Rosamund followed his pointing finger. On the left-hand side of the page was a small boxed advertisement.
IF THE PERSON the Key was given to at the Artemisia Hotel on Saturday 9th returns it to its rightful owner, it will be to her sister’s advantage. K16, tonight, Monk and Wharf Streets. 8.30 p.m.
‘Last Saturday was my birthday. They’re talking about my party.’ Rosamund’s eyes widened. ‘They’ve got Emily!’
‘They want you to think that, anyway,’ said Gibraltar. ‘Personally, I think it’s a trap.’
As he spoke, Livia took the paper from him and read the advertisement with a furrowed brow. ‘What’s this key they’re talking about?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Rosamund impatiently. ‘Just some stupid old thing Papa King sent me for my birthday. He’s gone a bit funny in the head, poor darling. I don’t think he knew what he was doing. It was cut right down the middle; it wouldn’t even have worked.’
‘Cut down the middle?’ said Livia. She put down the paper, looking suddenly anxious and pale. ‘Rosamund, you don’t have the key with you, by any chance?’
‘No,’ said Rosamund. ‘It was left behind at Miniver House, when I was kidnapped. I gave it to Emily to put away.’
‘But it was definitely cut in half? Right down the middle, lengthways?’
‘I think so,’ said Rosamund. ‘Why? Is it important?’
‘There is a room in the City Archives, where the most secret documents are kept,’ said Livia. ‘Things Papa King doesn’t want anyone to know. The key to that room was made in two pieces that must be put together to open the door. One piece is held by the City Archivist. The other belongs to Papa King, or whoever else is king or queen of Artemisia.
‘Since Papa King fell ill, nobody knows where the Most Secret Room is. Cousin Karen has had me hunting for it secretly. She told me it was because there were records there that showed how badly Papa King treated her, but I don’t believe that any more. I think she wants to get in there for another reason. And I know she has been searching herself for Papa King’s key.’
‘What for?’ asked Rosamund, puzzled. ‘And why on earth did Papa King give it to me?’
‘Whoever holds the key has a very strong claim to be Papa King’s successor. Cousin Karen knows that. I think she wants the key so she can become queen herself. I also think,’ said Livia, ‘that when Papa King sent you his half of the key, he was doing more than giving you a birthday present. I think he was saying that he wants you to be the next queen of Artemisia.’
‘Oh, no.’ Rosamund stared at her in horror. ‘You mean, this is why all this is happening? What on earth was Papa King thinking of? He can’t be serious, I’m only fourteen.’
‘Papa King was seventeen when he succeeded his mother, old Queen Rosamund,’ said Gibraltar. ‘You are his eldest foster daughter, named in her honour. You are also one of the two most popular people in Artemisia. It’s not so outlandish an idea as you might think.’
‘But I don’t want to be queen,’ insisted Rosamund. ‘I’m not interested in ruling Artemisia. I would be absolutely hopeless. Papa King must have had another reason for giving me the key. As far as I’m concerned, Madame’s welcome to it. I’m going to go to that rendezvous and tell her so.’
‘No!’ exclaimed Livia and Gibraltar together. ‘You mustn’t – you absolutely mustn’t!’
‘But she says she’s got Emily!’
‘It’s a bluff, Rosamund,’ said Gibraltar. ‘She’s trying to trap you. Even if she had Emily, do you really think she’d hand her over?’
‘She won’t hand her over if we don’t go,’ said Rosamund stubbornly. ‘We have to try. It’s up to you whether you come or not, but if I ignore this ad, and that awful woman does something to Emmie, I will never forgive myself.’
‘That’s quite enough, Rosamund,’ said Gibraltar. ‘If you’re determined to go, then of course, we will go with you. We’re certainly not going to let you go alone. But you must promise that if we do, you will do exactly what I tell you. Is that agreed?’
‘Oh, all right,’ said Rosamund. She picked up the paper again. ‘K16. I wonder what that means? Do you think they’re talking about a map?’
‘Sssh!’ said Livia suddenly. ‘There’s somebody coming up the path!’ She stepped out briefly onto the verandah, then shot back inside with a face as white as paper.
‘It’s Cousin Karen,’ she whispered. ‘They’ve found us!’
Madame walked down the path in her tight new shoes, feeling rather uncomfortable. It was a long time since she had been to her grandparents’ old house, and she was astonished to see that her cousin Livia had painted the outside walls bright yellow. She also seemed to have planted a lot of unnecessary flowers in the garden. Madame walked up the front steps, opened the lattice gate onto the verandah, and rang the big brass bell. A moment later, the door opened.
‘Hello, Cousin Karen. What’s the matter?’
‘I need to talk to you,’ Madame explained. ‘May I come in?’
She followed Livia into the living room and stopped dead in shock. Inside, the house was even more amazing than the outside. Madame stared at paintings of flowers, a jumble of china ornaments, the vivid pink sofa. The ceiling was painted blue with fluffy white clouds. The whole effect made her feel rather nauseous. ‘It’s very … bright.’
‘Yes,’ said Livia. She picked a newspaper up off the sofa and quickly tossed it underneath. ‘I like it like this. Please, sit down.’
Madame sat down opposite Livia. She had not been looking forward to this visit, and if Livia’s help had not been vital to her plans she would certainly not have been making it. Madame hated visiting people. Her idea of a good time was to sit at home by herself in the dark, eating out-of-date gingernuts and watching re-runs of black-and-white movies. Madame especially liked old science-fiction films, the sort where the monsters had rubber tentacles and invaded Earth in cardboard spaceships. She enjoyed the way the monsters would hide in swamps and then jump squelchily on people’s faces, and she approved of the fact that the film companies had not wasted any money on special effects. Sometimes, in the most exciting part of a movie her cat would come in with a mouse she had caught and crunch it up on the threadbare carpet. Madame would stroke the creature’s fur and tell Kitty, in between ray-gun shots, that she was a good girl for saving money on cat food. All this was great fun, and much easier than visiting a relative she secretly found rather peculiar.
Livia cleared her throat. She knew the polite thing to do was to offer Madame a cup of tea, but since she did not want her visitor to stay any longer than she had to, she did not suggest it. Instead, she said, ‘How can I help you, Cousin Karen?’
‘Livia,’ said Madame solemnly, ‘I got the impression yesterday that you were a little bit upset. I was afraid that you might have overheard something that was said, and, er, well believed it.’
‘I – I didn’t overhear anything,’ stammered Livia. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Madame looked at her suspiciously. She was so dishonest herself that she normally did not find other people’s lies surprising, but Livia had always been so helpful and trustworthy that it struck her as odd that she should start fibbing now. Madame was certain Livia had been on the landing outside the tower room when she had threatened Millamant, and that she had overheard Millamant’s remark about the plot to kill Papa King. It was the only way of explaining why she had been so upset. Madame knew that it was vital for her to keep Livia on side until the Most Secret Room was found. If she did not and Papa King died, the City Archivist would go to the Most Secret Room to look for Papa King’s will. All the secret records of that long-ago plot would come to light, and Madame would be exposed as a would-be murderer.
Livia shifted uncomfortably. ‘Is there anything else, Cousin Karen?’
Madame forced a smile. ‘As a matter of fact there is,’ she said. ‘I wanted to tell you how grateful I was that you came to see me yesterday
. Your help means a great deal to me and – well, Livia, I was thinking we should get together more often. There’s a really good movie on TV tonight. It’s called The Claws of Arachnea. I was wondering if you would like to come to the palace and watch it with me.’
‘Oh,’ said Livia. ‘Thank you. That would be – lovely.’
‘Come at half-past six. I’ll give you dinner,’ said Madame recklessly. As she stood to leave, her eyes fell on a small T-shirt and shorts that were draped on the arm of the sofa. She picked them up and looked at them curiously. ‘What’s this for?’
Livia froze with her hand on the door knob. ‘Just a present. A friend of mine’s had a baby.’
‘They look a bit big for a baby,’ said Madame, frowning.
‘Yes. They were, er – cheap.’
Cheap was something Madame could understand. She smiled at Livia and put down the clothes.
‘Tonight at half-past six, Livia,’ she said. ‘I’ll look forward to seeing you then.’
14
The House of Mirrors
Saturday afternoons were busy at the Artemisia Funfair. Though badly run-down, it had been a popular place for families since the days of old Queen Rosamund. On sunny weekends the funfair was filled with children eating ice-creams, and riding on merry-go-rounds and dodgems. The air rang with screams and laughter, and towering over everything the Big Wheel turned constantly, its carriages soaring up and swooping down again to the accompaniment of a hundred different tunes.
But by late afternoon, most of the families had gone home. The evening visitors tended to be rough boys, who hung around in gangs and spent their money on shooting galleries and the fastest rides. None of them were interested in a mousy girl who arrived at the Wharf Street gate with a heavy wheeled shopping bag, shortly before six o’clock. The girl stopped and bought a pair of plastic glasses and a huge rainbow-coloured wig from a hawker on the pavement. When she had put on her disguise, she wheeled her bag through the gate and disappeared into the crowds.
Fiona was feeling scared. Last night, when she had promised to help Emily Miniver, she had felt brave and rather important, but she had not had time to think about what she was doing. It was only later, at home, that Fiona realised what she was actually up against. The Minivers’ enemies were determined to catch them. The funfair would be filled with Ron’s trained security team, and Fiona would have no way of telling where they were. Most of all, though, Fiona was afraid of Titus. Normally he paid her practically no attention, but that would quickly change if she got in the way of his plans.
A small ‘ouch’ sounded inside the wheeled bag as it went over a rock. Fiona’s heart bumped in fright, but she kept her face as expressionless as possible behind her silly glasses. She reached the end of the first avenue of attractions, and turned into the next one, pausing occasionally to admire the stalls. At the Minivers House of Mirrors, Fiona stopped and took careful note of the stall number that was painted in tiny characters above the empty ticket booth. Then she walked casually over to a nearby foodstall, bought two dagwood dogs and two tins of soft drink, and wheeled her bag to a low wall at the furthest edge of the fair.
Fiona unzipped the top of the trolley. With a watchful eye on the passers-by, she slipped in a tin of lemonade and a greasy bag containing one of the dagwood dogs.
The paper bag rustled and there was a muffled pop as the tin was opened. A small voice spoke cautiously from within. ‘Did you see anybody?’
‘I didn’t recognise anyone,’ whispered Fiona. ‘But of course, I don’t know any of the people from your security team, except Ron. I did find K16, though. It’s the Minivers House of Mirrors.’
‘The Minivers House of Mirrors?’
‘Yes. It’s full of those trick mirrors that make thin people look fat, and fat people look thin. It was closed up, so I couldn’t get in. I didn’t want to hang around, in case somebody noticed me.’
‘Good thinking.’ Emily pulled the dagwood dog out of its paper bag, sniffed it once, and shoved it back uneaten. She sipped restlessly on her lemonade. Nervous excitement bubbled away inside her, making it hard for her to keep still. Close as she was to a breakthrough, there would be more danger for her in the next few hours than at any other point of her adventures. The hardest part was not knowing what Rosamund was doing.
Emily closed her eyes and tried to think like her sister. Rosamund was impetuous and wilful, but she was not stupid. In a tight situation she would try to charm and wheedle her way out, but when that didn’t work, she would swiftly change tactics and try to bargain. The problem was that without Papa King’s key, Rosamund had nothing to bargain with. Emily reached into her T-shirt, where the half key dangled on a string around her neck. She did not know why it was so important, but she hoped she could use it to buy their freedom. The trick would be to do this without being caught or doublecrossed first. There were so many things that could go wrong. If Rosamund failed to notice the advertisement; if Ron or Titus recognised Fiona under her silly wig; if somebody saw her moving about inside the bag, then all would be lost. There was not much hope. But without her sister, Emily knew she could not go on. Without Rosamund, she would rather be dead.
The interior of the bag was growing dimmer. Pinpricks of red and gold light started shining through the weave in the canvas, and Emily realised that the funfair coloured lights were switching on. Suddenly, the shopping bag wobbled. Emily heard Fiona stand up, and her voice whispered, hoarse and excited, through the unzipped flap.
‘Emily! I think I’ve just seen Rosamund, in a stroller. She’s here!’
At half-past six precisely, having left Rosamund and Gibraltar to make their way to the railway station, Livia arrived at the Artemisia Palace for her dinner with Madame.
Livia had never been to the palace for dinner before. Aunt Susan, Madame’s mother, had thought herself too grand for the rest of the family, and Livia and her parents had never been invited. As an usher led Livia down the marble corridors, she tried hard not to stare. The furniture had the sort of expensive look she had only seen in posh magazines, and there were portraits and sculptures everywhere.
The usher led Livia up a sweeping wooden staircase and stopped at a door. She knocked, and announced, in a formal voice, ‘Miss Livia Wallace.’
‘Come in, Livia dear.’ Madame was at the window, looking out at the city lights. The door snapped shut behind Livia’s back, leaving her alone with her cousin. ‘Welcome to my little home.’
Livia opened her mouth and quickly closed it again. She had intended to say hello, but the air she breathed in had brought with it such an overwhelming stink of old vinyl shoes and used cat litter that she almost choked. Livia wanted to run away. She knew she was a bad liar, and she did not want to spend a moment more in her cousin’s company than was absolutely necessary. But she, Gibraltar and Rosamund had agreed she must go along with Madame as if nothing had happened. ‘She mustn’t guess that you’ve been helping us,’ Gibraltar had said. ‘Keep an ear to the ground and be as friendly as possible. You might learn something we don’t know.’
‘G … good evening, Cousin Karen,’ Livia managed. ‘Thank you so much for inviting me.’ She looked anxiously around the room, which was a strange mixture of new and pretty curtains and wallpaper, crumbling furniture, and hideous knick-knacks. A tortoiseshell cat came slinking past her leg and Livia forced herself to smile and pat its head. The cat hissed and clawed at her. Livia thought it looked as if it had worms.
‘Don’t mind poor Kitty,’ said Madame. ‘She’s very shy – like me, aren’t you darling?’ She picked up the scrawny animal, making chirping noises that made Livia feel like throwing up. ‘Sit down, dear. Our yummy dinner’s on the table: it wouldn’t do to let it go cold.’
She gestured Livia to the table and whipped the cover off a huge silver tureen with the air of somebody offering her guest a rare treat.
It was tinned tomato soup.
‘We’re running late,’ fumed Rosamund, as she and Gibraltar hurried up the
hill to Central Station. ‘It’s half-past six: we’ll miss the train!’
‘You were the one who held us up,’ Gibraltar protested. ‘I still don’t know why you had to cut your hair off.’
‘Because it made me look too much like a Miniver, of course,’ said Rosamund. Her magnificent hair had been cropped, close to her head, and she was dressed in a pale blue romper suit and hat. ‘Oh, please, hurry! We’re never to going to make it!’
‘I’m going as fast as I can,’ panted Gibraltar. ‘It’s all right for you. You don’t have to push this pram.’
‘I’m not heavy,’ said Rosamund. ‘You just have to run faster. Anyway, it’s your fault for not letting Livia drop us off in her car. I’m sure it would have been safe, and we’d be there now!’
As she spoke, Gibraltar crested the hill and started running down the other side. He too, was looking rather strange this evening, for he had lost his beard and completely shaved his head. In the gathering darkness he and Rosamund might just pass for a father with his baby boy. If they could only get there in time …
The station clock chimed the half hour. Cars beeped and slowed as Gibraltar ran across the road and entered the station concourse. A long-distance express had just come in and there were people everywhere, flooding through the gates in the opposite direction to the one they were going. Gibraltar ploughed through the crush, running over toes and scattering angry passengers.
‘Platform Six!’ shouted Rosamund, glimpsing a departure board. Gibraltar raced through the last of the crowd and leapt onto an escalator with the pram balanced precariously on its two back wheels. There was a sound of electric motors starting up below them. Rosamund leaned anxiously forward, and saw a silver train waiting at the platform at the bottom.
‘It’s there! We’re going to miss it!’
‘Hold on!’ yelled Gibraltar. He flew off the escalator onto the platform and ran for the nearest carriage. The doors snapped shut in their faces. The guard blew his whistle, the train rolled away, and Rosamund and Gibraltar were left behind.
The Minivers Page 12