The following morning, Dodger took Onan out for a run, and then disappeared down into the sewers. Anyone watching might have noticed that he was rather solemn and carrying a bag, although it is questionable whether rats can tell how solemn a human being is, or indeed know the meaning of the term solemn. The rats might have been surprised later to find, tucked away in the debris of the sewers, carefully placed high above the normal levels of the water, a pair of shiny new shoes.
What Dodger did subsequently nobody saw, but he was most certainly on London Bridge at noon. There he was, staring at the boats going past when a girl with long hair said in a voice that made his bones tingle, ‘’Scuse me, mister, can thee show me the way to Seven Dials, where my aunty lives?’
Dodger, if anyone was watching – and they certainly were – brightened up and said, ‘Are you new here? Capital! Allow me to show you around, it would be my pleasure.’
At that moment a coach pulled up, to the consternation of the drivers of some vehicles behind it. But the coachmen paid them no attention as a woman stepped out, smiled at Dodger, looked intensely at the Somerset maiden, and said after an almost forensic examination, ‘Well now, how surprising, my friend, one might be mistaken in thinking that this young lady was Simplicity herself, but alas, as we both know, the poor girl is most dreadfully deceased. But clearly you, Mister Dodger, are a resilient gentleman, I am aware of that. Since the three of us have strangely met on this bridge, perhaps you would allow me to take you and your new friend to Lavender Hill cemetery, where I was intending to go today, because the stonemason will by now have finished poor Simplicity’s gravestone.’ She turned to the girl and said, ‘What is your name, young lady?’
The girl smiled and said, ‘Serendipity, missus.’ And Angela had to put her hand over her mouth to conceal laughter.
And so they went, all three, to Lavender Hill, where flowers were laid and not surprisingly tears were shed, and then Dodger and the young lady called Serendipity were dropped off again at one of the other bridges where he had been told the Happy Family man had positioned his rather strange cart.
It was, in short, one quite large cage in which was a dog, a cat, a small baboon, a mouse, a couple of birds and a snake, all living together in harmony, like real Christians, as the old man put it.
Serendipity said, ‘Why on earth doesn’t the cat eat the mouse, Dodger?’
‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think the old man is not one to tell you his secrets, but some people say if they are brought up together with some kindness, they become just that, a happy family. Although I have been told that should a mouse who has not yet been introduced to the snake come in through the bars, it would become the snake’s dinner very quickly.’
She held his hand then, and they walked along across the bridges and saw all the entertainments thereon: the men who lifted heavy weights, and the Crown and Anchor men, and the man who sold ham sandwiches, and the man who could stand on his hands upside down. Finally, as the golden light of evening made London look more like a pagan temple, all bronze and shiny, and turned the Thames into a second Ganges, they went home, totally ignoring the Punch and Judy man.
The following morning began with pandemonium outside. When Dodger crept down the stairs and peered out at the street, he saw two men wearing plumed helmets, and a smaller man looking at the same time both self-important and also slightly terrified about where he was. Dodger managed to get the window open and shouted down, ‘What do you want, mister?’ He didn’t like the look of the smaller man, who was obviously the boss – because whenever you see a big man alongside a small man, the little man is generally the boss. The little man now demanded, ‘A gentleman by the name of . . . Mister Dodger?’
Dodger gulped and shouted down, ‘Never heard of him.’
The man looked up and said, ‘Well, sir, I am sad to hear that. But if you do in fact meet the said Mister Dodger, perhaps you would tell him that Her Majesty Queen Victoria has summoned him to Buckingham Palace tomorrow afternoon!’
From behind Dodger, Solomon said blearily, ‘Mmm, Dodger, you cannot ignore a summons from Her Majesty.’
And so Dodger was short of anywhere to dodge to, and he stepped gingerly into the street. People were already gathering, much to the chagrin of the two men with the plumed helmets, because the rumour had run around that Dodger was being taken to the gallows at last and one or two people were talking about fighting back; and naturally, when you have one rumour, it buds little extra rumours. Just for the fun of it.
Now Dodger stood there, blinking, and said, ‘OK, mister, now tell me the truth.’
The small, rather harassed man, trying to maintain a dignified image in a world that had no dignity at all, handed Dodger a document. ‘Make yourself available at the gates of Buckingham Palace at four thirty tomorrow,’ he said, ‘and you will be welcomed in. You may bring members of your family, to the number of three. I shall of course relay to Her Majesty that you have humbly accepted.’
It was a strange, mysterious day after that, even when people lost interest and went about their business, or in some cases as much of anyone else’s business that they could steal. Dodger started it by going for a walk, forsaking the sewers but simply criss-crossing London with Onan, who was overjoyed at this lengthy outing, trotting happily beside him. Eventually Dodger’s legs, who knew him better than he did, took him through Covent Garden and into Fleet Street.
Charlie wasn’t there, but when Dodger asked to meet the editor and said who he was, he was instantly ushered upstairs, where he was told that another seven guineas was accrued to his account. Dodger said that he would like the remaining money in that wretched subscription to please be diverted to make life comfortable for Mister Todd who, he understood, was now incarcerated in Bedlam hospital, a place not suitable for those of a delicate disposition.
Mister Doyle agreed, and moreover promised to see to it that the money would actually get to where it should go. That made Dodger feel better. Then he continued his walking, pausing only to buy a bone from the butcher’s shop for Onan’s lunch. Then he went to a bottle shop and procured a bottle of good brandy and carried it with him down to the river, where he hailed a waterman to take him down to the wharf at Four Farthings.
The coroner was not there, but his officer promised to see to it that this gift, ostensibly from the son of an old lady that he had helped, would get to its intended owner; alas, there were times when you had to hope that people were as good as their word. There really wasn’t much in Four Farthings that wasn’t soon going to be swept up by the bigger boroughs, but Dodger did take a look in the church of St Never, a little-known saint who was in charge of things that didn’t happen, which was why so many young ladies prayed there. He dropped a shilling in the offertory box, but heard the coin hit wood, where he suspected it was likely to be lonely for quite some time.
He found the time to make a detour to the house of Mister and Mrs Mayhew, shaking hands and thanking them for their condolences, and for all the help they had given to the poor late Simplicity, who, said Dodger, if she was alive now, would be very grateful. He was absolutely certain of that, he told them, as certain as if he had heard it from her very own mouth. Then, when he was shown along to the main entrance, he waved the suggestion away and headed down past the green baize door, where he had a cheerful smile even for Mrs Sharples and a pneumatic kiss from Mrs Quickly.
As he wandered back across the river he wondered why he was doing all this, and quite rightly so did Onan, who was having the time of his life, never having had such a long walk in one go. It struck him that there was one person who could tell him. That led to the hiring of another waterman to take him upstream for a while, and then a reasonable walk took him to Miss Serendipity’s boarding house and a growler took the two of them to Angela’s home. The door was opened very respectfully by the butler, who said, ‘Good afternoon, Mister Dodger, I will see if Miss Angela is in.’