‘Aye lass,’ he continued. ‘I’ve a message for you.’ She looked blank as Thomas Triton charged into Arthur and Piccadilly’s bedroom.
The city mouse was trying to get Twit to stay in bed. He had heated him some milk and honey but the fieldmouse would not rest. When Thomas barged in Twit grinned in spite of himself.
‘How do!’ he said.
‘Ahoy there matey,’ Thomas said sternly. ‘What you doin’ lyin’ in yer bunk on a day like this?’ The midshipmouse winked a startled Piccadilly into silence. ‘Get up lad, there’s folk to see!’
‘But he’s only just gone to bed,’ exclaimed Audrey.
Without turning round to look at her, Thomas said, ‘You, miss, had better make yourself presentable. What has happened to your hair?’
‘I . . . I didn’t put my ribbon in,’ stammered Audrey.
‘Then chop chop lass. Go do whatever you do to make a good impression. Someone wants to see you.’
‘Who’s that then Thomas?’ asked Twit, curiosity banishing the weary lines around his eyes.
The midshipmouse feigned astonishment. ‘Why, the Starwife, lad – didn’t I say?’
Twit’s eyes shone with excitement. ‘What? Her that lives in Greenwich under those funny buildings I saw when the bats flew me over?’
‘Aye matey. First thing this morning, when it was still dark, I had a message from herself delivered by one of her younger jumpy squirrels – took me a long time to calm him down. They are a watery lot! Well the gist of the story is,’ Thomas now turned to Audrey, ‘that the Starwife wants to see you, Miss Brown, and she won’t be kept waitin’. I’ve come to fetch you, and miladdo here is welcome to join us.’
For a second Twit’s heart leapt, but when he thought of Oswald it sank down deeper and lower than ever. Sadly he shook his head. ‘I can’t come, Thomas. Oswald won’t see the end of the day – my place is here.’
The midshipmouse put his paw on Twit’s shoulder. ‘Lad, I promise you we’ll be back for that time. If Oswald leaves us, I swear you’ll be at his side.’
Twit blinked. He trusted his seafaring friend so much, yet how could he be so certain? Thomas’ eyes bore into him and under their solemn gaze the little fieldmouse felt sure that he was right.
‘I’ll just go an’ have a quick swill,’ Twit said, running out of the bedroom.
Audrey stared at Thomas and began to say something when a stem command from him sent her dashing off to find her ribbon.
Thomas Triton sighed and smiled at Piccadilly. ‘I’ll not keep them away long. The easiest bit’s been done – I’ve got them to go. Your job’s not as simple. Pray to the Green Mouse that the Chitter lad hangs on till we return!’