Page 117 of Babel

‘Say, Birdie,’ said Ramy. ‘What’s all this... stuff?’

He meant the chinoiserie. Robin glanced around. The parlour was filled with painted fans, hanging scrolls, and porcelain vases, sculptures, and teapots. The effect was a garish re-creation of a Canton teahouse juxtaposed upon a base of English furniture. Had these always been there? Robin didn’t know how he had failed to notice as a child. Perhaps, fresh from Canton, he had not found the separation of two worlds so obvious; perhaps it was only now, after a full immersion in the most English of universities, that he’d developed a sharper sense of the foreign and the exotic.

‘I suppose he was a collector,’ said Robin. ‘Oh, I do remember now – he loved telling his guests about his acquisitions, where they’d come from and their particular histories. He was quite proud.’

‘How strange,’ said Ramy. ‘To love the stuff and the language, but to hate the country.’

‘Not as odd as you’d think,’ said Victoire. ‘There are people, after all, and then there are things.’

An expedition to the kitchens turned up nothing to eat. Mrs Piper wouldn’t have stocked provisions while she was still at the Oxford house. The Hampstead house had a persistent rat problem, Robin recalled, never resolved because Professor Lovell abhorred cats, and Mrs Piper hated leaving perishables at their mercy. Ramy found a tin of ground coffee and a jar of salt, but no sugar. They made and drank the coffee anyway. It only sharpened their hunger, but at least it kept them alert.

They had just washed and dried their empty mugs – Robin didn’t know why they were cleaning up when the owner of this place would never come home, but it still felt wrong to leave a mess – when they heard a sharp knock at the door. They all jumped. The knocker paused, then rapped again firmly, thrice in succession.

Ramy sprang up and reached for the fire poker.

‘What are you doing?’ Letty hissed.

‘Well, assuming they come in—’

‘Just don’t open the door, we’ll pretend no one’s here—’

‘But all the lights are on, you dolt—’

‘Then look out the window first—’

‘No, then they’ll see us—’

‘Hello?’ The knocker called through the door. ‘Can you hear me?’

They sagged with relief. It was only Mrs Clemens.

‘I’ll get it.’ Robin stood and shot Ramy a glare. ‘Put that away.’

Their kindly neighbour stood sopping wet on the doorstep, carrying a flimsy, ineffective umbrella in one hand and a covered basket in the other. ‘I noticed you hadn’t brought provisions. He always leaves the pantry empty when he’s gone – rat problem.’

‘I... I see.’ Mrs Clemens was very chatty. Robin hoped she did not want to come in.

When he said nothing else, she held the basket out towards him. ‘I’ve just asked my girl Fanny to cobble together what we had on hand. There’s some wine, a hard and a soft cheese, this morning’s bread – crusty, I’m afraid – and some olives and sardines. If you want bread fresh baked, you’ll have to try again in the morning, but let me know if you do want to come over so I can have Fanny send for more fresh butter, we’re nearly out.’

‘Thank you,’ Robin said, rather astounded by this generosity. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘Of course,’ Mrs Clemens said promptly. ‘Can you tell me when the professor will be back? I need to have a word with him about his hedges.’

Robin blanked. ‘I... don’t know.’

‘Didn’t you say you’d come up ahead of him?’

Robin wasn’t sure what to say. He felt vaguely that the less of an oral trail they left, the better – he’d already told the captain that Professor Lovell had gone ahead of them, and they intended to tell the Babel faculty that Professor Lovell was still in Hampstead, so it might be very dangerous should Mrs Clemens present a different account entirely. But who was going to question all three parties? If the police had got that far, wouldn’t the four of them already be detained?

Letty came to his rescue. ‘Could be as soon as Monday,’ she said, nudging him aside. ‘But we heard at the docks that his ship might be delayed – bad weather over the Atlantic, you know – so it could be weeks still.’

‘How inconvenient,’ said Mrs Clemens. ‘Will you be staying as long, then?’

‘Oh, no, we’re heading back to school tomorrow. We’ll leave a note on the dining room table before we go.’

‘Very prudent. Well, good night,’ Mrs Clemens said cheerfully, and went back out into the rain.

They devoured the cheese and olives in seconds. The bread was hard and took some chewing, which slowed them down, but in minutes that was gone as well. Then they eyed the wine bottle with great longing, caught between knowing they should stay on their guard and wanting desperately to be drunk, until Ramy took responsibility and hid it in the pantry.