The Witches of Chiswick

46

“Did you see that?” asked Queen Victoria. “Over there, in the Whitechapel area, above the rooftops? A big bright flash followed by a tiny pop?”

“Probably just fireworks, ma’am.” A courtier bowed his head low. “And if your Majesty would be so inclined as to wave her handkerchief over balcony, the Centennial fireworks display will begin.”

“Indeed.” Her Majesty fluttered her hankie.

“Gawd bless you, ma’am,” said the courtier.

And down upon the palace lawns, a pyrotechnician lit the blue touch paper and the firework display began.

It was a marvellous firework display and it was greatly enjoyed by the crowds that filled the Mall and waved their Union flags before the Palace gates.

“A new century,” said a lady in a straw hat as a ragamuffin called Winston deftly relieved her of her purse. “Who knows what wonders it will bring.”

“Electrical lighting,” said The Man in the Street, as Winston’s brother, Elvis, deftly relieved him of his clockwork pocket watch. “And something called the internal combustion engine, which I am told will supersede horse-drawn transportation.”

“Electrical lighting?” The lady in the straw hat laughed. “That’s just a music-hall trick. And nothing will ever supersede the horse. You’ll be telling me next that man will be able to fly.” Winston’s other brother, Kylie, deftly relieved the lady of her false teeth.

“Fly?” said The Man in the Street. “I wouldn’t go that far. And I think you’re right about the horses. But it’s my opinion that by the year of nineteen twenty, every street and thoroughfare of this country will be nose to tail with horse-drawn vehicles and London will be thirty-five feet deep in horse manure.”

“Now that makes sense,” said the lady, although she lisped somewhat as she said it, due to the lack of her teeth. “That would be an accurate prediction for the future.”

And fireworks blossomed in the twentieth-century sky.

And Queen Victoria went inside and had a cup of tea.