Remarkable creatures by tracy chevalier 79

theworkshop.I’dratherworkonthecrocthanlistentothem,withtheirplanto
takeJoeoffthebeach.Ihadworktodo.
With head and body together again, the monster was almost eighteen feet
long.Gettingitoutofthecliffhadbeenanordealthattookthreedays,theDays
andmeworkingflatoutwheneverthetideletus.Thewholethingwastoobigto
layonthetable,sowe’dspreadthecrocoutalongthefloor.Inthedimlightit
wasajumbleofstonybones.I’dalreadyspentamonthcleaningit,butIstillhad
some way to go to release it from the rock. My eyes were inflamed with
squintingatitsomuchandrubbingdustintothem.
AtthetimeIwastooyoungtounderstandJoe’schoice,butlateronIcome
toseethathehaddecidedhewantedanordinarylife.Hedidn’twanttobetalked
aboutthewayIwas,sneeredatforwearingoddclothesandspendingsomuch
timealoneuponbeach withjustrocksforcompany. He wantedwhatothersin
Lyme had—security and the chance to be respectable—and he jumped at an
apprenticeship. There was nothing I could do about it. If I were offered the
chancelikeJoe—ifagirlcouldbeapprenticedtoatrade—wouldIhavechosen
thesameandbecomeatailororabutcherorabaker?
No.Curieswereinmybones.Forallthemiserythatcometomylifefrom
being upon those beaches, I wouldn’t have abandoned curies for a needle or a
knifeoranoven.
“Mary.” Miss Philpot was standing over me. I didn’t answer; I was still
angry at her for siding with Joe. Picking up a blade, I begun to scrape at a
verteberry.Itwereoneofalongline,stackedoneagainsttheotherlikearowof
tinysaucers.
“Josephhasmadeasensiblechoice,”shesaid.“Itwillbebetterforyouand
your mother. That doesn’t mean you can’t continue to look for creatures. You
don’t need Joseph to help you find them, do you, now that you know what
you’relookingfor?Youcandothatyourself,andthenhiretheDaystoextract
them, just as we did with this one. I can help you with that until you are old
enough to manage the men yourself. I offered to help your mother with the
businesssideaswell,butshesaysshewilldoitherself.Andshewasrathergood

with Lord Henley.” Miss Philpot kneeled by the croc and ran a hand over its
ribs, which were all flattened out and crisscrossed like a willow basket. “How
beautifulthisis,”shemurmured,hertonesofterandlesssensiblethanbefore.“I
amstillamazedatitssize,anditsstrangeness.”
I agreed with her. The croc made me feel funny. While working on it I’d
begungoingtoChapelmoreregularly,forthereweretimessittingaloneinthe
workshopwithitthatIgotthathollowed-outfeelingoftheworldholdingthings
Ididn’tunderstand,andIneededcomfort.