By Joan Aiken
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Who do you're thinking that you're? I ain’t your blue-eyed babby – I’m Lord Bakerloo! ’ ‘Oh no, you ain’t, my bubsy! You can’t idiot somebody as has dandled you on her knee one thousand instances. Why, I’d understand that scar in your chin at any place – that used to be the place your pa dropped you within the fender – Eustace used to be continuously clumsy-handed – not to mention you’re as like him while he was once younger as peas in a pod. And there’s the mole in your neck and the bump in your nostril – You’re my very own little Justin that I haven’t noticeable because you was once years outdated. ’ ‘I’m no longer, I let you know! I’m Lord Bakerloo! ’ ‘Dearie, you can’t be,’ she stated flippantly. ‘He’s Lord Bakerloo – him over there at the bunk – or the Dook o’ Battersea if his uncle ain’t residing but. How do i do know? simply because o’ the Battersea Tuft – i discovered it at the again of his head, undeniable as simple, whilst i used to be bandaging that nasty nice lower he’s received. ’ Battersea Tuft? What did the girl suggest? was once she mad! Simon positioned his hand as much as his bandaged head in perplexity, and winced as he touched a young spot. What tuft? ‘You needs to be dicked within the nob,’ Justin continued. ‘Who are you, besides? ’ ‘Who am I, my important? Why, I’m your personal ma, Dolly Buckle, that’s who i'm, and you’re my worthwhile little Justin Sebastian Buckle! Where’s your pa, then, a majority of these years, what’s he a-doing now? I’ll lay he’s feathered his nest. continually a chilly, crafty schemer was once Eustace Buckle, making plans on subsequent Sunday’s joint ahead of this one used to be quite into the oven. ’ ‘B-B-Buckle? ’ stammered Justin. ‘You’re attempting to inform me he’s my father? Oh, what a bit of stuff! I won’t think it! My father used to be Lord Henry Bayswater. ’ ‘Oh, no, he wasn’t, dearie. And don’t communicate like that of Eustace. a great husband he would possibly not were, yet a cautious father he was once. It used to be because of that that I felt loose to move off with Nat darkish (ah, and a snake-in-the-grass he became out to be, dumping me in this island simply because he acknowledged I talked too much). Oh, no, grasp Henry Bayswater wasn’t your father – who should still understand greater than I, as dandled his lordship on my knee? He had teenagers, grasp Henry did, or so I did pay attention, off in them Hanoverian components, kids, a boy and a woman. You,’ she acknowledged to Simon, ‘you needs to be the boy, my beneficial lordship. What’s your identify? ’ ‘Simon,’ he instructed her weakly. ‘Simon? O’ direction it'd be – after your pricey ma. Simone, she was once, Simone Rivière, woman Helen Bayswater’s daughter, and personal cousin to her husband. ’ ‘What? You suggest I’m – yet why may still I – Oh, no, it can’t be true,’ acknowledged Simon, sinking again on his pillow. ‘Of path it isn’t actual! ’ exclaimed Justin angrily. Nursie, or Mrs Buckle, gave them a placid smile. ‘You’ll permit I should know,’ she acknowledged. ‘I as is ma to 1 of you, and was once nurserymaid within the fort while t’other one’s pa was once a boy, until eventually the black day I married Eustace Buckle. ’ ‘But I don’t understand,’ Simon acknowledged. ‘If this mix-up occurred – which I nonetheless can’t think – how did it turn up? ’ ‘Why, dearie, it’s simple as undeniable. It’s all alongside o’ that scheming, crafty Buckle. continuously off on a few plot or ploy, he was once, leaving me lonesome with the babby.