Fortunes of the Heart by Jenny Telfer Chaplin Page A

every
word.
    “But Daniel, is that really true?” Isabella said. “What you
told us about the statue heads – made out of soap?”
    Daniel nodded so emphatically that a lock of hair fell over
his brows.
    “Honest, Isabella, it’s true. I swear it. How could I even
make up such a thing? There was a head and shoulder ...”
    Here Pearce, ever one to educate his children interposed:
“It’s called a bust, Daniel. Such a carving, no matter of whatever material –
it’s called a bust.”
    Daniel digested this fact and went on: “Well, there was a
bust of the Queen, Queen Victoria herself, with a crown on her head. And one
each of the Prince and Princess of Wales. And Robert Burns, and Walter Scott
and David Livingstone. And lots more. Wonderful to see. And all made out of
soap. Now what was it called ... oh yes ... white Windsor Soap.”
    From then on, even after tea was well finished, Daniel was
allowed, for once in his life, to hold the centre stage and regale his audience
with wonders untold. There was the gigantic corncob archway with the words
picked out on it; there was a full-size reproduction of a miner’s workplace
with the new marvel of the age – electric lights; there were dozens of ship
models, including that of Livadia , the fantastic
steam yacht recently built for the Czar of all the Russias ; there was a special Exhibition of the Queen’s
Jubilee presents from all over the world.
    “Imagine it,” said Danny, with shining eyes, “eight hundred
presents. Silver boxes, jewels, books, silks and satins, medals, and even
slippers.”
    At this revelation, the girls clapped their hands in
delight, as they ooh-ed. and ah- ed , all the while
trying to form a mental picture of eight hundred gifts. But such a feat was
beyond them, so it was left to Daniel to go on.
    “There’s even a whole Indian Street where you can buy ...”
he cast a sideways glance at Mammy, “... if you’re any money, that is, you can
buy fancy sweeties in lovely tins and even in carved boxes.”
    Pearce laughed.
    “But not, I hope, carved in Windsor soap, eh, Daniel, my
boy?”
    By this time, the girls were almost hysterical with
laughter, as was Daniel at his father’s rare joke.
    “And Dadda, there’s even a switchback railway. Yes, and they’ve
got attendants stationed down below, ready to pick up any articles that get
lost in all the excitement. Isn’t that just grand, Dadda?”
    Pearce nodded.
    “Mm, Yes, grand perhaps, but not entirely educational. I
rather think we could do without the switchback railway. Never mind, Daniel,
you have certainly used your ears, your eyes and your tuppence all to good effect. I do congratulate you, son.”
    At this rare and totally unexpected praise being heaped on
his unsuspecting head, Daniel was momentarily at a loss for words. Then he
decided to press home his advantage for the sake of the common good.
    Greatly daring, he ventured: “Dadda, do you think maybe you
could take us all one of the days to see the Exhibition? There’s plenty more
I’d like to see or even get a closer look at. And the girls would love it,
Dadda.”
    Pearce sat further back in his chair, folded his arms across
his chest and with pursed lips appeared to think deeply before giving his ‘yea’
or ‘nay’.
    All the while he was mentally deliberating, the rest of the
family, including a flush-faced Kate, held its collective breath. The only
sounds were the ticking of the clock, the distant clang of a screeching
tramcar, and the sucking sounds from Hannah as she chewed at the fingers of a
long-suffering and somewhat mutilated Raggy-Aggy .
    At length, Dadda cleared his throat. Never had he had a more
appreciative or expectantly hushed audience. Leaning far back in his chair, he
inserted his thumbs under the topmost part of his waistcoat, and from this
stance of authority, he surveyed his audience.
    “Well now, let’s see: a family outing to see for ourselves
the wonders of the Empire and of the world on