“You’re such a little kid, you know that?” my sister had replied. “Just wait. Someday when you’re older, you’ll watch the film footage again and you’ll see what I mean.”
“Can we go home now?” I’d asked. I was tired. It had been a very long day.
The nice thing about London, though, is that the Tube makes it easy to get around the big city. It took Ned and I about thirty minutes to get from Kensington Gardens to the borough of Tower Hamlets, where the music hall is located. Once we made it to the small back street, however, things were not at all as we expected them to be. The street was blocked off because of construction.
“Oh no,” I said, just as an elderly gentleman with a cane walked by us.
The man stopped and turned. “They’ve been working on repairs to Wilton’s for a while now. It was desperately needed, you see. Wasn’t stable at all. In fact, it was so bad in some rooms, the walls were actually crumbling.”
“But we need to get over there,” I said, a hint of desperation in my voice. “It’s important.”
“No. You mustn’t,” the old man replied. “It isn’t safe. For anyone, but especially for children such as yourselves.”
“All right,” Ned said. “Thanks for letting us know.”
The old man eyed us for a moment, probably not sure whether he could trust us to stay put, before he continued on his walk.
“We can’t let a little construction get in our way,” I told Ned.
“Maybe we should do some of the other things on the list and come back in a couple of days,” Ned suggested. “They might open the street by then.”
“But I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think I have to do the things in the order they’re listed.”
Ned crossed his arms over his chest and let out a small sigh. “Well, you don’t know that for sure.”
“No, but I can’t risk ruining everything, either. So we have to do each item in the order it’s listed. That’s all there is to it.”
We stood there and watched a couple of construction workers with hard hats and yellow coats talk to each other. One of them held a clipboard and glanced down at it every now and then.
“Maybe you can distract them while I run around the barricade and over to the door where I’ll leave my handprint,” I said.
“Distract them?” he asked. “And how, exactly, do you propose I do that?”
I nervously tugged at the sleeve of my jacket. “I don’t know. You’re a Scout. Get creative. That’s what you’d do if you were lost in the woods, right?”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his compass. “No, I’d use this.”
“There has to be something you can do to get their attention for a minute,” I said, looking around, as if the answer might suddenly appear.
“I could pretend to have a heart attack,” he said.
I gave him a stern look. “Ned. You’re only thirteen years old.”
“We could buy some sweets, and I could pretend to choke.”
“Um, do you really want them to whisk you away in an ambulance?” I replied. “Because that would not be funny at all.”
He thought for a moment before he said, “What if I call them over and ask for directions? Pretend I don’t have a phone or a compass in my pocket and it’s very important I get somewhere or else I’m in big trouble.”
I nodded. “That might work. Pick someplace far away and complicated to get to. While they’re giving you directions, I’ll slip away.”
Ned approached the barricade and I followed. “Hello?” Ned called out. The two men looked over at us. “Could I bother you for a second?”
One of the men started walking toward us. The other one stayed put.
“Oh no,” I whispered under my breath. The plan wouldn’t work if both of them didn’t come over to talk to Ned.
“What do you need?” the man asked.
“Directions. It’s urgent. Can you help?” Ned paused. “It might take the both of you to figure it out.”
I held my breath as I waited to see if both men would join us. When the other guy started walking, I slowly exhaled. Now I could only hope Ned had thought this out and had a good place in mind.
When both men were on the other side of the yellow plastic barricades, Ned told them, “I need to get to a bookshop. Halliday’s. We’re supposed to meet our mum there. Have you heard of it?”
Brilliant, I thought. Ned was asking directions to his grandparents’ bookshop.
“Why don’t you ring your mum and ask her?” the taller man asked.
“Don’t have a phone,” Ned replied.
“She lets you wander around London without a phone?” the shorter man said. “Crikey, that’s not good. Is she daft?”
Hopefully, the phone in his pocket wouldn’t suddenly start ringing. Wouldn’t that make things interesting? And quite difficult? The funny thing was that Ned seemed to take offense to the man’s comments, even though the story was entirely made up. “She’s not daft, just poor. Not everyone can afford one, all right?”
“All right, all right,” the tall guy replied as he pulled out his phone. “Don’t bite my arm off. We’ll do what we can to help you. Let’s look up Halliday’s here and see what we find.”
As the three of them leaned in, peering at the phone, I inched my way over to the other end of the barricade. My heart pounded in my chest, and as I made it around to the other side and was about to start running toward the door, the tall guy turned and looked straight at me.
“Hey, there!” he yelled. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
I kept running, down the narrow street, toward the faded red door. The shabby building really did look like something from long ago, with cracks in the building and sad, worn paint with big splotches of gray where the color had worn off entirely. But there was beauty there, too—around the entrance were panels of beautiful flowers and plants, all carved out of some kind of stone.
“Come back here!” one of the men yelled, footsteps stomping behind me, as I ran to the door and placed my hand, fingers spread, smack dab in the middle of it.
“What in heaven’s name are you doing, young lady?” the short one said when he reached me.
“I just, uh, I wanted to see it,” I said. “Up close. I’ve heard this place is really old and unique, and I was curious.” I looked up as if to admire the place. “It’s really splendid. Don’t you agree?”
“I suppose it is, but you can’t be here,” he replied, while loud pounding noises rumbled from inside. “Come along now. Let’s get you behind the barricade, where you belong.”
He escorted me back to where the other worker and Ned still stood. The tall construction worker shook his head. “What’d you do that for?”
“She said she was curious,” the other worker replied before I had a chance.
“Curious? About what? It’s an old building, that’s all.”
“But it’s been through a lot, hasn’t it?” I asked. “Flooding, and the Blitz, I heard. What can you tell me about it? I want to know more.”
The short one sighed. “If your mum would let you have a bloody phone, you could look it up yourselves.”
The tall one chuckled. “He has very little patience. In case you didn’t notice.” He put his hand on to the barricade and leaned forward. “Let me tell you what I know about the place, since you’re so keen on learning about it. I think it’s great you have some interest in a fine piece of London history.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
The short one gave a little harrumph while his co-worker began telling us what he knew. “In the mid eighteen hundreds, people came to see opera singers, circus acts, and ballet dancers. But then severe poverty hit the East End, and the East London Methodist Mission bought the place in 1888. At one point, the soup kitchen that was set up here served a thousand meals a day.”
“Wow,” Ned said. “So a lot of families were having a hard time.”
“
They certainly were. And then World War II happened. This place miraculously survived the Blitz—the only building in the vicinity to do so. Today, it’s the world’s last surviving grand music hall. Which is why it’s wonderful that it’s finally getting some desperately needed renovations.”
“I wish I could see the inside,” I said.
“No,” the short one said, rapping his hand hard on the clipboard he held. “You cannot see the inside. Or even the outside up close. This is as far as you go. Now if you’ll excuse us, we need to get back to work.”
“Thank you for taking the time to answer our questions,” Ned told them.
“You’re welcome,” the nice worker replied. “Happy to help.”
After they left, I turned to Ned and smiled. “We did it! Thank you so much. Asking for directions to your grandparents’ bookshop was brilliant.”
“You’re not very good at being sneaky, Pheebs,” he said. “You should work on that. You never know when it’ll come in handy.”
“Oh, so you’re the expert on being sneaky now, are you?” I asked with a smile. “What would you have done differently, then?”
“I would have crawled under the barrier, not gone around it.”
I looked down and studied the plastic contraption. “Under it? Ned, the opening is barely big enough for a cat to crawl through. If you’d tried to do that, you would have gotten stuck.”
“Nope,” he said. “I could have done it.”
“Do you have superpowers I don’t know about?”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Perhaps.”
“Let me guess, you turn into a snake and slither around town, fighting crime.”
“Boy, do I wish! Pheebs, that would be fantastic. Maybe I should let myself get bitten by a snake and see if it happens. You know, like Spiderman. He climbs walls like a spider. I could slither around the streets of London like a snake. I’d be so quick, so quiet, no one would see me coming.”
I laughed. “You want to be Snakeman? That is funny, Ned.” I pulled the letter out of my bag. “How about you use your superpowers to help me figure out where we go next? It says, There are four corners of the square, but only three are occupied. Visit the empty space, place a coin, and make a wish.”
He scoffed. “That’s easy. So easy, you’re probably thinking about it too hard.”
I read it again, trying to figure out what it could possibly be.
“Parliament Square?” I asked.
“Nope. But you’re on the right track.”
I smile. “Oh! Trafalgar Square.”
“That’s the one. The fourth plinth doesn’t have a permanent statue, remember? Back in Sheila’s time, it was probably empty all the time. Not like now, where they put different pieces of artwork on it.”
“The fourth what?”
“Plinth. That’s what Mum calls them. You know, the pedestals where the statues stand? Sir Henry and King George. Can’t remember the other guy.”
“I like the bronze lions better than those stuffy old statues of men. Those should have been mentioned in the clue instead.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter that much, does it? We figured it out, that’s the important thing. So let’s go. And after that, can we get a bite to eat? I’m famished.”
“Is there ever a time when you’re not hungry, Ned?”
He thought about that for a moment before he replied, “Yes. When I’m sleeping.”
Truer words were never spoken.
I’ve heard Trafalgar Square referred to as the heart of London. Lots of tourists visit the square every day, and I can see why. The National Gallery is nearby as well as the beautiful St. Martin-in-the-Fields church. Every December, a huge Christmas tree, given to us by Norway, is put up in the square. Dad told me once it’s because they are thankful to Britain for helping them during World War II. The square is used for all kinds of celebrations, shows, and rallies. Last summer, Mum and Dad took Alice and me to a concert put on by the London Symphony Orchestra. It was free, which was good, but very crowded, which was annoying.
Along with the statues, there are fountains and the extremely tall Nelson’s column, a monument that stands high in the air with Admiral Horatio Nelson at the very top. He was a naval hero who died at the Battle of Trafalgar.
When we arrived at the square, I was relieved to see there wasn’t anything special going on. Just lots of tourists wandering around, like usual. As we crossed the street to enter, a horn from a nearby car went off, making me jump.
“Pheebs,” Ned said, “look over there. At the fourth plinth.”
“Can’t you call it a pedestal?” I asked Ned. “It sounds like you’re choking up a fur ball when you say that word.”
He leaned down, close to my ear. “Plinth, plinth, plinth. PLINTH!”
I shoved him away and laughed. “Disgusting!”
I looked out, across the square at the thing Ned wanted me to see. “Wow,” I said. “That is … something.”
“I love it!” Ned said. “We should replace all of the stuffy old statues with more of those.”
The piece of art now displayed on the fourth pedestal was a bright blue rooster. An extremely large blue rooster. It made me happy just looking at it.
When we reached the statue, we went around to the side, where there were some stairs, so we could get up closer to it.
“What would Sheila say if she could see that?” I asked, looking up.
“Maybe she has,” Ned replied. “You never know.”
I fished for the coin purse in my bag. “So where should I put the coin? I can’t reach the pedestal. It’s too tall.”
“Plinth.” Ned gave me a little smirk.
“Pedestal.”
“Plinth.”
“Okay, stop it. We could do this all day. And you want to go find some food, don’t you? I’ll get you a nice, big plate of chips once we’re finished here.”
Before Ned could reply, a whimpering sound came from around the corner, on the back side of the pedestal.
I looked at Ned. “Did you hear that?” I asked softly.
He nodded. I trotted up and around the corner to find a little boy with a head of curly, golden locks sitting by himself. He looked to be six or seven. “Hello, there. Is everything all right?”
He shook his head as he pressed his knees up closer to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. I went over to him and crouched down. “Have you lost your mum?”
He looked at me, a scowl on his face. Like he wasn’t sure if he should trust me or not.
“I lost my mum once,” I told him. “In the Natural History Museum. Have you ever been there?”
He waited a second before he nodded his head.
“It’s pretty neat, right? What’s your favorite animal there?”
“The dinosaurs,” he practically whispered.
“Ah, yes. The T. Rex has enormous teeth, doesn’t he?” I took a seat on the step, because my knees were starting to hurt from crouching. “That day, when we were at the museum, I thought it’d be funny to hide from my sister and make her panic. But after I’d been hidden for a while, I got up and went to look for her and my mum, and I couldn’t find them.”
“Were you scared?” the boy asked. It was clear he was British, probably not one of the tourists.
Just then, Ned appeared. He took a seat on the steps nearby.
“Yes,” I told the boy. “But a nice lady, who was a mother herself, helped me. She took me to the office, and someone called out my mum’s name over the loud-speaker. Told her to come to the main office and collect her child.” I chuckled. “Made it sound like I was a lost wallet or a set of keys or something.”
“Was your mum mad?” the boy asked.
“Not really. She was just happy to find me. My sister, on the other hand, was completely annoyed with me. I got an earful from her. But that’s what big sisters do, I guess.”
“I don’t have any brothers or sisters,” the boy said. “I wish I did sometimes. I’m the only one my mo
ther has to worry about.” He blinked his eyes, like he was trying hard not to cry. “She’s going to be so mad.”
“You’re here with your mother, then?” Ned asked.
“Yes. And my aunt and uncle, who’re from Liverpool.”
“We can help you find them if you’d like,” I said. “But first, can you tell us your name?”
“Archie.”
“Nice to meet you, Archie,” I said, holding my hand out. After he shook it, I said, “I’m Phoebe and this is my friend Ned.”
“So what’s the plan?” Ned asked me as he got up.
Both Archie and I stood up as well. “We’re going to make a wish that we’ll find his family,” I announced. “And then we’ll stand smack-dab in the middle of the square and hope they spot us. Sometimes you simply have to believe things will work out, even when you don’t know for sure that they will. And, as I told my friend Nora once, whatever will be, will be.”
I took a coin out of my pouch and placed it on a step, underneath the blue rooster. “I wish that Archie’s family will find us straight away.” I looked at Archie and winked at him. “And that his mother is not annoyed with him like my sister was with me when I became lost.”
As we headed down the steps, Archie asked, “How come your sister’s not with you?”
“She and I are having … sisterly difficulties.”
“What’s that mean?” he asked.
“It means they’re not getting along very well,” Ned said.
“Sorry,” Archie said as we brushed past people walking through the square. A man with a cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and a big, shiny belt buckle stood out almost more than the blue rooster did. A visiting American, no doubt.
“It’s all right,” I said with a smile. “I’m hoping things get better soon.”
Archie wiped the hair out of his eyes. “Maybe she’s jealous of you.”
I laughed. “Of me? I highly doubt that.”
“A boy at school wasn’t being very nice to me. During reading time, I’d be sitting on the special carpet, reading to myself, and he’d come over and kick me or poke me with his pencil. Mum said he was probably jealous because I could read and he couldn’t. Just looking at the pictures is boring. So one day I asked him if he wanted to read a book together.”