Polyphagia consuming the Harlot of Palsy, that he might win the heart of Princess Phallicema.

  ‘Never really got the joke of any of them, though,’ said Lord Brentford as he followed the gentleman with the high cockade. The plaster casts were now off the legs of Lord Brentford and he walked with a cane and the slightest of limps and no complaint at all.

  Queen Victoria’s throne-room was not to be entered into easily, for there was considerable security. Soldiers of the Queen’s Own Household Standers to Attention stood to attention before the door, fearsome modern weaponry a-bristling. One in considerable armour stepped forward to examine Lord Brentford’s papers.

  ‘I only have a Daily Sketch.’ His lordship brought this out for close inspection.

  The armoured soldier laughed uproariously at Lord Brentford’s unintended funny, explained where the misapprehension lay and then told his lordship to hand over the correct papers or be shot down where he stood.

  Lord Brentford parted with his papers. The armoured soldier looked long and hard at the nobleman’s Monkey Butler Authorisation Certificate and held the sepia identity photo-representation of Darwin close by the monkey’s face.

  The armoured soldier then looked hard at Leah. The Venusian regarded him with her dazzling golden eyes.

  ‘Go through,’ said the soldier, and the three went through.

  Soldiers lined each wall of the golden throne-room. Some had ray guns, some had swords and some had bommyknockers.[20]

  What Darwin could see of the throne-room had him most impressed. It was gold and it was gold and yet more gold.

  A hymn of gold, it seemed, to the awestruck ape.

  The ceiling was rococo, strewn with golden cherubim.

  Columns of Corinthia adorned with golden leaf.

  Golden statues too arose

  In many a heroic pose

  With golden hairs upon their arms, but no hairs underneath.

  Darwin had never entertained any particular fondness for hymns about gold, and as he looked upon it all, the splendour, the opulence, the goldenness, it all began to make him feel just a little bit sick.

  The wealthy simply had too much wealth.

  The poor had too much poverty.

  Darwin was suddenly torn between rival emotions. Something instinctively told him that this was all wrong! That so much wealth should be enjoyed by so few. That it was immoral when so many went without. That it was, simply, wrong.

  But here indeed lay a problem, because Darwin had become an ape who enjoyed luxury, who revelled in good food, fine wines, well-cut suits and things of a similar nature. He found privilege amenable.

  Darwin the monkey butler shook his head. Once he’d had ideals. Once he had experienced strong feelings about Man’s inhumanity to Monkey. Once he had felt that, as the world’s only talking ape, it was his duty to do something about it.

  But what had he done?

  Nothing, that was what.

  He had not buckled down to fight for justice with Mr Cameron Bell. And when Lord Brentford came back to reclaim Syon House as his own, Darwin had taken the easiest option and returned to being a monkey butler, because in spite of certain downsides (although the hated bedpan was now happily a thing of the past), the benefits outweighed them.

  Not that he had enjoyed getting covered in falling frog and having to leave the majority of his clothes in the hansom cab.

  But— ‘Hurry along now, Darwin,’ said Lord Brentford. ‘You are dreaming again.’

  Queen Victoria sat upon her throne. Her costume was a triumph in this year’s black, which was black. She wore her jaunty crown, a sash bedecked with glittering broaches of office, rather dear little monogrammed slippers and a grumpy face. To one side, on a Persian pouffe, sat Emily her monkey maid, and on the other wheeled Caruthers her augmented kiwi bird.

  ‘Get a move on, Brentford,’ called Her Majesty. ‘You are late and one does not have all day.’

  ‘My apologies, ma’am.’ Lord Brentford put speed to his stride. ‘Slight hold-up in the Mall. Unexpected rain of frogs. Causing frightful chaos.’

  ‘No interest in frogs,’ said the Empress of both India and Mars. ‘One wants to see one’s present.’

  Lord Brentford looked towards Leah who shook her head and said nothing.

  ‘Not strictly a present, ma‘am,’ said Lord Brentford. ‘More a lendsies, really.’

  ‘A lendsies?’ queried the Queen.

  ‘You know, when you are lent something, ma’am.’

  ‘When one is lent something, one keeps it,’ said Her Majesty the Queen. ‘That is what being a Queen is all about.’

  ‘Quite so, ma’am,’ said Lord Brentford.

  ‘Well, open it, do,’ said the Queen.

  Queen Victoria’s Crowbar-Carrier-in-Residence handed Lord Brentford the royal crowbar and the nobleman set about the packing case with vigour.

  It was a large packing case, perhaps eight feet in height and four feet to a side. The words THIS WAY UP were largely printed, so it was the right way up.

  Lord Brentford strained with the royal crowbar. Sections of timber toppled away to reveal waddings of wood-shaved packing.

  Leah stepped forward, drew in breath then blew away all these packings.

  Wood-shavings swirled and something wondrous was revealed. Something truly wondrous.

  Hovering three feet above the floor was what at first appeared to be a sphere of glass.

  But no such thing was this. Rather, what was to be seen was—

  Nothingness.

  Absolute nothingness.

  A sphere of total

  colourless, textureless,

  spaceless, timeless

  nothing.

  All in the royal throne-room stared in awe.

  But only one amongst them understood.

  43

  e are most amused.’ Queen Victoria stepped from her throne and approached the Sphere of Nothingness. She stretched forth a royal hand to touch it.

  ‘Oh, Your Majesty, please do not.’ Leah the Venusian barred the monarch’s way.

  ‘One does not say not to one’s monarch,’ said the Queen.

  ‘But, ma’am.’ The Venusian smiled upon the Queen. ‘Were you to touch it, you would be drawn into it, into the absolute void, never ever to return.’

  Queen Victoria’s hand withdrew. ‘One would not want that,’ said she. ‘But you may leave us now.

  ‘Leave now, ma’am?’ asked Lord Brentford. ‘There are some matters to discuss.’

  ‘Later, later, Brentford. I find this item entrancing. I wish to gain scientific opinion regarding this.’

  ‘Let no one touch it,’ counselled Leah.

  ‘You are dismissed,’ said Her Majesty the Queen. ‘The sphere will be safe enough here.’

  ‘I am in agreement with that, ma’am,’ said Lord Brentford, bowing politely. ‘I wished it to be brought here because I am aware of Mr Churchill’s fears for Your Majesty’s safety. I know this room to be the safest place in all of the Empire in which to keep it.’

  ‘Quite,’ said Queen Victoria. ‘Even the Masked Shadow, of evil memory, would not have dared to enter here.’

  ‘Then we will take our leave, Your Majesty, safe in the knowledge that this great treasure will remain under your protection until the end of December, when it will take its place in the Venusian Hall of the Grand Exposition.’

  ‘One is looking forward to that,’ said the Queen. ‘Farewell.’

  They walked from the palace to the Mall. The going was uncertain, for although the rain of frogs was over, many many many were the frogs around and about.

  They clogged up the gutters, hung impaled upon railings, cluttered flower beds, smothered the Mall. ‘Twas not the prettiest sight.

  Stepping carefully, his lordship led Leah and Darwin, who stepped also most carefully,
gingerly and fearfully, to the area where now arose the Exposition’s halls.

  ‘Coming on a treat, doncha think?’ Lord Brentford fished a cigar from his pocket, popped it into his mouth and lit it with a lucifer. ‘Much of the framework up already. Need to sweep those frogs out, though, before the glass goes in.’

  Darwin looked up at the acres and acres of ironwork. This building was larger than anything he could possibly have imagined. Darwin’s little heart raced at the sheer spectacle, and thoughts came and went inside his head in the way that thoughts will do.

  They can create wonders, these humans, Darwin thought.

  Wonders sometimes fearsome to behold.

  Folk were venturing once more onto the Mall, folk who stepped with daintiness, prodding at fallen frogs with sticks and parasols.

  ‘Berty,’ said Leah, ‘I would like to go now, if you please. ‘‘Certainly, my dear. Just wanted you to see how splendidly everything is coming along. Although all the bods who should be working on the building appear to have sloped off. Taken shelter from the rain of froggies, I suppose.’

  Darwin tugged at Lord Brentford’s trouser and pointed towards two fellows who were approaching. They walked in that way that can only be described as ‘purposeful’, with chins firmly set and hands made into fists. They wore black bowler hats, black ulster coats and black boots and each of them carried a black leather case and each of them looked stern.

  ‘Surveyors, I expect,’ said his lordship. ‘Watch me give em a telling-off for something, Darwin.’

  Darwin prepared himself to be amused.

  ‘Lord Brentford?’ said a fellow in a black bowler hat.

  ‘I am he,’ his lordship said. ‘So speak, if you will, with respect.’

  ‘Mr Gilbert,’ said one fellow in a bowler hat.

  ‘Mr George,’ said the other, ‘of Gilbert and George Solicitors.’

  ‘Can’t say I have heard of you,’ said his lordship.

  ‘We hold a royal charter,’ said Mr George.

  ‘We represent the gentry,’ Mr Gilbert said.

  ‘Well, jolly good show,’ said his lordship. ‘You haven’t by chance seen anything of my workers?’

  ‘Indeed we have,’ said Mr George, rummaging about in his black leather case. ‘We have dismissed them from the site.’

  ‘YOU HAVE WHAT?’ Lord Brentford roared. ‘Then you shall know my wrath.’ And he raised his cane.

  ‘We strongly advise against violence,’ said Mr George. ‘You would not wish it added to the charges.’

  ‘Charges? WHAT CHARGES?’

  ‘We would hope that there will be no charges,’ said Mr Gilbert. ‘should you choose to settle your account without any further delay—’

  ‘My … account?’ said Lord Brentford most slowly. ‘Ah, indeed, my account.’

  ‘What is this of which the gentleman speaks?’ asked Leah. Mr George now gaily flourished papers. ‘Lord Brentford is somewhat behind on his payments,’ said he. ‘In fact, he has failed to honour any of them.’

  Lord Brentford made the bitterest of faces.

  Leah gazed at him.

  ‘One million, five hundred and sixty-seven thousand, three hundred and ninety-five pounds, seventeen and six-pence,’ said Mr George. ‘A not inconsiderable sum. If his lordship would care to write out a cheque, we will settle matters here and now.

  ‘Don’t have my chequebook with me,’ said Lord Brent— ford. ‘But surely the costs might be defrayed. After the New Year, millions will flock to see the Grand Exposition. All that I owe for the construction costs can easily be paid then.’

  Mr Gilbert shook his head. Mr George did likewise. ‘At the present rate of interest,’ said Mr Gilbert, ‘your owings will have doubled before the Exposition even opens. We have not yet factored in the cost of the glass, or the interior fixtures and fittings.’

  Leah the Venusian said, ‘What would the overall cost of construction be? Including everything.’

  Mr George consulted his papers. ‘A little under three million pounds,’ said he.

  Leah looked towards her Berty. ‘And how much do you have in the bank?’ she asked.

  ‘That is not the kind of thing a gentleman speaks of in public.’ Lord Brentford hefted his walking stick and prepared himself to do these fellows harm.

  Leah fixed these fellows with her golden eyes. ‘There must be some solution,’ she said, her voice once more like that of some echoing Heavenly choir.

  ‘You have the most dulcet tones, madam,’ said Mr Gilbert, ‘and I felt almost impelled to tear up these summonses. However, business is business, as they say. If the debts are not cleared, in full, before next weekend, the project will be cancelled and the existing structure torn down for the value of the scrap metal. Farewell.’

  And so saying, he pressed his papers into the hand of Lord Brentford, turned with his partner on his heel and smartly strode away. Being careful, however, not to tread on any frogs.

  Darwin the monkey watched them go and Darwin the monkey worried.

  The long ride back to Syon House was not one filled with joy. Lord Brentford looked pale and stared straight ahead. Leah clutched his arm. Darwin peeped from the hansom cab and worried for what might occur.

  At Syon House, his lordship ordered Darwin to fetch him a bottle of Scotch. Darwin went mournfully about this duty.

  His lordship entered the Garden Room and dropped into a chair.

  Leah took herself to the window and gazed out at the gardens lying beyond.

  Presently, Darwin brought the Scotch and poured his lordship a glass.

  ‘Thank you, boy,’ said Lord Brentford. ‘Looks as if you might have to find yourself a new master, as I may shortly be serving time in debtors’ prison.’

  Darwin had brought a second glass and helped himself to Scotch.

  ‘Doomed,’ said his lordship. ‘All gone. My great scheme. My plan for peace. Too much of a dream, I think.’

  ‘It was a pure dream,’ said Leah. ‘A true dream. The Grand Exposition must go ahead. We must find a solution.’

  ‘Can’t ask the Queen,’ said Lord Brentford, swallowing Scotch. ‘Know she won’t cough up a penny.

  ‘The British Government?’ Leah asked. ‘It is a matter of national pride, I would have thought.’

  ‘Churchill has it in for me,’ his lordship said. ‘He’d put the poison in quickly enough, I’m thinking.’

  ‘There must be a solution,’ said Leah.

  ‘I’d sell the old ancestral pile,’ said his lordship, ‘but it’s mortgaged three times over. I can think of only one solution.’

  There was a certain stillness in the air.

  ‘I feared that this day would come,’ said Lord Brentford, ‘so I took a certain precaution. Put all I had into a life-insurance policy. Got a very good deal, in fact. I’m afraid I have no option but to load up the trusty shotgun, go out onto the terrace and take the gentleman’s way out.’

  ‘Oh no,’ cried Leah. ‘There must be another way.

  ‘Touched by your concern, my dear, but it is all I have. I am responsible and I must act like a man. Do the right thing, doncha know.’

  Tears rolled from Leah’s golden eyes.

  ‘The Grand Exposition will be my memorial,’ said Lord Brentford, swallowing further Scotch. ‘Perhaps you might see to it that a bronze bust of meself be put in the entrance hall. I’d like that, I would.’

  Leah now sobbed fearfully.

  And great big tears welled up in Darwin’s eyes.

  ‘I’d like to be alone now, if the two of you don’t mind. Need to sort my will out. Tie up loose ends and whatnots. The insurance policy is in the envelope there on the mantelpiece.’

  Darwin’s lip was all a-quiver. Leah took the monkey by the hand.

  ‘Just before you go,’ said his lordship, ‘I want to thank you both. Darwin, I know I’ve treated you badly at times. Sorry about all the business with the bedpans. But I’ve always cared about you, my boy. Never blessed with children. Thought of you som
etimes as the son I never had.’

  Darwin buried his face in his hands and wept.

  ‘And, Leah, my dear. I have never loved a woman as I have loved you. Know there’s never been any hanky-panky.

  Wouldn’t have considered it until we were married, if such a thing was even possible. But sadly cannot think of it now. I am sorry.

  Leah hugged Darwin and the two wept piteously.

  ‘Stiff upper lips,’ said Lord Brentford. ‘Must be brave and do what must be done. Darwin, stop blubbering, boy, and go and fetch my gun.’

  Darwin looked towards his master and sniffed away his tears.

  ‘There will be no guns,’ said Darwin, ‘for I have another solution.’

  44

  n the name of Heaven!’ cried Lord Brentford. ‘He speaks! How can this wonder really be?’

  Darwin shrugged. The game was up. There was no other way.

  ‘I was taught,’ said he, ‘by a gentleman known as Herr Döktor. I spent a great deal of the money you left me in your will. I can read and write also, as it happens.’

  ‘But why didn’t you tell me, boy?’ Lord Brentford was up on his feet. ‘Why hide away a marvellous gift like that?’

  ‘Because,’ said Darwin, ‘in truth it makes me neither one thing nor the other. I can speak, but I am not a man. I am a monkey, yet I can speak. To be one of a kind in a world such as this is not the best thing to be.’

  Lord Brentford looked both long and hard at Darwin. ‘Come over here and give me a hug,’ he said. Darwin scampered across the floor and leapt up into his lordship’s arms.

  ‘Might I have a hug, too?’ asked Leah, wiping tears from her golden eyes.

  ‘Hugs all round,’ said his lordship, and there were indeed hugs all round.

  ‘What an amazing circumstance.’ Lord Brentford smiled as he said this. ‘But sadly it is a little too late. I still must have my gun.