by Georgia Byng
“Ahem!” Axel coughed loudly so that everyone turned toward him. “And now, ladles and gentle-spoons, boils and stirls, listen here! Please put down your chopsticks and whatnots and come with me, for I have a watery firework display for you!”
Everyone got up from the table and followed the professor outside. Petula padded along, keeping close behind Molly with an eye on the professor’s dognakes. Silver hopped by her side.
He’s a bit of a walnut, isn’t he? Petula commented to her avian friend.
Truly a pecan! Silver agreed.
Axel stood proudly in front of his temporary laboratory, with its labyrinth of test tubes, pipes, and glass spheres. His dognakes curled up on the ground by his feet.
“This doesn’t look like bobble squeak, I know,” the professor declared as he took a large, glass-lidded vat, “but I think that if my calculations are right, you are about to witness something fantabulous. See my colored time-travel crystals and my clear time-stopping stone?” Axel held them up for everyone to see, then put them into the vat and began to heat it from underneath. “I used to do this with impure crystals,” he explained. “It never bob-diddlied.”
Molly bit her lip and watched as the precious crystals grew hot. A puff of sky-blue smoke drifted up the glass tube in the lid of the vat into the transparent doughnutlike container above it. Here the smoke was sucked through the sponge there, from where it emerged as a clear liquid. This solution trickled down a pipe until it became a big drip that plopped out.
“Let there be … !” the professor shouted, and taking a small, very powerful pocket flashlight he shone its beam onto the drip. There was an explosion of light. A huge bubble of rainbow-colored light filled the courtyard. It engulfed everyone so that for a moment they were all in a dreamy, bright rainbow, surrounded by all the colors of the spectrum. Reds, oranges, yellows, blues, greens, and purples flashed about them and then disappeared.
Everyone was astounded. They all clapped and hollered their appreciation.
Axel now picked up the crystals from the hot vat.
“They’re cold,” he said. “Completely undoodled by the heat. Could be used for eternity and they wouldn’t fall a-party with crackers and cake. My best invention ever. You see”—he took the pipette and licked the end of it—“this is pure water—H2O! This is how to make water out of air!”
“That is marvelous, Axel,” Tortillus said. “Could this be the answer to our water problems?”
“Could be, could bee, could wasp,” Axel replied.
Molly felt like a fool. She saw now that the mad professor had harbored good intentions all along. She patted Schnapps on the head.
“I’m sorry I misunderstood you, Axel,” she said.
“Easy mistake to missmake, miss. The words come out in a fuddle, you see. Tongue connected to the muddle, not the noodle.”
“Yes,” Molly said, thinking she knew what he meant. Then she took the professor’s grubby hand. “I’m really sorry. I can see that you are a great scientist, and you were obviously a brilliant hypnotist too. And you look the way you do because you were protecting Ai Mu. If you hadn’t taken Fang to the Bubble, she would have had Nurse Meekles killed. You’re a hero, Axel. You really are.”
The professor nodded and smiled a snaggle-toothed grin and then curtsied. “Thank you. Nice of you to say so. Not so cowardy custard yourself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting back to my brewing.” With that he swiveled, did a small hop, and began tapping at one of his glass test tubes.
Molly turned to Micky.
“Now, Micky, you and I have a very important appointment. Let’s go to see Mr. Jellyfish.”
Thirty
The next morning Molly woke fresh and clearheaded. She stretched in her bed. Her crystals clicked together around her neck. She felt great. Everything felt complete. Except for one thing. Would Micky come home with her?
Leaving him and Rocky still asleep, she slipped on some new clothes: a red cotton jumpsuit and twenty-sixth-century sneakers that had superconcentrated pockets of helium in their soles. Then, with Petula by her side, she walked on air to the courtyard.
Tortillus was already up, sitting outside his room under trellised arches covered in lemon blossom. A black bird with an orange beak sat among the blooms.
“Hello, Petula. Good morning, Molly,” he said, offering her a cup. “Do you want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. Concentrated orange squash is my preferred wake-up drink. Anyway, I’m not really thirsty or hungry yet.”
Tortillus smiled. “Well, join me at least. I am having a lovely time, Molly. Life hasn’t been this good in years.” Molly chose a cushioned stool and sat down.
“I’ve been thinking. That mind machine is going to be very useful,” Tortillus continued. “For instance, very old people can have their memories downloaded on to it for others to enjoy. And instead of it being used by criminals, it can be used on criminals—no one will be able to lie and get away with it.”
“Yes,” said Molly, smiling, “this place could become Mind Mountain. People will come here from all over the world.”
“And with the money we make, we’ll be able to pay for pipelines to bring water from the north to keep the lake filled. What with this and Axel’s inventions, we should be able to live here always.”
“Well, Fang and her crew are all hypnotized to obey you, Tortillus. I locked their instructions in with passwords and they will be like that until you choose to release them.”
“Good. Very good,” the old man said, chuckling. Molly reached for the blue grapes in a bowl on the table and twisted one off its stalk.
“It’s time for me to go home now. Either with or without Micky.”
“I know. You’ll come back and visit us, I hope.”
“Of course I will.”
Tortillus tapped his cup with a gnarled brown nail.
“You’re really very good at this time-travel business, aren’t you?” he said.
“Not bad,” Molly agreed, nodding.
“And hypnotizing.”
“Yup.”
“I’ve seen your other skill too, you know,” Tortillus said. “You give off the same glow as Silver when he mind reads. But you’re right not to tell people about it.”
“Oh. Yes.” Molly smiled.
“Hmmm.”
For a moment they both sat there quietly. Molly wondered whether the old man knew what she could do. He’d picked up on Micky’s trouble, and he knew that Silver could mind read. Then it suddenly occurred to her that Tortillus might think her some sort of show-off, so she added, “but there are ten tons of things that I’m really bad at. I’m useless at sports and I never was any good at schoolwork and I’m not tidy at all. And I’m clumsy. I mean, I may have all these weird skills, but at ordinary things I’m not talented at all!”
“Nobody can be good at everything,” Tortillus replied. Then he put his hands up to Molly’s head and shut his eyes. “Hmm,” he hummed. “You have more still inside you, Molly. There are more talents there that haven’t germinated yet, but you just wait. Something very strong is lying dormant in you. I think it will be out soon.”
“What do you mean?” Molly asked. But before Tortillus had time to elaborate she heard people coming. It was Micky and Rocky, with Silver hopping on the ground after them.
“Morning, Micky and Rocky and Silver,” Tortillus said. “You’re up early.”
“He had a dream,” Rocky said.
“A good one?”
“Yes,” Micky replied. He turned to Molly. “I dreamed … dreamed I came back to your time with you.” He stumbled over his words. “It felt really good to meet Primo and Lucy. And—and then I got thinking. Molly, you got me my hypnotic skills back from the machine last night. Would you teach me how to time-travel so that I can come back here when I want to? I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Sure it’s possible,” said Molly, grinning. “That is exactly what I see you doing!”
“Excellent!
” said Tortillus. “In that case it is time for good-bye presents.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, which he handed to Rocky. “I know you have asthma, Rocky. It’s a horrid thing, and something that’s been cured now. Take this pill and your asthma will never bother you again.”
Rocky’s mouth dropped open. “In-incredible,” he managed to say. “That’s amazing! Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Tortillus replied. Then he gave a sharp whistle and with eight springy hops and a flutter of wings Silver was standing on the table. “Silver would like to come with you, Micky.” Tortillus explained. “He knows that he was the first friend you made here.”
“Phooowheeek! What a boy!” whistled Silver.
“And for you, Molly and Rocky, here is …” He gave another whistle.
The black bird that had been sitting in the lemon blossom now flew down and perched on Tortillus’s finger.
“This is Silver’s son,” he explained. “His name is Mercury. He is good at mind reading but not at talking, not yet. But that will come. He’s quite a character.”
“How lovely!” Molly exclaimed. She stroked the bird’s small head. “But are you sure he wants to come?”
“Definitely. Mercury’s a very adventurous bird. He likes to be around children. Silver told me that he would like to come.”
“Well, we’d love to have him,” said Molly.
“What an amazing present!” Rocky agreed, touching the bird’s feathery breast. “Hello, Mercury.”
By nine o’clock everyone had assembled on the mountaintop landing pad to watch Molly and Micky and Rocky leave.
Micky was the last one to get into the large white flycopter. He spent a long time saying good-bye to Nurse Meekles. So long that Molly thought that he might change his mind about coming.
But eventually he climbed the steps and was soon sitting behind Molly, doing up his belt. Petula sat beside her, sucking a stone, and Silver and Mercury were perched on the seat beside Rocky. The door slid shut.
Molly smiled at the hostess as she brought her a drink of orange-squash concentrate and thought how nice it was not to have to be hiding all huddled up at the back. Then the aircraft catapulted off, tipped back, and extended its wings. With a clunk the helicopterlike propellers snapped into the top of the machine and at the same time a loud expulsion of supersonic exhaust sent the plane shooting upward. Soon they were thousands of feet up in the sky and the jet leveled off. They sped through the sky with the greatest of ease.
Lunch was served on gleaming trays. It was triangular pasta with a seaweed salad followed by a white meringue pudding called Mont Blanc. As a finishing touch there were fortune cookies. Molly unwrapped hers and read the white strip of paper that had fallen on her napkin.
“You’ve got to risk it for a biscuit,” it said. You certainly have, Molly thought. She slipped her shoes off, wriggled her toes, and settled down for a well-earned snooze.
When Molly woke up, she looked out of the window. The landscape below had changed. It was much greener and it looked colder.
As Tortillus had promised, they were brought as close to the Briersville of 2500 as air-traffic control would allow. The plane dived down, morphed into its flycopter form, and landed on the icy runway of the local airport. They all put on their coats.
Outside, on the tarmac, Molly got everyone to hold hands. She hugged Petula tightly, while Silver and Mercury sat on Micky’s left shoulder. Then Molly gazed into the heart of her green crystal and with a sonic BOOM they were gone. Cool time winds brushed past them and the world was a blur.
Molly focused her mind with all her might. She was really excited to be going home and to be bringing Micky back. She didn’t want anything to go wrong now.
They stopped. The landscape had changed again. It was wintry, but the trees were different. Instead of the ferns and conifers that had surrounded the twenty-sixth-century airport, there were the leafless oaks and beech trees of Molly’s own time. Some even bore a few flapping yellow leaves that the autumn winds had missed. The airport had gone. Instead there was a field. A town stood nearby.
“I think that’s Ricksford,” said Rocky to Micky. “It’s the next-door town to Briersville. We could get a bus back from here.”
“Let’s get a cab,” said Molly. So they walked on to the road.
Micky’s eyes were wide as he soaked up the sights and sounds of his new home.
“Stone Age!” he said. “The cars look like the ones in history books!”
“That,” said Molly as a sleek silver sports car drove past, “is considered very cool and modern. Wait till you see your new home. It really is old.”
Soon they were motoring up the long winding drive past scores of animal-shaped bushes to Briersville Park. The llamas looked up, clouds of steamy breath puffing from their noses in the cold morning air.
Then the house came into view, white and majestic—a beautiful stately home. The cab pulled up on the gravel.
“We’ll pay you in a second,” Molly said to the driver. “Our parents have the money.”
She got out of the car and leaped up the stairs. She rang the bell and kept ringing it while Rocky, Micky, Petula, and the birds assembled on the steps.
The huge door creaked open. There stood Primo Cell and Lucy Logan. Everyone stared at one another. It was a perfect moment. Molly put her hand on Micky’s shoulder and proudly proclaimed: “Lucy and Primo, meet Micky.”
“Micky Moon,” Micky added shyly, not looking up from the ground.
“Micky Moon,” agreed Molly. “Your son.”
Thirty-one
That afternoon everyone was in the kitchen. Forest, with his long white dreadlocks tied in a ponytail and with a chef’s hat that read GET IN THE COOKING GROOVE, was preparing a bean-sprout salad. Ojas was kneading dough for naan bread; Molly and Micky were making sandwiches; and Primo, Lucy, and Rocky were sitting at the table drinking tea. Silver and Mercury were perched up high on a saucepan shelf, and Petula was curled up asleep in her basket.
“I don’t know how you can eat those sprout things,” Rocky said.
“I agree,” Lucy joined in. “It’s a bit like eating grass with the seed still stuck on the end.”
“Don’t tell ’em, don’t tell ’em,” Forest whispered into the bean sprout packet. “If they knew how good you were, there’d be none left for me.”
“And ketchup sandwiches sound revolting,” Micky told Molly.
“Well, to an unsophisticated person that might be true,” Molly replied, slapping butter onto a slice of white bread, “but to a connoisseur like me they are the best thing to eat on earth.”
“What about on the moon?” Primo asked. “What’s the best thing there?”
“Moon’s marshmallows, of course.”
Micky eyed the cupboards above the work surface.
“What are you going to put in your sandwich, then?” Molly asked.
“Don’t suppose you’ve got any meerkat and mustard?” Micky smiled. “No, what I really want is some … I don’t know if you have it in this time.”
“We might do. Give it a try.”
“Well, it’s very Chinese.”
“So what is it?”
“Soy sauce.”
Everyone laughed.
“’Course we’ve got soy sauce,” Molly teased him. “What did you think this was? The Stone Age?”
“Well…”
“So is that your favorite thing to have in sandwiches, then?” Molly asked.
“Favorite thing to eat, full stop,” Micky admitted. “And you won’t believe this, but my best drink is undiluted aprimango cordial.”
“Apri-what?!” Forest exclaimed.
“You’re peas in a pod,” said Ojas, pummeling his dough.
“But don’t you dare forget Miss Cribbins’s instructions,” said Rocky, sternly impersonating her voice. “EAT NUTRITIOUS, NOT GREEDY. KEEP KITCHENSIDE TIDY!”
“Eat nutritious, not greed. Kaap kitchenside tady,” Silver chirped
from beside a large copper pan.
“Et nootreeshash—naat graady—kaap katchen tady,” Merlin echoed at his side.
Acknowledgment
With a big thank-you to my clever and ever so helpful agent, Caradoc King, to my very conscientious editor, Sarah Dudman, to my very amusing American editor, Michael Stearns, and to Talya Baker, an unsung expert, without whom this book would be riddled with irritating mistakes.
And high over the white ridges of Mont Blanc a large bird circled.
Three children out on a morning ski came to a halt and pointed up at it.
“It’s huge!” the girl said, rubbing her mittened hands together.
“That’s not a bird—it’s a vampire!” the boy beside her observed darkly.
“Vampires don’t exist,” laughed his older brother.
Then the enormous creature began flying toward them. As it approached, its great brown wings cupping the air, it became quite obvious that this was no ordinary bird. For it had human legs, was wearing orange trousers, and seemed to have a man’s face.
“It’s a wizard!” the little girl screamed.
“Let’s get out of here!” the small boy cried.
“Ski as fast as you’ve ever skied in your life!” yelled his brother.
And turning their skis about, the three of them pushed off.
Wildgust trod air and let his wings beat so that he hovered above the children.
“I mean no harm!” he called down. “I just want something to eat!”
But below him, the colorful shapes of the skiing children shot down the slopes of spring snow and were gone.
About the Author
Georgia Byng grew up by the River Itchen in Hampshire, England, in a large family. After leaving school, she studied drama and worked as an actor and children’s entertainer. She lives in London with the artist Marc Quinn, her beautiful, funny daughter, Tiger, and a chatterbox called Lucas. This is her fourth novel.
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