***
The cobbled street in Comfortable Place trembled under the hooves and iron rimmed wheels of the busy traffic of an ordinary morning. A cart laden with crates and furniture rocked slightly outside the doorway of number 9. Men in brown shirts, dark heavy trousers and tall shiny hats transferred the contents into the house through the large black front door. Street children stroked and patted the nose-bagged horse as he waited patiently at the front of the cart, adjusting his footing occasionally on the uneven cobbles.
The air hung laden with fumes of coal fires and smoke. In all directions terracotta, stone and iron pipes poured an endless stream of expanding gases into the overloaded sky. There it rested above the rooftops, a grey and amber patchwork quilt. Across the river the whistle of the 10.52am Express from Bath Spa Station to Bristol Temple Meads pierced the rattle and bustle of the Square. The two-tone shrill announcing the addition of more smoke and steam to the ever-thickening smog.
Mr Beer ushered his family into their new home at No.9. Mrs Beer strode gracefully from her carriage and through the black brass knockered door, the brass gleaming brightly as it swung open, a maid accompanied by two young children following behind.
Inside the Regency building the gas lamps hissed gently. The high ceilings adorned with fine mouldings of plaster fruit and flowers, leaves and vines. The Grandfather clock ticked and the crystal sparkled in the chandelier.
The children could hardly contain their excitement, sniggering and giggling constantly.
Standing to attention in the entrance hall, the household staff awaited their first formal address.
Mr Beer entered the house greeted by, Sturge the Butler.
“Welcome Sir, Madame; Master Edward and Mistress Emma.”
Emma scanned the room "it's all so wonderful" she thought, not noticing her name being mentioned. She clutched Poppy, her precious porcelain doll with delight.
She looked around, staring at the colours in the chandelier illuminated by gas lamp and at a small coloured window above the front door. As she stared at the window she felt a warm rather strange tingle in her hands. Her toys felt unusual as if they were holding her hands.
The Grandfather clock struck twelve times. Sturge looked at the clock, it was only 11.00am.
“I will have the clock looked at sir, perhaps it needs regulating?” he proposed.
Emma felt strange, the room seemed different, the crystal in the chandelier tinkled rythmically. The gaslights whispered a strange language and the clock ticked in time with them. The bear cub moved; or did it?
“Emma”, whispered Poppy the porceline doll.
“Emma you’re squeezing too hard”
“Sorry Poppy. Is that better?” Emma replied while loosening her grip.
The bear cub wriggled again.
“Is that you wriggling?” Emma continued while looking down at the bear cub.
The cub sniffed and wriggled again.
Emma looked up, everyone was looking at her.
“Children upstairs please”, declared the Maid, “No running ".
In the nursery, Edward, Emma's younger brother, sat on the end of his bed peering out of the window while Emma laid out her things neatly in a line on her bedside table.
“It’s nice here”, Emma told herself, “Yes very nice I think”.
Through the window and across the river the trains shunted up and down the sidings, so many trucks in lines that seemed to stretch for miles.
”Gosh, look at all those trucks Emma”, exclaimed Edward but Emma wasn’t listening.
