The Secret of Zanzibar (9 page)

‘I see you've found Charlotte Tibby's books.'

Alistair spun around.

Great-Aunt Harriet stood in the doorway clutching a pillow. She was looking at the books he was touching. ‘They were always Tibby Rose's favourites.'

Alistair looked back at the books his fingers rested on and gave them a pat. ‘These are the books that saved our lives, then,' he said.

Great-Aunt Harriet didn't look surprised or alarmed by his statement. ‘Good,' she said, with a satisfied nod. ‘I always knew books could save lives.'

‘You did?'

‘Of course,' said the steel-grey mouse. ‘A good book can allow you to see into the souls of others, to understand what motivates them, what makes them behave in certain ways. It's like Atticus Finch said:
You never really understand a mouse until you consider things from his point of view – until you climb into his skin and walk around in
it
. And if you ask me, it's that understanding of others which is the way to peace between all mice. We can never have peace without understanding.'

‘Who's Atticus Finch?' Alistair asked. ‘I know Atticus Island – that's where my parents were held prisoner – but I haven't heard of Atticus Finch.'

‘Atticus Finch is a wise mouse indeed. He's a character in a book called
To Kill a Mockingbird
.'

‘So he's not real then,' said Alistair.

‘He's real all right,' Great-Aunt Harriet replied. ‘He's real in the minds of everyone who has ever read and loved that book.' She put the pillow on the leather sofa and walked over to stand next to Alistair at the bookshelf. She scanned a row of books just above his head, then pulled down a leather-bound volume. ‘Here it is,' she said. She stroked the cover. ‘This is perhaps the best book ever written about the evils of prejudice and small-mindedness. Atticus Finch had respect for all mice, no matter the colour of their fur, no matter what walk of life they came from.'

Suddenly Alistair remembered sitting by a river not far from here, telling Tibby Rose about one of his own favourite books. ‘Like in
Huckleberry Finn
,' he said. ‘I could never understand why other mice could hate Jim and make him a slave, just because he had black fur.' He continued softly, ‘But Tibby and I learned what it was like to be hated because of the colour of our fur, because we were ginger.'

With something like regret in her voice, Great-Aunt Harriet said, ‘I may sound harsh when I talk about Gerander and about Zanzibar, but it's only because of the tragedy their fight for independence brought to my family. Zanzibar is a fine mouse and the Gerandan cause is a just one.' She gave a ragged sigh and looked down at the book in her hand. ‘When you are older, Alistair, I'll lend you this book. I think you will appreciate it.' She slipped the book back into its place on the shelf. ‘Now off to bed with you,' she said, her voice brisk once more. ‘I'm sure you could do with a good night's sleep.' And she left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Alistair slept a deep, dreamless sleep and woke late, feeling refreshed. He joined Tibby Rose in the kitchen for a breakfast of toast and jam, then they went upstairs to the library. Tibby was keen to be reunited with Charlotte Tibby's books, and Alistair wanted to trace their journeys in an atlas.

They were reading in companionable silence on the leather sofa when Alistair heard the murmur of voices. ‘Tibby, I think it's them.'

Peering through the curtains, they saw Grandpa Nelson stumping up the path accompanied by a mouse with black-framed glasses.

They crept to the top step and peered through the bannister.

At the sound of the front door opening, Great-Aunt Harriet rushed from the kitchen, one hand still in an oven mitt.

Granville stood about a head taller than Tibby's grandfather and his sandy fur was flecked with grey.

‘Harriet, it's good to see you looking so well. Why, those purple spots hardly show.' Before Harriet could speak, the sandy mouse continued, ‘Not that I believed that cockamamie story about you having a disfiguring disease. No disease would dare!'

‘Is that so?' retorted Great-Aunt Harriet. ‘Then what explanation did you have for my disappearance?'

‘Oh, I thought you'd gone …' Granville didn't complete his sentence, but pointed his finger at his temple and twirled it.

‘You thought I'd gone cuckoo?' said Harriet, outraged, as Tibby stifled a giggle.

‘Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone,' Granville assured her. ‘Publicly I always hinted that I'd seen you all puffed up like a balloon with hideous purple spots.'

Great-Aunt Harriet snorted. ‘I can see you haven't changed a bit, Granville,' she said. ‘And to think I spent the morning making my lemon and lime cheesecake that you always loved so much.'

‘You did?' Granville put one hand to his heart and with his other hand swept Great-Aunt Harriet's oven mitt to his lips and gave it a big, smacking kiss. ‘What a gem
you are, Harriet,' he said, as Harriet yanked the glove away with a sniff.

Granville's voice grew serious. ‘So, a strange thing happened to me this morning, Harriet. My old friend Nelson bursts into my office, stammers out something about a family secret, then abruptly asks me what I think of the Gerander situation.'

‘And what did you say?'

‘I suggested he shut the door.'

Harriet made an impatient gesture.

‘Then I told him I've never believed that rubbish about Gerander being a danger to Souris. A small, struggling country like Gerander a danger to a large, prosperous, well-armed nation like Souris? No. It's as ridiculous as your purple spots.'

‘If that's what you think, why haven't you ever spoken up?' Tibby's great-aunt wanted to know.

‘Why?' For the first time Granville's confident tone deserted him. ‘Fear,' he said uncomfortably. ‘Fear and … complacency. I've grown used to my comfortable life. I'm the editor of a respected newspaper, an important man in Templeton. Yes, yes.' He held up his hand. ‘You're right to look scornful, Harriet. Perhaps I should have been braver. But I always told myself that I wasn't hurting anybody. Now let me ask you something: why all the questions?' He directed a sharp look at the steely-grey mouse, who stared back at him defiantly. ‘What have you two been hiding?'

‘I don't know if we should tell you,' Harriet said doubtfully.

‘I will gladly admit that I'm not the bravest mouse, but you must know that whatever you tell me, I would never betray your trust.'

‘I believe him, Harry,' Nelson said certainly.

‘I do, too,' said Tibby Rose in a loud voice.

‘What? Who's there?' Granville squinted at the staircase, but Tibby and Alistair were still in the shadows.

‘Tibby, don't you come down here till I tell you,' Great-Aunt Harriet warned.

‘Tib, she's right,' whispered Alistair, but before he could stop her Tibby Rose was hurrying down the stairs. Alistair sighed. From what he had heard, he wasn't convinced that Granville would help them, in which case it was better not to reveal themselves. But he couldn't let Tibby take the risk alone. He got up and walked more slowly down the stairs to join his friend.

‘Who on earth are you?' The newspaper editor gaped at the two ginger mice in astonishment.

Tibby stepped forward. ‘I'm Tibby Rose,' she declared, adding, ‘Lucia's daughter.'

‘I'm a friend of Tibby's,' said Alistair.

‘Lucia's daughter?' Granville's mouth opened and closed, and Alistair guessed that the news had rendered him speechless. At last he said, ‘Lucia had a daughter? You never told me.'

‘We never told anyone,' Great-Aunt Harriet said. ‘We had to protect her.' In her no-nonsense tone Alistair could hear the authority of a former headmistress.

‘I can see why,' said Granville, studying Tibby Rose over the top of his glasses. ‘She'd certainly stand out around here with that ginger fur.' He pushed his glasses back up his nose. ‘I remember Lucia eloped, Nelson,' he said. ‘But I don't think you ever mentioned that her husband was Gerandan.'

‘We were hardly going to advertise it now, Granville, were we?' Tibby's grandfather replied.

‘So why are you telling me now?'

‘Let's go have some of that cake,' Great-Aunt Harriet suggested, bustling towards the kitchen.

‘Oh dear,' said Granville. ‘It must be bad if you think I need softening up.' But he followed.

Great-Aunt Harriet's lemon and lime cheesecake was one of the most delicious cakes Alistair had ever eaten. He should ask Great-Aunt Harriet for the recipe, he thought, for Uncle Ebenezer – then swallowed hard, remembering that Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Beezer might have been captured along with Zanzibar. As they ate, Tibby Rose's grandpa and great-aunt told the newspaper editor the story of Lucia's unexpected arrival in Templeton, carrying a baby mouse with pink-tinted ginger fur. Tibby Rose then picked up the tale, telling her mother's godfather how she had come to join FIG and what had led her and Alistair to return to Souris.

‘It must have been very hard for you,' Granville said to his friends, ‘bringing up Lucia's child in secret. But maybe also a comfort, too, after Lucia's death?'

‘Oh, Granville, you have no idea,' Harriet said. ‘Tibby Rose is … she's an absolute delight. She's got a quicker mind than any student I ever had, and she's thoughtful and kind, and –'

‘Don't get her started,' Nelson said with a chuckle. ‘She'll talk your ear off about the wonders of Tibby Rose.'

Alistair felt Tibby go very still beside him and knew that his friend must be surprised to hear her stern great-aunt speaking about her like this.

‘And then to keep the poor child locked away for fear of what the Queen's Guards might do to her. You know how they are. It wouldn't matter a jot to them that she'd lived in Souris her whole life, that she'd barely ever heard of Gerander.'

‘Well, she's heard of it now all right,' Granville observed.

Alistair heard Great-Aunt Harriet draw in a breath and beside him Tibby did, too.

‘So will you help her?' Harriet asked.

‘Of course I will, Harriet. Queen Eugenia can't be allowed to claim the throne of Cornolius and re-establish Greater Gerander. She has no right.' He turned his gaze to Tibby Rose. ‘To think Lucia's daughter …' He shook his head in amazement. ‘Tibby Rose, Alistair, come to my office at midnight tonight. We must act quickly.'

‘Tibby Rose means the world to us, Granville,' Nelson said gruffly. ‘If anything should happen to her …'

‘I know, old friend. But you must see that these two youngsters have chosen a dangerous course.' He stood up, brushing cake crumbs from his fur. ‘And we can none of us know what its end will be.

The farmer's mouth dropped open and Alice was sure hers did too. But had the matron just given them a tiny wink? The farmer evidently thought so, because he closed his mouth and said, ‘No trouble, ma'am. And I'm sorry the cabbages are rotten. Come on, Scooter.' And with his hand still heavy on his son's shoulder, he nudged the younger mouse towards the cart. Together they righted it and wheeled it out of the courtyard.

The matron clapped her hands together. ‘Right then, children, let's deal with this mess.'

‘We don't have to eat those rotten cabbages, do we, Matron?' asked one small mouse.

‘No, Rosie, we don't. But we can use them for the garden. Everyone get a bucket and we'll have these on the compost heap in no time. Come on, quick sticks. I'm just going to take my visitors inside to get cleaned up.'

Wordlessly, Alice and Alex followed the matron to a
bathroom with a row of sinks, and washed the cabbage from their fur. She handed them each a towel and, when they were both dry, said, ‘Now let's go to my office and you can explain to me exactly what's going on here.'

‘You weren't really expecting us, were you?' Alice asked uncertainly when they were seated in the matron's small, bare office.

‘Certainly not,' said the matron. ‘But I wasn't about to give you away until I knew what you were doing here. Are you orphans?'

‘No,' said Alex. ‘Not any more.' And Alice knew he was remembering that up until they had been reunited with their parents so recently they'd thought they
were
orphans. ‘We're from FIG, a resistance group set up by –'

‘Zanzibar,' the matron said. She leaned forward in her chair. ‘Tell me,' she said, her face hopeful, ‘is it true that Zanzibar is free?'

‘He's not only free,' Alex told her. ‘He's coming here to free Gerander.'

As he explained their presence in Cornoliana, it became clear that they had found another sympathiser in the matron of the orphanage. Of course, given that they expected her to feed her charges on rotten cabbages, she was hardly likely to be a fan of the Sourians.

She poured them each a glass of green cordial which, though similar in colour, bore no other resemblance to cabbage, Alice was pleased to note.

‘I'd offer you a biscuit, but I'm afraid we're a bit short on luxuries – and those few that do come our way I like to give to the orphans. They get precious few treats in their lives, the poor things.'

‘But you do have enough food, don't you?' said Alice. ‘You said weren't going to eat the cabbages.'

‘No,' the matron said. ‘Things aren't that desperate – not at the moment, anyway. We have a lot of secret supporters. There's a baker up the street who slips us a loaf of bread when she can, and there's a doctor at the hospital who drops by to check on the children. He stole medicine for us when we had an outbreak of whooping cough.'

‘It's great to hear of Gerandans helping each other,' said Alex enthusiastically.

‘Oh the doctor's not Gerandan,' said the matron. ‘He's Sourian. You know, the Sourians aren't all bad. Oftentimes I'll open the gates in the morning and find a basket of food or some hand-me-down clothes and toys. And I can tell by the quality that they haven't been left by a Gerandan.'

‘So will you tell the baker and the doctor about the protest?' asked Alice.

‘I certainly will. I'll tell everyone I know. Queen Eugenia will enter this city over my dead body. Now, how can I help you two? Where were you planning to go from here?'

Alice and Alex exchanged looks, but before they could confess that they didn't really have a plan the matron said, ‘If Zanzibar is coming back, there's someone you really should speak to.'

‘Who's that?' said Alex.

‘Old Daniels,' the matron said. ‘He was the bellringer at the cathedral back before it was closed. He lets me sneak in and sit inside the cathedral sometimes, when I'm feeling low.' She gave a quick smile, as if embarrassed by this admission. ‘He once told me that even if the cathedral
was
open, he'd refuse to ring the bells for the Sourians.'

‘So he's a sympathiser?' Alice asked, hope rising. ‘Did he say anything about there being other sympathisers?'

The matron looked sheepish. ‘I'm sorry to say that I pretended not to hear him and he dropped the subject. I didn't want to get involved. I have my orphans to care for, you see, and if something should happen to me, who would look after them?'

‘But you're helping us,' Alice said.

The matron nodded slowly. ‘It's like you said: if we don't act now it'll be too late – we'll lose Gerander forever. And what kind of future would my orphans have then?'

‘We'd love to meet Daniels,' Alice said. ‘But I'm a bit worried about walking through the city. What if we run into guards from the palace? They might recognise us.'

‘Hmm, that is a problem.' The matron gazed at the wall, finger tapping on her desk, as she considered this. Then her expression brightened. ‘I've got it,' she said. ‘We'll all go. The guards won't see the trees for the forest.'

As the matron rose and strode towards the door, Alice and Alex exchanged mystified looks behind her back.

‘What forest?' Alex mouthed.

Alice shrugged. But the matron seemed to know what she was doing, so they followed her down the corridor and back into the courtyard.

There was nothing remaining of the pile of rotten cabbages except a few wilted leaves on the flagstones. The orphans were taking it in turns to wash the slime off their hands under a tap in the corner.

‘Children!' The matron clapped her hands together twice. ‘Who wants to go for a walk around town to show our visitors the sights?'

A sea of hands – some still covered in cabbage slime – shot up. ‘Me!' ‘Me!' ‘Me!'

As soon as everyone was de-slimed, they gathered by the gate.

‘Alice, Alex, stay in the middle of the group,' the matron instructed. ‘Everyone ready? Okay, off we go.' She pushed open the heavy iron gate and led them out to the street.

Alice couldn't help but glance around nervously, missing the seclusion of the walled courtyard. Now she and Alex were out in the open, she wished she hadn't gone along with the matron's plan. Surely they would have been better off waiting until nightfall then creeping through the shadows. She looked around for her brother, but he was up ahead with a couple of the older boys. Perhaps he was telling them he was their future king …

She started as an arm was slung around her shoulders and a voice in her ear said, ‘Have you ever heard the expression “hiding in plain sight”?'

Alice turned to meet the gaze of a pinkish-coloured mouse about her own age. She looked a bit like Tibby Rose, Alice thought. ‘Um, no,' she said.

‘It's the best kind of disguise,' the pinkish mouse explained. ‘See, who's going to look at you twice? Here you are, just another innocent orphan, giggling and whispering with a friend – that's me. There's nothing suspicious about that, is there?'

‘No,' Alice replied with a growing sense of relief. ‘Nothing suspicious at all.' So that's what the matron had meant about the forest – no one was going to recognise Alice and Alex when they were walking with the orphans. Anyone looking at them would see a whole group of kids, not individuals. Still, she couldn't help but tense when she caught sight of a pair of red coats standing at the next corner.

‘Don't worry about them,' murmured her new friend. ‘Just keep talking to me. My name's Tilly. What's yours?'

‘Alice,' said Alice, trying to ignore the drumming of her heart in her chest. ‘Maybe you could tell me how you know we're in hiding.'

Tilly laughed. ‘You arrived in a load of rotten cabbages,' she pointed out. ‘I can't think of a single good reason to do that unless you didn't want to be seen. Although,' she said reflectively, ‘I suppose you might just really love the smell.'

Alice screwed up her nose. ‘No way,' she said. ‘It was putrid.'

‘Now I've got a question for you,' said the pinkish mouse. ‘
Why
are you in hiding?'

Alice hesitated. Her first instinct was to evade the question: secrecy equalled safety, after all. Then she remembered what Alex had said: if they wanted the protest to work, they had to spread the word – and they were meant to be focusing on kids especially. ‘We're here to organise a protest,' she began.

As she briefly explained their mission, they passed the guards on the corner and turned into a busier street. Alice had to suppress a giggle at the realisation that she had been telling her new friend about the plot to overthrow the Sourian occupation while walking past a pair of Queen's Guards. How was that for hiding in plain sight?!

‘I'm definitely coming to the protest,' Tilly said. ‘Getting rid of the Sourians won't change the fact that I'm an orphan –' her voice wobbled a bit as she said this ‘– but at least I'd grow up free.'

‘What happened to your parents?' Alice asked, not sure if Tilly would want to answer.

‘They died during a flu epidemic five years ago,' Tilly said softly. ‘I was an only child and my parents were, too. There was no one to take me in, so a neighbour brought me to the orphanage.' She lifted the corner of her mouth in a small smile. ‘I'm lucky really. Matron is great. And I've never had to ride in a cart with rotten cabbages.'

Alice laughed, like she knew she was meant to, but inside she felt like weeping. She remembered how she'd
felt when she, Alex and Alistair had lost their parents –
thought
they had lost their parents. But at least they'd had each other and Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Beezer. She couldn't imagine how alone in the world Tilly must feel. And all the other mice surrounding her must have similar stories – and there must be other orphanages in the city, all over Gerander perhaps …

Suddenly Alex appeared at her side. ‘The cathedral's just around the next corner,' he told her. ‘Matron's going to point out the door where Daniels lets her in and we'll slip away from the group.'

Alice nodded. ‘Okay.' She turned to Tilly. ‘Maybe I'll see you at the protest,' she said.

‘I'll be there,' Tilly promised.

They rounded the corner and there was the cathedral, so large it completely dominated the square in which it stood. Although Alice had seen it before, she still marvelled at its intricate facade of pink, green and white marble, its huge red-tiled dome. The bell tower soared above it, straight and slender. It was terrible to think that this beautiful building sat unused and abandoned.

As they walked down the right-hand side of the building she saw the matron nod. Alex grabbed her wrist and they were half walking, half running towards a small wooden door with no handle, only a knocker in the shape of a three-fingered leaf.

Alex lifted the knocker and rapped on the door urgently. Matron and the orphans were moving away,
which made sense, Alice knew – they didn't want to draw attention to the door, since the cathedral was meant to be closed – but it left Alice and Alex without any cover.

‘Come on,' Alex muttered, rapping again.

The orphans were only distant figures now, a faint babble of voices borne back to them on the breeze. Alice knew they were too conspicuous in the nearly deserted square. Anyone passing would immediately notice them.

Her heart began to thump – loud, too loud. Then, with rising alarm, she realised the hollow sound echoing in her ears was not her heartbeat: it was the sound of boots on cobblestones. She looked over her shoulder. They hadn't yet rounded the front of the church but they were close.

‘Alex,' she said as her brother raised the knocker once more. ‘The Queen's Guards are coming – we'd better run.'

But Alex was stumbling forward, carried by the momentum of his fist moving towards the door, which had begun to open.

‘Who are you?' An old mouse with a long grey beard was peering at them through a pair of half-moon glasses perched at the end of his pointy nose.

‘Please,' Alice gasped, risking another look over her shoulder. ‘The guards …'

The door swung open and the two young mice were ushered inside with a hand at their backs. Alice heard a click as the door was closed again.

She stood blinking in the dim light, aware that they were in a cavernous space but unable to make out any details.

‘Are you Daniels?' Alex was asking.

‘I'd rather
you
answered
my
question first,' the old mouse told him. ‘Who are you?'

‘The matron from the orphanage sent us,' Alex said in reply.

‘So you're orphans,' said the old mouse.

‘No,' said Alex. He looked uncertain and Alice could understand why. What if this wasn't Daniels? They'd been lucky not to be betrayed so far, but this old mouse seemed distinctly unfriendly. ‘We're … it's a long story.'

‘And we'll be standing here a long time unless you start to tell it.' The old mouse's voice was sharp. ‘Or perhaps you'd rather tell it to the Queen's Guards you were so keen to get away from?'

‘No!' said Alice. She remembered the hand on her back, ushering her inside. He wouldn't have done that if he was really planning to give them up, she decided. ‘We're from a resistance group working to free Gerander,' she said.

She had expected that the old mouse would welcome this news, but he just gave her a hard stare. ‘And what group would that be?'

Alice swallowed. Had the matron been wrong about Daniels? (If this even was Daniels, she reminded herself; he still hadn't told them his name.) ‘FIG.'

The old mouse's expression remained impassive. ‘And your leader is …?'

Alice was starting to feel seriously worried now. The old mouse was standing in front of the door, blocking their escape. And even if they were to flee, they'd run straight into the Queen's Guards.