The Deptford Mice 2: The Crystal Prison Read Free

many go down with fever to want to witness it again. He were a brave sort whatever he may have said to the contrary. A loss to us all. I see the father has not moved – is the mother still abed?’ Audrey nodded. ‘That’s bad! A whole family wiped out by sickness and grief. Well, how’s little Twit bearing up?’
    ‘Oh, you know Twit. He always tries to be bright and jolly. You never know what he’s thinking deep down.’
    ‘Yes, you’re right there. I like that fieldmouse – reminds me of someone I knew once – best friend I ever had. Twit’s mighty fond of his cousin there – it’ll be a tragic blow to his little heart.’
    A soft footfall behind them made them both turn sharply – but it was only Arthur.
    ‘Hullo Mr Triton,’ he said politely. ‘Audrey, I’ve managed to put Mother to bed and she’s asleep now, but I think Piccadilly’s having trouble with Twit – he needs to rest, but won’t settle. Be can’t stop worrying!’
    ‘Right, I’ll get him out of that,’ said Thomas firmly and he fixed his hat back on his head. ‘Come with me, miss, and you miladdo, stay here. I’ll see to my young matey.’ The midshipmouse strode from the Chitters’ home with Audrey following.
    ‘Mr Triton,’ she said, catching up with him. ‘What did you mean before when you saw me and said I was the very one?’
    ‘It wasn’t just to see poor Oswald that I came,’ he explained as they entered the Brown’s home, ‘but to see you as well.’
    ‘Me?’ asked Audrey, puzzled. She had not spoken to the midshipmouse very much during the brief times that he had visited the Skirtings and she wondered what he was up to.
    ‘Aye lass,’ he continued. ‘I’ve a message for you.’ She looked blank as Thomas Triton charged into Arthur and Piccadilly’s bedroom.
    The city mouse was trying to get Twit to stay in bed. He had heated him some milk and honey but the fieldmouse would not rest. When Thomas barged in Twit grinned in spite of himself.
    ‘How do!’ he said.
    ‘Ahoy there matey,’ Thomas said sternly. ‘What you doin’ lyin’ in yer bunk on a day like this?’ The midshipmouse winked a startled Piccadilly into silence. ‘Get up lad, there’s folk to see!’
    ‘But he’s only just gone to bed,’ exclaimed Audrey.
    Without turning round to look at her, Thomas said, ‘You, miss, had better make yourself presentable. What has happened to your hair?’
    ‘I . . . I didn’t put my ribbon in,’ stammered Audrey.
    ‘Then chop chop lass. Go do whatever you do to make a good impression. Someone wants to see you.’
    ‘Who’s that then Thomas?’ asked Twit, curiosity banishing the weary lines around his eyes.
    The midshipmouse feigned astonishment. ‘Why, the Starwife, lad – didn’t I say?’
    Twit’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘What? Her that lives in Greenwich under those funny buildings I saw when the bats flew me over?’
    ‘Aye matey. First thing this morning, when it was still dark, I had a message from herself delivered by one of her younger jumpy squirrels – took me a long time to calm him down. They are a watery lot! Well the gist of the story is,’ Thomas now turned to Audrey, ‘that the Starwife wants to see you, Miss Brown, and she won’t be kept waitin’. I’ve come to fetch you, and miladdo here is welcome to join us.’
    For a second Twit’s heart leapt, but when he thought of Oswald it sank down deeper and lower than ever. Sadly he shook his head. ‘I can’t come, Thomas. Oswald won’t see the end of the day – my place is here.’
    The midshipmouse put his paw on Twit’s shoulder. ‘Lad, I promise you we’ll be back for that time. If Oswald leaves us, I swear you’ll be at his side.’
    Twit blinked. He trusted his seafaring friend so much, yet how could he be so certain? Thomas’ eyes bore into him and under their solemn gaze the little fieldmouse felt sure that he was right.
    ‘I’ll just go an’ have a quick swill,’ Twit said, running out of the