To Be Or Not To Be: 2. A Special Visit – Opening Chapters

1

FINDING SYLVESTER’S SECRET PASSAGE

AS THEY MARCHED excitedly along the stone-walled hallway of the wing, Tim asked, “Sylvester? Have you ever tried to find the secret of the Royal Way?”

“Ah yes, young man. I have not found it yet. But it is here somewhere—you can be sure of that. Finding it is all I live for!” said Sylvester vigorously, and his ash grey eyes burned with a passion that took the children by surprise. He did a little skip and a jump, and then a faraway look glazed over his eyes.

Sylvester led them into a huge drawing room at the furthest point from the entrance of the wing. They stood barred from entering by a huge mahogany set of double doors.

“Aha. Here we are—the Blue Drawing Room; designed and built by Scottish born architect Hugh Rupert MacTavish, and completed as long ago as 1868. Ah yes, my not so little friends, a Georgian styled room that stands quite apart from the Palace’s overall neoclassical style. Built not too long after the 1856 Great Ballroom where tomorrow evening’s post-congregation party will be held.”

“Did Huge Cupboard MacFadish build the ballroom too?” asked Sally, with a serious look on her face.

“Ahem … I assume you mean ‘Hugh Rupert MacTavish’?” said Sylvester.

“Yes. Hugh Rupert MacTavish,” repeated Sally, getting the architect’s name correct this time.

“Then the answer is no,” said Sylvester. “Another brilliant architect was responsible for the neoclassical period rooms by the name of John Nash. He didn’t actually build the Great Ballroom, but he designed it before he died in 1835, well before the builders even started the building. Uncle Thunderbelly told me that … so don’t expect to find it out on that nonsense of technology called the hairnet.”

“Hairnet! Don’t you mean internet?” laughed Sally. “You know you do.”

“Hairnet; internet; what’s the difference?” complained Sylvester.

In fact, the Blue Drawing Room was the only room the children had not explored as Sylvester always locked it because it helped him to control the usage of the secret passage. Strictly speaking, the Queen’s rules do not allow him to lock the room, as it belongs to the guests while they are staying, but he always does.

Sylvester took out a polished silver key. He bent down a little, placed it carefully in the keyhole of the left door of the pair of double doors, and turned it smoothly. There was no need to use any spray-cans. The bolt slid smoothly backwards into the door. Sylvester then held down a pair of decorated silver handles, one found on each twin-door, and then pushed and vigorously flung the double doors into the room. Sally, Tim and Phillip seemed to be sucked into the room right behind Sylvester …

And oh, what a magnificent room it was! Full of history. Full of mystery.

Sally had never seen such a big room in all her life. It was perfectly square and she could see it was even bigger than her school assembly hall. Like Tim and Phillip, she wheeled around in the wonder of it.

“Wow!” cried Tim! “I reckon at least eight houses the size of our own could easily fit in this room.”

Sally gaped at the surrounding dark mahogany panelled walls.

Her mouth fell open when she gazed way up high above her head, where a beautifully decorated ceiling hung. Although it was mainly twirls of snow-white plaster, here and there were brightly painted sculptures of angels getting up to all kinds of things with brightly painted sculptures of all kinds of everyday nineteenth century objects. Sally thought the angels looked almost alive and couldn’t help thinking that at any moment they might actually come alive. It was like gazing up to a living heaven frozen in nineteenth century Time.

When Sally finally lowered her head down to the walls surrounding her, hanging reverently, she could see a great number of huge framed paintings. They looked hundreds of years old; paintings of people, animals, and charming landscapes. “Gorgeous paintings, ain’t they!” said Tim dreamily, and Sally silently agreed.

Sylvester corrected Tim. “Aren’t they?”

“You’re just like my Mum,” said Tim to Sylvester, smiling.

Sally looked down. Beneath her feet resting serenely, she saw a vast, sprawling, richly patterned blue and white woollen carpet. It covered all but the edges of a polished light-blue, cloud-patterned marble floor. There were about a couple of feet of exposed marble floor running around the edge of the room. When Sally took a step, the carpet was so thick she had time to feel herself sink into it. It even seemed to spring back a little against her feet, resisting her weight.

Sally next looked at the furniture, dwarfed as it was by the vastness of the room. It was all made of dark mahogany, matching the wall panelling. The upholstery and tablecloths were complementing shades of blue. She saw many chairs and tables littered around the room, but only a single cupboard and a single sideboard tucked away in diagonally opposite corners of the room. The ornaments were silver, mahogany, or white china displaying patterns of blue.

Next, Sally’s eyes settled on a huge, imposing fireplace. What a spectacular affair it was. The biggest and most ornate she had ever seen. It stood much taller than herself! Its chunky, grey-stoned surround and ample mantelpiece broke up the sameness of the dark mahogany wall panelling flawlessly.

Finally, she drew her eyes to the room’s back wall, opposite the double doors, where right in its middle an enormous solitary window, criss-crossed in lead, beckoned. She walked as if in a dream slowly towards it. There she gazed out onto a vast square lawn neatly mown to a standard Mr Green would have been proud of. Dotted around on the slightly frosted crispy blades of grass of the lawn she saw some deep-rooted rusty croquet hoops protruding frozen and lonely in the ruddiness of the setting winter sun … a sun that filled the drawing room with subtle shades of pink and violet.

“Over here, ladies and gentlemen!” said Sylvester. He was quite awake now.

“It’s a fireplace,” said Phillip.

“Ah yes, it is, young sir,” enthused the old butler, rubbing his hands together with glee. “But it is not just any old fireplace, is it?”

Sally whispered to Tim, “What’s happened to old Sleepy Sylvester? He’s turned into Sparkling Sylvester.” And she put her hand to her mouth and giggled. Tim looked as if he thought Sally had said a very clever thing. He seemed suitably impressed and patted her on the back.

“What’s that you say, young lady?” asked Sylvester.

“Er … it’s a big, big fireplace,” said Sally, thinking that was what Sparkling Sylvester wanted her to say.

“Ah yes, young lady. But it is a very special fireplace!” said Sylvester, his eyes twinkling like rubies in the reflected rose-coloured shafts of light slicing through the drawing-room window.

Suddenly, the lights in the drawing room, so subtly placed that Sally hardly noticed them, flickered on.

“Aha! Let there be light. Automatic, you see. They are set to come on just before it gets really dark.”

“Shouldn’t you close the curtains?” asked Sally.

“Have you not yet been informed that Patience is a virtue, young lady? Watch!” replied Sylvester, pointing to the side of the window.

Suddenly, a thick blue velvet curtain drew itself luxuriously across the window from left to right until it had completely covered it. It seemed now that all the blue colours found on the chair materials, tablecloths, ornaments, carpets, and the marbled cloud-patterned floor were but one. Even the blues on the paintings seemed to join in the fun. Without question, MacTavish had suitably named the Blue Drawing Room!

“Sometimes the curtain gets stuck. But not tonight,” enthused Sylvester. “Yes, yes, much better than having to draw the curtain by hand! Technology is a wonderful zing—I mean thing.” Not only was Sylvester awake, but he seemed to be enjoying “new-fangled” technology. He had become a paradox of his usual self, the opposite of himself.

“But what about the fireplace Sparkli—er … Sylvester?” rejoined Tim. Sally knew that Tim nearly said “Sparkling Sylvester” and she giggled once again.

“Eh? What? Ah yes, young man. The fireplace. Let us see if it can help us to find my secret passage! It is nice and bright in here now, which should help.

“Look at the left-hand carvings on the fireplace’s stone surround,” Sylvester pointed a long bony finger at some carved depictions.

The children could see an eagle carved out of the stone at the top under the mantelpiece, then under that a lion, under that a rose, under that a shark, and finally, right near the fireplace floor a human face staring back at them. Eagle, lion, rose, shark, face.

“Now look at the right-hand carvings on the stone surround,” instructed Sylvester.

The carvings were the same, only the order from top to bottom was reversed, so that from the top they went downwards: face, shark, rose, lion, and eagle.

“They’re upside down,” shouted Sally. “You know they are.”

“Ah yes, young lady. Of course they are—unless it’s the other carvings that are—and that, my not so little friend, is obvious. But ladies and gentlemen,” Sylvester waved his hands theatrically, “these carvings, if understood correctly, allow an entrance to the secret passage!”

“How?” asked Phillip, his voice tinged with excitement and curiosity.

“Well, young man,” began Sylvester, kneeling beside Phillip and pointing his long thin finger towards the mantelpiece, “look closely at the edge of the mantelpiece? Do you see it has writing on it?”

All the children looked closely …

“Oh yes,” said Phillip.

“So?” said Tim.

“Well, read it then?” instructed Sylvester.

But the children could only read parts of the writing on it, and Tim, who was an excellent reader for his age, was left scratching his head.

“It says,” said Sylvester, “running from left to right: 1868 – secgan me – 1868 – correct ordre – 1868 – sceawian me – 1868. It is written in Old English. It translates to: 1868 – say to me – 1868 – correct order – 1868 – show to me – 1868.”

“But some words are normal English?” queried Phillip.

“Well, ‘me’ has not changed in all these centuries, and ‘correct’ stems from Latin and has not changed since the Roman Times, even before Old English,” explained Sylvester.

“Now, note that the 1868 was the year the Blue Drawing Room was completed,” continued Sylvester, “which you might recall me telling you earlier. So the message has obviously been left by the original builders and probably carved out of the stone by none other than the architect Hugh Rupert MacTavish himself! He was very talented, not just as an architect but as a sculptor too. As you can see, the words ‘say to me’ are above the carvings on the left-hand side, and the words ‘show to me’ are above the carvings on the right-hand side over there.”

“And the words ‘correct order’ are right in the middle of the mantelpiece over where the fire goes … even though there’s no coal or anything in it at the moment,” added Tim.

“Ah yes, young man. You are quite right, but those words do not really matter,” said Sylvester.

“Why are they there, then?” asked Sally innocently.

“They just are, I suppose. At any rate, I see no reason for them. Now, never mind the middle words—think about the others!” chirped Sylvester. “Can you see a connection between the words and carvings beneath them?”

The children remained silent—the words “say to me” and “show to me” did not seem connected to the carvings beneath them.

Sylvester stood rubbing his hands together, his eyes twinkling like a pair of twin stars. He waited a good minute …

“Let me help you find the secret passage then,” he said finally. “Young lady,” he said, bending down to Sally, “what do you say things with?”

“Um … is it with my voice?” answered Sally, looking hopeful.

“Nearly,” said Sylvester kindly. “But where does the voice come out of?”

“My mouth?” said Sally uncertainly.

“Yes! Well done, young lady. Excellent work! Your mouth! Correct!” complimented Sylvester.

Then Sylvester turned to Phillip. “And young man, what carving under the words ‘say to me’ has a mouth?”

“Er, let me see? All of them except the rose,” answered Phillip confidently. “The Eagle, lion, shark, and face all have a mouth.”

“Hmm?” mused Sylvester. “Yes, that is right. But which one has a mouth that can say things to you that you can understand?”

“Oh, easy. The face!” said Phillip triumphantly.

“So maybe the mouth on the face is a clue to finding the secret passage!” enthused Sylvester.

“Young man,” said Sylvester, turning to Tim, “see if there is anything interesting about the mouth on that face carving at the foot of the fireplace?”

Tim stepped over the wood divider of the stone hearth of the fireplace. He knelt down on the hearth to inspect the mouth on the carving of the face. He noticed that the lips were projecting out as if they were a button, so naturally he pushed them into the face.

There followed a loud click from somewhere behind the fireplace! But that was all.

“Well done, young man! You have successfully half-opened the secret passage. That click, I believe, prepares for another carving to open a way to the secret passage.” And Sylvester was looking pleased with the children and himself.

“Is the other carving the face at the top of the fireplace surround on the other side? Do we just press the mouth to open the secret passage?” suggested Tim.

“Not quite—but very close. The mouth does not move on the right-hand side carving. But the words ‘show to me’ mean that you need to take the words from the mouth on the face on the left and show them to the face on the right.”

Suddenly, Sally started jumping up and down. “I’ve got it, Sparkling—I mean, Sleepy—Oops, I mean, Sylvester! You know I have!” shrieked Sally excitedly.

“Have you really?” asked Tim, managing to smile at her Sparkling-Sleepy outburst.

“I have. You know I have,” said Sally and she hopped over the wood divider of the hearth and jumped up at the carving of the face on the left-hand side of the fireplace. She jumped up and down like a flea dancing on a hot tin roof. “I can’t reach it, Sylvester!” she puffed excitedly. “You know I can’t!” she added exasperatingly.

“Do not fear, young lady. You shall have your chance of glory. I shall fetch over a chair.

Phillip beat Sylvester to it and produced a chair for Sally to stand on and allow her comfortably to reach the carving of the face.

“Now, there’s a gentleman if ever I saw one,” praised Sylvester. “If only more young men were as courteous in schools today,” remarked Sylvester. And when Sylvester said this, both Sally and Tim looked astonished, but didn’t say anything. Sally wished Miss Morgan had heard what Sylvester had just said.

Sally climbed up onto the chair and pressed the left ear of the face, and nothing happened. Sylvester remained silently smiling. Sally then pressed the right ear and—

There was a loud click behind the fireplace, much the same as the click they heard moments ago. Immediately, they heard a noise that sounded like a heavy ball rolling. The rolling noise stopped suddenly and a split second later, a loud thud like a huge mallet pounding a post thumped from the hearth, almost knocking Sally off her chair. Tim quickly steadied Sally. Finally, a sliding sound whispered from left to right across the fireplace followed by another much louder click coming from the mahogany wall panelling to the right of the fireplace. And a slight creak of wood could be heard. And then all went silent.

“Cor!” exclaimed Tim.

Sylvester lifted Sally carefully off the chair and then moved the chair out of the way.

“That wooden panelling has opened up, hasn’t it, Sylvester?” remarked Phillip. “We all heard it squeak.”

“Ah yes, young man. The mahogany panel to the right of the fireplace is a door leading into the secret passage. The secret hidden in the words on the mantelpiece instructed us to ask the face on the left to whisper the secret into the ear of the face on the right. Ingenious man that Hugh Rupert MacTavish! Now I wonder where he hid the secret to the Royal Way!” And on the words “Royal Way” Sylvester shook his fists and grimaced. “If only I could find it!”

“Don’t worry, Sylvester,” began Sally. “You will one day. You know you will.”

Sylvester smiled at Sally and patted her tenderly on the shoulder.

Then he pushed open the door-sized panel, which required a fair effort, as it was very thick and heavy. It was dark inside, and the children looked in as far as the light from the drawing room allowed them to. They could see the beginnings of a stone-hewn passage …

 

2

EXPLORING SYLVESTER’S SECRET PASSAGE

“IT’S A BIT DARK, Sylvester. I don’t want to go inside the wall, Sylvester. You know I don’t,” said Sally anxiously. Her face was a tapestry of fear. Phillip looked afraid too. Tim just looked more closely inside the passage, seeing if he could see any farther into it, but it was pitch black.

“Do not concern yourselves, ladies and gentlemen. Of course, one cannot walk in total darkness, unless one is a blind person with a stick, in which case it makes no difference,” stated Sylvester.

“Or if you are a bat, Sylvester, it makes no difference,” began Tim. “They use sonar. Nice word, ain’t it? Sonar. Miss Morgan explained it to me last year. You see, a bat’s screams can bounce off the sides of the passage, and this tells the bat how far away from the walls it is. You can be as blind as a bat, Sylvester, but not hear like one.”

“Ah yes, young man. Sonar is a nice word, isn’t it?” he said, correcting Tim’s English once again. “You are a very clever young man to think of that. Excellent! Well done! You are all very clever and, what is more, courteous children. Bravo to your parents!” exclaimed Sylvester.

“Me and my brother have only got one parent that’s alive,” said Sally, looking up at Sylvester like a lost puppy.

“And I haven’t got any that’s alive,” said Phillip sheepishly.

But Sylvester understood all about such things and simply said, “Ah yes, but they are still your parents—they played their glorious part in making you the decent children you are. Bravo to your parents!” This made the children smile. Then he addressed the previous concern …

“Let there be light!” he said. “For that is all we need. When I first discovered this secret passage, it had wooden torches capped with highly inflammable materials and placed in iron torch holders affixed to the stone walls. They smelt to high heaven when I lit them. A smell not unlike paraffin. Of course, you modern people have probably never smelt paraffin. You’ve probably never even heard of it. There were also stacks of these torches at intervals along the floor.”

“There’s no torch in that torch holder,” said Phillip, pointing up to an empty iron torch holder at the beginning of the passage.

“Torches that old are well past their sell-by-date, and, hence, unreliable. Naturally, I had them all removed. It does not do to smell out Buckingham Palace. Also, it is a fire hazard and against Palace safety regulations.”

“Well, how do we see without the torches, Sylvester?” asked Phillip.

In answer to this question, Sylvester moved energetically to the sideboard tucked away in the corner of the drawing room. “Let there be light!” bellowed his voice trailing in his wake. He played with the drawers of the sideboard and came hurdling back with an armful of large black rubber torches.

“Let there be light!” he said again. “Ladies first, gentlemen. One new powerful torch for you, young lady.” Sylvester handed Sally a torch. “One for you, young man.” Sylvester handed Tim a torch. “And last, but not least, one for you, young man …” Sylvester handed Phillip a torch, “… leaving this one in my hand, for me!”

“What if the batteries run out when we’re in the passage?” asked Tim cautiously.

“I test and recharge the batteries regularly. I will have you know that when it comes to secret passages, technology cannot defeat me that easily. Why, I am a different man when I am applying myself to secret passages,” claimed Sylvester. The children certainly agreed!

“Come on then,” said Sylvester. “Let us do some exploring …!”

In to the passage they all shuffled. Sally was very excited and felt like a famous explorer. The beam of light from her torch was very powerful and filled her with confidence; she didn’t feel frightened anymore. It felt a bit cold, but Sally felt sure some heat was coming up through the stone floor.

“Sylvester? I can feel some heat coming up from the floor,” said Sally.

“Ah yes, young lady. The whole ground floor of the Palace has a certain amount of heat generated from under the floor: a central heating technique dating all the way back to Roman Times. To cut a long story short, there is running hot water beneath the slabs of stone we are walking on.”

Sally could smell something similar to her mother’s old cigarette lighter, which must have been the paraffin Sylvester had mentioned. Otherwise, the passage “smelled of old”, like the Shakespeare books: a fungus-like smell with a touch of pepper! Phillip put it another way: “Phew! It smells like mouldy old mushrooms in a petrol station in here.”

The first part of the passage began by going diagonally from right to left, cutting across the back of the fireplace. The passage gave the impression of one hewn from rock at first glance, but on closer examination, it became apparent it was an arched passage built up with stone bricks. The walls and ceiling were rough and jagged because the passage, in order to remain a secret, was probably built at a very fast rate.

With their torches cutting large intersecting moving cones of light through the air in the passage, making ever-changing shaped ovals of light dance jerkily on the walls, ceiling and floor, the explorers shuffled deep into the passage with great excitement.

It had been quiet for some time until Sally shouted, “Where does it go to?” She was immediately shocked when her voice appeared to roll and echo up the passage and come bouncing all the way back a few seconds later, even louder! All three children instinctively ducked and froze on the spot, trying to hold their torches still.

Sylvester said in a much quieter, soothing voice, “Now then, ladies and gentlemen. Be careful how you say things. Sound behaves in a very peculiar way here, deep inside the secret passage. Shouting is not a good idea if one wants to be understood. We are coming along the back of all the rooms opposite the side your bedrooms are on,” assured Sylvester. “Keep your torches ahead and to the left wall,” he requested.

“Won’t this wall on the left be the other side of the back wall of the huge games room then, Sylvester,” deduced Phillip, playing his beam of torchlight up and down the passage wall on his left. Phillip was good at directions, as his father had been a navigator in the military and taught him an excellent sense of direction.

“Precisely, young man! Excellent work!” praised Sylvester. Sally was amazed Phillip could be so clever—if only Miss Morgan could see him now.

They came to a small stone staircase consisting of just two steps just ahead of them.

“Stop here, please!” whispered Sylvester, just before the two steps.

The children obeyed.

“Make sure you talk in a low whisper now, as we do not want anyone to hear us. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” whispered the children.

“Good. Now, point your torches to the floor and look at the passage wall on the right, above the top of those two steps just in front of us,” instructed Sylvester.

The children complied.

“Can you see it?” whispered Sylvester.

“Do you mean that small dot of light?” whispered Phillip.

“Yes,” confirmed Sylvester.

“Oh, I see it,” whispered Tim.

“Me too,” whispered Sally.

“Good,” whispered Sylvester. “If you look to the left, you’ll see it is caused by a small rod of light coming from a hole on the left wall and projecting on to the right wall.”

“So it is!” whispered Phillip.

“The two steps ahead of us simply go up, then down. I don’t know why MacTavish built a staircase with two steps in the middle of a passageway—but he did.”

“Well, maybe there’s a reason,” said Sally.

“There doesn’t seem to be any legitimate reason that I can fathom, young lady.”

“But that doesn’t mean there isn’t one, though. You know it doesn’t.”

“Ah well, I agree that’s true; however, I think we had better get a move on. We shall walk up and down the steps in single file. When you get on the top step, see if you can find the hole in the left wall and spy through it. Do you understand?” whispered Sylvester.

“Yes,” whispered the children.

“As Phillip magnificently said, the huge games room is behind this left-hand wall; so you should be able to spy into it. Off you go then … one at a time.”

 

3

FURTHER EXPLORATION

TIM WENT FIRST. He stepped up the two steps and bobbed his head up and down, then settled into a slightly bent down position. He suddenly put his hand to his mouth in an effort to stop himself laughing. Sally wondered what he found so funny. Then he turned and walked forwards down the two steps.

Phillip went next. He hardly had to bend down at all, being slightly shorter than Tim. He found the hole almost immediately. Again, like Tim, Sally saw Phillip quickly put his hand to his mouth in an effort to stop himself laughing. Then he turned and clambered swiftly down the two steps to join Tim.

Sally was next, as she didn’t want to be left on her own at the rear of the passage. She walked eagerly up the two steps, wondering what Tim and Phillip had seen that was so funny. She shone her torch down on the floor to steady herself, then searched for the spying hole. She took much longer than Phillip to find the hole because she bent down like she saw him do. But as she was shorter than Phillip by three inches and did not need to bend down. The hole was at exactly the right height for her. Eventually, she found the hole by tracing the pencil-thin beam of light hitting the wall behind her. Finally, she peeped into the hole … and what a sight she saw!

The plush, hazel-coloured, wall-to-wall carpeted games room was littered with toys. Amongst them stood a huge white rocking horse, an inflatable bouncy castle, and a huge complicated climbing frame. But there were also two people playing in the room. They were chasing each other around the room, trying to whack each other with pillows as if it was the last thing they’d ever get to do. They were laughing and screaming at the top of their voices. Yes—they were having a good old-fashioned pillow fight. One minute, one might chase and hit the other, the next, it would be the other way around.

Sally watched fascinated as they chased each other on to the inflatable bouncy castle and swung at each other as they jumped up and down. Then she saw one charge over and mount the rocking horse and the other charge over and try desperately to knock her off with her pillow. Then she watched them chasing each other all over the climbing frame. It was incredible. And Sally couldn’t help but giggle because one was her Mum, and the other was Miss Morgan!

“Come on, young lady, budge over,” demanded Sylvester, prodding Sally to move on. “My turn. Fair’s fair.”

Sally turned away from the spy hole reluctantly and carefully descended the two stone steps to join Tim and Phillip. She looked back, pointing her torch, and saw Sylvester spying through the hole. He only smiled briefly, then moved down the two steps to join her and the two boys.

Sally wondered if there was some sort of magic in the Palace that made everyone act so strangely? Perhaps the longer you stayed here, the more likely you were to become weird. Sally thought that hopefully, her mother would not end up like the chestnut-brown dressed gatekeeper, the soldiers, the “budgerigar” man, Black Rod, the blond ponytailed fairytale butlers, or even Sylvester. Sally liked Sylvester a lot—but she still thought him strange, especially when he started calling his mother “Mummy” on his mobile phone, having fallen asleep standing up in a clothes cupboard! Sally thought back to the Queen’s visit in the summer term—even she was a bit weird! Yes, the more Sally thought about it, the more she concluded that it must be the Palace that makes people turn a touch mad yet with a heart of gold. People just don’t act in such ways! And she knew it wasn’t a dream—that these people are real … yet they are not! To be, or not to be: that is the question, she thought.

“So, I see, ladies and gentlemen, that you found watching those two adults playing most humorous,” said Sylvester. “Well, at least now you know why we adults laugh at some of the things you do yourselves. And don’t try to tell me you have never done anything sillier than have a pillow fight.” Sally, for some reason, found herself recalling the time she sang and danced about with her living room rubber plant after spraying herself with water. “Anyway,” said Sylvester, “let us continue along this little passage of life.”

Each room had a peeking hole, including Sylvester’s, which was the last in the passage. There was no one in any of these rooms, so there was not much to see. Although Sally found Sylvester’s room interesting. It was full of beds.

Eventually, about ten paces after the peeking hole that looked into Sylvester’s room, the passage came to an abrupt end, flush against a wall.

“We’ve come to a dead-end,” said Phillip.

“Not quite,” said Sylvester. “But we have come to the end of the passageway. Look closely down there!” Sylvester shone his torchlight at the bottom of the dead-end wall.

“It’s a small door,” said Tim.

“Yes,” said Sylvester. “It opens up into a small cupboard-like space. It is easy to crawl into—even I can do it. Just crawl in there on your hands and feet and you’ll see a lever on the back wall. Pull it down and we’ll all crawl out and into the main Palace corridors.” Sylvester pulled open the small metal door. “Phillip, in you go. Pull down the lever and release us from our little adventure.”

Phillip crawled in and found the metal lever just as Sylvester had described. He pulled down on it with all his strength and a loud crack sounded. The back of the cupboard-like space wall opened outwards, letting in a flood of light.

Out of a stone base upon which rested a huge bust of the Scottish-born architect Hugh Rupert MacTavish (1814 – 1914), popped first Phillip, then Tim, then Sally, and finally, Sylvester. Once Sylvester clicked closed the stone base opening, which forced the inside opening lever back up, there was no way of re-opening it.

And so, Sylvester’s secret passage had been explored.

“Where exactly are we?” asked Tim.

“We must be awfully close to our guest wing,” said Phillip.

“Ah yes,” said Sylvester. “Quite right, Phillip, young man. We are in the main Palace hallways and the guest wing is just around that corner.” Sylvester pointed to the left of the bust where the hallway they were in met another hallway at a T-junction.

“Thanks, Sylvester. That was fun,” said Sally politely.

Tim and Phillip said much the same thing.

“Ah yes, fun. I am glad my services met with your approval,” said Sylvester, beginning to bow.

“Don’t bow too low, Sylvester!” warned Sally, scared he’d become stuck again.

“Oh, it is quite all right, young lady,” said Sylvester bowing very low indeed, “that exploration has warmed me up. Why, I can probably bow so low so that my hair could sweep the floor. Watch!”

Sally watched as Sylvester tried valiantly to bow so low that his hair reached the floor. However, he never quite managed it.

“Help me, please,” pleaded Sylvester. “I’m stuck! I’m afraid I over-estimated my abilities. I simply got carried away with all the fun I was having. The spray! The spray!”

Sally quickly got out the Muscle Relaxant spray can and sprayed Sylvester’s lower back. Tim and Phillip helped her to rub Sylvester’s back and attempted to straighten him up. But it was no good! He wouldn’t budge. If anything, he seemed to bow a little lower, as if he was still determined to sweep the floor with his hair.

“I know,” suggested Tim, “let’s push him sideways on to the floor, then place him with his back on the floor … then straighten him out so he’s lying flat on his back.”

“Yeah,” said Phillip, “and then we’ll put him in a sitting position because we know we can lift him up from there because we’ve done it before.” Phillip then said loudly to Sylvester, “Did you catch all that?” However, Sylvester didn’t answer because he had fallen asleep.

“Looks like Sparkling has become Sleepy again.”

“Once the secret passage was finished with, he must have lost the will to live again,” said Phillip.

The children executed their plan. And in a matter of minutes Sylvester was back on his feet dusting down his clothes.

Sally turned around to face the bust of Hugh Rupert MacTavish, who was cradling some roses and winking back at her. “Thanks, Mr Hugh Rupert MacTavish, for building your secret passage for people so they can have fun.”

Then her emerald green eyes suddenly widened as she noticed something very interesting …!

 

4

THE MYSTERY OF THE ROYAL WAY

“SYLVESTER, LOOK!” exclaimed Sally. “It’s those carvings again … on Mr Hugh Rupert MacTavish’s collars! See, there’s a face and a shark on one collar, and a lion and an eagle on the other. You know there is. Look!”

“Ah yes, young lady. You are correct. I’ve never noticed that before. But the rose is not on his collars. Still, the other carving depictions are. Most interesting, I must say,” said Sylvester.

“But he’s carrying the roses. That counts. You know it does. He’s winking at us. Because he knows that the roses count. You know he does!” said Sally.

“Ah yes, young lady. Let us say the rose is there too, then. He must have a particular fondness for these five depictions: the face, shark, rose, lion, and eagle. An interesting man. Still, he has kept the real secret pathway hidden—the Royal Way. Perhaps it is a hoax, a swindle, a deception, a fraud, a con trick? Or maybe it is just a practical joke, a prank, a wind-up, a shameless scam?”

“Cor! You know lots of words in a row, Sylvester,” remarked an impressed Tim. “One day I’ll be able to talk like you if I keep up my interest in reading and English lessons.”

“Ah yes, young man. Permanently, everlastingly, ineradicably, indelibly so,” said Sylvester, sounding as if he had swallowed a library of dictionaries.

“Wow!” exclaimed Tim, looking suitably impressed.

“Now, come on, ladies and gentlemen, we must take the torches back to the Blue Drawing Room,” said Sylvester.

So off, they all set, back to the Blue Drawing Room. Around the corner, they swept to the guest wing entrance. The heavy oak steel-studded door was open because Sylvester had not re-locked it after Black Rod had left.

Down the hallway of the wing, they trundled. When they got to the huge games room just before the opening to the Blue Drawing Room, they stopped to listen at the door …

It was silent.

Sally was about to walk in when Sylvester reminded them it would be best to get a move on and put the torches away before they turned their attention to any other matters. So, into the Blue Drawing Room, which had been left unlocked by Sylvester, they spilled.

Sylvester asked for all the torches. He retrieved them and brought them back to the sideboard drawer in the far corner of the room.

Meanwhile, Sally went to look at the fireplace again. She looked at the writing on the mantelpiece: “1868 – secgan me – 1868 – correct ordre – 1868 – sceawian me – 1868”.

She couldn’t read most of the words. But she remembered they meant to take the words from the mouth of the face and place them in the ears of the other face. She looked again at the carvings, and as far as she could remember, they looked the same as those sculptured into the collars of the Hugh Rupert MacTavish bust she had recently seen, except they were bigger.

Although she couldn’t read the words properly, she remembered wondering why the words “correct ordre” were written. She still couldn’t believe that MacTavish would write something without a good reason. He was too clever. She wondered why the carving of the rose was not on the collars of the MacTavish bust and why he was cradling real roses, and why he had a cheekier look on his face than Tim ever did! And she especially wondered why he was winking?

Sally had a very strong feeling deep inside that she was on to something very important!

Well, the carvings on the right-hand side of the stone fireplace surround were upside down. But why didn’t the words on the edge of the mantelpiece say anything about things being in reverse order, upside down? The rose carvings were in a way never upside down because they were in the same place: right in the middle of the five carvings in their column, on both sides of the fireplace surround. Sally thought yet again of the rose carving not being on the collars of MacTavish’s bust, yet he was cradling some roses and winking at whoever looked at him. Then, because the rose carvings were at a good height for her, she walked right up to the wooden edging of the fireplace’s hearth to get a better look.

She looked at the rose on the left, then the rose on the right. And she thought to herself, they’re identical and they’re both right in the middle in the column order. Then something clicked into place in her head—they are in the correct order—the “correct ordre”! It was as if two parts of her brain, one thinking of the bust and the other, the fireplace, had suddenly connected together.

She asked herself the question: Are the rose carvings connected to the mantelpiece words, and therefore the secret of the Royal Way? That’s why he was winking, maybe. But, of course, the other words meant that a mouth on one side of the fireplace had to be heard in an ear on the other. She could feel she was close to solving a great mystery, but being close doesn’t solve a thing!

She started to get a headache thinking about all these things. She walked away from the fireplace and sat on a chair at a table as this whole thinking business had suddenly made her feel tired. Now she knew why Sylvester was the way he was!

She could hear Tim talking to Phillip about the day he had accidentally kicked a football into Mr Green’s garden and mortally maimed some of his daffodils. She looked forlornly at Sylvester who had gone into his usual lethargic state having put the torches away; he was sitting in a chair with his head resting on its brow on a tabletop and his arms dangling down loosely by his sides—he must have been asleep.

Sally picked up a modern Venetian styled glass that was in front of her and idly toyed with it. She had no idea of its worth. Designed in the style of a 15th-century Venetian marriage glass, it was made of milk-white glass decorated with royal blue enamelled figures. The glass, created by the Italian glassmaker Ronaldo Casserelli, was less than five years old. As she turned it around in her small hands, it reminded her of something. Then she lifted it up to look at the bottom and she saw the words By Royal Appointment with a crown stamped underneath them. Of course, it was just like the china teacup she had examined when the Queen had visited her house.

She could hear Sylvester snoring now, and Tim and Phillip were talking about Mr Green’s topiary sculptures.

Suddenly, a third part of her brain seemed to connect with the other two parts that had previously been connected!

The china teacup had roses on it! And on one petal, like the rumour of the petals on Mr Green’s special blue roses, she remembered how she had thought it had a face on it! It all made sense now. Everything made sense!

Instantly, like a frog receiving an electric shock, Sally leapt up in the air, almost dropping the Venetian glass (valued, incidentally, at £23,999). She carefully replaced the glass, and then charged over to the hearth of the fireplace to closely examine the rose carving halfway up the left-hand side of the fireplace surround. She hopped like an athletic sparrow over the wooden edging and stood excitedly on the hearth, staring intently at the rose. Suddenly, she gasped in a huge breath of air! Then she bounced over to the rose carving on the right-hand side of the fireplace surround, almost losing her footing in her excitement. She stared intently again … Her eyes widened so much she looked like an emerald-eyed goldfish staring out of its bowl. Then she went ballistic!

There was definitely a face on one of the petals of both rose carvings! Furthermore, the mouth on the left-hand rose and an ear on the right-hand rose were protruding like tiny buttons because the faces were so tiny.

Sally jumped up and down screaming on the hearth like a witch doctor suffering from rabies attempting to win the craziest dance of the year award; and somehow, she seemed to be blending in her traditional Irish dance and royal curtsy, too.

“I’ve done it,” she roared, still jumping. Then between jumps she shouted and punctuated the following words at the top of her voice, “You—know—I—have!” Then she stopped jumping and couldn’t breathe properly and shout at the same time, so she just made illegible shrieks and whoops of delight while occasionally flapping her arms.

Tim and Phillip raced over to see what all the commotion was about.

Sally made such a racket that Sylvester tottered backwards and fell crashing to the carpet. Fortunately, this did nothing more than wake him up properly. Sylvester, whenever he fell, seemed to roll, flounder, and end up in a sitting position. He had developed the skill over the last ten years or so.

Tim and Phillip were stuck now between calming Sally down and helping Sylvester. They divided their loyalties: Tim calmed down Sally and Phillip helped Sylvester up to his feet.

“Sally, calm down and take some deep breaths,” said Tim.

Meanwhile, Phillip helped a struggling, sluggish Sylvester over to the fireplace; it was as if Dr Frankenstein was taking his monster for a walk.

“Oh, Sylvester,” said Sally with cherry-red cheeks, “I’ve solved the secret of the fireplace, of Clue Rubber MadHaggis!” Sally got MacTavish’s name all wrong as usual, because she was so excited. These were the words floating around in her brain at that precise moment.

This had quite an immediate effect on Sylvester, as if some had taken out used batteries from his heart and replaced them with a nuclear power station.

“Ahem. What do you mean, young lady?” demanded Sylvester, full of fire.