Читать книгу The Ice Monster - David Walliams, Quentin Blake, Tony Ross - Страница 22
Оглавление“Shush!” came the voice behind her. “Don’t give yourself away.”
Elsie knew that voice. It was the only adult voice she ever remembered speaking to her in a tone of kindness.
Dotty’s.
Elsie turned round and whispered, “Thank goodness it’s you.”
“Everyone, but everyone, is looking for you, young miss.”
“I know. I’m not supposed to be here.”
“You don’t say!” replied the cleaning lady. “Truth be told, I’m not supposed to be here either. A humble cleaner isn’t allowed to be in the same room as Her Queen the Majesty.”
“Her Majesty the Queen?”
Dotty looked at the girl as if she were bonkers. “That’s what I said. But I couldn’t resist being here. I love our Queen.” Dotty gazed down proudly at the lady. “Ooh, that reminds me. I must buy a stamp.”
Two stories below, the Queen was looking up at the frozen creature.
“Well, well, well. So this is the famous ‘Ice Monster’?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the director. “It is a huge feat of engineering for the museum to keep the animal’s body conserved like this. That pipe you can see hanging down from the ceiling blows cold air into the tank through that hatch to keep the ice it is packed in frozen.”
“It’s a bit small for a monster.”
Lankester was once again blindsided by the lady.
“Well, I, er, um,” he spluttered. “I can only apologise, Your Majesty, but this mammoth is probably only a year or so old. It’s a child, really.”
The Queen looked lost in thought for a moment. “Have you got any bigger ones?”
Lankester looked desperately around at the faces of the assembled great and good for help, but none came.
“Er, um, no. I am afraid not, ma’am. Finding any prehistoric creature, let alone one in such perfect condition, is extremely rare. This is the find of the century.”
“Mmm. My dear departed husband, Prince Albert, would have liked it. Such a shame he isn’t here with me to see this. Albert loved animals. I am more of an opera fan myself, aren’t I, Munshi?”
Her elegant companion smiled weakly. “You have a unique singing voice, Your Majesty.”
His wry answer made the old lady chuckle.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
The chuckle turned into a cough.
“Huh, huh, huh.”
A concerned Abdul steadied her.
“Thank you, Munshi. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Nor me without you, Your Majesty.”
The unlikely pair shared a smile, then the Queen looked back up at the mammoth.
“Does it do anything?” she enquired.
“I am so sorry, Your Majesty, what do you mean?” replied Lankester. Sweat was now pouring off his brow.
“Like a trick?” she asked with girlish excitement.
The museum’s director paused before he spoke, gathering his thoughts. “Sadly not, Your Majesty. This creature has been dead for ten thousand years. So, as dead goes, I would say you can’t get much deader. It’s as dead as dead can be.”
“Oh. That is a shame. I suppose it is rather pretty, if you like that sort of thing. Which I do.”
Lankester shuffled awkwardly. “Do you have any other questions, Your Majesty?”
The Queen thought for a moment. “When are we having the tea and cake? I was dragged halfway across London to come here. These days I don’t like to leave the palace too much. At my age, it all becomes a bit of a bother. But my eyes lit up at the promise of tea and cake, you see, and I haven’t seen so much as a scone.”
“I meant any questions about the mammoth, Your Majesty.”
“The what?”
“This creature here.”
“No,” replied the Queen with her customary bluntness.
“Shame it’s dead already,” came a deep voice from the shadows of the hall. “Or I would shoot it.”
All heads turned to see who had so rudely interrupted Her Majesty the Queen.
