The Zoological Society had newly erected a building in the Zoological Gardens, and it was said that the structure was the first of its kind in the entire world.
Those who reached this building were astounded to discover that the ocean kingdom along the country’s southern coast, could be brought right here, in the middle of London, for their enjoyment.
“Ah, you’ve come to visit the aquatic vivarium,” said a well-to-do lady whom Maurice had approached for directions.
He’d not returned to London for almost five years. He’d arrived last week to attend a magical theatre piece where Madeleine featured as lead for the first time. Having a little spare time, he’d read about the new attraction at Regent Park and wandered off to this green oasis in the middle of London.
Maurice was surprised. The aquatic vivarium. Is that what it was called these days?
“Yes, where might I find it?” he asked.
The lady gave him instructions on how to reach the new building before enthusing, “It’s exceptional. You’ll love it. Are you fond of sea creatures?”
“I am,” replied Maurice.
He had strolled through the park, lost in thought, feeling the anticipation rise within him, until he finally reached the new glass and iron building.
He was surprised to discover a tug at his heart as he entered. Then a rush of emotions overcame him. The time had come to finally reunite with an old friend. A friend he had known for only a week.
A smile drew itself on his lips as he discovered the interior of this ‘Fish House’. Laid out on each side of the building, were Power cages. There were thirteen of them in total and each measured about six feet in length. Maurice drew near, his throat tight with emotion.
They were now called ponds or vivariums, and each of them were set in glass, with a sandy bottom littered with shells where seaweed grew in abundance and marine life thrived. The thirteen glass arrangements offered an exceptional show of colours and natural beauty that captivated visitors.
Maurice lingered near one of these ponds. Upon his face, was mirrored the wonder of children who peered intensely at the glass surface, enthralled by the rare glimpse into the treasures of the sea.
Behind him, Maurice could hear murmurs among the crowd.
“Never seen so many people,” observed a gentleman.
“It’s busier than last year,” agreed a lady.
“They didn’t have this last year, it only opened this month,” replied another.
“Yes, it is unique in the entire world,” assured the first man.
Maurice eavesdropped happily, taking in the whispers around him, feeling strangely at peace, almost invisible among the crowd. About him, children ran, calling out to each other, excitedly pointing at the different ponds to attract attention to each new sighting. Here a star fish, there a Crustacea, over there an odd-looking fish and look – there, a shell-fish, just behind that sea anemone – and oh, that name upon everyone’s lips: the aquatic vivarium. What a marvel!
After a long visit, Maurice had to resign himself: Ovee was not present.
He knew what animal to look for. But it seemed the Zoological Society had not judged it proper, as far as he could tell, to feature this creature in its aquatic vivarium.
Maurice had known the name of the creature for five years now. However, it wasn’t until he’d left Alexandra Hall and returned to his hometown in Normandy that it had struck him. It came to him in the form of a memory, words upon a page, Latin words buried among a scientific passage which he’d overlooked while searching through a book in Aaron Nightingale’s study; a book by a certain, Cuvier.
Aaron had been fond of initials. After all it was his own and Calista’s which graced the front doors of Alexandra Hall. He had also devised a means of naming his experimental subjects by employing the initials of their animal name.
The origin of the name, Ovee, had to be a set of initials. Aaron had written, Ovee where he could have easily scribed the letters, O and V.
The creature Cuvier had described in his volume was the same as the one Aristotle had observed centuries ago. It lived a mere year, perhaps a little longer.
“Excuse me, sir,” said Maurice to a tall attendant in charge of supervising the crowds.
“How may I help you, sir?” asked the gentleman.
“If you permit me asking, would I, by any chance, be likely to find the octopus vulgaris in the aquatic vivarium, today?”
The man smiled with indulgence and shook his head.
“Not today, I’m afraid. It might be some time until the vivarium comes to house such a creature. But visit again, perhaps next year, and you might be lucky.”
Maurice thanked him.
He left the building shortly after. He remembered a time, a long time ago, when he had been afraid of Ovee’s touch.
He thought of the night when this octopus vulgaris had held fast to his arms as he slept. How he’d awoken with red welts. He remembered the fear he’d felt as he discovered he was bruised from its tight embrace.
Why had it saved me?
He’d asked himself this question for years.
What secrets had it read within me?
Had it sensed we were alike?
Spring filled Regent Park with its blooms and Maurice stared in wonder at the gentle colours.
Like him, Ovee had been a vulnerable child once. It had learnt what it was like to be fed and housed by one’s torturer and to have no means to escape. It had known the soul-breaking dilemma of holding on to a home that was both a source of survival and pain. For while Calista gave Ovee her endless magical love and bonded with it like no one could, there
