People were staring, some were cheering. The stone posts of the gate were not far ahead. Gibraltar put on a burst of speed. Primrose jumped out from behind the gatepost. She was lifting her peculiar gun when a girl appeared from behind a hawker’s stand, cannoned into Primrose’s legs and brought her down.
‘Minivers forever!’ shouted Fiona. ‘Go Emily!’
Gibraltar ran through the gate onto the footpath. A small yellow car was driving along the street. As its driver saw them, it swerved to the kerb and the passenger door was flung open.
Rosamund scrambled out of the pram. She shoved Emily into the back of the car and Gibraltar bundled her in from behind. A dart from Primrose’s gun ricocheted off the rear panel, then he leapt into the front seat and slammed the door.
‘Go, Livvy!’ shouted Rosamund. ‘Step on it!’
Livia put her foot on the accelerator. With a screech of rubber, and a belch of exhaust fumes, the car accelerated up the hill and sped away.
15
Minivers on the Run
‘So you see,’ said Titus, ‘in the end, there was really nothing more we could do. They had outside help we weren’t expecting. Somebody in a car. It was white or yellow, we didn’t get the number plate. We think the driver must have been Gibraltar’s friend.’
Madame sat at the desk in her palace office, her plain face made ugly by jealousy and disappointment. The evening, which had begun so perfectly, had gone completely to ruin. She had not even been able to see the end of The Claws of Arachnea. Titus stood on the other side of the desk in his usual down-at-heel sneakers and black jeans. His expression was cool as a cucumber, and there was something about it Madame did not like. She reflected that there had always been quite a lot she did not like about Titus, though she could not have put her finger on exactly what it was.
‘They got away, then.’
‘Yes.’
‘Both of them.’
‘Yes.’
‘And the key?’ said Madame, her voice rising in fury. ‘You told me I’d have the key by this evening. What about it?’
Titus spread his hands apologetically. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘You should be more than sorry,’ said Madame. ‘You came to me a year ago promising a great deal, and I’ve had nothing so far in return. I’m too angry to speak to you now. Get out.’
Madame waited until Titus left the room, then pushed back her chair. It was late and the palace was in darkness, but there was one more person she wanted to speak to. Madame locked her office and walked to a distant suite of rooms. There, in a darkened bedroom, an old man lay propped up on pillows in a hospital bed. Tubes and wires snaked away under the bedclothes, connecting him to a machine that whirred and clicked. There was a flicker of light across a monitor and the soft hiss of an oxygen bottle.
The old man’s hair was silver with dark streaks still in it. He had a high forehead and a beak of a nose. His eyes were closed, but at the sound of Madame’s footsteps, they opened, and gradually focussed. Madame came and stood at the head of the bed.
‘You thought you were being very clever, didn’t you, Papa King?’ she said. ‘Giving that key to Rosamund Miniver. Did you really believe I wouldn’t know what it was? Did you honestly think I’d let you get away with giving a Miniver something that should have been mine?
‘Well, I’m going to tell you something. You’re never going to see the Miniver sisters again. I’ve left them exactly where you left me: without friends, without money, without a future. And when I get the key back, it won’t matter what you’ve written, or what you’ve said, or who’s helping you. You’re finished. You and your precious Minivers are over.’
Papa King lay in his bed. He said nothing, for he could not speak, but his dark, old eyes looked up at Madame as if she was something small and contemptible. Under his gaze, Madame felt as a weak person always feels when they stand before a strong one. Fear and anger gripped her. Her hand fumbled furiously for the switches on the machine beside his bed – and then she saw the twitch of Papa King’s lips, and realised he was laughing at her.
Madame’s hand clenched and dropped to her side. She leaned forward and hissed in his ear.
‘One of these days, Papa King,’ she said. ‘One of these days – I’m going to pull your plug!’
Titus walked down the palace steps with his hands in his pockets. The half-key on its bit of broken string sat snugly in the palm of his right hand. As he crossed the deserted carpark he could see, in the distance, the long dark shadow of the abandoned Miniver House. He turned out of the palace gates into Miniver Boulevard and headed for the river.
Dream your dreams, Madame, Titus thought. Become Queen of Artemisia if that is what you want. I will put you on Papa King’s throne: I don’t want it for myself. And when you are there, I will trick you and lie to you, and through you I will fool and lie to the whole of Artemisia. You and I were made for each other. All in all, I think we’re going to have a lot of fun.
At the end of the street, Titus stopped to look out across the river. A night wind blew over the water, ruffling his bleach-blond hair. A memory came back to him, of Emily Miniver shaking her fist at him from a boat. The game of hide-and-seek was not over yet.
He smiled, and walked off alone into the night.
On the outskirts of the city, a small yellow car turned off the main road and sped towards the mountains. The car climbed into the foothills, its engine straining. The road grew darker and narrower and the trees closed overhead and became a forest.
‘You can come out, now,’ said Livia, from the driver’s seat. ‘There’s no one following us. I think we should be safe.’
Huddled together on the floor behind Gibraltar’s seat, Emily and Rosamund threw off the blanket they were hiding under. There was not much room on the back seat, even for Minivers, but Emily did not mind the squeeze. With Rosamund beside her, her heart was full of happiness. It was Rosamund, truly Rosamund, and the smell, the feel and the sight of her were so right and familiar that Emily could do nothing but cry.
‘Don’t cry, Emmie,’ said Rosamund, hugging her. ‘It’s all right now. It’s all right.’
‘Oh, Rose,’ said Emily. She ran her fingers over her sister’s newly shorn head. ‘Your poor hair.’
‘Never mind,’ said Rosamund. ‘It’ll grow. Anyway, I was due for a change of image.’ She blinked back her own tears. ‘I can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d never see you again. I thought you were dead.’
‘I thought you must be, too,’ said Emily. ‘I – I couldn’t bear it.’
‘Never again,’ said Rosamund fiercely. ‘Nothing, nothing must ever separate us again.’
‘No,’ said Emily, with a strength that welled up from somewhere inside her and made it a promise. ‘Nothing ever will.’
She thought back over the terrible trials through which they had passed. In little more than a week, she and Rosamund had lost their home, their possessions, their friends. They had learned about betrayal, had suffered fear and want and despair. Nothing, though, had been as bad as the thought they might lose each other. In her heart, Emily knew the old days were gone forever. They could never go back, but they could still go on together.
‘It won’t be easy,’ she said aloud, ‘but we’ll do it somehow.’
‘We Minivers may be small,’ said Rosamund, ‘but we’re tough.’
About the Author
Natalie Jane Prior is the author of numerous books for children and young adults, including the internationally successful fantasy series Lily Quench, the picture book The Paw, and the young adult novels Fireworks and Darkness and The Star Locket. Her books have been Honour Books and Notable Books in the Children’s Book Council of Australia Awards, have won the Aurealis Award, and have been shortlisted for numerous children’s choice awards.
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The Minivers Page 14