by Georgia Byng
Twenty-four
Molly nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked about her in a panic. They really were sitting by the Briersville School crosscountry track, in the rain.
“Aaaah, what’s happening? Where’s New York gone?” she cried.
Rocky smiled. A roll of thunder growled in the sky above them.
“Your time in New York never existed,” he said calmly. “It was all a figment of your imagination, and my imagination too.”
“But … how?” Molly managed to stammer.
“I hypnotized you,” said Rocky.
“You hypnotized me?” she said, aghast.
“Yup.”
“You hypnotized me?” Molly repeated, “But … but … when?” She felt disoriented and confused. The rain started to get heavier.
Rocky said, “Just now, here in Briersville. You said, ‘I hate this place, in fact I can’t think of a worse place to be in the world. My life is just HORRIBLE.’”
Molly felt very mixed up. “Did I? I can’t remember saying that.”
“You just said it, at the end of our argument,” said Rocky.
“What argument?” asked Molly, totally bewildered.
“Sorry,” said Rocky patiently, “I’ll have to make this clearer. You’ve been cross since this morning, because Mrs. Toadley was nasty to you after the word test and Miss Adderstone has been giving you punishments all week—you know, like cleaning the toilets with your toothbrush.”
“But …” said Molly. “But … I can’t believe … it’s incredible….” She could find no more words, as it began to sink in where she was in the world and when.
“You said,” repeated Rocky, “that you couldn’t think of a worse place to be, and that your life in Briersville was a horrible situation. So I hypnotized you and showed you a worse place to be, which was an imaginary situation in an imaginary New York.”
“So Petula’s okay?” asked Molly, shaking from shock.
“Yes,” replied Rocky. “She’s probably curled up on Miss Adderstone’s lap right now.”
“So Nockman doesn’t exist?”
“Nope.”
“And Adderstone’s still at Hardwick House?”
“Yup.”
“And she doesn’t click her false teeth like castanets?”
“Nope.”
“And you haven’t been adopted?”
“Nope.”
“And I’m plain old unpopular Molly Moon?”
“You got it.”
“Wow,” said Molly. The worry of Petula and the worry of having to rob a bank lifted off her shoulders. Her stomach relaxed and she felt a hundred times better. “Wow,” Molly said, still dizzy from shock and still half disbelieving that she was really back in her old world. “Wow, Rocky! But where did you learn how to hypnotize? Wow! That story was amazing. Did you just make it up?”
“Yup,” said Rocky.
“But, Rocky, you could probably really hypnotize your way to the top. I mean you’re really good. That felt completely real. I actually felt like I was in New York, for weeks and weeks.” Raindrops splashed on Molly’s sneakers. “I can’t believe that I really thought I was a hypnotist, and all along it was you.”
“Mmmnn.” Rocky nodded.
“But that was amazing,” Molly said, remembering everything. “I really felt like I was in that show.” Molly shivered. “And Nockman was so real. Uuurgh, he was horrible, and it felt really bad when he had Petula. Rocky, your imagination is wild. I can’t believe you made that all up. And how long have you been able to do that? When did you learn? Does the book really exist? Why didn’t you tell me?” Molly looked suspiciously at Rocky. “Why haven’t you hypnotized me before? Or have you?”
“We’d better get back,” said Rocky. “I wonder what’s for supper.”
“Probably Edna’s fish in cheese-and-nut sauce,” said Molly, thinking of the food at the Waldorf, which, in her imagination, had been so delicious. “Mind you, Rocky, there were lots of parts of that story that you told me that were really nice.” Molly licked her lips. “The food in the hotel was amazing, and that bedroom was so posh. Room service … I liked room service, and I liked the view from the hotel room, and even though I shouldn’t have stolen Davina’s part, I liked being in Stars on Mars, and I liked New York, oh, and I really liked having money.” Molly laughed. “It would be lovely if it was all true, with just Nockman cut out of the story. I mean, he spoiled everything. Although I was starting to feel a bit guilty for being such a fake. But otherwise, it was … pretty good.” Molly chuckled. Then there was a flash of lightning, and Rocky clapped his hands again.
Twenty-five
A flash of lightning lit up the New York skyline. Molly found herself back in the Waldorf with Rocky.
“What …? Why …? Rocky! What’s happening? Oh, Rocky, what are you doing? Why are we back here?” Molly felt spooked. She didn’t know what was real anymore, and she didn’t like the feeling at all.
“Rocky,” Molly said slowly, “I don’t understand…. Is this real, or are the woods in Briersville real? I mean, were we just in Briersville, or was that my imagination?”
“New York is real. Briersville was in your imagination.”
“Definitely?” asked Molly.
“Yes. New York is real and everything that you’ve been doing here is real,” said Rocky.
“Are you sure?” asked Molly, still unsteady.
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Rocky. “I just hypnotized you then, using my voice and this ball of golden paper.” Rocky held up the chocolate wrapper. “I made you think we were still on the cross-country run. I wanted to make you think that all this”—he pointed out of the window at the New York skyline—“never happened. Sorry about that.”
“But it felt wet … that rain. Everything felt so real,” said Molly.
“Well, that’s the power of hypnotism,” said Rocky.
“But why … why did you do that?”
“I’m sorry,” said Rocky again. “But, well, you were saying you wished you’d never found that hypnotism book … so I wanted to show you how lucky you were to have found it, and I wanted to show you that I could hypnotize too.”
“So you’re a hypnotist too! I can’t believe it,” said Molly, still reeling from the trip Rocky had taken her on, and completely amazed by his talent. “And that’s what it feels like to be hypnotized…. Quite nice! So how did you learn?”
Rocky smiled. “Guess.”
“I don’t know—your new parents are hypnotists?” guessed Molly.
“No.”
“I give up.”
“Okay.” Rocky reached into his denim jacket pocket and carefully pulled out two tissue-paper packets. “Do you recognize this?” he asked, passing the lumpier one to Molly. Molly unfolded the tissue and found inside a small, shabby piece of burgundy-colored leather. She turned the leather over in her hand to discover on the other side a large, golden capital letter:
H
“The missing H!” she said, amazed. Picking up the hypnotism book, she carefully placed the H in the space on the spine. It fitted exactly, and the strange word YPNOTISM became HYPNOTISM again.
Then Rocky passed her the other parcel. In this one were some neatly rolled yellowing pages. Molly turned the pages over. “I can’t believe it! You were the one who ripped those chapters out!”
“I couldn’t resist,” Rocky said. “Chapter Seven, ‘Hypnotism Using the Voice Alone,’ and Chapter Eight, ‘Long-Distance Hypnosis.’ They’re my specialties.”
“And I thought I was the naughty one,” said Molly.
“Mmmnn. You see, I had the book first,” explained Rocky. “I found it in the not-to-be-lent-out section in the library, so I read it there.
“It took me ages to read. Every time I had a spare hour, I’d sneak to the library. You thought I didn’t like you anymore, because I kept disappearing. The truth was I was trying to learn how to be a hypnotist, because I had a plan. I wanted to get you and me away from Hardwick House b
y hypnotizing some of the Americans who came. I wanted to hypnotize them into seeing how great you are. I wanted them to tell you how much they liked you, because everyone else was always so mean to you. I wanted them to boost your confidence. That’s why I never told you about the book. Anyway, while I was reading, that bit of the cover fell off, so I kept it. And I decided to … um … borrow those pages. But you know what? I think I ought to put them back now.”
Rocky took the pages, and opening the hypnotism book, he put them back into their rightful places. “Home sweet home,” he said. Then he gave the whole book to Molly.
“We’ll glue the H back on,” she said, wrapping it up with the book. Putting the bundle back in the safe, she imagined Rocky practicing Dr. Logan’s lessons, just as she had. “Did you hypnotize an animal?” she asked, very intrigued.
“Yes, a mouse in the library.”
“You’re kidding!”
“I’ve never seen a mouse roll over like the one I talked to.” Rocky chuckled.
Molly laughed. “And what about people? Who did you hypnotize?”
“Well, people weren’t easy,” remembered Rocky. “I could half hypnotize people, but it never really worked. Do you remember our argument, on the cross-country run, when I made that blowfish face?”
“Yeah,” Molly said, smiling.
“And you told me I looked really stupid?”
“Yes,” said Molly, laughing as she remembered.
“Well,” explained Rocky, “I was trying to hypnotize you into calming down because you were in a really bad mood.”
Molly grinned at the memory. “So when did you get good at it?” she asked.
“Well, something clicked the day the Alabasters came to Hardwick House, at least enough for them to fall under my spell. I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe it when they actually wanted to take me home. They just turned up again on the Saturday morning and wanted me to come away there and then. Miss Adderstone, of course, was really pleased to get rid of me, and I couldn’t get to spend enough time with them to persuade them to take you.”
“But, Rocky, maybe they really genuinely liked you,” Molly interrupted.
“Well, maybe,” said Rocky. “Maybe. Anyway the thing was, Molly, that you were upstairs ill and I wanted to say good-bye to you and explain that I’d come back and get you, too, and then all the little kids as well, eventually. Wow! I had such a plan … but Miss Adderstone wouldn’t let me see you. She said you were highly contagious, and that you were asleep, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hypnotize Miss Adderstone, and the Alabasters said that since we were traveling I ought not to catch your illness, and it was awful because I didn’t want to make a scene just in case it put them off me, but I knew you’d be really upset and I wrote you a note, but I expect Adderstone never gave it to you, and oh, Molly, I’m sorry.” Rocky stopped, out of breath.
“That’s all right,” said Molly. “I knew something like that must have happened.”
“Now, though, I’m more practiced at hypnotism,” said Rocky, smiling craftily. “Voice-only hypnosis is my strongest point. And most of the time, it works.”
“Mmmnnn,” said Molly. “I never managed to master voice-only hypnosis, myself. Since I couldn’t find the lessons. My specialty is eyes-only hypnosis, with a bit of voice on top. When you saw me on TV, did you guess I’d found the book?”
“You bet I guessed,” said Rocky.
Molly sat back down and smiled. It was great to have Rocky back and someone to confide in. “Real friends are the best thing,” she said. “Better than popularity, or fame or money. Rocky, I’m so glad you found me. But—what are we going to do about Petula? And what are we going to do about Nockman and the robbery?”
“Well.” Rocky nodded slowly. “Things are a bit different now, because Nockman doesn’t know about me.”
“I hope not,” said Molly quietly.
“When do you think he’ll ask you to rob the bank?”
“Who knows?” said Molly. “He’s so greedy … the day after tomorrow?”
“That soon?” said Rocky. “In that case, we’ve only just got time to sort ourselves out. I’ve got an idea. It’s a long shot, I have to admit, but it might just work.”
Twenty-Six
A flash of lightning lit up Petula’s cell. She hated thunderstorms, and by herself she was even more terrified of them. She shivered in the corner of the damp basement room where Nockman had imprisoned her.
After the kidnaping, Petula had been driven away from the theater and had spent the night in Nockman’s white van with Nockman stretched out flat in the back. Through the bars of her cage, Petula had studied the man’s walrussy face and his scorpion necklace, and as he snored, she’d wondered why this strange-smelling person had stolen her. She’d managed to claw at an old half-eaten bologna sandwich, pulling it into her cage. Then, with a full stomach, she’d fallen asleep.
The next day, the man had driven to the empty, chilly industrial building they were in now. He’d parked the van inside the building alongside a big brown truck, and then, with gloved hands, he’d carried Petula’s cage down to this basement room. He’d undone the latch of the cage, ripped off her collar, and gone away. Luckily, a dripping pipe in the room meant that Petula had something to drink, but she had nothing to eat.
Petula circled around and around on an old, broken sofa that smelled of mold, trying to find a comfortable position. She wished that she had a stone to suck. She wished the lightning would stop.
The same flash of lightning lit up the pavement as Nockman scurried though the rain. He was hurrying through dark streets. His feet were sodden from stepping in puddles, and his hat was soaking, but inside he felt elated. He’d blackmailed Molly Moon perfectly. There was no way she could refuse his demands. Within a few days he’d be richer than any criminal in the history of crime. How he loved that pug!
On he went, dashing down alleys and side streets, making his way back to his warehouse. Once inside, he slumped in a chair, his heart still pounding from the run. After a few minutes he got up and poured himself a big whisky, and five whiskies later, he was asleep.
Nockman slept restlessly and woke up at six the next morning, with a dry mouth and a terrible headache. As he reached for a bottle of water and looked about the dark warehouse, he realized that no one had come after him, and this made him feel a lot better. At eight he was in a phone booth, dialing Molly’s number. To be safe, he was wearing his earphone contraption and was holding the microphone to the telephone.
Molly sat up in bed to answer the phone.
“Good morning, Molly,” said Nockman. “And congratulations for not doing anything stupid. Your dog is still fine.”
Molly nodded frantically to Rocky, who was on the sofa, to indicate that it was Nockman on the phone. Rocky sat up quickly.
“I assume you agree to do the job?” he said.
“Yes,” said Molly.
“Good. Have you got a pen?”
“Yes.”
“Then I have the address of the warehouse, where you are to bring the bank truck, once it is full. You’ll find the place open.”
Molly wrote down the address of the warehouse. It was on the west side of Manhattan, on 52nd Street, by the docks, where there were lots of derelict buildings.
“So I bring the bank truck to the warehouse, driven by a hypnotized security guard,” said Molly, “and then …?”
“Dear me, Molly,” said Nockman impatiently, “it’s all in the instructions I gave you. I do hope you are up to this job.”
“Yes, yes,” Molly said. “Sorry, it’s just I’m a bit nervous.”
“You better not be so nervous that you blow it, Molly. Because I won’t look so kindly on your dog if you mess this up.”
“No, I’m so sorry,” apologized Molly. “I remember everything. The security guard loads the jewels from the bank truck into your truck. I send the security guard back to the bank, mind blanked, and then you come to fetch the truck, and after you’ve d
riven to a different place, far enough away, you will call me and let me know how to get Petula.”
“That is correct. And Molly, I won’t be calling until I am absolutely satisfied that you have delivered all the goods. Every last emerald.”
“And when do you want me to do this?” Molly asked.
“Today. This morning.”
“This morning!”
“Yes,” said Nockman. He’d decided that it was best to push Molly before she changed her mind. If he gave her time, she might work out some way to foil him. Besides, he was very impatient and wanted to feel those jewels pouring between his fingers.
“These are your final instructions. I want the people in the bank to be in a trance until two thirty,” he said. “I will pick up my truck from the warehouse before they even report that their bank has been robbed. I will collect the goods at a quarter to two.”
“Quarter to two today?! But … okay,” Molly agreed.
Nockman put down the phone and took off his antihypnotism device. Then he left the phone booth and went back to his chilly warehouse. He tossed his coat into the back of the van, patted his brown truck, which was soon going to be stuffed with precious loot, and went down the stairs to get Petula.
When Nockman entered, Petula tried to put up a fight, but he was wearing gloves again, so her bite didn’t hurt him. Besides, she was feeling weak. Nockman grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and pushed her into the cage. Petula felt dejected and very, very hungry.
With the cage in the van, Nockman then drove to Brooklyn, where he owned another, larger warehouse. This second warehouse was where Nockman kept all his stolen property. It was crammed to the ceiling with boxes and bags full of stolen things, from glass goblets to cutlery to lawn mowers to garden gnomes; anything that Nockman could steal and then sell.
Nockman drove inside the warehouse, parked the van, got out, and happily kicked one of the smiling garden gnomes. Operation Hypnobank was going according to plan. Nockman had nearly Frisbeed himself into the Super League of Crime. He was almost there! No more small-time crime for him now. He’d be rolling in money soon. The next step was to put this stupid dog somewhere and be ready to go back to Manhattan to collect his booty. Nockman was tense with excitement. He had a quick drink of whisky to steady his nerves.