Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery

by Georgia Byng

  “Not really.” Micky threw the newspaper dart into the fire, where it burst into flames.

  “My head really hurts,” said Rocky. He pulled a blanket off the sofa and lay down on the carpet in front of the fire, beside Petula. Petula dropped the stone that she had been sucking and snuggled up to him.

  Molly shut her eyes. “Hypnotism: An Ancient Art Explained.” The title of the old book swam around her head. That book had changed her life. And ever since she’d found it, she’d been traveling. Traveling all over the world and through time.

  “You gotta calm down, Molly,” Forest had said. “Gotta, like, get into the groove of yer own time.” That was when Lucy and Primo had hidden her special chain with the time-travel crystals on it. “Just so you won’t be tempted,” Lucy had said. “You really should stay in this time for a bit, Molly,” she had recommended. “And try not to use the hypnotism. Live like an ordinary girl. It’ll be good for you.” She had given Molly a new chain with four animals on it—a black pug, a silver elephant, and two blackbirds. “You can wear your pets instead. They’re sweet, aren’t they?”

  Molly had felt happy to start with, like a bird glad to be back home safe in its nest. But then something started to happen. Molly found herself longing for excitement and wanting to spread her wings again. You see, all her life she’d been cooped up in an orphanage. She loved the freedom of adventure. And so, quite soon, life started to feel a bit boring. She wanted to see more of the world. She wanted more unpredictability. But her parents and Forest had insisted that a normal time was needed. This was why a teacher had been hired.

  Primo, Lucy, and Forest said that Molly, Micky, Rocky, and Ojas couldn’t carry on as though life was one big holiday. They needed to have routine, working and playing. Lucy had promised that the tutor who was coming was very nice, but Molly was dreading lessons. As far as she knew, lessons were when you watched the clock, or got picked on by a teacher, or where you got punished for not knowing the right answer. Micky and Rocky were both natural students, good at learning, and easily able to work. Ojas was keen as mustard. He’d never been to school ever. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Molly,” he had told her. “Where I come from, some children can’t even read. Don’t you want to get more and more clever? Don’t you want to know things?” Molly did, but she didn’t want a teacher having anything to do with it. All the teachers she’d ever known had been small-minded and mean. “I’d rather teach myself and learn straight from the world,” she’d said.

  Molly was a straight talker, but there was one thing that she had kept secret from everyone at Briersville Park. She sat on the secret like a chicken on an uncomfortable egg.

  On her trip to the future, Molly had discovered that she had developed a new skill. But it wasn’t a skill that she could ever tell her friends and family about. For Molly’s newest skill was mind reading.

  Imagine if your friends could read your mind! You might start to avoid seeing them, for you might worry that they’d see something in your mind that you didn’t want them to see. Even though Molly had decided not to use her newfound powers on her family and friends, she knew that, if they knew what she could do, they might start to mistrust her. They might assume that she was probing into their heads to see their thoughts. And so Molly had decided to keep sitting on her spiky egg of a secret.

  Of course this didn’t stop Molly from looking into other people’s minds. Maybe Molly would have a little look into the tutor’s head when she arrived and see what she was really like.

  To the left of the attic-room window, Molly saw white lights twinkling far away at the gate lodge. A car began to make its way along the dark drive.

  With Lucy and Primo stuck in a traffic jam, Molly, Micky, and Rocky found themselves being hosts, looking after their guest, their new tutor, Miss Hunroe.

  It all began a little strangely for Miss Hunroe. For Todson, the new butler (who preferred to be called plain Todson), had forgotton to put Cornelius Logan away in his stall for the night. Cornelius was Molly’s uncle. He too had hypnotic powers, but he had used his hypnotism for bad ends. Molly had been forced to hypnotize him into thinking he was a lamb and then lock that hypnotism in, so that he wouldn’t revert to his bad ways. Cornelius was harmless as a lamb and spent the afternoons with the llamas in the front field, eating grass and running about. Todson looked after him, bringing him his meals and in the evenings putting him to bed. But tonight Cornelius hadn’t been put away.

  Bristling with excitement, Cornelius came trotting into the sitting room where Rocky, Molly, and Micky were giving Miss Hunroe a cup of tea.

  Before anyone could do anything about it, Cornelius was kicking his legs. He knocked over a table, upset a vase of flowers, and leaped excitedly onto a sofa. Then he ran around and around the chair where Miss Hunroe was sitting, finally lying down at her feet like a pet.

  “Er, sorry about him,” Molly said. “He’s my, um, uncle. He’s not quite right in the head. He was in a special home,” she lied, “but we brought him back to live here. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

  “He seems to like you a lot,” said Rocky, wiping his nose.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Miss Hunroe replied. “He’s sweet!”

  And so Cornelius sat at Miss Hunroe’s feet until she went upstairs to change for dinner.

  The round-tabled dining room was being used that night. Todson had brought out all the Georgian silver and polished it. Every place had two knives, three forks, and two spoons, with a bird-shaped name card–holder perched next to each person’s water glass. Two tall, eight-armed candelabras stood proudly between the shiny pepper mills and the salt and mustard pots. The candles were lit, and a stack of wood burned in the grand fireplace so that the room danced with orange light and the faces in the old gilt-framed portraits on the walls flickered and moved as if coming to life.

  “Well, isn’t this lovely!” exclaimed Miss Hunroe as Todson helped her into her chair. “And something smells delicious.”

  “That’s a relief,” said Todson, grunting. “New cook.”

  Molly looked around the table. Everyone had made an effort tonight. Forest had gotten home and was sitting on the other side of Miss Hunroe in a bright lime-colored sweater and a smart woolen green sarong with pineapples on it. His long, dreadlocked gray hair was tied in a braid. And he had a jungly bandana tied around his forehead. Micky sat beside her in a proper tailored turquoise blue shirt, opposite Rocky, who sat shivering in a thick navy coat. Molly was wearing a clean T-shirt. Her hair was fairly detangled, as she’d spent twenty minutes attacking it with a comb. Todson stood behind each in his smart butler’s uniform, holding the soup tureen for everyone to ladle themselves helpings of carrot soup.

  “You smell of flowers or somethin’,” said Forest, obviously enamored by the beautiful new tutor. “Is it, like, um, narcissus?”

  “No, it’s rose,” Miss Hunroe corrected him, smiling a pearl-toothed smile. “But good try.”

  “I’m really sorry,” said Rocky, suddenly pushing back his chair, almost upsetting the soup tureen all over Todson. “Oh, I’m sorry, Todson. I’ve got to go to bed, you see. I feel terrible.”

  “I’ve lost my glasses,” said Todson. “But I can still detect, Master Scarlet, that you look somewhat worse for wear. I’ll bring you some hot water bottles and a mug of hot lemon and honey.”

  “Thanks, Todson.” Quietly Rocky plodded out of the room.

  “It’s this terrible flu,” said Miss Hunroe. “People are falling like flies from it.” Outside, the wind battered the windowpane. Todson went around the table with a basket of bread. When he came to Forest, he tripped on the edge of the rug. Four pieces of white bread flew past Forest’s shoulder into his soup.

  “Erm, so sorry, sir, lost my glasses,” muttered Todson. “I’ll get some more bread.” But Forest was so enchanted by Miss Hunroe that he didn’t notice.

  “Yes, the flu, man, it’s bad,” he agreed. “It’s this weather. All this damp air. Not nice ’n�
�� warm like LA. If only we could control the weather, then we’d have far less of this kinda thing. I mean, peace to all creatures, man, but it would be kinda cool to stamp out the flu bug population.”

  A small smile played on Miss Hunroe’s rose-shaped red lips, and then they twitched as though she was about to laugh but was controlling herself. She seemed to have a good sense of humor.

  Molly couldn’t resist. She knew it was nosy and she shouldn’t probe, but she wanted to take a little look and see what their new teacher was thinking. No one would know she was doing it. No one would be able to point a finger at Molly and complain. Molly felt like a thief about to steal something, for she knew Miss Hunroe’s thoughts were her own; they weren’t for Molly to share. Yet Molly was determined to learn a little more about Miss Hunroe.

  With butterflies in her stomach from the excitement of it, Molly focused her mind. She silently thought a question to their tutor, What are you thinking? Immediately, one of the hazy bubbles that always appeared when Molly wanted to know someone’s thoughts popped up over Miss Hunroe’s head. In it were pictures—various images that merged as Miss Hunroe’s mind wandered and flitted about. First Forest’s soup bowl, full of bread, shimmered into view.

  “Yes, it is dreadful,” Miss Hunroe agreed. “The flu has no mercy. It forces people to bed for days and days. No mercy.” Then she laughed. “And I’d love to be able to control the weather, too. What a charming idea!” Above her head the bubble filled with a moving picture of Miss Hunroe standing on a hilltop with tall, teardrop-shaped stones all about her. She had a baton in her hand, and above her the sky flashed with lightning as she conducted the weather. “It would be fun, don’t you think, Molly?”

  “Er, yes,” Molly stammered, feeling as if she’d been caught looking through a keyhole. She let the bubble above Miss Hunroe’s head pop. “Yes, um, snow and blizzards one moment, hot sun the next.” Molly nodded with a smile. “And it would be nice to make it rain in countries where they have droughts.”

  Miss Hunroe leaned toward the table and sipped her soup elegantly from her spoon. Opposite her, Forest slurped.

  “Man, this soup is very, er, bready! Must be a new recipe.”

  And so the meal went on, a little stilted as everyone was on best behavior with the stranger in the house. But Miss Hunroe was good-natured, and as the minutes ticked by, the ice melted.

  “So what are your plans for our education?” Micky asked as Miss Hunroe passed the peas to Forest. “I’m very good at physics,” he added matter-of-factly. “Well, I’m good at all sciences, really. My knowledge is more than up-to-date.” Micky paused as he saw Forest give him a raised eyebrow. Micky had been told that he was forbidden to let Miss Hunroe know that he was from the future. “But,” Micky went on, “my knowledge about the twentieth century and its history is full of holes. I would like to know more about this time.”

  “Gosh! You sound like an alien who has just arrived from another planet!” Miss Hunroe observed.

  “I’ve always been completely useless at school stuff,” Molly interjected, feeling that she ought to get things straight from the start. Miss Hunroe frowned. Molly crossed her arms and looked down at her plate of chicken, potatoes, and peas. “Sorry. But that’s the way I am. I thought you should know.” She looked up at Miss Hunroe, who was smiling at her. And her smile was so nice that Molly found herself promising, “I will try, though.”

  Miss Hunroe put down her knife and fork. “Well, I do have a grand plan,” she began. “And it begins with a gentle entrance to the classroom. I have spoken to your parents, and they are both agreed that an educational trip to London would be a lovely way to start the school term. And so, tomorrow morning, we are going to London. We will come back the next day, and we are going to pack a lot in. The natural history museum, the science museum, art galleries. What do you think of that?”

  Molly and Micky nodded, amazed.

  “I’m afraid dogs aren’t allowed in museums, so your Petula will have to stay behind. But it looks like Rocky is ill, so they can have each other for company.”

  “I’m sure Petula would prefer to be here,” Molly suggested, reaching down and massaging Petula’s firm neck.

  “I’d love to go,” said Micky.

  “Sounds like a brilliant idea,” Molly said, really relieved that Miss Hunroe wasn’t like the other old troutlike teachers that she’d known.

  “Well, that’s settled, then,” said Miss Hunroe. “Pack your bags tonight. Your parents will let Ojas know to pack his. We will be staying in a nice place, by the way, but the location of that is going to remain a secret.” She winked conspiratorially.

  “It sounds real cool, Miss Hunroe,” Forest remarked, stroking one of his dreadlocks. “Wish I was coming, too.”

  “You’re most welcome to,” said Miss Hunroe.

  “Maybe you should come,” suggested Molly.

  “Yeah,” agreed Forest, “the bright lights of Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London. I’ve heard the queen throws groovy late-night parties!”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Molly. “Forest, the queen has garden parties, daytime parties with cucumber sandwiches and scones and cream and smart guests with fancy hats—not late-night parties.”

  “Hey, Mol, don’t tread on my daydreams!”

  “Okay, Forest,” Molly said, smiling. “If you say so—the queen is a funky dude.”

  “Well, it would be great,” said Forest, “but I have a feelin’ Miss Hunroe here needs to size you guys up. Besides, I’ve gotta do some big-time yoga tomorra.”

  “Perhaps tonight, if there is time, we shall have a little music,” Miss Hunroe said, pulling a gold coin from her pocket and eyeing the piano that she could see in the drawing room next door.

  When everyone heard Todson trip up the front stairs and heard a tray with breakable things on it smashing to the floor, Miss Hunroe made a goodness-gracious-me face.

  “Do you think he’s all right?” She pushed back her chair and went to see. “Oh, my dear!” Molly, Micky, and Forest heard her exclaim as she helped Todson up.

  “Don’t worry about me,” came Todson’s reply. “I’m always falling over.”

  “She’s a nice lady, ain’t she?” said Forest. “Cool. Wish I’d had a teacher like her when I was a kid.”

  Todson tripped up two more times, once over Petula when he was carrying a big gelatin mold. It nearly shot off the plate. The other time, he tripped carrying the cream, so that it splattered out of its pitcher and actually put out a candle.

  “Bravo!” Miss Hunroe laughed.

  Molly and Micky went to bed, leaving Miss Hunroe and Forest by the grand piano. As they went upstairs they heard Forest suggest, “Hey, Miss Hunroe, would ya like to hear a new song I wrote? It’s all about the planet.” Chords hit the air, and then Forest’s song began.

  “Oh, everyday folks, where ya going?

  If your eggs had no yolks, would you be singing?

  The bees they are dying, the deserts are frying,

  And you keep on wasting an’ driving an’ buying…”

  His words floated up the stairs, following Molly and Micky to their rooms. Fifteen minutes later, the music changed style. Evidently Miss Hunroe was a skilled pianist. She played beautifully. Though Molly only heard parts of the piece that Miss Hunroe was playing, the sweetness of the music lulled her to sleep.

  The next day the sun had broken through the rain clouds. However, the atmosphere in Briersville Park had grown heavy. In the night, Ojas, Lucy, and Primo had arrived back, but, after a sleep, they and Forest had all caught the flu. Todson had taken them morning tea in their bedrooms and found them all very sick indeed. Only Micky and Molly and Miss Hunroe had escaped. So, as the others slept in, Molly, Micky, and Miss Hunroe gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

  “It’s such a pity that Ojas and Rocky can’t come,” said Miss Hunroe, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in her hand. “But there will be other trips. And lovely Todson is here to look after
everybody. So we don’t need to worry about them in that respect.”

  “What if we contract it while we’re in London?” Micky asked, glancing up from a math puzzle in the day’s newspaper.

  “Well, then you come straight home.”

  “Miss Hunroe’s right,” Molly agreed, biting into her ketchup sandwich. Splodges of red shlop oozed out and fell onto her lap. She took a slug of concentrated orange squash from her glass. (Ketchup sandwiches were Molly’s favorite food, while concentrated orange squash was her favorite drink.) “This place is crawling with flu germs. We’re probably better off going to London.”

  Before they left, Molly and Micky dipped their heads into different bedrooms to say good-bye. Molly found Petula, who was dozing in her basket in the pantry, and kissed her velvety nose.

  “We won’t be gone for long, Petula. I’ll bring you back something nice.” She joined Micky in the hall.

  “It’s like the plague,” Molly observed as they walked down the nine white steps outside the front door. “Let’s buy everyone a get-better present in London.” They crossed the circular white-gravel drive, past a topiary bush in the shape of an eagle. Miss Hunroe was already inside her green sports car, revving the engine.

  “Nice car, Miss Hunroe,” Micky commented. “A classic Porsche, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, well, we all have our weaknesses,” Miss Hunroe replied, her rose perfume filling the cold morning air as she opened the car window. “I’m afraid it’s a bit small, though. It’s only really designed for two people. One of you will have a tight ride in the back.” She held out her coin. “Toss?”

  Molly took the coin. It was heavy—solid gold, Molly suspected. And it wasn’t like a normal money coin. It was plain, except for the picture of a musical note embossed on one side. It fitted snugly into her palm and felt really nice to hold.