by Georgia Byng
Molly and Micky paused to absorb the atmosphere and to look at the lonely, ghostly remains of the dinosaur, but already Miss Hunroe was steaming up the stairs, her cream patent-leather boots clipping on the marble steps. Molly and Micky followed. They had both suddenly become slightly irritated by Miss Hunroe’s speed. Both had now been reminded that with a teacher, even a glamorous teacher, students do what they are told.
“I’m not used to being led about like a kindergarten kid,” Molly grumbled to Micky. “You know, the last time I went to school was over a year ago.”
“Well, I’ve been bossed about much more recently than that,” said Micky. “It stinks. Hope she doesn’t turn into a dictator.”
“A what?”
“A dictator.” They took the left branch of steps that went upstairs. “A dictator is a leader of a country who just does what he wants, who tells everyone how things are going to be without asking them, without anyone voting for anything.”
“Yeah, well, let’s hope she doesn’t turn into a dictator,” Molly agreed. “You know, I don’t think Miss Hunroe is quite as unteachery as we thought she might be. I think she’s got a great big thumb and wants to keep us under it.”
They walked up to the museum’s upper gallery level. Here they passed display cases full of stuffed apes. Some were glaring with snarling mouths, others stared with doleful eyes.
“Incredible to think we’re descended from them,” Molly said. “I suppose they’re just like us, though—some are mean and selfish and some are kind and thoughtful.”
They walked past glass boxes full of examples of insects. A model of a termite the size of Petula raised its ugly pincers at them.
“Urrgh, look at that ant!” Molly said.
“It’s a termite,” Micky corrected her. “I like termites, they’re cool. They make huge mud-castle constructions that they live in.”
At the end of the balcony corridor were half a dozen steps veering to the center of the building. Here the roof was very low. Its underside was paneled and painted with examples of plant species.
“Atropa belladonna. Deadly nightshade,” Miss Hunroe declared, sweeping her hand toward the paintings. Beside the letters was a picture of an herb with oval leaves and dull purple flowers and black berries.
“That’s a nasty one, isn’t it?” said Molly.
“Yup,” Micky answered. “If a person eats that, they get poisoned and they can’t walk properly. And that one, too.” He pointed to a picture of a plant with white flowers. “Conium maculatum. Hemlock. That paralyzes you if you eat it. Amazing! It looks so pretty, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t judge your flower by its prettiness,” Molly agreed.
“Hurry up,” tutted Miss Hunroe, only visible for a second as she poked her head back through the door in an oak partition in front of them. It was the entrance to a section of the building called the botanical library.
“I suppose this is one of the surprises,” said Micky. He pointed to a sign that read BY INVITATION ONLY. PLEASE OBTAIN PASS.
He and Molly looked at each other and began to trot as they tried to catch up with Miss Hunroe. They followed her into a long room with desks laden with books and papers along each side of it. Miss Hunroe hurried past the desks toward two large, wooden-framed glass doors. These swung back behind her as she blasted her way through them, one catching Molly’s shoulder.
“Ow! Slow down, lady,” Molly muttered, rubbing her arm.
Now they were in an arched, high-windowed space that housed columns and columns of fitted oak filing cabinets. These rose from the ground to the ceiling everywhere. A block of tall wooden cabinets punctuated even the center of the room.
“The archives,” stated Miss Hunroe, without a backward glance.
Molly saw that in front of each window was an alcove with a desk and a chair. And here museum workers busied themselves on computers, all of them too buried in work to bat an eye at the visitors.
“First a diplomat’s parking permit, then access to all this. Miss Hunroe seems to know people,” said Micky. “What’s she doing now?”
Miss Hunroe stood at the end of the room in front of a set of drawers.
“Crumbs. Looks like lessons start here,” said Molly.
As she and Micky arrived by Miss Hunroe’s side, their new tutor smiled so that her hazel eyes shone. Then, with a naughty expression on her face, she pressed the drawer beside her so that, instead of popping out, it went in. And to Molly and Micky’s immense surprise, the whole of the double-fronted cabinet before them turned on a pivot, becoming yet another door—this time a secret one.
“Oh, my giddy aunt,” said Molly.
“Your what?” asked Micky.
“It’s an expression,” whispered Molly, following Miss Hunroe through.
On the other side of the door, which now snapped shut, the space was similarly filled with towering filing cabinets. Like a businesswoman late for a board meeting, Miss Hunroe quickened her pace and marched through it.
“Miss Hunroe, I think you should know,” Micky said. “Your friend had an accident.”
“Sounds like her!” the tutor replied.
“Where are you taking us, Miss Hunroe?” Molly asked, beginning to feel uneasy. She’d had enough experience with strange situations to know that this one didn’t feel entirely right. “It’s all a bit mysterious, this. I’d prefer it if you told us what was going on.”
Micky flicked his hair from his eyes. “Molly doesn’t like surprises, you see,” he explained. “In the past she’s had a few nasty ones, so…”
“Oh, don’t worry, you two,” said Miss Hunroe, flinging her words over her shoulder. “This is all completely aboveboard. Just a few more steps, and everything will be nearly revealed.” She came to another door and turned its porcelain handle, leading Micky and Molly into yet another room. They both stepped warily inside.
“Now we’re in one of the museum’s towers!” Miss Hunroe announced excitedly, closing the door, locking it, and quickly pocketing the key. “Do you see—the roof is pointed! Lovely and light, isn’t it, with its big windows? It’s a sort of very smart library.” She pointed up some stairs to a balcony above, where bookshelves hugged the walls. “Exquisite, isn’t it?”
The library was indeed splendid and luxurious. Its furniture, shelves, and balconies were made of polished walnut decorated in Art Deco style, with ebony inlaid motifs of leaves and flowers and hummingbirds. On the level where the twins stood was a fireplace with a large framed picture of a feather-shaped tree above it, and in front of this, a big, low coffee table laden with books. On the other three sides of this table were three sofas. Molly noticed that the window’s panes had stained-glass patterns and back-to-front writing etched there, too. Writing that was designed to be read from outside, she supposed. Yet how anyone might read it when the tower was so high, she didn’t know.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” Miss Hunroe invited. Then she reached into her suit-jacket pocket and took out the gold coin. She flipped it, guessing, “Heads!” and then looked at the result in her palm. “Heads you win. Would you like hot chocolate?”
“Yes, that would be great.” Micky shrugged.
“Unless.” Molly faltered. “Unless you have concentrated orange squash?”
“Concentrated orange squash! Certainly not! Wait here on this ottoman, and I’ll be back in a trice.” She disappeared through a door in the corner of the room, and Molly heard her clapping her hands.
Micky picked up a glass paperweight with a black narcissus flower inside it. Then he wandered over to the bookshelf by the fireplace, where he began to look at book titles.
Molly walked across the room to look out the window. It was a blustery day. A sheep-shaped cloud above the leafless trees in front of the museum was changing its form and beginning to look like a wolf.
“We’re very high up,” she said to Micky.
“We are in fact ’ere.” An elderly voice with a French accent suddenly piped up behind Molly, ma
king her nearly jump out of her skin. The end of a silver walking stick tapped the glass of an old drawing of the museum that hung on the wall. “We’re almost in the top of zis tower.”
Molly turned to see the smile of a brown-faced old lady with a blue rinse hairdo. A string of pearls, white as fresh snowballs, hung around her neck. The wrinkly woman was dressed in an ankle-length gray-blue suit that was embellished with waves of frills from top to bottom. She smelled very strongly of lavender. She peered inquiringly through silver spectacles.
“I didn’t give you a ’eart attack, did I?”
“Of course you did, Miss Suzette,” said Miss Hunroe, returning. It was then that Molly and Micky saw the others. Like cats entering a room, two other women had also quietly come in. They had settled on a long sofa under the balcony. “Now, Molly and Micky, sit here,” Miss Hunroe continued, gesturing to the sofa in front of her, “and let me introduce you to everyone.”
Molly and Micky observed the women. Taking up most of the room on the long sofa was a large, muscular woman in a wide, tentlike, seaweed green dress and white gloves. She had a mop of blond hair that was scraped into little buns on either side of her head, so that she looked as though she had strange second ears above her own. Her face was ruddy and scrubbed looking. Squeezed next to her was a small, heron-thin lady with thin, black, shoulder-length straight hair parted down the center of her head. She was still in her coat—a charcoal woolen one. Her hands were soapy white; the veins on the back of them were blue and pronounced.
There was a knock at the door. The Japanese skater, who was still in her red tutu, but with moon boots on instead of skates, hobbled in, helped by a maid in a blue apron. She was assisted toward the sofa, where she too sat.
“So sorry. I slipped. Had a bad fall. Twisted my ankle,” she said. She took off her right boot, and the maid lifted it up onto a stool. Another maid came in with a bag of ice and a towel and gave it to the Japanese woman, who packed it around her swollen ankle. Molly noticed that she had a long, straight scar up her right forearm and wondered what accident had caused that. The two maids left, and the Japanese woman leaned back.
The large woman in green pulled a small harp out of her bag and passed it to Miss Hunroe. “I collected it from the menders,” she said in a deep voice. “Before I forget, here it is.”
“Oh, thank you,” Miss Hunroe said, taking the harp. “Do we have to do bandages now?” she asked the Japanese woman, frowning at her.
Molly nodded politely at the gathering, but not feeling at all comfortable now, moved back toward the fireplace, near Micky. “Weird,” she said under her breath to him.
When she turned back, she found that the lady with the blue rinsed hair was now perched on the arm of the long sofa with the others and Miss Hunroe had moved to stand proprietarily beside it. Each of the women smiled warmly toward the twins. Suddenly a nervous giggle rose in Molly’s throat. The situation was so odd. And the peculiar women looked so funny, as though they were birds roosting on the branch of a tree. But they weren’t trying to be funny, she knew, and this made Molly want to laugh even more. She didn’t dare look at Micky, because if she did, they both might start to giggle, and they mustn’t laugh—they were supposed to be on best behavior today.
“So,” began Miss Hunroe, rather more grimly than Molly expected. “Prepare yourselves. We have some surprises for you.”
Micky glanced at Molly, and he put down the glass paperweight. It clunked loudly onto the tabletop, nearly cracking it.
“Um…okay.” Molly nodded. She and Micky eyed the well-heeled ladies suspiciously. Then, to their amazement, a wide white screen began dropping from the balcony behind their heads. As it did, to pass the time, Miss Hunroe gave her small harp a few strokes. Lovely music filled the air. Then Miss Hunroe spoke, all the while plucking and strumming her miniature harp.
“How to start? It’s difficult. But I’ll be as quick and as to the point as possible. This is Miss Oakkton….” She pointed to the big muscley woman.
“Nice to meet you,” Miss Oakkton said in a German accent.
“And this is Miss Speal.” The thin woman in the gray coat smiled weakly. “You met Miss Teriyaki on the ice, and Miss Suzette, who just gave you a fright.”
“How do you do?” Molly and Micky said uncertainly.
“Hello. How do you do?” the cluster of women replied.
Molly felt like laughing again. “This is mad,” she whispered to Micky.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“These ladies already know about you,” Miss Hunroe continued. “In fact, rather more than you might think. They know, for instance, that you, Molly, are a hypnotist, a time stopper, and a time traveler. And we are here today to talk about what you can do.”
“This is where I say, ‘Oh, my giddy aunt,’” Micky said under his breath to Molly.
And Molly, though shocked by Miss Hunroe’s revelation replied, “A load of giddy aunts, I think.” She didn’t care whether the gaggle of women heard her or not. Suddenly she was very suspicious. A cynical frown creased her forehead. And suddenly Molly didn’t like the music or the women’s smiles or the elegant room or the idea of the hot chocolate that was coming her way. “Do you mind,” she said to Miss Hunroe, “putting down your harp? It’s just a bit weird.”
Miss Hunroe stopped immediately and put down the instrument on the desk.
Just then a fair-haired maid dressed in a blue uniform with a white apron entered. She was carrying a tray with two mugs on it and had the obedient look of a well-trained dog. In fact, Molly thought, she looked hypnotized.
Miss Hunroe smiled at the maid. “Thank you, Sally.” Then she tossed her gold coin and let it land in her left hand. As though its landing musical note side up had directed her, she declared, “Now, Molly and Micky, maybe you have guessed, or maybe you haven’t guessed. My good friends here and I are all hypnotists.”
Four
Outside the natural history museum, shielded from the high tower that Molly and Micky were in by bare winter trees and a Beefeater hot-dog stand, AH2 stood shivering in the winter sun.
“She’s definitely up there,” he was saying to someone on the other end of the cell phone. “Unless the device is faulty.” The other person said something, to which AH2 replied with a wry chortle. “Yes, she’s well and truly trapped. She’s like a fox in a hole now. I’ll get the proof, and then we’ll confront her—or I should say we’ll confront it.” He laughed happily. “Over and out.” AH2 slipped his phone back into his pocket and rechecked his tracking machine.
He felt good, for, like a fisherman after a clever fish, he’d been trying to catch Molly Moon since he’d first come across her in New York City. And today here she was, swimming near his net.
Molly was extraordinary. As soon as AH2 had encountered this Moon girl he’d known exactly what she was. Even her name gave it away! He didn’t believe the outlandish story that she was named after the box of Moon’s Marshmallows she’d been found in as a baby. Nonsense! No, this girl had superhuman, unearthly talents. She could make other people do exactly what she wanted. AH2 had concluded that, without a shadow of a doubt, this Molly Moon was not human. No, it was very clear that this “girl” was definitely neither he nor she but instead an it. For she was, as sure as hot dogs were hot dogs, an alien.
AH2’s real name was Malcolm Tixley. He was twenty-five and was in the Royal Air Force, and he’d been an alien hunter since he was five years old. His obsession began when he’d seen a green alien sitting on the wing of an airplane. He’d been traveling with his parents to visit relations in Tanzania, and the plane had been cruising at forty thousand feet, but the alien had been there, all right. It had even winked at him. His mother had seen the alien, and so had the flight attendant.
Ever since then he’d been hooked. At ten he’d joined the Y.B.A.H.A, the Young British Alien Hunting Association, and had risen through its ranks so that he was deputy in command. Thus his title, AH2—Alien Hunter Two. At eighteen he had join
ed the air force and become an excellent pilot. He enjoyed his work, but deep down, his main reason for flying was to see an alien again. At night he took classes in space studies.
“Strange weather we’ve been havin’, haven’t we?” the fat-faced hot-dog man asked, holding out a bun and sausage. “Hailstorms with stones the size o’ Ping-Pong balls and then bright, bright sunshine.” AH2 was so deep in thought he didn’t hear him. “Hungry for it, are ya?” the man asked.
“Wh-what? For what?” AH2 stammered, caught off his guard in his daydream.
“For the hot dog, of course. Are you hungry for it?” The hot-dog seller wiped his hands on a checkered cloth.
AH2 took the hot dog and squirted some mustard on it. “Actually,” he said, dropping some coins onto the tin counter, “I’m hungry to catch an alien.”
“Ah. Right. I see,” he said. “Very nice.”
“So you’re hypnotists too,” said Molly slowly. She paused as the maid placed her hot chocolate in front of her. “I don’t think I’ll be drinking that hot chocolate, then.” She eyed the well-dressed collection of women before her. “Am I right in thinking, Miss Hunroe, that you aren’t a tutor at all?”
Miss Hunroe nodded. She looked down shamefully and fiddled with her gold coin. “I do apologize for misleading you both, and your parents and family,” she said, “but it was necessary. Your parents never would have let you come if they knew my real reason for wanting you here.”
“Unbelievable.” Molly glanced sideways at Micky. As the full impact of Miss Hunroe’s deception became clear, a steely anger filled her. “You had no right,” she said. “You wouldn’t take normal kids out of their family house by posing as a teacher. If the police knew, they’d lock you up. Who do you think you are?” Molly turned and walked toward the door. “Where’s the key for this? I noticed you locking it. It did cross my mind that that was a weird thing to do. We’re going home. Now.”