The Monsters of Rookhaven, стр. 19
‘This is Gideon, the youngest member of our family,’ said Mirabelle.
Jem looked at Gideon, her heart pounding. She thought she might react with horror, but instead the strange wonder she felt surprised her.
‘How old is he?’ she asked.
‘Not that old at all. He arrived quite recently. He came from the Ether. He’s small now, but he’s growing quickly. He can already walk and climb. He might grow to be as big as me or as large as Uncle Bertram. Or he might stay the way he is now.’ Mirabelle shook her head. ‘It’s hard to predict what final form you eventually take after you come from the Ether. Odd has looked the same way since he emerged about three hundred years ago.’
Jem nodded, as if she knew what Mirabelle was talking about. She saw the amused look on Mirabelle’s face. ‘I’ll explain it all later.’ She gestured for Jem to follow her.
Jem walked side by side with her down the hallway, listening to the contented burbling of Gideon as he rested on Mirabelle’s neck and shoulders like some kind of sentient scarf. She was still trying to get her head around his appearance, but the way Mirabelle interacted with him was that of a protective sister towards a younger sibling. It was strange to see, but as someone with an older brother she understood that bond.
‘This is the dining room,’ said Mirabelle, pushing her way through a polished set of double doors.
The room was taken up by a very long table. At the end of it sat Bertram. He was surrounded by various bowls, plates and silver platters, all filled with food. Once again Jem was struck by seeing so much food in one place.
Bertram tore some meat off the plate nearest to him as they walked towards him.
‘Roast chicken,’ he cried. He gestured at the spread. ‘And peas, and gravy, and carrots, and something called mash.’
‘Shouldn’t you be asleep, Uncle?’
Bertram shook his head. ‘Too much excitement. Too much going on. Just look at this marvellous repast provided by Odd.’ He held a bowl up in one hand and tilted it towards her, almost shrieking with delight. ‘Look at this! This is ice cream.’
He nodded enthusiastically at them and then frowned as he looked at the bowl. ‘Oh, it appears to have lost its solidity.’
‘I think it’s melting,’ said Mirabelle.
Bertram quickly put the bowl down and wiped his hand on his jacket. He eyed the bowl nervously.
‘Melting? Why would it do that?’
Jem was bemused by Bertram’s seeming lack of basic knowledge, but Mirabelle winked at her as if to say ‘just play along’.
He carefully opened a notebook by his side, took a pencil from it and licked the tip in preparation, all the time keeping his eyes on the bowl of ice cream as if he feared it might grow legs and make a dash for it. He gave a flourish with the pencil.
‘I shall commence my preparatory notes. First I shall write down my visual and olfactory observations. Then the tasting shall begin.’
‘Why not try something a bit more daring, Uncle?’ asked Mirabelle. ‘Why not attempt to eat the ice cream right now?’ She looked at Jem with a twinkle in her eye. It was a small thing, but it made Jem feel trusted, part of something.
Bertram’s cheek twitched. ‘Well, well . . . perhaps.’
He reached for the bowl and brought it to his lips, smiling nervously at Mirabelle and Jem. He squeezed his eyes shut, then supped hesitantly at it. He paused for a moment, supped with a little more confidence, then laid the bowl down with a satisfied ‘Ah.’
‘Interesting,’ he said as he started writing in his notebook.
Mirabelle whispered to Jem. ‘This is Uncle’s latest hobby. He likes to record the taste of things. The thing is he can’t actually taste human food, unless it’s raw meat, but we like to humour him.’
Gideon offered his judgement on the subject by sticking his tongue out and making a tiny ‘bleh’ sound.
The doors were flung open, and in walked Aunt Eliza. Her jet-black hair was piled on top of her head and held with a diamond pin. She had changed into fresh clothes and was wearing an ankle-length scarlet dress that shimmered, and long, white silk gloves. Around her neck she wore a purple feather boa. Jem was taken aback by her poise and grace.
Eliza scrunched her face up in distaste as she looked at what Bertram had in front of him.
‘What is that?’ she asked, her voice sounding thick with bile.
‘This is roast chicken,’ said Bertram proudly. ‘And this is ice cream.’
‘How does it taste?’ said Eliza, her nose wrinkled in disgust.
‘Marvellous,’ said Bertram.
Aunt Eliza didn’t look convinced. She settled herself into a chair and reclined casually with one knee over the other.
‘You should be sleeping, Aunt,’ said Mirabelle.
Eliza puffed her cheeks out and exhaled. ‘Indeed, and I was about to retire and was commencing my beauty regime, but then I saw Daisy flapping by in my mirror again like some kind of panicked fish, and suddenly I just seemed to lose all interest.’
Eliza’s left cheek started to ripple. Jem blinked, not quite sure what it was she was seeing, but there was a definite movement, as if the older lady’s skin were alive and moving.
‘Aunt,’ said Mirabelle, touching her own cheek by way of warning.
‘Oh,’ said Eliza. She patted her cheek. ‘Hush now,’ she sighed, and her cheek became placid again.
Jem wanted to ask about what she’d just seen, but she felt frozen to the spot by the strangeness of it all. Just when she had regained her balance and begun to adjust to this bizarre new world in which she’d found herself, something else would happen to unsettle her.
‘You look beautiful, Eliza,’ said Bertram, patting her on