The Secret of London Tower

Chapter Two: Back to the Chinese Man

Chapter Two: Back to the Chinese Man

That was the beginning. That was how she met him, and he met her, and the story of London Tower began. They, of course, needed to meet each other. Mimi’s mind still didn’t trust him—she wouldn’t for a very long time, and then another long time after that.

I found that the wire dragon looked very nice hanging in the window of my room. I decided to go out and get some more, as a whole collection of them would be nicer. Hopefully the old man would still be there.

He was, talking to someone. Today it was cold again, and I was frustrated with it. There was no snow, and plain bitter cold wasn’t nice without something, even if it was sleet. As the two people seemed preoccupied, I went to the Café of the Flying Turtles. The food was a little stale, the drinks a little watery, but it was good enough. I ordered a hot cocoa, and found it considerably better than the one from two days before.

I sat down at a table with a sea turtle painted on it. I looked out the window. I traced the sea turtle’s back. I sipped, and sipped, and watched the outflow and inflow of customers from eccentric to business-like to puffy and pink elderly. The person and the man were still talking. A child; a boy. I supposed other people took interest in the wire figures that were hanging on two strings. He’d made more. Many more. Not just animals—other things too. I couldn’t see from here. I sipped slowly, because it was hot, and finally finished, and they still weren’t done talking, but I’d had enough.

“Hullo,” I said little old man.

“Hello. How are you?”

“You!” the boy jumped. “What’re you doing here?”

I looked in surprise. It was the same boy as yesterday. Oh, there was definitely something very fishy about this. Besides the fact that it could, of course, have been a coincidence. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t.

“I’d ask the same question to you,” I replied. Then turning to the man, I said, “I’ve come to get more figures.”

“Very nice, very nice,” he said.

I pretended to be choosing the three figures I wanted, when I heard him say, “I think I’ll get one too, sir. To take home to my mother, you know? She’d like it.”

The boy stood next to me. He looked at the figures, and asked me, “You’re not taking the dolphin, are you?”

Actually, I was, but instead I said, “No. You take it.”

“Okay.”

Instead I chose the cat, bird, and fox. They were beautiful, but boring compared to the dragon, which I so admired. I paid the man, thanked him, and made my way off somewhere. I didn’t know exactly. Somewhere down the street. Maybe I’d come off and find a way to the interesting area, where they had dinky little shops that sold all sorts of things. I loved them.

“Wait!” the boy said, running up to me. “I don’t know your name.”

“Yes.”

“Well then, what is it?”

I sighed, my feet tingling whenever I’m in a strange situation or when I think of something gory. “Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged. “Your last name, then. Mine’s Siegfried Aldwinkle. See, there.”

I snorted, which is what I do when I want to laugh and hold it back. It only made me sound manly, though. “Mimi.”

“Interesting. Isn’t that a first name?”

“It is my first name,” I said. 

“Oh.” Pause. “Where are you going?” Siegfried asked.