Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night by James Runcie Page A

think there’s a difference between a divorcee and a widow.’
    ‘Of course. But there are advantages. They have seen it all before. They have probably learned all the danger signals in a marriage and can head things off before everything falls apart. You can benefit from their experience and learn from them.’
    ‘I suppose that’s true.’
    ‘Sometimes, Sidney, you just have to act hopefully and get on with it.’
     
    Jerome Benson’s home was a veritable cabinet of curiosities. The walls of the front room were decorated with traditional examples of the taxidermist’s art and concentrated entirely on fish: a pair of perch, three or four pikes, a thick-lipped mullet, a brown trout, a carp, a roach and a flounder. The inner room was stranger, featuring picturesque narrative attempts (a fox with pheasant prey, two sword-fighting stoats) and what could only be described as the macabre: a two-headed lamb, a mummified cat, an armadillo holding a soap dish and a model of the human eye.
    Dickens began to panic at the sight of a sheepdog’s head mounted on a wooden shield and a terrier contained in an oval glass dome. He cowered when Benson moved closer. It was the first time that Sidney had seen his dog so frightened by another human being.
    ‘I imagine that you have come about the owl,’ Benson began, ‘although I thought I cleared the matter up at the time. I can assure you the police are overcome with pressing matters in town and can’t be bothered to drive out two miles to Grantchester to check on a bird of prey.’
    ‘I don’t think that’s the case.’
    ‘I really don’t see why I have to justify my actions, least of all to you. I have a detailed logbook for every specimen and a licence for my taxidermy. I only pick up animals that are already deceased. Of course, friends collect from abroad, and I do deal in Victoriana. I worked for a short while at Cooper and Sons. You may have heard of them?’
    Sidney dimly remembered a childhood visit to Walter Potter’s museum in Cornwall with its bizarre anthropomorphised images of squirrels playing cards, a kittens’ wedding party and rats rescuing each other from a trap.
    ‘I am not familiar with the practice of taxidermy. Do you specialise in certain types of animal?’ Sidney asked.
    ‘Birds,’ Benson answered. ‘Since you ask.’
    ‘Any particular reason?’
    ‘They die so well . . .’
    ‘I was not aware.’
    ‘They lie on their backs with their heads to one side, making a heart shape. I try to make their beauty last for ever.’
    Sidney thought of the photographer Daniel Morden and his desire to create an eternal moment.
    ‘Some of these animals will become extinct, Canon Chambers. That’s the purpose of my craft. The crested sheldrake was last seen in 1916; the Layson honeyeater in 1923; the Cuban red macaw in 1864. Thanks to taxidermy we know what they were like.’
    ‘And the tawny owl?’
    ‘I did not kill that owl, Canon Chambers. It was dying and I was waiting.’
    ‘Then why were you carrying a gun?’
    ‘The law does permit licensed gun owners to shoot any predators or vermin. I also carry it for my own protection. People distrust my wanderings. I have been threatened.’
    ‘On what basis?’
    ‘People seem to think I am not looking at wildlife but at them.’
    ‘You mean, courting couples?’
    ‘As I say, I have been threatened. Now I often have to leave my binoculars at home. It arouses less suspicion.’
    ‘But you still wander out at dusk?’
    ‘It is the best time to find many of the things I am looking for and I do have work to do. I also like my liberty.
    Sidney noticed that beside a taxidermy brochure and a price list lying on the table was a copy of the graphically illustrated Sultry magazine. No dead birds in that, he thought ruefully.
    ‘How well did you know Daniel Morden?’ he asked.
    ‘He took the photographs for my brochure. Made it look very professional, I’ll say that for him.’
    ‘Is he a friend?’
    ‘I