(WIP)

Part 1

In retrospect, Rupert could not be sure if it was the brush of something soft and furry against his icy cold cheek or the high-pitched squeal of a girl that made him jerk up suddenly wide awake. In fact, he could not even be sure that the high-pitched squeal came from the little girl crouched in front of him. It might have come from himself.

He lost his balance and keeled over backwards ending up in a rather unflattering position on his back, like a beetle unable to roll over. The face of a boy swam into his vision, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Rupert could feel a pair of strong arms grabbing his shoulers and putting him upright while a melodic voice said: “Hush, Lottie! He’s not dead.”

The girl Lottie came into focus on Rupert’s right side while the boy’s face still occupied his left. Golden ringlets danced around the girl’s face which was framed by a large pair of red earmuffs. A finger covered in a furry glove was pushed forward and poked Rupert’s cheeck.

“Are you sure, Bash? He looks quite departed to me!” She leaned a little closer to the boy and whispered to him conspiratorial: “Like one of those stiff ones in Mr Henderson’s photographs!”

Bash, the boy, chided her with a raised finger: “Lottie, we do not poke strangers we just found on the street. Even if they appear to have gone to meet their Maker.” He gave her a mock stern look and winked at her.

He turned to Rupert and gave him a wide open smile: “Good evening, sir! Are you in need of assistance?”

Rupert felt himself unable to answer. He was only dimly aware of his body that seemed as stiff and frozen as the puddle of muddy water that he had brought him to his knees earlier. His teeth were chattering uncontrollably and his eyes darted between the boy – Bash – and the little girl – Lottie, who both looked at him in a varying degrees of concern and curiosity.

Rupert tried his best to gain some control over his jaw but was afraid it made him look like Mrs Fitzherbert’s pet goldfish in its elaborate glass bowl. Keeping his mouth closed was probably considered rude but appeared to be the preferrable option at present.

Bash cocked his head to one side and gave Rupert a quizzical look.

“You’re cold.” he observed. “Where’s your coat?”

He looked around in search of the missing garment and – upon failing to find it – decided: “Here, take mine!”

Before Rupert or Lottie could protest, Bash had wiggled out of his wool coat and laid it around Rupert’s shoulders, wrapping it tight around his body. The warmth, it still contained from its former occupant, immediately seeped through Rupert’s thin clothes and started to thaw his frozen skin.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Bash smiled benignly down at Rupert and the warmth of it might have sparked a tiny coal fire inside Rupert’s guts, that possibly helped raising his body temperature even more.

“Now, where are my manners? This is my sister Charlotte and my name is Bash”, the boy continued extending his hand to Rupert. “What’s your name?”

The insides of Rupert’s skull still slushed around like the water of the River Thames in winter unwilling to form any coherent thoughts and before he could muster the task, the panicked voice of a woman pierced the night.

“Lottie??? Bash??? Where are you? What is the matter? We heard a scream. Are you alright?”

Rupert’s eyes hesitatingly left Bash’s face to see a man and a woman hurrying towards them across the square. They were middle-aged, some grey strands of hair streaking that man’s short dark hair while the woman’s blonde locks were pulled up in a bun.

Bash turned to them while Lottie continued to ogle Rupert with her large pale eyes like she was observing a particularly fascinating specimen under a microscrope. Maybe a large, particularly irisdescent beetle.

“We are fine, mother. Don’t worry! We found this young man here…”

“I found him!” squeaked Lottie.

“… Lottie found this young man here,” Bash continued with a pointed nod towards his sister, “and we think some kind of mishap has befallen him and he might be in need of our assistance.”

The woman laid a protective hand on the girl’s shoulder and gently pulled her away while the man knelt down beside the boy to get a closer look at Rupert who was really starting to feel like one of the exotic animals at Regent’s Park Zoo. Maybe one of those white-faced little monkeys.

“Flora, it’s a child!” the man exclaimed. The indignation of being called a child was enough to finally revive Rupert’s spirits and he surprised himself by stammering: “I’m-m-m-m-m fin-n-n-n-e.”

Bash grinned at him.

“He speaks! Father, could you help me lift him up?” Together they managed to pull Rupert to his feet and keep him upright but the moment their supporting arms were withdrawn, Rupert’s legs started to give way. He swayed and came dangerously close to falling down on the ground again like sack of flour. In an instant, Bash’s arms were around him once more to steady him.

“Gotcha.” Bash said with an encouragingly smile at Rupert.

“My name’s P-p-p-p-parker. Rupert Parker” a voice that Rupert hardly recognized as his own croaked in a belated reply to Bash’s enquiry.

“Nice to meet you, Parker, Rupert Parker.” Bash’s smile widened and the coal fire inside of Rupert ignited like a wildfire.

Part 3