Right outside the store and in the bleedingly cold February frost I could see a small crowd of urchins huddling around something or someone. Accompanying the sight were many children's voices shouting and yelling. All this I saw through the half frosted store windows, which I had cleaned of ice curtains not two hours before. Seeing this urchin spectacle made me wonder what or whom the target of all this commotion was. I put down my cleaning tools I was using to prepare a clock that had just come in before it was sent to the back for inspection by Mr. Hubbard. As I entered our square putting on my thick overcoat I noticed more urchins coming in from Fleet Street to watch the activities. It wasn't easy to get to the epicenter of the ongoing urchin turmoil and I had to shove Julian aside before I could see what was going on.

"You are wrong! you are wrong! Shut up! Don't ever say that again about my mom!" came the words and with those words heavy blows to the head of a street kid called Boris. The cause of the assault was Olivia sitting on top of Boris and who kept on badgering the boy relentlessly. Even though the boy could easily fend of the little girl he was too surprised and bewildered to do anything at all. "Jeremy get her off of me!", he yelped, "she's gone insane." It took quite a while to remove the raving Olivia and drag her into the store. Most of this was achieved with promises of hot chocolate and most certainly jail time for Boris. The latter did not stick around to find out if I was serious and  took off, taking most of the urchins with him. Boris is a large stupid kid who thinks he is the head of the East Fleet Street gang. In reality most of the children of that part of the neighborhood use Boris as a source for protection and endless instigation of dangerous activities.

I put Olivia down in a chair in the upstairs kitchen, where Hubbard found us after he hobbled upstairs wondering what all the commotion meant. After having provided the now sobbing girl with the promised hot chocolate and additional chocolate pieces to ensure she kept her hands busy, I felt it safe to ask her what had happened. "My mom, he said my mom was a whore", answered the now quietly sniffling Olivia. Before I could even begin to think of an appropriate answer Hubbard came a bit closer, "Olivia dear, where did he come up with such a ridiculous story. I knew your mom during the last week of her life and she was definitely not a prostitute." "What made Boris say that?", I asked wondering if there was perhaps more to this story, "tell us what happened".

"We were playin 'stick the tail on Richard's horse', you know his horse has no tail and we play the game where you have to stick one on him without Richards knowing. Boris had just tried and was almost kicked two streets down when Peter, that's the horse, felt it. It was my turn next and the other kids started teasing to get me distracted. They always do that and I do that too when we're playing. Boris started talking about me mom, saying that his dad found out she was a whore. I said that ain't true cos me mom was royalty you see, she was a good woman. Boris then started shouting that I couldn't be cos me mom was a whore. She was you know, she was royalty."

Olivia had brightened up considerably telling Hubbard and me. She was now sitting upright and wide-eyed with a chocolate in her left hand and the rest on her face. "Olivia dear, where do you get such an idea that your mom was royalty. You know Boris, that only invites him to make more fun of you", I said. Not a good thing to say, her face clouded over and there was another outburst coming soon. "No no dear, Jeremy wasn't serious, of course we know your mother was related to Queen Victoria", Hubbard said. This at least seemed to avoid the looming rage clearly still boiling somewhere within the little girl. We left Olivia in our kitchen for a moment where she continued to focus on the chocolates. "Sir, you don't think Olivia is right do you?", no of course not but under the circumstances we better let her believe. When she is older we can always explain things. For now it is important at least that she knows and believes her mother is not a prostitute", said Hubbard. My old mentor turned back to the kitchen and took a chair and sat directly opposite her.

"Olivia, I knew your mother when she was pregnant with you. She was a respectable woman and the husband of a good man. Your father was a stable boy who worked in the royal stables. You know all of this, the Vandermeers who took you in and cared for you since must have told you about your mother and father", said Hubbard. Olivia silently nodded. "Your mother sometimes worked here in for the shops in the square. She cleaned the shops and worked hard yes, but she was not a prostitute.", continued Hubbard. This made Olivia brighten up considerable. Enough so that the old man ventured some questions: "Now Olivia, who told you your mother was royalty?" "Me dad", came the answer. "What did he say, what did he tell you?", I asked, now getting a bit curious. "Me dad once told me he worked in the stables cos he was the bastard son of the Prince", said Olivia with very earnest eyes. "You mean he was the son of Prince Albert?", asked Hubbard. "Yes, dad died you know, horse trampled him", she added. "Yes dear we know, he was a good man he was", nodded Hubbard.

Neither one of us knew what to say, the little girl was probably told a good lot of bedtime stories, but telling her now that one of them was not true would change the way she saw her parents. Besides she must have been very young and it would be hard to believe she remembered anything at all about her father. "What happened to her mother", I asked Hubbard. "Tuberculosis got her. She died two years ago when Olivia was 5", he said. "Jeremy, why don't go to the Vandermeers and tell them what happened. I will stay here and entertain the little one. Maybe she likes some of my Chinese puzzles." Hubbard was convinced everybody was utterly intrigued by the wooden constructions that could only be taken apart and put together again in one particular way. Leaving Olivia in the hands of my mentor I left the store and made my way over to the fish shop of the Vandermeers. "Jeremy, good to see you, come in come in", said Mrs. Vandermeer when the door was not even completely open. Originally from the Netherlands, the couple had been in the United Kingdom some 35 years now but still stuck to some Dutch traditions. One who enters their abode is immediately shown into the living room where he or she is presented with black coffee and a plate filled with biscuits. It is very important to accept the offer and take one biscuit but one biscuit only. One should leave the rest of the wares alone. Don't ask me why, this is the way it works, they are Calvinists over there.

Mr. Vandermeer was busy in the store adjacent to their house, facing Fleet Street. I gave a brief overview of what had happened and told Mrs. Vandermeer that Olivia was well and being entertained by Hubbard. I left out the part where Olivia claimed to have royal blood however. "Poor girl, what a nasty thing to say. That Boris will end up no good I tell you", said Mrs. Vandermeer, "and Hubbard is right, her mother was no prostitute". "Do you know anything about the father?", I asked. "He died not long before the mother. Worked as a stable hand he did at the palace no less. One day he was taking one of the horses to where they keep the carriages. The horse must have been scared by something. It got away and trampled him", replied Mrs. Vandermeer. "How did he get that position?", I asked. "Not sure, he worked as a cabbie before. That was before I knew him." We chatted about the cold weather a bit and I tried to squeeze in a question or two here and there about the father's background but did not get more information out of the woman. I said my goodbyes to Mrs. Vandermeer and walked home with a newspaper containing a large piece of cod as a thanks for taking care of Olivia.

The fish I left in the kitchen and found Hubbard in his library, reading up on the history of the royal family. "There you are Jeremy", said my old mentor without lookup up from his book. "I put Olivia in your bed for now, she fell asleep after the overdose of chocolate. Helen should be in shortly, she will take care of the little girl. Have a seat Jeremy", said Hubbard. With the fireplace burning merrily and a mug of hot chocolate I managed to get from what was left after Olivia's attack, I made myself comfortable in the chair opposite the watchmaker. "She may be telling the truth Jeremy", came the low voice of Hubbard. He took out a piece of paper, which he put on the table in front of me. "That fell out of her dress when I put her on your bed. She must carry it with her because it has her name on it and looks pretty" I picked up the paper and turned it over. It had the unmistakable seal of the royal family printed on it. "What is it?", I asked. "It is the birth certificate of Olivia Elizabeth Cairstairs", replied Hubbard. There might be something in her story after all.