The Ice Monster. Tony Ross

better get out of here.”

      “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll find somewhere else to hide tonight.”

      “If you’re sure?”

      “I’m sure.”

      “Folk will be trickling in soon. Now would be a good time to make a swift exit.”

      “I gotta ask you something.”

      “Yes, dearie?”

      “Why have you been so kind to me?” asked Elsie.

      “Why not?” came the simple answer.

      The pair shared a smile before the girl shuffled off down the long corridor.

      “Take care, little one,” called out the cleaning lady after her. “And please come back and see me very soon.”

      “I will,” replied Elsie.

      And she did.

      

      Every morning, Elsie checked the newspapers for more news of the Ice Monster. Weeks passed until one day she heard the cloth-capped sellers shouting from their stands…

      The girl’s heart pounded with excitement.

      Up in the Arctic, the mammoth and the huge slab of ice in which it had been found had been packed into a wooden crate full of snow and loaded on to a whaling ship. It was then transported thousands of miles from the Arctic all the way down to the mouth of the Thames.

      From there it travelled upriver towards London and its ultimate destination, the Natural History Museum. The whaling ship was escorted along the Thames by a formation of gleaming new boats of the British naval fleet, which broke up the ice to allow it safe passage.

      The Ice Monster was being given a huge welcome as if it were a visiting king or queen. Thousands of Londoners lined the banks all along the river to catch a glimpse of the creature, and to be part of this momentous occasion.

      Being little, Elsie was able to crawl under the grown-ups’ legs to scramble right to the front. There she could see the whaling ship, and the huge coffin-like crate into which the animal was packed.

      When the ships had passed, Elsie raced across London towards the museum. Living on the streets, the girl knew every nook and cranny of the city. She dashed along back streets, across gardens, down tunnels, over rooftops and even jumped on to the back of horse-drawn cabs to get there before the monster.

      A line of policemen with linked arms formed a wall round the museum as Londoners surged forward to see the wooden box trundle by on a carriage pulled by fifty mighty horses.

      “HURRAH!” cheered the crowds.

      But one lone voice was shouting something different. It was an old man with a long beard, wearing a big sandwich board over his shoulders. The words “THE END IS NIGH” were emblazoned across it. He held aloft a copy of the Bible, and cried, “This is the Devil’s work. The prophecy has come true. The beast has come! The end is nigh!”

      Elsie tugged on his coat. “It’s not a beast, sir – it’s a woolly mammoth.”

      The old man gave her a whack on the head with his Bible.

      “Wicked child!”

      Elsie pushed past him, helping herself to a lump of mouldy cheese from his pocket as she did so. The girl had just reached the gates of the museum when she was shoved back by a policeman.

      “Get back, you revolting urchin!” he bawled, and he shunted her aside.

      “Ouch!” she cried as she tumbled on to her back.

      “We don’t want your sort here. Now clear off!”

      As the lowest of the low, Elsie was used to being turned away, but, being strong in spirit, she was not going to take no for an answer. So she scrambled her way up the back of a gentleman’s coat, and trod on his top hat.

      SQUISH!

      Before he had a chance to cry out, she leaped off his top hat and on to the branch of a nearby tree.

      TWANG!

      With her monkey feet, Elsie shimmied up the tree with ease, and stood on the highest branch. From there, she watched as a hundred men rolled the crate off the back of the carriage. With thick ropes, they heaved it up the stone steps.

      The huge wooden front doors of the museum had been taken off their hinges. The crowd fell silent as the men began pushing the crate through the doorway. Would it fit in without taking the front of the Natural History Museum with it?

      A cheer went up as the crate just squeezed through.

      “HURRAH!”

      Soon mutterings passed around the crowd that a very important visitor would be coming to the museum today to witness the unveiling.

      “She’s coming here?”

      “Who?”

      “You know!”

      “Oh, my Lord!”

      “Not her?”

      “Yes, her!”

      “She ain’t been seen in ages.”

      “She’s so old now.”

      “This must really be something.”

      “I should have bought a new hat!”

      Sure enough, barely an hour had passed before the streets echoed with the sound of trumpets.

      All heads turned to see a golden carriage trundling along the road. Ahead of the carriage, liveried soldiers on horseback blew trumpets to herald the arrival of the very important person seated in it.

      

      This was a day that would go down in history, so it was only fitting that the most powerful person in the world should be there. was not just the Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, but the monarch of a vast empire that spanned the globe. She had even adopted the title of “Empress of India”, despite the fact that she’d never actually been there.

      These were different days.

      As the crowd realised that they were in the presence of their queen, a woman who’d reigned over them for more than sixty years, they erupted in wild cheers, throwing their hats into the air.