Some younger trolls scampered around in aprons, cleaning up, and they sang a little song as they worked:
What do you want for Christmas, little girl, little boy?
Fancy a scarred, slashed and mutilated toy?
A clockwork sprouting giant moths?
A teddy with a nasty cough?
A dolly impaled with a metal probe?
A Barbie with no earlobes?
Put in your orders, come on, don’t be shy, Thoughtful Saint Nick will always comply!
As they sang, the children noticed that the trolls’ teeth had started to rot from a diet made up entirely of mince pies. Their dental hygiene was not helped by their aversion to toothpaste. The children could not know this but the trolls had a taste only for sugary preparations and used only liquid liquorice as a mouth wash.
In another corner of the workshop, two trolls were testing Christmas crackers that, when pulled apart, spurted a greenish liquid that smelled of rotten eggs. Others were decorating a charred tree, not with shiny baubles but with bits of old bone and balls of fur. The bells grunted instead of tinkling, and the tinsel was thick with thorns. The worst thing was the ornament that crowned the lifeless tree. In my house (as I’m sure is the case in yours) we have a gold star or an angel at the pinnacle of our tree, although one year there was a digression from this tradition in order to proudly display an angel made from a toilet roll and cotton wool, constructed by me at pre-school. Perched at the top of the trolls’ Christmas tree was a stuffed bat, its wings spread like an umbrella.
‘Precious, isn’t it?’ purred Tempest Anomali. ‘Christmas redefined.’
Milli and Ernest were horrified by the sights before them, but they didn’t understand their purpose. Dr Illustrious had succeeded in ruining many of Von Gobstopper’s beautiful creations, the children of Drabville would be taken aback to receive his hateful gifts, and Von Gobstopper’s name might be forever blackened, but parents could easily buy their children toys from other companies like Harrowsmith or Fluffball. So what had Dr Illustrious really achieved?
‘This won’t change anything,’ Ernest said smugly. ‘Christmas isn’t even about presents.’
Some trolls who overheard him glanced at each other and rubbed their blotchy hands together. ‘Wrong!’ they jeered. ‘This Christmas is all about presents.’ A dark look from Dr Illustrious silenced them.
‘Little Pustule, you are too cocky,’ the transformed wizard told Ernest with calm disgust. ‘Do you think I would go to so much trouble without an inspired plan? But like everyone else, you will have to wait to see it in glorious action.’ He paused to scratch his chin thoughtfully. ‘On the other hand, you are special people with whom I have forged a strong bond. I would be honoured if you would come along for the ride.’
‘They’re not going anywhere with you, you demented monster,’ Fritz warned.
‘Silence!’ snarled Dr Illustrious. ‘I have little patience for heroic types.’ He signalled to Tempest, who in turn snapped directions at a troll.
‘Let’s give them a sneak preview,’ she said.
The troll snapped off a prickly finger from one of the cacti plants in the shape of human hands that grew from the walls, and sniggering, tossed it on the fire. The children and Fritz sprang back as a wall of flames erupted inside the grate. The room was plunged into darkness and the furnace formed a kind of blazing stage. Figures moved inside the flames, as they might on a television screen with faulty reception. The figures seemed to be set on fast-forward and three scenes appeared in rapid succession.
The first was what seemed to be a playroom—the floor was littered with building blocks and board games. A small boy was sitting cross-legged in front of a large painted toy box. He stuck his hand inside, in search of something, then withdrew it instantly, shrieking and waving his arm. The children could see that a toy dinosaur had sunk its razor-sharp teeth into the boy’s hand. A second scene began to take shape. This time it showed a cosy kitchen where a child was sprinkling sugar on her bowl of porridge whilst her mother busied herself making a pot of tea. On the table sat a rag doll with thinning wool hair and one eye suspended from a thread. The girl dropped her spoon and as she bent to pick it up, the doll withdrew a tube labelled Ground Glass from her apron pocket and emptied the contents into the porridge. The final scene was a brother and sister fast asleep in their nursery. A bear, who had been lying on the chest of drawers face down, got up and tiptoed over to the sleeping children. He withdrew a pouch from beneath his waistcoat and, with an evil leer, released a family of hairy-legged poisonous spiders under the children’s bedcovers.
A feeling of helplessness washed over Milli and Ernest as they stood transfixed by the scenes of betrayal they had just witnessed. Fritz’s face was burning with fury.
‘As you see,’ gloated Dr Illustrious, ‘traitors in your very midst. An ingenious plan, if I say so myself. Now, get out of my sight!’
Led by Tempest, the trolls roughly escorted Ernest, Milli and Fritz to a narrow underground cell. It was dank and airless and they felt like animals trapped in a cage. It was difficult to breathe and the only sound was that of water dripping from a pipe nearby.
‘No one takes on Dr Illustrious and wins. You of all people should know that,’ said Tempest in triumph, and marched off.
The three captives sank onto the damp floor and contemplated a future that seemed entirely without hope.
‘I can’t believe it’s happened again,’ Ernest moaned quietly. ‘Is it ever going to be over?’
‘At least this time we were better prepared,’ said Milli.
‘You think so?’ said Ernest. ‘Then how come we’re in here?’
Fritz slapped the walls in frustration. He was not accustomed to being rendered useless and didn’t know how to react. The physical strength he had relied on up until now was inadequate in this situation. He paced the cell, clenching and unclenching his fists and glaring into space.
Several hours passed. Milli and Ernest wondered what time it was and what their parents would think when they discovered the children’s second disappearance in as many days. Their legs grew cramped and their bodies stiff. They tried to sleep, but couldn’t doze off no matter how hard they tried. A wave of panic surfaced every time they almost succeeded in relaxing; they were afraid of what might creep up on them and take them by surprise.
Dr Illustrious had mentioned them accompanying him on a ride. If the journey he had in mind was a real one, where was he planning on taking them?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Loyal’s Sacrifice
In an attempt to distract Milli and Ernest, as well as calm his own frayed nerves, Fritz withdrew from his pocket a Spinning Rascal—a gadget you and I know better as a Spinning Top. This was a variation on the original design—once it started spinning it went looking for grumpy adults to trip up. There is nothing that exasperates adults more than stumbling over toys children have failed to pack up, and Spinning Rascals have been known to lie in wait for parents to come home before spinning into a frenzy right at their feet and sending them sprawling. The children took turns whirling the Spinning Rascal, which spun randomly around the cell in search of adults lurking in corners. They wished they could use it to trip up Tempest or Dr Illustrious long enough to make a getaway.
It seemed an eternity before a muffled thumping finally broke the silence. They listened intently, and there it was again, this time a little closer. When a troll cracking a whip did not appear, they dared to believe that in one form or another help was coming. The noise had now become more of a clack than a thump, and whoever was making it seemed to stop from time to time, as if to get their bearings. All three prisoners held their breath in anticipation, and soon the familiar face of Loyal the rocking horse appeared outside the bars of their cell.
Loyal peered in at the children who had to keep from crying out in relief.
‘Loyal, I knew you were coming,’ said Milli, throwing her arms around his neck through the bars. The hug was rather aw
kward, but his slightly coarse coat felt reassuring under her fingers.
‘Thank goodness you’re all right,’ Loyal said to all three of them. ‘You had us worried for a while.’
‘We’re OK,’ Milli replied, but then looked around miserably. ‘Apart from being trapped with no way out.’
In reply Loyal turned side on and they spied a rope hanging in a neat coil from his saddle.
‘Loyal, you’re a legend!’ cried Ernest, which caused the modest rocking horse to flush with pleasure.
Fritz lost no time in tying one end of the rope to the cell door and Loyal clamped the other end tightly between teeth that looked as tough as granite. The rocking horse gave the rope such a heave that the cell door was dislodged. A second wrench and it was pulled clean off its hinges and rattled to the ground. They waited some moments to check if the noise had alerted the trolls, and relaxed when they heard nothing.
‘How’s Pascal?’ Ernest remembered to ask as they scrambled out.
‘A little shaken, and more than a little embarrassed at the trouble she has caused, but otherwise fine,’ Loyal replied matter-of-factly. ‘I might add that she has had a dream and found her true vocation.’
‘That being?’ prompted Fritz.
‘She intends to hang up her slippers and train as a nurse.’
Despite their precarious circumstances the children had to laugh at the impetuousness of the ballerina doll they had come to love.
‘What have you managed to find out?’ the rocking horse asked.
‘Dr Illustrious is planning to ruin Christmas!’ Milli blurted out.
‘He has some mad revenge plan that involves delivering mutant toys to the town’s children,’ Ernest said.
‘But there’s more to it than that,’ added Fritz. ‘Dr Illustrious isn’t going to all this effort just to give the children a fright. He could just walk down the street to do that. These toys are dangerous and could cause harm.’
Loyal’s brown eyes clouded as he digested this information. ‘You can explain everything later,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you to safety first.’
But before they could move, there came the menacing sound of heels clicking on a hard surface. They all froze on the spot, their hearts hammering in their chests. Discovery was inevitable.
The black-clad figure of Tempest Anomali rounded the corner to confront them. She had changed into a medieval gown with fluted sleeves. Her wild hair had been scooped up into a muddle on the top of her head and was held in place by combs that bore a sinister resemblance to ravens’ claws. Around her white throat she wore a necklace made of tiny speckled eggs and black eyeliner lent her eyes a feline look. She was still carrying her metal-tipped cane. When she saw the door of the cell had been yanked off and spied the rocking horse with the rope end still in his mouth, her chalky face paled even further with anger. She moved towards Loyal with the stealth of a panther.
‘Stay back,’ Loyal warned in a low voice. He positioned himself in front of Milli and Ernest.
But Tempest, used to dealing with toys that were weak and submissive, only laughed. She tried to shoulder past him, but Loyal stood his ground. A momentary look of confusion crossed Tempest’s face. She recovered quickly and lunged at Milli and Ernest, but Loyal’s rockers blocked her path. The two collided and Tempest tumbled to the floor. Loyal cautiously retreated, but still remained protectively positioned in front of the bewildered children.
‘Let them be,’ he warned.
Milli and Ernest saw Tempest’s hands start to shake and her nostrils flare with rage. The expression they saw on Fritz’s face told them their fears were not without foundation. He was watching Tempest warily, his arms and shoulders tense.
Tempest kicked out violently but missed her aim, and broke her heel on one of Loyal’s rockers. The shiny black wood was left scratched and indented.
Fritz pushed Milli and Ernest away from Tempest. ‘Run!’ he said urgently.
The children looked confused and didn’t move.
‘Don’t wait—go now!’
But Milli and Ernest were cemented to the floor. They wanted to turn and run until their lungs ached, but they couldn’t move a single muscle—not whilst Tempest was closing in on Loyal again.
Her second kick was powerful and sent the wooden horse crashing into the wall. Tempest smirked with pleasure at her own strength and raised her disdainful eyebrows before zeroing in on the children. She seized Milli in an iron grip, but Loyal heaved himself to his feet with a grunt and he threw himself at Tempest. She reeled back and let go of Milli’s wrist.
Loyal, too, implored the children to run. ‘Didn’t you hear Fritz?’ he said. ‘Go!’
‘We’re not leaving you,’ Milli cried, and the rocking horse brayed with frustration.
He opened his mouth to speak again, but Tempest clutched at a handful of his mane and used it to drag herself up. Loyal whinnied in pain and nipped her hand. She let out an enraged howl and clutched it, bleeding, to her chest.
‘The others need your help!’ Loyal panted. ‘I can handle her alone!’ His breath was knocked out of him as Tempest lashed wildly at him with her cane.
Fritz could stand it no longer and went to Loyal’s aid, grabbing both of Tempest’s arms and pinning them behind her back. Despite her rage, the curator was no match for Fritz’s strength, but at that moment five figures rounded the corner, alerted by the noise of the scuffle. The children recognised the three bodyguards followed closely by Bertha Slurp and Alistair Phony-Phitch.
Mince threw Fritz to the floor, whilst Bertha restrained Milli and Ernest in a chokehold. There was nothing further to be done. All three of them were prisoners and Loyal was surrounded.
Despite the cruel faces leering down at him, the rocking horse showed no sign of fear. For a split second he caught Milli’s eye and seemed to pass on to her a message of hope. Loyal’s eyes were as warm as ever and Milli felt strangely comforted. The feeling was immediately replaced by a terrible numbness as the sound of splitting timber filled the air. Loyal lay in a broken heap in the corner. His rockers had been snapped, rendering him immobile, and he could only snap his teeth helplessly at his attackers.
With her confidence restored, Tempest approached the rocking horse with menace in her eye. The children watched in stunned horror as a spearhead shot from the tip of her cane. She plunged it coolly and ruthlessly into the horse’s side, then stood back looking rather pleased with her efforts.
With a superhuman strength fuelled by grief, Milli, Ernest and Fritz wrenched themselves free of their captors and rushed to Loyal’s side. The horse let out a feeble moan and struggled to keep his eyes open.
‘Hang on, Loyal,’ begged Fritz, his eyes luminous with tears. ‘Uncle Gustav will mend you, as good as new.’
‘Dear Fritz,’ faltered Loyal, ‘do not fail us now.’ There was a shuddering exhalation as the rocking horse breathed his last.
Tempest and the bodyguards prodded him with their feet.
‘Keep away from him!’ Milli cried, her face tear-streaked as she tried to shield Loyal with her arms.
What happened next the children would later recall only as a blur. The world had taken on a foggy, dream-like quality. They felt the grip of strong arms propelling them forward, they smelled a combination of tobacco and alcohol that told them they were back in the common room, but it was as if they had detached from their bodies and were watching themselves from a height. It was only from her dry, raw throat that Milli suspected she had been screaming at some point.
All of Milli’s vitality had ebbed out of her and it took a great deal of concentration just to curl up in a ball on one of the green vinyl couches. She was dimly aware of Fritz’s hand on her back and his tear-stained face looking down at her.
All three listened with complete indifference to the babble of voices around them, deliberating on what was to be their fate. Alistair Phony-Phitch eventually sidled up to them with a smarmy announcement.
‘Dr Illustrious has invited you to be th
e guests of honour at our Christmas party tonight.’
‘You’re joking, right?’ snarled Fritz. ‘What makes you think we want anything to do with brutes like you!’
Alistair Phony-Phitch looked mildly offended. ‘Watch who you’re calling brutes,’ he said. ‘This job is a stepping stone for me on the ladder of success. Besides, nobody has ever knocked back an invitation from the doctor before.’
The children were issued with Santa hats and forced to attend what could only be described as a parody of a Christmas party. It was held in the canteen, where the plastic chairs had been draped with black tinsel. A large wreath of thorns sat as a centrepiece on the long table. The baubles and bells strung up across the room were also black, creating a morbid feel. In place of balloons, inflated surgical gloves had been tied in small bunches from the ceiling fan. The Botchers finally looked cheerful as, for them, it marked the close of a long year. They were looking forward to spending time with their families and not having to practise their peculiar brand of surgery for at least a month. Dr Illustrious and Tempest were there, sipping cumquat champagne from test-tube glasses. Tempest wore a lock of horsehair, the colour of crème brûlée, around her neck as a pendant.
Eggnog was being served and there were bedpans full of Christmas fare—roast turkey, fruitcake, plum pudding and mince pies. Dr Illustrious ate nothing; Tempest nibbled reluctantly on some turkey slices.
Tempest called everyone’s attention by banging her cane on the table, and announced that Dr Illustrious was about to make a speech.
‘Before we farewell each other and head off to different destinations, there are some acknowledgments that need to be made,’ the doctor said. ‘Firstly, I must extend my thanks to all the arcade staff for their commitment and service in what, at times, have been less than ideal circumstances. You will all find a Christmas bonus in your pay envelopes.’
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