Your notebook
You have written nothing down. In your defence, you’ve only just arrived.
Numbers
Nothing yet.
Things that don’t add up
Nothing yet.
The stairs are all frames. Every one of them looks familiar, and every one of them is looking straight at you. Only one of them is on duty.
The first
The house was smaller. The small one was smaller. Everything was smaller, and I was newly varnished.
One horn short
You want to ask about the horn. Everyone wants to ask about the horn. Nobody has ever asked about the ninety years.
The silvered one
Tarnish. Yes. Thank you. Extraordinary that you’d lead with that.
Gone blue
I’m blue. If I were green I would die.
The plain collar
No. That was the answer. You may go.
The bishop
Guardianship is not a hobby. It is a sacrament. One small thing, kept safe, in perpetuity — and yes, I am still gold, thank you.
The admiral
Watch rotation. Four bells. Somebody always has eyes on the small one — that was my system and they’re still running it downstairs on a bit of laminate.
She told you. Of course she told you. Nine minutes, between watches. He came back on his own.
The huntsman
I’d have had him out across that lawn twice a day. Can’t, though — I’m a painting, and a painting has no legs.
The ones downstairs have legs. A dust bunny. A sock goblin. A spider. Not one of them could stop him if he decided to go up.
The dowager
I have outlived four of them and I have never once been asked a question I wanted to answer. Try the scholar. He enjoys this.
The whiskered gentleman
Did I ever tell you about the one with the wings? Marvellous creature. Set fire to my varnish. Twice. Splendid animal.
The scholar
There is one guardian on duty. One. The rest of us are retired and hang here.
He’s told you he’s a different painting in each room, hasn’t he. He isn’t. He’s one painting with a great deal of front.
The cameo brooch
There’s a curl of something in this brooch. I couldn’t tell you which of them it came from any more. I’ve had it a long time.
Sixty-two pleats
Sixty-two pleats. Hand-painted. The child asks me to count them aloud and I do it every single time.
The bride
Forty years, no incidents. Ask the admiral what his record is.
The child
He talks to me properly. Not down at me — properly. We’re the same size, you see. That’s the whole trick of it.
The heir
When he finally cracks, I’m next. I have been ready for two hundred years. I have prepared remarks.
How did you—
Fine. FINE. Up you go.
A height chart on the wall. A great many marks, all very low, all quite recent. Whoever they are measuring is not growing much.
?
Mordaunt?
…
Click to let the wall be a wall.
Notebook
!
Shut it