Elijah’s Mermaid by Essie Fox

beautiful woman, half fish, upon whom even the doctors cannot agree. Go, see, and decide for yourself
’.
    Could he really mean a mermaid . . . an actual living mermaid? I itched for the chance to ‘see and decide’, my head bobbing first to the left, then the right, begging with Freddie and then Papa, ‘Oh, may we go . . . may we go and see?’
    Elijah was silent. A serious frown. Had my eagerness caused him embarrassment? But surely he was as keen as me, for his legs were doing that jiggling thing, and his cheeks were flushing red again. By contrast, Papa looked rather grey when he patted my arm absent-mindedly. ‘Of course, my dear . . . of course, you must go. But if you don’t mind I shall wait elsewhere . . . perhaps take some tea in the open air.’
    I wondered whether I should stay with Papa. I wondered at least for a moment or two – but to see those tickets in Freddie’s hand, and to see the twinkle in his eye when he said, ‘Why don’t you two go on ahead. Augustus and I will follow’ – well, I wanted to throw myself into his arms, giddy and breathless, crying out, ‘Oh . . . thank you, thank you, Freddie! This is the
most
perfect day!’
    Elijah took the tickets and my hands grabbed his jacket tails as we made our way through the theatre doors, then on towards a red and white tent where we ducked between some canvas flaps to stand in a sort of vestibule – and no one there but my brother and me, gasping for breath before turning around to peer through the murk of the candlelit gloom, until hearing a low and husky voice. ‘Well . . . let’s be ’aving yer tickets, then.’
    What I’d thought to be a little child was in fact a woman, very short of limb and wide of jaw, which hinted at something masculine, as did the furrowing lines of her brow above two deep-set staring eyes. There were heart-shaped patches stuck on her cheeks. She wore the most elaborate wig, like something you’d see in a Hogarth cartoon in that series they call ‘The Rake’s Progress’, of which Papa had several engravings framed back in our hall at Kingsland House – though it always made me rather sad to see the poor rake ending up as he did, paying for his life of debauchery while confined in a house of lunatics.
    I imagined that dwarf might be insane, being dressed in a miniature ballgown festooned with red ribbons, white feathers and pearls. What did
she
have to do with a mermaid? But, despite me standing there gawping like an idiot country bumpkin, she was doing some ogling herself, a good long look at Elijah Lamb before making a little curtsy when taking the tickets from his hand, proclaiming with a knowing wink, ‘ ’Allo, my very ’andsome sir . . . I am the Fairy Titania.’
    More like a Tattyiana, holding that splintery stick in her hand with a crumpled glittery star on the end, and those battered white wings fixed on to her back which were stitched all over with tarnished bells, though they did make the prettiest tinkling sounds when she performed a merry dance; white feathers and towering wig of curls trembling most precariously. I feared the ensemble might collapse to land up on the sawdust at her feet. I wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure whether that dance was supposed to be comical, when she waved her wand about in the air and then gave Elijah’s thigh a tap, glancing up at him coquettishly before – at long last – proceeding to lead us towards the exhibits.
    Once again, I followed my brother, on into a tunnel where canvas walls were gloriously daubed with paintings of Neptune and mermaids and narwhals, seahorses, serpents and hideous monsters – but all of them somewhat grimy as if they had once seen better days, as if a jolly good dip in the ocean would not go far amiss. Titania pointed her wand at a sign which read,
The
Incredible Talking Fish
, which, as far I could tell, was no more than a big brown carp in a tank, and who but the world’s most gullible child would believe her gruff explanation