Alice followed carrying the tea tray, with cups and saucers and all the usual implements. She arranged the cups and saucers on the table, and Mrs. Poole poured out a cup of tea for each of them.
“Mrs. Poole, would you please sit down for a moment?” said Mary. “You too, Alice, and take my tea, won’t you? I’ll get myself another cup in a moment. I need to ask you both a question.”
Mrs. Poole sat down in an empty armchair. Alice took Mary’s teacup with visible reluctance, as though it were one of Beatrice’s poisons.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, do sit, Alice, or you’ll spill your tea,” said Mrs. Poole. “I can see that we’re going to be thoroughly modern in this house. What Mrs. Jekyll would think of it, I don’t know. She had such strict notions of order and propriety. Well, at least you’re all here safe and sound for one night.”
Alice sat down on the carpet by Mrs. Poole’s chair and drank her tea in small sips.
“That’s what I want to ask you about,” said Mary. “What if all of us were to live here together? I’ve asked Diana, Beatrice, Catherine, and Justine to stay. And I’d like to ask Alice as well. But Mrs. Poole, this is as much your home as mine. You’ve lived in it longer than I have. What do you say?”
Mrs. Poole looked at them all appraisingly and shook her head. “You girls will be a lot of trouble, no doubt. Especially that one.” She nodded at Diana, who had just taken two sandwiches at once. “But I think you belong here, together. All I ask is that you let me know what you’re doing, so I don’t worry that you’ve been kidnapped or murdered!”
“And we’ll help with the housework, Mrs. Poole,” said Beatrice. “And do have some cake. I’m sure it’s delicious.”
“How would you know?” said Diana. “You don’t even eat.”
“Well, I’ll believe that about the housework when I see it. But I don’t mind if I have a slice. Getting that oven to make cake was a triumph of mind over metal. It just goes to show that even at my time of life, you can learn new tricks!” Mrs. Poole cut herself a generous slice of cake.
“And Alice?” said Mary. “Will you stay? Not just until you find a new situation, but for as long as you wish.”
Alice nodded. “Aye, miss. So long as I don’t have to go on adventures. Or, you know, die.”
Mary smiled. “Our first adventure, I think, will be finding a way to support ourselves. We’re going to run out of money quickly if we don’t find work of some sort.”
Beatrice drank the last of her sludge. “Thank you, Mrs. Poole. That was very refreshing. As I was saying before Mary came down, we should find work that suits our various talents and capacities. If you allow me, I will grow medicinal herbs. The laboratory, with its skylight, is a perfect environment for them. I noticed what a limited pharmacopeia the Royal Hospital has. Even the Royal College of Surgeons lacks some of the medicines my father was able to develop from his plants. I believe if we all gave it some thought, we could find ways to earn our keep, to pay for this house and our living expenses.”
MARY: And so we have. Beatrice’s medicines sell consistently, and your books bring in royalties, Catherine. Justine’s paintings are increasingly popular. The one of the girl with the lilacs is going to pay the water rates.
DIANA: Lilac Time. What an absolutely rotten name.
JUSTINE: But people like it. They like to see things that are happy. And I am good at flowers. . . .
CATHERINE: Leave Justine alone. She can paint whatever she wants, and she brings in more money than you, anyhow.
DIANA: Once I’m a famous actress, I’ll bring in more than the lot of you. You’ll see!
MARY: Well, for now you’re just in the variety show, so don’t get too high and mighty. And I’m not sure you should be in that! It’s barely respectable, and you really should be in school.
DIANA: Respectable my arse! And as for school . . .
CATHERINE: Here I interrupt my narrative, and Diana’s subsequent diatribe, to inform my readers that my first two novels, The Mysteries of Astarte and The Adventures of Rick Chambers, are available for sale in bookstores and train stations for only a shilling. The third novel in the series, Rick Chambers and Astarte, will be appearing for the Christmas season, followed by Rick Chambers on Venus, unless the publisher calls it Rick Chambers and the Caverns of Doom, or something else entirely. I’m currently working on the fifth novel, and it would go much more quickly if this monster of a narrative didn’t take up so much of my time!
MARY: I don’t think your readers want an advertisement in the middle of the story.
CATHERINE: My readers appreciate hearing about my forthcoming publications, thank you very much.
That was the first meeting of the Athena Club. Oh, we didn’t call it that, not then. Not until several months later, when Justine suggested the name. Readers who remember their classical mythology will immediately realize its significance: Athena, born from the head of her father, Zeus. We do not claim the wisdom of Athena, but we identify with her dubious parentage.
But that night was when the club started, really. With all of us sitting in the parlor having tea, telling Mrs. Poole what had happened the night before, to her shocked horror. Discussing what we were going to do, how we were going to investigate the Alchemical Society. The next day, we would continue to talk about practicalities: how we were going to support ourselves and live together without Beatrice poisoning us all, or Mrs. Poole strangling Diana. But that was the moment when we knew, when it became real.
Now, when you approach the front door of 11 Park Terrace, you will see a brass plaque directly over the bell pull: THE ATHENA CLUB. That is what we are, a very exclusive club. For monsters.
MARY: Except we’re not monsters.
DIANA: Says you.
The next day was Sunday, so we all went to church except Catherine, who said religion was a fraud and a sham—we were all idiots for believing that God the Father lived up in the sky, and would bless us if we were good, punish us if were bad. Like Moreau in his compound.
“Why do I have to go if Catherine doesn’t?” said Diana.
“Because you’re still a child, and you need to be raised properly,” said Mrs. Poole, who was helping us with our gloves and hats. Mary had somehow found enough gloves and hats for everyone.
“But I’m fourteen, and she’s only ten,” said Diana. “I mean, from the time she became a human being.”
“You have to count in cat years,” said Catherine. “As a puma, I was already on my own and ready to mate.”