A fight would have broken out then and there if Hugo hadn’t suddenly stuck his black and white face into the tent. The badger was curious about this odd gathering but was equally attracted by the smell of scones and jelly.
Napoleon, who’d been quite happy until then, immediately puffed out his feathers. The parrot didn’t like Hugo and wanted to make sure he knew it. “Lard butt! Lard butt!” he squawked from Minerva’s shoulder. “Stupid idiot! Stupid idiot!”
Minerva tried to calm him down, but the parrot had only just begun. “Dum-dum! Lard butt! Poo pants!” he screeched.
Hugo figured that he wasn’t welcome and vanished. Unfortunately, though, while they have perfect hearing and a wonderful sense of smell, badgers don’t see very well. Hugo therefore didn’t see that Mrs. Flopps was in his way.
The woman had left her afternoon tea to come see what all the commotion was about. And the second she put her foot on the top step, the little animal knocked her clean off her feet, sending her spinning through the air like a ballet dancer. She landed heavily on the stairs with a thump that seemed to make the whole house shake. “Augh!” she screamed.
Ravi, Minerva, and Thomasina rushed to the scene of the disaster. They looked at Mrs. Flopps then at each other, trying not to laugh. The tension from a few moments before had vanished. But it was obvious that they were going to have to meet again later.
That night, the wind grew even stronger. It howled through the village streets and slipped its icy fingers through window frames, down chimneys, and under doors. The moon was hidden behind a blanket of clouds, and the houses that still had lights on shone like tiny islands in the thick darkness.
Many people were still awake. They all felt strangely restless. But perhaps it was only the wind.
The Greatbores, though, had other reasons for being awake: they both had terrible stomachaches. “It must have been that fish stew,” Daphne groaned. She was propped up on two pillows on the uncom-fortable bed.
“Or the cuttlefish stew,” Arthur muttered, rubbing his stomach.
They were buried under a mountain of blankets. The room was cold, and they couldn’t even take a hot bath. “I hate it here,” complained Daphne. “Arthur, I want to go back to London. This place is not civilized.”
“Come on, dear! Buck up!” whispered her husband, patting her hand. “Just a little patience.”
“And I don’t want to see another fox as long as I live. Or an owl.”
“Come on, my dear,” encouraged Arthur. He then sneezed loudly. He just knew he was coming down with a cold.
The church bell struck midnight. Most of the residents of Pembrose finally stopped their tossing and turning and fell asleep. Miss Lavender turned off her bedside light and wished Napoleon sweet dreams, wherever he was.
Peace descended on the perfect lawns of Crowley Hall. But in the left tower, a light was still on — a small flickering light that cast shadows on the walls.
With his arms wrapped around William the Conqueror, Gilbert O’Sullivan was fast asleep on the top of the bunk he shared with his brother, Colin. Their cottage, which everyone called Blackbeard’s Hideout, was silent, except for the snoring of the dog. He had been saved from the angry wasps just in the nick of time.
On the cliff top, Mrs. Flopps was snoring in living room number three. She’d fallen asleep in an armchair with a book about impressionist painters lying open on her big belly, which rose up and down as she breathed. Her bandaged leg was up on a stool. The foxes that were keeping her company were curled up on the couch.
Inside her orange tent and blissfully unaware of Gilbert and William the Conqueror’s plans for revenge, Minerva was smiling in her sleep. She was dreaming that her parents were the Emperor of China and the Queen of the Amazon.
All of Lizard Manor’s normal creaks and groans had stopped. The silence grew as thick as Jell-O. It was almost as if the furniture, paintings, and everything else in the house was as sound asleep as Minerva and Mrs. Flopps.
Standing lookout on the roof, only the owls were still awake. “Woot-woot!” cried Augustus, rolling his yellow eyes and twitching his feathery head. Then, as silent as a ghost, he took off into the dark sky.
The next day was Saturday, so there was no school. The bells of the little stone church in the middle of the village were ringing out happily. The weather was still gloomy, but at least it wasn’t raining.
Ravi was about to get on his bike when his mother came out from the store. She was wearing a sari as blue as the sky and was singing an Indian song.
She gently brushed back a lock of black hair from his forehead and handed him a bag. “I’ve made you some breakfast. There’s something in there for your friends, too,” she said with a wink.
“But I didn’t tell you where I’m going!”
Mrs. Kapoor smiled. “I thought you were going to Lizard Manor.”
The three friends had actually planned to meet at the old lighthouse under Admiral Rock on a spit of land that stretched out into the sea.
Ravi took the delicious-smelling bag and rode off at full speed. He messed up his hair again — he wanted to look his best for Thomasina. She really was kind of cute.
Meanwhile, Thomasina was still eating breakfast with her parents. But she was very distracted. It’s not that there was anything wrong with the food — although Lady Annabella had complained to the maid that the tea was a little weak that morning, and Sir Archibald had said that he wanted the tea served in big cups. (He said that little ones were for sissies.) In the end, though, everything was fine. There were scrambled eggs, sausages, and perfectly crispy bacon. The toast was golden and the raspberry jelly was delicious.
Thomasina was wearing her Saturday dress with a pretty bow on the front (which made it hard to move) and polished shoes with straps. Sir Archibald and Lady Annabella were dressed from head to toe in tweed and were wearing riding boots. Both of them had rosy cheeks and hearty, strong bodies — possibly because of the huge breakfasts they ate every morning. They were surrounded by a pack of dogs, which were barking so much you could hardly hear a word anyone said. They spoke just the same, though.
Thomasina didn’t bother to listen. All she could think about was The Mystery of the Travel Bag, a title she’d come up with herself. She couldn’t have been happier. Finally she was having a real life adventure!
She took her napkin off her lap and placed it on the table. “May I be excused?” she asked. But no one could hear her over a golden setter that was barking furiously. Thomasina wasn’t planning on waiting for an answer, anyway.
She ran to a hidden corner of the garden and, when she was sure no one was looking, reached into the hedge and pulled out a stylish purse. Inside it she kept everything a girl could want for going on adventures. There was a compass, flashlight, burn cream, a map of Cornwall, and blocks of chocolate. She was ready.
Before meeting her friends, Minerva had to run an errand for Mrs. Flopps in the village. She stepped into the ladies’ clothing shop opposite the general store, determined that she wouldn’t get trapped in a conversation by the two owners.
“Minerva, what a lovely surprise!” exclaimed Araminta when she saw her. The younger of the two Bartholomew sisters was pretty and brunette.
“It’s been such a long time since we saw you last!” said Gwendolyn, who was blond and taller than the Statue of Liberty. They were wearing identical outfits, which they’d designed and made themselves, and both had the habit of not letting their customers talk.
“Mrs. Flopps’s tulle veil is ready,” Araminta chirped. She skipped behind the counter and pulled out a small box. She opened it to reveal a white veil that was so delicate it looked like a cloud. “Isn’t it wonderful!” she said.
Just then, Minerva felt something wriggling in her coat pocket. Oh, no! she thought. Not now! She tried to calm the parrot down by stroking it, but it insisted on sticking its ruffled, feathery head out. “I’ve got to go!” she cried.
She grabbed the box and put the veil back
in. “Thank you! It’s beautiful!”
* * *
Ravi and Thomasina watched as Minerva rushed toward them. Her hair stuck out in every direction, as if it was trying to escape off her head. She had a small box under one arm, and Napoleon’s head was sticking out from her coat pocket.
They were waiting for her outside the old lighthouse. It hadn’t been used in years, and everyone in the village now called it the Smuggler’s Den. It was right at the bottom of Admiral Rock. Minerva had chosen it for their meeting because that was where she went whenever she had to think about something important.
“Why did you bring him?” asked Ravi, pointing to Napoleon.
The parrot looked at him suspiciously and cried, “Stupid idiot! Lard butt!”
Minerva gave him a little pat. “He keeps getting into arguments with Hugo,” she explained. “I thought he’d like to get out of the house for a while.”
The boy and the parrot just stared at each other. “Dum-dum!” squawked Napoleon.
Ravi snorted. “I reckon you should take him back to his owner. Imagine how worried she must be.”
Minerva immediately came to Napoleon’s rescue. “No way! I’ll only take him back when she promises to take him on a vacation to Brazil!”
“Whatever,” said Ravi as they went into the lighthouse. “Hey, it’s really dark in here!” he exclaimed in surprise. “Careful where you put your feet!”
“I’ll take care of that,” Thomasina said, pulling a flashlight from her purse.
Cobwebs hung thick from the ceiling like curtains. Small black things ran here and there in the gloom.
“Three centuries ago, this lighthouse was a famous smuggler’s hideout,” Minerva said as they climbed the spiral staircase.
“Yeah, and no one’s cleaned it since then!” Ravi complained.
When they came back out into the sunlight in the lantern room, he breathed a sigh of relief. They went out onto the catwalk and sat down. It was great up there, watching the waves crash into the rocks as the seagulls circled high above the foam. There were also some puffins here and there drifting lazily on the current.
They divided up the breakfast Ravi had brought (three thick slices of banana walnut cake), while Minerva told the story of Daphne and Arthur. She also told them about all the other couples who’d come to Pembrose over the years, saying they were her parents just to claim the house.
“How can you be sure that they’re not really your parents?” asked Ravi, swallowing the last piece of cake and wiping his hands on his jeans.
“Whenever anyone tells a lie, my feet tickle,” Minerva said as if it was the most natural thing on earth. Ravi and Thomasina just stared at her open-mouthed. “And it’s horrible! Like someone tickling my toes with a feather!” she explained. “Daphne and Arthur told so many lies that I could barely keep still!” Ravi and Thomasina just kept staring at her with an expression of disbelief. “Okay, let me prove it! Ravi, tell me three things. One has to be a lie.”
Ravi thought for a second. “Okay. My best friend in India is named Anish,” he began.
Nothing. Minerva’s expression didn’t change.
“I wear size seven shoes . . .”
Still nothing.
“My Uncle Darva is a postman . . .”
Minerva started grinning. She then jumped up and began hopping on one foot and then the other. She went red in the face and eventually doubled over with laughter. “He is not!” she cried through her tears.
Thomasina looked at Ravi. “Is he or isn’t he?”
He shook his head. “No. Uncle Darva’s a baker. He’s really good, too.”
Thomasina was now very excited. “That’s incredible! Fantastic! Just think about how many things you could do with this power! You could expose all the liars in the world! You’d be a hero!”
Minerva wiped her tears and scratched her feet. “I’d rather not. I don’t want anyone to know about it. I just need it to figure out if the people who say they’re my parents are telling the truth. With everyone else, I just pretend not to notice. Everyone lies sometimes.”
“So, Arthur and Daphne are lying?” asked Ravi. He was now ready to believe almost anything Minerva said.
“They tell lie after lie after lie,” she said. “But they want the house. And since I can’t prove they’re lying, well, we’ve got to think up some plan to get rid of them!”
“We’ve got to?” asked Ravi in alarm. “You mean the three of us?”
Naturally, Thomasina was delighted. “What a great idea!” she cried, clapping her hands. She jumped to her feet and started walking around the catwalk. “So, what can we do to them? Put scorpions in their bed? Kidnap them? Hang them by ropes from the cliff until they promise to go away?”
Ravi was horrified. “Hey, calm down! You read too many adventure stories! The three of us need to give this some thought,” he began. He suddenly realized that, in his anxiety to please Thomasina, he’d just committed himself to taking part in whatever crackpot plan the two girls came up with.
“How much time do we have to get rid of them?” Thomasina asked Minerva.
“The lawyer will be here in a week,” said Minerva. “If we could find my real parents before then, we’d have no problem!”
“Exactly,” agreed Thomasina. “That way no one could ever try to take Lizard Manor away from you again. By the way, I’ve thought and thought about that strange letter in your bag. I think we have to follow the recipe,” she said.
“Have you found any lightning-berries?” asked Minerva.
“Not yet,” answered Thomasina. She gave Ravi a stern look. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“Absolutely not,” said Ravi.
Not sure if he was kidding or not, Thomasina just ignored him. “If we all work together, we’ll figure it out. Can you come to Crowley Hall? We’ve got so many books in the library we’re bound to find something.”
Minerva was very excited. “Great idea! The books in Lizard Manor are hard to read because they fall apart as soon as you open them. Since the recipe was in my bag, it must be important for finding my parents.”
Ravi couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “How do you figure that? You think your parents will appear in a puff of smoke as soon as we mix it all together?” He then realized that what he said might have hurt Minerva’s feelings, so he shut up.
“I’ve got no idea what will happen,” Minerva admitted. “But I’m sure something will. Nothing is impossible!”
“Exactly!” cried Thomasina.
Ravi had been outvoted but he still tried to protest. “I think that —” He was interrupted by Napoleon.
The bird’s tousled little head popped out from Minerva’s pocket again. “Stop, thief!” he squawked. “Stop, thief! Stop, thief!” He seemed very upset about something.
“Pfft! What’s wrong with him now?” snorted Ravi.
Minerva was immediately suspicious. “Something’s not right here,” she whispered, looking around.
“Stop, thief! Stop, thief!” repeated Napoleon.
Minerva, who was used to looking after herself, was better at sensing danger than the other two. She lay down and peered over the edge of the catwalk. “Oh, no!” she said, pulling her head back in immediately. She was so pale that her friends were worried.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ravi.
“What did you see?” asked Thomasina.
“Shh!” Minerva said, putting a finger to her lips. “Maybe they haven’t seen us. Stay down!”
“Who are you talking about?” Ravi insisted.
But just then there was a fierce growl and someone shouted, “Minerva Mint! Don’t bother hiding, I saw you!”
“Oh, no!” she shrieked.
“And I saw your two friends!” shouted Gilbert.
They stood up and leaned over the lighthouse railing. There were three of them down there, not counting William the Conqueror. They were surrounded by Gilbert’s gang!
Gilbert smiled an evil smil
e. He was the tallest of the three. He stood there posing, with one foot on a rock and his hands on his hips. “I’ve come to settle a score! Like I promised!” he bellowed.
Minerva looked around. There was no one else around. They were trapped!
“Go away!” shouted Thomasina. She knew Gilbert and the other gang members. They went to her school, and the whole village knew about what they got up to.
“How come they’ve got it in for you?” asked Ravi.
“It’s a long story,” said Minerva. “We’ve got to get out of here,” she said, moving toward the stairs.
“It’s too late, Minerva Mint!” shouted Gilbert. “You’ll never make it out of there in time.” There was a note of triumph in his voice. He was like a cat playing with a mouse.
Minerva stopped. Gilbert was right.
“How dangerous are they?” asked Ravi.
“They think they own the village,” said Minerva.
Someone kicked the lighthouse door open. It slammed against the wall, making Minerva, Thomasina, and Ravi jump with fright. They were coming!
“Can’t we hide somewhere?” asked Thomasina.
“No. The only way out is that door and we can’t go up any farther,” said Minerva. “We can only go down . . .”
“And run right into them on those dark stairs!” Ravi sighed.
Minerva suddenly looked at him as if he’d said the most brilliant thing ever. She then looked at Napoleon’s head sticking out of her pocket. “Wow!” she cried. “Ravi, you’re a genius!”
“I’m a what?!” he asked with a puzzled expression.
Meanwhile, sounds of shouting and banging were coming from downstairs.
“Minerva, what are you going to do?” asked Ravi.
Thomasina was looking down the spiral staircase. “They’re still at the bottom,” she said. “They don’t have a flashlight and it looks like they’re having trouble finding their way in the dark.”
“Good!” said Minerva. “Maybe my plan will work.” She opened the box that the Bartholomew sisters had given her and pulled out the white veil.
MM01. The Order of the Owls Page 4