The Mermaid in the Basement (31 page)

“If you do urge Dora to accept Digby even one more time, you will leave this house for good, and the door will be shut against you forever. Do you understand me?”

It took a great deal to silence Bertha Mulvane, but when she saw the determination on Serafina’s face, she turned pale. She could not afford to lose this relationship, and she dearly longed to bully Serafina into backing down. Aunt Bertha was accustomed to pushing her way through situations by raising her voice and demanding that others recognise that she always knew best. But Serafina’s declaration seemed to hang in the air.

Serafina repeated in a voice as cold as polar ice, “Do you understand me, Aunt Bertha?”

Bertha swallowed and nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

“That’s good, because I would hate to have a division in the family. But I warn you, one more word to Dora, and you will not be welcome in this house.”

Serafina left the room, and Bertha stood there speechless for once. Anger rose in her, but she well knew she could not give up the advantages of being in the family of the Viscountess of Radnor, and she left and went to her own room at once.

Dylan had come to visit with Serafina after she sent word to him. She had taken him to the library and shut the door, and there she had told him what Clive had said.

“He’s a big man with a steel hook, Dylan. There can’t be too many men like that.”

“No, and people wouldn’t forget it. I’ll start looking at once.” He paused and said, “What’s wrong? You look troubled.”

Serafina was not a woman to share her inner self, but Dora’s plight had shaken her. She had put Aunt Bertha out of the picture, but she knew that Aaron Digby would not give up. She said, “Aaron Digby has proposed marriage to my sister.”

“And you don’t like that, I see.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t like the man, and Dora despises him.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to marry him.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t love him?”

“Of course not.” Serafina suddenly laughed. “But I’m no authority on love, Dylan.”

“Well,
I
am.” Dylan smiled crookedly. “Let me tell you what love between a man and a woman is.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Serafina said, smiling. She knew Dylan was speaking lightly to drive some of the grief out of her face.

“Well, you see, in the very beginning God made a creature, sort of like a paper doll. But then bad things happened. Original sin came to the world, and everything was torn apart. And this beautiful creature was torn apart. Half of it was called
man
, and the other half was called
woman
. Can you imagine,Viscountess, a paper doll torn in two, down the middle? You might have a million of them torn down the middle, but the only one that would really suit the male part would be the female part that was torn from it.”

“I see.What does that have to do with love?”

“It’s like this, you see. These two parts were scattered in the world far apart from each other, but the male part knew and the womanly part knew that somewhere in the world was the other half of itself. There were lots of other bits of creatures floating around, and they could each have made do, but the fit would not be perfect. But it finally happened that the original met the original. They came together, and they fit perfectly. So, you see, a man is looking for that woman that’s a perfect fit, and the woman is searching for the man that will be a perfect fit for her.”

“Are you saying that marriages are made in heaven, that God has in mind one particular person for each of us?”

“Oh yes. God’s a romantic.”

Serafina could not help laughing. “I’ve heard God called a lot of things, but not romantic.”

“Oh yes,”Dylan said.He looked handsome as he stood there with the sunlight on his features, one lock of his black hair hanging down over his forehead, and a teasing smile on his lips. “God’s romantic, all right. He’s got a woman in mind for me somewhere. No other woman will do but that one. So I don’t have to worry about it. God will help me to find her.”

Serafina, as usual, was fascinated by the way Dylan’s mind worked. It was so different from her own processes. She said, “So you haven’t found the woman God has made for you?”

Dylan’s smile left his face. He looked down at the floor, but not before Serafina saw a look of sadness. It was the first time she had ever seen such a thing in Dylan. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I found the woman God had for me just one time.”

“Who was she?”

“Her name was Eileen.”

“Did you ask her to marry you?”

Dylan did not answer for a long time, but when he lifted his head, she saw that his face was totally still, and grief shadowed his eyes. “I was a soldier and had nothing.” He blinked his eyes, and his lips went into a thin line as if something had pained him. “She loved me, though. She wanted us to marry, but I didn’t have courage.”

“What happened, Dylan?”

“She died, Viscountess.”

“I’m so sorry.” There was a sadness in the man that she had not seen even an indication of before. He once had happiness and joy, and it had been taken from him. “I am sorry.”

“When she died, it was like the sun went out.”

Serafina suddenly reached out and took Dylan’s hand, something completely out of character for her since she had built a wall against men.

“Do you think of her?”

“Think of her? I think of her every day.” He looked at her and whispered, “You think I’m foolish, don’t you?”

“No. No, I don’t, Dylan. I—I didn’t know a man could love a woman so much.”

“He can, and a woman can love even more fiercely than a man, I think.”

They stood there for a moment, she holding his hand, and then when she became conscious of his strength and his gentleness, she saw that sorrow made up part of Dylan’s life too. “You’ll have to tell me more if it’s not too painful.”

“Maybe someday, but it’s possible for two people to find each other in this crazy world, just the two that will be right for each other.”

Serafina dropped his hand and turned away, torn by emotions. Dylan’s simple statement came to her.
When she died, it was like the sun
went out.
She had known nothing like that in her marriage, but she saw in this man the truth that such love could exist.

SIXTEEN

D
ylan studied his reflection in the full-length mirror and smiled.“Not a bad disguise if I do say so myself.” He was wearing an ill-fitting jacket, a shirt with twice-turned collar and cuffs, and boots that were scuffed on the tops, their soles coming apart.His trousers were frayed at the bottom, and a soft battered hat hid his face. Turning swiftly, he left his room, his mind racing ahead.He had told Serafina he would throw his energies into finding the man with the steel hook for a hand. He headed for Seven Dials.

He threaded his way through a series of winding streets until he reached the Rookery, a rotting pile of tenements crammed one beside the other. The damp had warped and twisted the houses, and the floors and walls were unsteady, patched and repatched. The smell of human waste overwhelmed him, and the gutters down the alleys ran with filth. He was aware even before dark of the squeaking and slithering of rats.

Dylan did not move in an upright position, but walked all slumped over as he shuffled along the streets. Everywhere people were huddled in doorways, lying on the bare stones of the pavement, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. He saw signs of starvation on the faces of even young children, and more than once he was approached by young girls, some looking no more than twelve, offering their bodies for sale.

A man finally approached him. He grinned, exposing missing teeth as he said, “You need some companionship? I’ve got a fine lady for you.”

Dylan did not straighten up but twisted his face around. “Got no money for that,” he said, making his voice hoarse, “but I’m looking for a man. I might pay a shilling or two if you could help me find him.”

“Wot sort of man is that?”

“Don’t know his name, but you can’t miss him. He’s got a hook instead of a right hand, you know.”

“Don’t know any men like that.”

Dylan moved on down the streets. All afternoon he inquired, but the Rookery was immense, and he was not even certain that the man was from this district. There were other areas in London almost as bad.

The sun was going down, casting shadows on the narrow streets, when Dylan gave up. He turned to go back and walked down a street made more gloomy by the ending of the day.

A high-pitched voice came to him, and he turned quickly to see a young girl backing away from a man in an alleyway.

“You leave me alone now,” she cried.

“Come ’ere, gal. I ain’t gonna do you no ’arm.”

The speaker was a hulking man dressed in clothing as rough as Dylan’s own. He was advancing toward the girl, and Dylan’s temper suddenly boiled over. He came up behind the man silently, then, planting his feet, he struck the man a terrific blow just over the belt where he knew the kidneys to be located. The man let out a muffled scream and fell to the ground, curling himself up. “You’ll have trouble making water for a few days, but you’ll live,” Dylan said. “Come along, girl.”

“Wot you want wif me?”

“I want to get you away from this man.”

The girl came out of the shadows, and he saw that she was wearing a worn dress that she had practically outgrown. She was no more than twelve, he guessed, and was about to cross the line from adolescence to young womanhood. It was her face that caught his attention. She had striking eyes, large and almond-shaped with long lashes, and the colour of lapis lazuli.He was almost startled at their rich azure blue set off by her olive complexion.He stepped toward her, ignoring the man who was crying and keening. He was about to take the girl by the arm and lead her out of the alley, but as he reached out, she moved quickly. Reaching into a hidden pocket, she came out with a knife. It flickered in the fading light. “Get away from me or I’ll cut you.”

Dylan stopped. “I just want to help you, missy,” he said.

“Yeah, I bet yer do! Men always want to
help
me,” she snapped. She turned, and a young boy came out of the darkness.

“Are you all right, Callie?” He was no more than seven or eight. His eyes were dark brown, and his black hair was dirty and uncombed.

“Come on, Paco.”

“Wot’s wrong with ’im?” the boy asked, staring at the man writhing on the pavement.

“He was bothering your sister, so I discouraged him.”

The young girl studied his face. It was as if she had spent many years learning to read expressions. Dylan did not move but pushed his hat back so she could see his face clearly. Her oddly coloured eyes were sharp, and she shrugged before the knife disappeared with a flick of her hand.

“We’re all right now,” she said and turned to her brother.

“Maybe I’d better walk home with you.”

“Wot for?”

“To see that nobody bothers you.” Dylan smiled.

Paco took the girl’s hand and said, “Sister, I’m hungry.”

“Come along, then, Paco.”

The two started down the dark street, and Dylan joined them. He looked at the girl and said, “What’s your name? My name’s Dylan.”

“Calandra Montevado.”

“It’s a big name for a little girl.”

“Everybody calls ’er Callie,” Paco said.

“So you’re hungry, Paco?”

“Yus. I am.”

“Well, come on.We’ll find a street vendor.”

“I knows where one is,” Callie said defiantly and lifted up her head.

“Lead me to him.”

The girl turned and, holding her brother’s hand, moved down the street. Three blocks later she paused before a street vendor. “’E sells eel pies,” Callie said. “They’re good, they are.”

The owner, a thin man with a battered stovepipe hat and an apron around his waist, said, “Wot’ll it be, sir?”

A delicious smell issued from inside the containers in front of them.

Dylan asked, “Callie, is there anybody else at home? Any more children?”

“Just my mum.”

“Does she like eel pie?”

Callie nodded. “She’s sick, and eel pie is her favourite.”

“We’ll have half a dozen eel pies.”

“Right, sir!”

With alacrity the vendor removed six eel pies, wrapped them in old newspapers, and put them in a paper sack. He took the coin that Dylan offered him, bit it, and winked,“Right you are, sir. Best eel pies in London.”

“Can I have some now?” Paco asked.

“Wouldn’t you rather wait until we get home?”

“I guess so.”

“Come on. Let’s hurry,” Callie said impatiently. She led them down a warren of streets until finally she came to a house with a set of stairs on the outside. “We lives upstairs.”

Callie went in, followed by Paco, then Dylan. He had to stoop to enter; a solitary window threw the fading light of the sun over the room.

It was a single room dominated by a table in the centre and a small bed on one side. A woman was in it, and she turned in the bed. Her face was thin, and fever showed in the brightness of her eyes.

“Mum, we got some eel pie!” Paco cried.

The woman struggled to sit up and drew the ragged covers about her.