‘All right,’ said Milli, withdrawing the shiny gadget from her blazer pocket. They all crowded around her to read the message flashing on the black screen. The message on Dr Savage’s pager provided them with a vital piece of information. ‘Collect old man from monument and bring him to me at 8 sharp.’
Milli and Ernest smiled. Luck, it seemed, was finally on their side. There was only one minor problem: they didn’t remember seeing any monuments, large or small, in the parts of the arcade they had been through.
Fritz was only too aware that his uncle’s safety now depended largely on him. ‘The monument…where could that be?’ he said anxiously. He frowned, willing himself to remember. When nothing came to him he grew agitated and began pacing and pressing his palms to his forehead. ‘I know I’ve heard of it before…but I can’t think!’
The others could only wait and try to help prod his memory.
‘Could it be a special room in the arcade?’ asked Milli.
‘Monuments can sometimes be tombs,’ Ernest suggested.
‘No one is buried here that I know of.’
‘Is it even in the arcade?’ puzzled Loyal.
Fritz stopped pacing and gave Loyal a look of grateful acknowledgment.
‘I think I know where it is!’ he said. ‘And no, it isn’t in the building—it’s right outside. The monument is the giant statue of my uncle at the entrance.’ Congratulatory smiles were exchanged all round.
‘Now we know where,’ said Ernest, thinking aloud, ‘but how does it help us?’
‘Doctor Savage is heading there tonight,’ Milli reminded them.
‘We have to make sure we get there first,’ said Fritz.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Geppetto’s Notebook
After hours, the arcade had a totally different atmosphere. The group—now joined by the other members of the Resistance—walked through it as though in a tomb. A few of the gaslights had been left on casting dancing shadows on the stone. Security grilles were pulled down over the shops’ windows. The only sound was the sharp tapping of their footsteps on the tiled floor, until they were interrupted by rhythmic marching and the beating of toy drums. They retreated behind some decorative carts and watched as a small procession of baton-wielding golliwogs appeared. The golliwogs threw their shoulders back, swelled their chests and lifted their knees ridiculously high as they marched. They wore khaki uniforms and military caps with badges. The leader of the procession was tank-like and had a thuggish expression. Milli knew at once that these weren’t original Von Gob toys—their glinting eyes and scowling mouths cut from brilliant red felt told her so. These golliwogs had been altered somehow to become a menacing regiment.
Up until now, the children had only heard about a ‘round-up’; now they saw the Golly Police executing one. Moving methodically, the gollies unlocked doors and cabinets and randomly withdrew toys, which they then threw unceremoniously into a laundry cart as if they were nothing more than soiled towels. The toys’ limbs jutted out at uncomfortable angles as they were piled on top of one another. Then the drum beat started up again and the patrol moved off around a corner.
‘Who were they?’ the children asked, horrified by the gollies’ callous treatment of their fellow toys.
‘The Golly Police,’ Fritz said. ‘Bred to patrol, a service which, I’m told, gains them certain privileges.’
‘Traitors!’ whispered Loyal angrily, but Fritz gave a dismissive shrug.
‘I suspect corruption has been beyond their control,’ he said.
Outside, the children and their toy friends studied the giant stone replica of Gustav Von Gobstopper. They circled, kicked and prodded the immovable stone. It divulged no answers.
‘Could there be a password?’ agonised Fritz.
No one replied; they all felt as if they had reached an impasse. Their plan to find the toymaker before the doctor did and take him to the safety of the toys’ secret headquarters was about to be foiled. What could they do now? In half an hour or so, Dr Savage would come for Von Gobstopper and deliver him to Tempest Anomali. There was no way they could prevent this without access to wherever it was Von Gobstopper was being held.
They decided to position themselves strategically behind some shrubbery and wait. They figured that once the doctor arrived, a plan might present itself.
They didn’t have to wait long. Dr Savage appeared wearing a crumpled suit. He walked purposefully to the colossal statue of the toymaker, stopped in front of it and pulled himself, with some exertion, up onto its base. He rummaged for something in his pockets, and cursed under his breath when he did not immediately find it. Then, from his breast pocket, he withdrew something very small that Ernest thought might be an allen key. They watched him fit it smoothly between a gap in the statue’s stone fingers. After some seconds there was a sound like a roll of thunder and the seated statue began to vibrate and then rotated on its base until it was facing the opposite direction. Dr Savage stepped into the exposed opening and disappeared.
Who would have thought that the toymaker was being held prisoner beneath the very statue that celebrated his genius? Wild possibilities raced through the children’s minds. Perhaps, once Von Gobstopper emerged, they could distract the doctor and make a run for it. Perhaps together they would be strong enough to tackle him to the ground whilst Pascal guided Von Gobstopper to safety? Whatever they did, they would be giving themselves away and an extensive search for them would surely follow.
Whilst they ruminated on these possibilities, something totally unexpected happened. Without so much as a warning, Captain Pluck charged towards the monument with his rifle cocked. Upon reaching the opening, he let off a round of shots, which still managed to create a loud cracking sound even though it was only a toy weapon.
‘Up here, good doctor!’Pluck shouted, despite gesticulations from his companions urging him to turn back.
Dr Savage’s face emerged from the hole looking stunned. He looked around for the speaker, then spotted the wooden soldier.
‘Come and get me, you bumbling coward,’ jeered Captain Pluck.
It took the doctor several moments to get his bearings and realise who was speaking to him. Captain Pluck had been constructed from forty separate pieces of shellacked and painted timber, but was remarkably nimble as he darted between the rose bushes. The doctor stumbled clumsily after the retreating figure of the toy soldier wearing an inspired expression as though he had just made the discovery of the century.
Theo reassured the others that Captain Pluck could take care of himself. The doctor, on the other hand, would be out of breath from pursuing him in just a few minutes. The group descended a steep staircase into a crypt-like room, where they found a fragile old man sitting in a rocking chair with his hands and feet bound. Milli and Ernest recognised him instantly—this was a face that had become familiar all around the globe.
‘Uncle!’ Fritz cried out, distressed to see the toymaker in such a state. He took Von Gobstopper’s papery hand and peered at him.
The sound of his nephew’s voice seemed to stir Von Gobstopper out of his stupor. ‘Fritz?’ he asked. His voice was like sandpaper, scratchy from lack of use. ‘What are you doing here? How did you find me?’
‘I’ve been here all the time,’ answered Fritz. ‘I just didn’t know where you were. I’m sorry I couldn’t come for you sooner.’
‘How could you have known? They did a good job hiding me.’
Loyal coughed and Fritz nodded as he caught the rocking horse’s eye. There would be time for explanations later, when they had reached the safety of the Resistance’s underground headquarters.
Ernest and Theo supported Von Gobstopper’s frail frame like a puppet as Fritz untied his bonds. They all made for the stairs. The toymaker, although dazed, realised their intentions and allowed himself to be directed. He looked as if he’d woken from a prolonged sleep.
When they reached the hideaway, Fritz settled his uncle into a chair. Milli and Earnest were now able to study t
he toymaker properly. Gustav Von Gobstopper had attained a Rastafarian look from months of neglect. He certainly looked different from the publicity portraits they had seen of him. His face was unshaven and his thin hair unkempt. His body looked as small and shrunken as a balloon after a party. His shoulders sagged and there were dark circles under his eyes. His corduroy trousers were dusty and the green vest patterned with woolly bunnies was frayed at the edges. But despite the overwhelming sense of weariness he conveyed, his blue eyes still held a sparkle.
‘Are you all right?’ Fritz asked. ‘Did they mistreat you?’
‘I am fine, just a little stiff, that’s all. I was foolish, my boy, allowing myself to be duped like this.’
‘Are you aware, Uncle, that terrible things are happening in the arcade?’ Fritz said gently, not wishing to alarm the toymaker but not wanting to conceal the truth from him either.
‘Hush, Fritz,’ Von Gobstopper said. ‘I know what is going on in my arcade. Who have you brought with you?’ He took off his dusty spectacles and rubbed them on his trouser leg before putting them back on. ‘Loyal!’ he exclaimed in gleeful recognition. ‘And the valiant Theo! You here too, my little Pascal—but how unhappy you look. It is so comforting to see you all again. Come closer and let me see that you are unharmed.’
In the reunion that followed, the toys behaved much like children and Von Gobstopper like a doting parent. It made Milli and Ernest think of their own parents and how worried they must be by now. They also felt a surge of guilt for having lied, even if their intentions had been good.
‘And I see you have found friends to lend a hand,’ the toymaker said, turning his attention to the children.
‘I could not have done it without them,’ acknowledged Fritz. ‘Uncle, meet Milli Klompet and Ernest Perriclof.’
‘Ah,’ Von Gobstopper smiled in recognition. ‘I know those names. These are the two that led the other children to safety. I have heard much about you both. I extend my thanks to you, Milli and Ernest,’ the toymaker said, shaking their hands with a formal solemnity.
Although Von Gobstopper had just escaped real danger, he didn’t seem particularly flustered by it, Ernest thought.
‘I can see that you are all wondering what is going on,’ the old man said. ‘It is a long story but I am happy to tell you the abridged version, should you be willing to hear it.’
Everyone nodded, curious to hear what he had to say.
‘Well,’ he gave a heavy sigh, ‘it all began a long time ago in a small village where an accomplished carpenter carved a puppet from a block of pine. The man’s name was Geppetto and his loneliness was great. His dearest wish was for a boy to call his own, and his wish was unexpectedly granted by a Blue Fairy, who gave the puppet life and assigned a cricket to act as the puppet’s guardian and conscience. The puppet was named Pinocchio and Geppetto loved him as if he were his own flesh and blood. But Pinocchio was constantly being lured into trouble and caused Geppetto only strife. All the boy wanted was to prove his worth, and he was finally able to do so one day when he rescued his creator from the belly of a monstrous whale. It was only then that the Blue Fairy turned Pinocchio into a real boy.’
‘It’s a beautiful story,’ Milli said. ‘But what does it have to do with the arcade?’
‘Ah,’ said Von Gobstopper, ‘I have something my kidnappers desperately want. Geppetto kept a notebook in which he recorded all of his inventions, as well as the spell to summon the Blue Fairy. Her power to bring toys to life would prove invaluable to our enemy. They only keep me here in the hope that I will reveal its whereabouts.’
‘Do you know the spell to summon the Blue Fairy?’ Milli breathed.
Von Gobstopper smiled. ‘I do.’
‘And the notebook?’ Ernest asked.
‘That will never be found,’ Von Gobstopper said decisively.
‘But, Mr Von Gobstopper, they won’t stop until they do find it,’ warned Ernest.
‘They can try as much as they like, but the book no longer exists. I decided to burn it after reading its contents.’
‘Why did you do that, Uncle?’ asked Fritz. ‘Isn’t the knowledge it contained now lost forever?’
‘Ah,’ mused Von Gobstopper, ‘I am of the opinion, dear boy, that too much knowledge can be a dangerous thing. But do not fear—the knowledge is safely stored in this old brain. When the time is right it will be passed on to you, Fritz, for safe keeping.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A Visitor in the Night
Even though Milli and Ernest were shivering when they helped each other clamber back through Ernest’s bedroom window, they had something more important than the cold on their minds—the time. It was so late, they knew they were unlikely to escape without some serious questioning by their parents. What they weren’t expecting was to find both their mothers lying in wait for them.
Mrs Perriclof leapt out of her chair, bundled Ernest into a dressing gown and felt his forehead, but Mrs Klompet stared at her daughter with her arms folded. There was relief in her face but not enough to obliterate the disappointment. When she spoke her words came out slightly wooden, the way they sometimes do when parents have had too much time to think about what they want to say. She sounded as though she was reading out the instructions on the back of a cake mix packet.
‘Milli, I regret to inform you that you are grounded until further notice. You will be escorted to and from school each day as you are clearly not ready for independence. You are both incredibly selfish children to make your parents worry about you like this. Now, get into the car. Your father and Dorkus must be frantic by now.’
‘We have a very good reason—’ began Milli.
‘I don’t wish to hear explanations,’ interrupted her mother, raising her hand the way a traffic officer might.
‘How could you be so thoughtless?’ added Ernest’s mother. ‘Going out in the middle of winter so flimsily dressed. I’m going downstairs immediately to get you both a spoonful of my Fortifying Fish-Tail Tonic.’
‘I think the occasion calls for a ladleful,’ said a stern-faced Mrs Klompet.
Milli could hardly bear the tedium of the next few days. She marvelled at Ernest’s ability to focus on his lessons when she could do nothing but relive their experiences in the arcade over and over in her mind. Everything else happening around her was a blur. She barely noticed when Mr Sparks set alight a manila folder full of their lab reports whilst attempting to demonstrate the use of a Bunsen burner. She didn’t jump back with the others when Articulus Barnes, their elocution master, spat on them during a speech designed to display the power of rhetoric. Nor did she did register why everyone cheered in PE when Gummy Grumbleguts managed to complete the obstacle course without falling into his usual hyperventilating heap. The accumulation of knowledge seemed pointless when the lives of her friends were at stake. What did it matter what the latitudinal position of Trinidad was, or how to calculate the square root of X, if Von Gob Toys died out? On the other hand, Milli knew that she must go about her daily life as normal or risk exposing everything and putting the toys in even graver danger. For once she would have to be patient.
Things were strained at home and it troubled her that a note of suspicion had crept into her parents’ conversations with her. Milli didn’t want to lose their trust, and hoped that once the truth was known she would be forgiven.
At dinner that evening, Milli pushed her Potato and Pumpkin Mash around her plate and made little peaks in it with her fork. Rosie laid down her knife and fork and looked inquiringly at her daughter.
‘Not hungry?’
‘No, it’s great,’ said Milli, shovelling a large forkful into her mouth. The food seemed to stick in her throat and she had to swallow a gulp of Beetroot Cider to wash it down. Crispy Cod Bake with Potato and Pumpkin Mash was normally one of her favourite meals, but tonight she couldn’t enjoy it. The food tasted like glue.
Nonna Luna, who was having dinner with the Klompets, looked at Milli with concern. ‘Whatta
da matta?’ she asked. ‘You tella Nonna. Nonna fixa for you.’
‘It’s nothing, Nonna,’ Milli mumbled. ‘I’ve just got a lot on at school.’
‘Well, it’s not going to get any easier,’ Dorkus put in unhelpfully. ‘The older you get the harder it becomes.’
‘As if you’d know,’ Milli replied, a little too spitefully.
‘Milli’s too young to be fretting so much about school work and grades,’ said Mr Klompet. ‘She still needs to have fun. Never mind about studies—there’re years ahead to think of all that.’
‘Milli does nothing but have fun!’ protested Rosie. ‘She’s in first year of senior school now and it’s time to knuckle down. As Miss Linear never fails to observe, the study habits formed this year are the ones that will stand you in good stead in years to come. Milli has the potential to pursue whatever career she chooses if she applies herself now.’
‘She’s thirteen, darling heart,’ said Mr Klompet, winking at his daughter.
‘My point exactly,’ said Milli’s mother. ‘Very soon she’ll be an adult. ‘It’s time she assumed some responsibility.’
‘What would you know about responsibility?’ Milli snapped. ‘All of you are useless! This is the only town in the world that could let a hundred children be kidnapped all at once.’
‘Stoppa!’ Nonna Luna cut in. ‘Milli, no speaka like dat to your mama.’
Rosie looked hurt but Milli couldn’t bring herself to apologise. Why couldn’t the adults of this town do some of the hard work for once? Why was it always up to the children to save the day? Still, Milli knew in her heart how unfair her criticisms were. After all, it had been her own mother who had expressed caution about the circus until she’d been worn down by the children’s persistence.
The meal continued in uncomfortable silence. Milli couldn’t even bring herself to be civil to Nonna Luna, whose company she usually delighted in. Nonna looked very downcast when Milli declined a slice of her homemade tiramisu, but Milli was too distracted to notice. She went to bed early and, despite the warmth of several patterned quilts, couldn’t warm up. The cold filtered like unseen fingers under the door and around the windows where the putty had come loose. Milli found herself lying awake, gazing at the shapes the light from a full moon cast on her ceiling. Her body was tired but her mind simply wouldn’t switch off.
Von Gobstopper's Arcade Page 11