The door opened, and Mekitty, Ethel, Charlie and Sydney burst into the room. Tilly followed them inside, carrying little Gertrude. Mekitty ran to me and asked, “May I please play with Kitty now?”
Tilly walked towards me and lifted me off the shelf. “No time to play, Miss Mary. Go meet your parents downstairs while I finish packing your things.” She put me into the top pocket of Mekitty’s paletot. The thick wool was warm, but scratchy.
I had a good view as we tromped down the stairs and entered the hall. Mamie’s little white Pomeranian dog, Mrs. Bouncer, was jumping up and down with excitement. Mekitty smiled and gave her a pat, and I realized that not all dogs were as frightening as Bumble.
Mama and Papa said goodbye to Mamie and Georgy. Then we all followed Venerables out the front door and stood on a small porch with tall white columns. Across the manicured lawn I saw a circle drive. A smartly dressed groom with mutton-chop whiskers stood at the head of a chestnut horse. The horse was hitched to a carriage with seats woven of cane, like a giant basket. Venerables, Mama and Papa headed towards it. Tilly led the rest of us to a covered carriage pulled by a large grey horse. Inside, Tilly planted Sydney next to her and held little Gertrude in the crook of her arm. Mekitty, Ethel and Charlie sat on the opposite seat. Charlie played with a little tin train engine. When Tilly wasn’t looking, Ethel kicked Mekitty. Mekitty kicked her back. I had the feeling this was going to be a long trip.
“Miss Mary, why don’t you ride in the Basket Phaeton with your papa and mama?” Tilly suggested. Mekitty smiled and gave Ethel a superior look as we left the carriage.
Papa was driving, and Venerables sat next to him on the front seat. Mama was in the back. Mekitty climbed up next to her, and Mama covered their legs with a blanket. “I shan’t ride with the babies anymore,” Mekitty said, “now that I’m six.”
Venerables turned to look at her and smiled. “Quite right, my dear. You’re one of the grown-ups now.”
Papa clicked his tongue and snapped the reins. As we pulled away along the circle drive, the carriage bells jingled, and I admired the stately red brick house. Carefully trimmed bushes adorned the two bay windows. A small bell-turret cupola topped the grey slate roof. Seeing the roof brought to mind my memory of sliding along the tiles and plummeting over the edge.
Venerables spoke then, distracting me from my unpleasant thoughts. “Mekitty, did I ever tell you how I acquired Gad’s Hill Place?” Mekitty shook her head. “When I was about your age,” he continued, “we lived in nearby Chatham. Whenever we walked up the old high road, my father noticed that I would always stop and pause to look at this house. Seeing me so fond of it, he said to me, ‘If you were to be very persevering and were to work hard, you might some day come to live in it.’ I never forgot the house, and when it came up for sale twelve years ago, I was finally able to purchase it and fulfill my childhood dream.”
The air smelled crisp and fresh as left the circular driveway and turned onto the high road. We passed two huge cedar trees, towering over the shrubbery. I could hear the coo of a dove in the bushes. Among the greenery, I spotted a little A-frame house trimmed with lacy, ornate woodwork. Venerables pointed it out. “Your papa helped me assemble that Swiss chalet one cold and snowy week in January three years ago. It makes a wonderful retreat for writing in the summer, when the scent of the flowers, and indeed of everything that is growing for miles and miles, is most delicious.
Papa nodded. “That was a challenging project. Mr. Fechter sent us the whole building in crates. Ninety-four pieces in all, which had to be joined together like a puzzle. And we had to lay a foundation of brickwork to give it stability. But it turned out rather well.”
“It’s pretty,” Mekitty agreed. “Can I visit your little house, Venerables?”
“Maybe next year, if you promise not to disturb me while I am writing. It’s too cold to use at present.”
After a short journey, we arrived at Higham Railway Station. A porter with a round hat appeared, towing a luggage rack. He offered to take our trunks from the carriage and stow them on the train for us. We said farewell to Venerables and then went inside the station where Papa bought our tickets to London.
Tilly hustled the three of us into the waiting area, as she pushed Gertrude and Sydney in the 4-wheeled perambulator. “Hold hands and stay together,” she ordered. When Tilly’s back was turned, Ethel pulled her hand away from Charlie’s and tried to snatch me out of Mekitty’s pocket. Mekitty slapped her hand away and gave Ethel a dirty look. Then Ethel stuck out her tongue at Mekitty.
We all sat down on a bench near the platform. Little Gertrude, who was teething, started to fuss. Tilly reached for her in the perambulator. Far down the railway tracks, I could just make out a tiny black dot. As it grew larger, I could see puffs of steam coming from the smokestack, and I heard a faint “chugga-chugga” sound.
Then the bench started to vibrate. Charlie noticed the train. He jumped down from the bench and ran towards the edge of the platform as fast as his little legs could carry him.
“Charlie, stop!” Mekitty called. Mekitty and Ethel ran after Charlie, who was only steps away from falling onto the track below.
Papa caught up with Charlie and scooped him up. Charlie twisted in his arms and held out his arms toward the train engine. “Now Charlie,” Papa said, “you will get to ride the train, but only if you stay with your sisters.” He looked down at us. “Girls, I hope you will take better care of your only brother in the future.”
Mekitty looked ashamed as she said, “Yes, Papa. We’re sorry.”
Ethel nodded. “Sorry, Papa.”
All around the platform, people were staring at us. An elderly couple gave us a disapproving look. Meanwhile, the train had arrived. If I had thought Bumble was scary, the train was terrifying. A loud hissing sound assailed us. The driving wheels of the of the solid black engine stood nearly as high as papa’s head. Curls of thick white steam emerged as the brakes screeched. The smokestack enveloped us with choking black clouds, making tiny cinders that drifted all around us. Mekitty coughed, and little Sydney started to wail and rub her eyes. The train slowed to a stop.
Behind the engine and coal car were several wooden coaches, with separate doors and compartments for passengers and luggage. A number of people exited the coaches, collected their luggage, and left.
Then one of the porters opened the door of an empty coach and signaled to us. Papa assisted Mama up the double step, a difficult task with her enormous hoop skirt. They sat down on one of two padded benches facing each other. Mama’s skirt covered most of the seat, but Ethel managed to squeeze in between them. The rest of us sat down on the opposite bench.
The benches were covered with a dark maroon fabric. The wooden trim was painted a sober brown. The floor of the coach was polished smooth from the feet of many travelers. Bits of ash and dust swirled in the air from the open windows and settled inside.
Our porter folded up the perambulator and stowed all the things we had brought with us on a shelf above our heads. He checked our tickets. Then he closed the door of the coach and left.
We waited a few more minutes for all the passengers to board. Someone yelled, “All right!” The coach jerked, and we started moving. From my position in Mekitty’s pocket, I could see the station getting smaller and smaller in the distance. After only a few minutes of traveling, I soon became accustomed to the rhythmic rattle and clack of the rails.
“Kitty wants to look out the window,” Mekitty announced. She reached into her pocket and placed me on the windowsill. I felt the rumble of the train surging through me, and I thought this must be what it feels like to have a heartbeat. I watched the blur of green fields speeding by, with the gentle Kentish hills in the distance, and my spirits soared.
All of a sudden, the train lurched as it hit a bump on the tracks. I flew up into the air and then back down. “Careful, Kitty!” Papa exclaimed as he caught me. “You wouldn’t want to fly out the window again.” As he handed me back to Mekitty, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what my fortune meant about craving adventure. Would my fate really be grave?
I spend some time pondering this until Papa said, “Shall we have something to eat?” He stood up and reached for a hamper on the shelf. He handed out sandwiches to all but baby Gertrude, who chewed happily on a biscuit.
By the time we reached London, we had just finished lunch. What a contrast it was! Gone were the green rolling hills, replaced by countless gray buildings of brick and stone. The sunshine had retreated, leaving dull gray clouds. We pulled up to the station and waited for the train to stop.
The next part of our journey was to be on yet another train. This time I was prepared for the noise of the steam engine, but the bustle of the crowd surprised me. Hundreds of people surrounded us. Passengers getting off the train quickly departed, and after they left, we found an empty compartment and sat down. With typical British efficiency, we were soon on our way.
Shortly thereafter, we were all plunged into darkness as the train entered a tunnel. Our only illumination was a dim gas lamp hanging from the ceiling of the coach. Even with the windows closed, the smell of sulphur and soot from the engine fouled the air. The steam and smoke made looking out the windows impossible, and I was shocked by the sudden cold.
When we finally emerged from the dark, I heard someone call out, “St. Pancras Station!” The train slowed to a stop. Light filtered down through glass panels in a gracefully arched roof which soared high overhead. The ends of the enclosure were clad with timber and edged with wrought iron finials. I had never seen such a beautiful sight, but I was surprised to see that the other passengers did not even seem to notice.
After we exited the coach, Papa found a porter to attend to our needs. We retrieved our luggage and piled into a nearby four-wheeled cab. Inside the cab, the children seemed restless and tired after the day’s journey. The curtains of the cab were closed in the hope that they would nap. Instead, Gertrude started to wail, which soon made Sydney cry as well. Tilly did her best to hush them, but we all endured a noisy ride to Mekitty’s home.
The noise inside was nothing compared to the din of hundreds of horses hooves clomping along on the paved roads. We were only one carriage in a sea of London travelers. On every street corner, I heard the shouts of people selling their wares. The cab moved slowly along in the crush of traffic.
When we finally arrived, it started to rain. The cab stopped near a strip of narrow three-story houses. The white stucco facades seemed to ooze gray mud as the ashes in the air became soaked with rain. Papa paid the cab-driver, and then we hurried towards one of the houses. Mekitty slipped and almost fell. The street was covered in horse dung, getting soggier by the minute.
Charlie was having fun stomping his feet in the mud. “No splashing!” Tilly scolded. As we reached the front steps, a tall man in a dark suit opened the door for us. We entered the hall. Mekitty took me out of her pocket and said, “Kitty, we’re home!”
Text copyright © 2021-2024 by Wendi Dunn. All Rights Reserved.