Service had ended for the day.
Nocturna Head Chef Cedric Wintervale
Announced to his Brigade
As he washed his hands.
Agnes Brindle and Percival ‘Pip’ Rook
Had almost finished washing
The last of the plates and cutlery.
“Good job my boy.”
Agnes warmly smiled at Pip
Then placed a wet hand on his shoulder.
“Now, you’re needed at front of house,
So apron and cap off
And go see your uncle Gideon.”
Pip smiled,
It was rare that his uncle
Ever asked to see him.
“Did he say what it was about?”
“Not my place to ask lad,
So get moving and find out.”
Pip dried his hands,
Removed his cap and apron,
And smoothed his white hair over
In an attempt
To make himself presentable,
Then made his way
Out into the club rooms.
“Everything ok at your station Agnes?”
An approaching Cedric Wintervale
Announced quietly.
“Yes chef, he’s a good lad,
a hard worker, his uncle has sent for him.”
“Oh, Mr Rook is finally
taking an interest in his nephew.”
“I guess so, but I do wonder why.”
“Not much gets the eyes of our Mr Rook.
Hopefully it isn’t anything kitchen related.”
Pip heard none of this.
He was already halfway
Across the club,
Wondering what on earth
His uncle wanted with him.
He found Gideon Rook
Standing beside the old service staircase,
His hands clasped neatly behind his back.
Gideon was never a man
Who appeared hurried.
Even when everyone else was.
“Percival.”
Pip stopped.
He always did.
His uncle never called him Pip.
Not once.
“Uncle Gideon.”
“Come along, Percival.”
“Where are we going?”
Gideon glanced at him.
“Somewhere you have never been.”
This immediately worried Pip.
He followed.
Gideon opened a narrow door
Hidden behind a velvet curtain
And descended a short staircase.
Pip stared.
He had worked at Nocturna
For nearly two years.
He had washed plates,
Polished glasses,
Carried crates,
Scrubbed pots
And occasionally been trusted
With polishing the silver.
But he had never seen
What lay behind the walls.
There were corridors.
Little rooms.
Storage cupboards.
A linen room.
A silver room.
A service lift.
A narrow passage that seemed to run
Behind the ballroom itself.
“This,” said Gideon,
“is where the club breathes.”
Pip looked around.
“It’s enormous.”
“It is.”
“Why haven’t I seen any of this?”
“Because you were not required to.”
Gideon continued walking.
“Until now.”
They emerged into a small office.
Behind a desk sat
A sharply dressed Frenchman
With a magnificent moustache.
He looked up.
“Ah.
Monsieur Rook.”
Then his eyes moved
To Pip.
“Ah.
And this must be Percival.”
Pip straightened.
“Yes, sir.”
The man smiled.
“Marcel Carreau.”
“Club manager,”
Gideon added.
“Host, organiser,
keeper of the schedules,
and occasional referee
when the members disagree.”
Marcel sighed.
“They disagree frequently.”
Pip smiled.
“I can imagine.”
Marcel laughed.
“Oh, he has a sense of humour.
That is promising.”
Gideon looked at Marcel.
“You wanted to meet him.”
“I did.”
Marcel rose
And offered his hand.
“Tell me, Percival,
do you enjoy working here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Even the washing up?”
Pip hesitated.
“Most of the time.”
Marcel laughed again.
“Excellent answer.”
He turned to Gideon.
“I like him.”
Gideon nodded.
“He works hard.”
“That is more important.”
Marcel returned to his desk.
“Perhaps next month,
we shall see
whether he can work hard
without breaking anything.”
Pip frowned.
“Breaking anything?”
“Glasses,” said Marcel.
“Members,” said Gideon.
Marcel looked at him.
“Mostly glasses.”
They continued.
The next room was warmer,
and considerably more fragrant.
Shelves of bottles
Covered the walls.
Behind the bar stood
a handsome man
with neatly combed hair,
an immaculate waistcoat,
and the easy smile
of someone who had never
met a stranger he could not charm.
“Edgar,” said Gideon.
The barman looked up.
“Gideon.”
Then he noticed Pip.
“Well, well.”
He leaned over the bar.
“And who might this be?”
“Percival Rook,”
said Gideon.
Edgar’s eyebrows rose.
“Rook?”
Pip nodded.
“My nephew,” Gideon added.
“Ah.”
Edgar smiled.
“Family business, then?”
Pip looked at Gideon.
His uncle’s expression
did not change.
“Something like that.”
Edgar poured a little water
into a glass and slid it towards Pip.
“Here.”
Pip looked at it.
“Thank you.”
“Your first lesson.”
Pip waited.
Edgar smiled.
“Never carry an empty glass
when you can carry a full one.”
Pip laughed.
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Very.”
Edgar winked.
“But profitable.”
Gideon shook his head.
“Don’t teach him your bad habits.”
“Those are the good ones.”
They left Edgar
still smiling behind the bar.
At the end of the corridor
stood a door
that appeared much too small
for the man standing beside it.
Daniel Hargraves.
Pip had seen him before,
of course.
Everyone had.
Daniel was enormous.
Towering.
Broad enough
to make the doorway
look like an architectural mistake.
He folded his arms
and looked down at Pip.
“Mr Rook.”
“Daniel.”
“And this?”
“Percival.”
Daniel nodded.
“Ah.”
Pip waited.
Daniel continued staring.
Eventually Pip said,
“Hello.”
Daniel smiled.
“Good.”
Gideon looked amused.
“Daniel speaks more
than you might expect.”
“I am speaking now.”
Pip smiled.
“I noticed.”
Daniel’s smile widened.
“You’ll do.”
He opened the door.
“Don’t be late.”
“Late for what?”
Daniel looked at Gideon.
Then at Pip.
“For finding out.”
The door closed.
Pip stared at it.
“What does that mean?”
Gideon simply continued walking.
“Your first lesson, Percival,
is that Daniel Hargraves
rarely explains himself.”
They returned
to the main corridor.
Pip thought the tour was over.
It wasn’t.
Gideon stopped.
“Marcel would like you
to assist during the next club night.”
Pip blinked.
“Me?”
“As an apprentice attendant.”
Pip looked astonished.
“But I wash dishes.”
“You do.”
“I’m not an attendant.”
“Not yet.”
Gideon straightened his cuffs.
“You will have a trial.”
“When?”
“Next month.”
Pip swallowed.
“Uncle Gideon…”
“Yes?”
“What if I fail?”
Gideon looked at him.
“Then you wash dishes.”
Pip smiled.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you wash fewer.”
A month passed quickly.
On the evening of his trial,
Pip stood in the staff room
wearing a freshly pressed
white shirt,
black waistcoat,
black trousers,
and polished shoes.
His hair had been carefully brushed.
His hands were trembling.
Marcel Carreau inspected him.
“Shoulders back.”
Pip straightened.
“Chin up.”
Pip raised his chin.
“Stop looking terrified.”
Pip tried.
He looked more terrified.
Marcel sighed.
“Never mind.”
Gideon stood nearby.
“Remember, Percival,
observe first.”
“Yes, Uncle.”
“Listen carefully.”
“Yes.”
“And never interrupt
a member who is speaking.”
Pip nodded.
“What if I don’t understand
what they’re saying?”
Gideon paused.
“Then you will already
be better prepared
than most of them.”
Marcel laughed.
“Very good.”
The doors opened.
Nocturna came alive.
Pip had seen the club
during quiet afternoons.
He had never seen it like this.
Laughter.
Music.
Perfume.
Smoke.
Candlelight.
The clink of crystal.
Voices rising and falling together.
The members arrived
like characters from dreams
Pip had never realised were real.
His first table
was occupied by
Silas and Iris Pembroke.
Pip approached carefully.
“Good evening, sir.
Madam.”
Silas looked up.
“Tea.”
Pip nodded.
“Of course, sir.”
“And for my sister,
the same.”
Pip looked at Iris.
“The same?”
She smiled.
“Tea will do.”
“Yes, madam.”
He turned.
Took three steps.
Stopped.
Returned.
“I’m sorry.
How much sugar?”
Silas stared at him.
“Two.”
Iris smiled.
“One.”
Pip nodded.
“Of course.”
He left.
Silas looked at his sister.
“He’ll learn.”
Iris nodded.
“I think he will.”
Next came Denham Carter-Smythe.
Pip approached with a tray.
“Good evening, sir.
Can I offer you…”
Denham interrupted.
“Do you know
what they called
the first mechanical clock
to arrive in Florence?”
Pip blinked.
“No, sir.”
“Neither do I.”
Denham smiled.
“Excellent.”
Pip stood there.
Denham looked at him.
Pip looked at Denham.
Finally Denham said,
“Tea.”
“Yes, sir.”
Pip hurried away.
Frau Olga Knochen
watched him go.
“He is very young.”
Denham nodded.
“Most people are.”
Olga sighed.
Later,
Pip encountered
Captain Abercrombie Marlowe
and Walter Crookshank.
The captain had one hand
wrapped around a glass
and the other waving
dramatically through the air.
“And I tell you,
the sea was entirely black.”
Pip approached.
“Excuse me, sir.
Would you like another…”
“The sea,”
the captain continued,
“was black as coal.”
Pip waited.
Walter looked at him.
“Gin.”
“Of course.”
“Two.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And a lemonade.”
Pip looked at Walter.
“Lemonade?”
Walter nodded.
“I’m driving.”
Pip stared.
Nobody had mentioned
a vehicle.
He wrote it down anyway.
Then came Seamus Draker.
He was accompanied,
as usual,
by Bella Dolce.
Pip approached
with a small silver tray.
Seamus looked up.
His eyes widened.
“Ah,
young master Rook.”
Pip froze.
“I’m sorry?”
Seamus smiled.
“Young master Rook.”
He leaned closer.
“Come here.”
Pip cautiously approached.
Seamus turned
towards Dante Ververs,
who was sitting beside him
with his black teacup and saucer.
“Dante,
this is Gideon’s boy.”
Dante studied Pip.
“Is it?”
Pip nodded.
“I’m Percival.”
“Percival,”
Dante repeated.
“A splendid name.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you believe
the moon is hollow?”
Pip hesitated.
“No, sir.”
Seamus nodded approvingly.
“Good.”
Dante frowned.
“Why?”
“Because,” said Seamus,
“if the moon were hollow,
the owls would have
somewhere to live.”
Dante considered this.
“An excellent point.”
Pip stared at them.
Bella Dolce stared at Pip.
Pip decided
not to ask questions.
“Would either of you
like anything?”
Seamus smiled.
“Yes.”
“What would you like?”
Seamus looked at Dante.
Dante looked at Seamus.
Then both men answered
at precisely the same time.
“Nothing.”
Pip nodded.
“Very good.”
He walked away.
Behind him,
Seamus whispered,
“He’ll do nicely.”
Dante sipped his tea.
“I believe so.”
Then the music changed.
Pip heard applause.
He turned.
The stage lights had softened.
Two women appeared.
The Pike Twins.
Minerva Pike
took her violin.
Beside her,
Euphemia Pike
settled herself gracefully
with her cello.
Pip stopped.
He had heard of them.
Everyone had.
But hearing about someone
was nothing
like seeing them.
The music began.
Pip stood at the edge
of the room,
completely transfixed.
Minerva’s violin
seemed to dance
above the room.
Euphemia’s cello
answered from below,
deep and warm,
like a voice
coming from somewhere
beneath the floorboards.
Pip forgot
he was holding a tray.
Forgot the glasses.
Forgot the members.
Forgot everything.
Then Euphemia looked towards him.
Their eyes met.
She smiled.
And winked.
Pip nearly dropped
the entire tray.
He caught it.
Just.
His face became
brighter red
than the velvet curtains.
Euphemia smiled again
and returned to her music.
Pip stood there,
star struck.
A voice behind him
whispered,
“Close your mouth, lad.”
He did.
Immediately.
Gideon Rook
was standing behind him.
“Sorry, Uncle.”
“Carry on.”
Pip looked towards
the stage once more.
Then back to work.
He worked harder
than he had ever worked.
He carried trays.
Cleared glasses.
Answered questions.
Fetched tea.
Found coats.
Delivered messages.
He learned which members
wanted conversation,
which wanted silence,
which wanted both
and could never decide.
He learned that Edgar Brillows
could pour six drinks
while flirting with seven people.
He learned that
Marcel Carreau
could appear
in three places at once.
He learned that
Daniel Hargraves
could stop an argument
merely by looking at it.
And he learned
that Nocturna
was entirely different
once the doors opened.
It wasn’t simply a club.
It was a living thing.
And everyone working within it
was part of keeping it alive.
By the time
the final member departed,
Pip’s feet ached.
His arms ached.
His back ached.
His smile ached.
But he was smiling.
The club was quiet again.
Marcel Carreau sat behind his desk.
Gideon Rook stood beside the window.
And Pip stood before them.
Marcel folded his hands.
“Well, Percival.”
Pip waited.
“How do you think you performed?”
Pip thought carefully.
“I dropped nothing.”
Gideon nodded.
“An excellent beginning.”
“I was late with one tea.”
Marcel raised an eyebrow.
“Only one?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you are already improving.”
Pip smiled.
Marcel looked towards Gideon.
Gideon said nothing.
Marcel looked back at Pip.
“You work hard.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You listen.”
Pip nodded.
“You observe.”
Another nod.
“And, importantly,
the members seem
to like you.”
Pip wasn’t sure whether this was good.
Marcel smiled.
“I would like to offer you
an opportunity for advancement.”
Pip’s eyes widened.
“Sir?”
“You have spent enough time
washing dishes.”
Pip glanced at Gideon.
His uncle remained silent.
Marcel continued.
“I would like you
to begin serving them.”
Pip stood straighter.
“As an apprentice attendant.”
He looked at Gideon.
Marcel followed his gaze.
Then looked back at Pip.
“Under your uncle’s tutelage.”
Pip smiled.
“I’d like that.”
Gideon finally spoke.
“Then it is settled.”
Pip looked between them.
Something about the moment
felt important.
He did not know why.
He did not know
that the quiet man
who had spent years
carrying trays through
the club’s corridors
was more than an attendant.
He did not know that Gideon Rook
was the secret owner
of Nocturna.
And Gideon intended
to keep it that way.
For now.
“Goodnight, Percival.”
“Goodnight, Uncle.”
Pip turned and walked away.
Marcel waited
until the door closed.
Then looked at Gideon.
“He’ll make a fine attendant.”
Gideon smiled.
“I think so.”
“And perhaps,
one day…”
Marcel stopped.
Gideon looked at him.
“Not yet.”
Marcel nodded.
“Not yet.”
Beyond the office,
somewhere in the sleeping club,
a glass was quietly placed
upon a shelf.
The lights dimmed.
The last candle flickered.
And Percival ‘Pip’ Rook
began his first night
as an apprentice attendant
of Nocturna.
