The Minivers Fight Back Book 2

by Natalie Jane Prior

  ‘What’s that?’ Livia asked.

  Rosamund looked up proudly. ‘Spaghetti,’ she said. ‘Only I think it might have burned.’ She stopped stirring the spaghetti and poked her wooden spoon doubtfully into the gloop. Livia dropped her bag on a chair and hastily turned down the stove.

  ‘That’s because it’s up too high.’

  ‘I thought it would cook faster,’ explained Rosamund. ‘Never mind. Can you drain the spaghetti for me, Livia? The pot’s too heavy for me to lift.’

  ‘I’ll put your bag in the other room, Livia,’ said Emily eagerly. By the time she returned from the living room, the spaghetti was in a bowl with the sauce on top, and Livia and Rosamund were sitting at the table.

  Livia was genuinely touched. The spaghetti looked disgusting, but it was the first time that Rosamund and Emily had made an effort to help out. Livia took some grated cheese and sprinkled it liberally over the spaghetti to hide the burnt bits.

  ‘I heard something on the car radio coming home,’ she told the girls as they ate. ‘Titus has resigned as Vice-President of the Minivers Fan Club. He says he is disgusted by your behaviour and that he’s no longer a fan.’

  Emily pulled a face. ‘He never was a fan. He told me so himself.’

  ‘Pig,’ said Rosamund. ‘What’s happening to the club? Is anyone replacing him?’

  ‘Yes. A woman called Brenda something.’

  ‘Brenda Bertram. She’s Fiona’s mother,’ said Emily. ‘Oh dear. She’s so silly, she’s sure to be hopeless.’

  ‘I wouldn’t worry,’ said Rosamund gloomily. ‘At the rate we’re going we won’t have any fans left, so a fan club will be irrelevant.’

  Livia could not help feeling sorry for her. ‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘Madame’s not as much in control as she thinks. She wants to see me tonight, so I’ll try and find out what she’s up to. Thanks for cooking dinner. I’d better get ready or I’ll be late.’ Livia pushed back her chair and went off to the bedroom to change. She returned about ten minutes later in a clean blue dress, carrying her open handbag.

  ‘Did anyone see where I put my keys?’

  ‘They were in your hand when you came home,’ said Rosamund helpfully.

  ‘I must have put them down somewhere.’ Livia started hunting around the kitchen. Emily and Rosamund jumped down from the table to join in the search, but the keys were nowhere to be found. Livia started to become upset.

  ‘I’ll be late! Oh, for goodness sake, where did I put them?’

  ‘Why don’t you take a cab?’ suggested Emily. ‘Rosamund and I can look around for the keys while you’re gone.’

  Ten minutes later the keys had still not turned up, and Livia set off for her appointment in a taxi. The Minivers stood waiting on the verandah until the sound of its engine faded up the street. Cicadas chirped in the darkening garden, and in the west, the sunset was marching towards the horizon in vibrant bands of colour. Rosamund crept over and peeped through the lattice. There was no one to be seen.

  ‘All clear,’ she whispered. ‘Have you got them?’

  ‘Here.’ Emily guiltily produced a bunch of keys from her pocket. ‘I felt so awful stealing them out of her bag.’

  ‘I feel awful too,’ Rosamund admitted. ‘Do you think we’re doing the right thing? When I think of what Gibraltar would say, I just want to curl up and die.’

  Emily hesitated. She knew that Rosamund had great respect for Gibraltar. If Emily had passed on the message about waiting until he returned, then nothing would have induced her sister to leave the house. But staying home would not help rescue Millamant. If Emily or Rosamund had been inside the Bridge House, Milly would have laid down her life to bring them home. The danger was real, but they had to make the attempt.

  ‘We have to go,’ she said firmly. ‘We can’t let Milly down now.’

  ‘No,’ said Rosamund. ‘I know that. It’s just – I’m so afraid.’

  Emily tried to sound reassuring. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s not as if we’re going to do anything. We can’t rescue Milly by ourselves. We’re only going for a look.’

  They went inside and dressed in dark clothes and sneakers. Emily put two torches into a backpack, and Rosamund carried some cushions and a floppy brimmed hat down to the garage. Luckily Livia had not closed its timber gates, and since the garden was well screened with trees and shrubs, no neighbours could see them. Emily shone her torch over wooden house stumps, the washing machine and laundry tubs, until she found the yellow car.

  Something occurred to her. ‘Does Livia’s car have gears?’

  ‘No,’ said Rosamund. ‘It’s an automatic. Just as well, or we’d never be able to drive it.’ She opened the driver’s door and plumped the cushions down on the seat. While she operated the release lever, Emily pushed the seat forward as far as possible. Emily climbed onto the seat, then onto the stack of cushions. Rosamund made a face and slid into the well under her feet.

  ‘I don’t know why it has to be me who operates the pedals,’ she complained.

  ‘Because you’re an awful driver,’ said Emily. ‘Remember – right foot, press the accelerator. Left foot, press the brake.’

  ‘We’re going to crash, you know,’ said Rosamund fatalistically. Emily pulled the floppy hat down over her too-famous face and started the engine. She put the car into reverse and carefully let off the brake, using both hands and all of her strength.

  ‘Accelerate,’ she ordered, and pressed her right foot down on Rosamund’s shoulder.

  The car shot violently backwards. There was a deafening bang and a jarring impact. Emily shrieked and Rosamund yelled as she hit her head on the steering column. They had not just crashed the car: they had crashed it without even leaving Livia’s garage.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Emily opened the door. She had driven straight into a wooden house stump. The car had a huge dent in the right rear panel, and the stump was splintered and knocked askew. They were lucky the damage wasn’t worse, but there was now no way they could keep what they were doing secret.

  ‘That’s done it,’ said Rosamund, rubbing her head. ‘When Livia gets back, we’re really in for it. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, as Milly always says.’ She sat back down in front of the pedals and Emily closed the door. With difficulty, the two of them drove the car forward away from the stump, then reversed, very carefully, up the driveway and into the street. Emily found the headlights and switched them on. She put the car into Drive, and headed off in the direction of the river.

  The trip to the Bridge House was slow and nerve-wracking. Emily had picked a roundabout route that went mostly through back streets, but they could not avoid busier roads completely, and their jerky progress made her horribly afraid of being noticed. Luckily, the car had power steering, which made the enormous steering wheel easier to manage, and the traffic was quieter than usual, perhaps because people had been scared by last night’s riots. Nobody seemed to notice them, and eventually they approached the bridge from the southern side.

  ‘Rose. We’re nearly there.’

  Rosamund grunted. It was not much fun operating the pedals, and she was starting to get cramps in her legs from sitting jammed up at Emily’s feet. Emily drove over the bridge in a stream of traffic. She went under the arch that contained the Bridge House and turned left into a street that ran along the riverbank. Emily pulled onto the verge and killed the engine. She slid over onto the passenger seat and helped Rosamund out from under the steering wheel.

  ‘Get out this side, Rose: it’s safer.’ Emily opened the door, and hopped cautiously out. The grass along the riverbank was neck high, and since the street lamps were on the other side of the road, it was relatively dark. Emily and Rosamund locked the car and crawled through the grass towards the bridge. About fifty metres away from it they stopped, and sat for a moment looking up at their goal.

  At either end of the bridge, an arched building spanned the roadway. The one at the southern end housed the machinery which opened the bridge to le
t large boats through. The northern arch had been where the toll-keeper lived, who had once collected travellers’ money. No one had lived in the Bridge House for a very long time and it was a sinister looking place. Nevertheless the building still had windows, and a blue door at the foot of one of the piers.

  ‘They must have taken Milly in through that door,’ said Rosamund in a low voice. ‘Look: it’s out of sight, underneath the road. No one would even have noticed them arrive.’

  ‘Let’s go closer.’ Emily inched her way forward through the grass until they reached the foot of the pier. The door was lit by an orange lamp on the underside of the bridge and there was a gravel driveway that led down from the main road above. Emily could see at once that to leave the shelter of the grass for the driveway would be far too dangerous. Even if they reached the door without being seen, it would almost certainly be locked. Emily felt a rush of frustration.

  Rosamund touched her arm gently. ‘Come on. Let’s go around the back and see if there’s something there.’

  She wriggled off through the grass and Emily followed. The ground sloped steeply down to the water, becoming soft, then squelchy, and the grass got thicker and lusher. Emily and Rosamund stood cautiously upright. At the back of the pier was a blank wall. It had neither windows nor doors, but a couple of rusted gratings were set into the stonework.

  ‘It’s no good, Emmie,’ whispered Rosamund. ‘Come on. We shouldn’t hang around. It’s not safe.’

  ‘Wait a moment.’ Emily pulled her torch out of her backpack and turned it on, shading the glow carefully with her hand. She handed it to Rosamund, who pointed it at the wall. The dim light flickered over the gratings.

  ‘There’s a way in. Look!’ Emily said.

  Rosamund paled. ‘You’re not serious!’

  ‘Please, Rose. It’s a chance, a way in –’

  ‘And it’s not going to go away. Emily, you promised me. You said we were just coming for a look –’

  ‘But Milly’s inside there!’ An image of Milly, alone, suffering and imprisoned, suddenly flooded Emily’s head. All sense of her own safety vanished, and she began tugging at the grating. The rusted metal broke and crumbled in the centre. Emily thrust a stick into the hole and started working it back and forth like a lever. Rosamund grabbed her wrist, and they tussled for a moment in the grass.

  ‘Listen to me! There’ll be someone inside there! If you get caught, what’ll I do? I’ll never get away on my own, Emily – stop!’ Rosamund’s hushed voice rose to a squeak. Emily did not listen. She redoubled her efforts with the stick, and the rusted grating suddenly broke and gave way.

  ‘Rose, please. Let me look. I won’t do anything silly. This may be our only chance. You keep watch out here, I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘And what if I do see something? How am I going to let you know?’ Rosamund demanded. Emily’s head and shoulders were already disappearing into the hole. A moment later her feet vanished after them. There was a faint scrabbling sound, then nothing.

  Rosamund sat helplessly on her haunches, looking at the gap where her sister had gone. She felt terrified, and more angry with Emily than she had ever been in her life. If it hadn’t been for Emily, she would never have even left Livia’s house. Rosamund was furious with herself for not stopping her. Who did Emily think she was? She was the oldest sister, the one Papa King had chosen to be queen. Rosamund half-stuck her head through the grating, but it was so dark inside she immediately pulled it out again. Hating herself for being a coward, she gave up, and crept back up the riverbank to keep watch over the gravel driveway and the door.

  Emily emerged on the other side of the grating into a cold, dank space. At first she did not have any idea where she was. Her courage, which had propelled her through the gap, almost deserted her.

  Emily knew she had made Rosamund very upset. She also knew that she was doing something Gibraltar had specifically told her not to do. Milly herself would not approve. Emily could almost hear her voice in her head, saying sternly that she was not to put herself in danger. But Emily had made her choice and there was no going back now. With trembling hands, she shone her torch over the rough, rather damp concrete under her feet and took a hesitant step forward.

  The torch was not a very bright one, and it was hard at first to work out where she was. Then her light settled on a metal ladder. Emily began to climb. It was not very pleasant climbing a ladder that had been made for someone with normal-sized legs, especially in the dark, but the ladder was not a long one, and she soon reached a trapdoor. It opened onto a small cellar, from which a flight of concrete steps led up to a room at street level. This room was empty, apart from some wooden boxes, and the rumble of traffic going over the bridge was so heavy that Emily could scarcely imagine how anyone had ever lived here.

  The stairs continued up to the tower rooms above. Laboriously, Emily began to climb again, all the way to the top floor. On the final landing was a closed door. Emily’s heart started pounding. The knob was too high for her to reach, but she tried anyway, straining her fingers until they just touched it. The knob rattled slightly, and she redoubled her efforts. Then a voice, so small it was like the rasping of a dry leaf on a pavement, sounded anxiously on the other side.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  7

  The Quarrel

  ‘Milly?’ Emily’s voice came out in a low waver. ‘Is that you?’

  There was silence for several seconds. ‘Emily?’ The raspy voice spoke again from the other side of the door. ‘What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have come, you shouldn’t.’ The sentence broke off in a fit of coughing. Emily tried to peer under the door. It was dark on the other side, but she had her torch and she shone it recklessly through the crack. The dim light did not help much, but when she slid her slender fingers into the gap, another hand, a familiar hand with short stumpy fingers, grasped hers as if clutching a lifeline.

  ‘Milly? It’s me, Emily. Are you all right?’

  ‘I am now you’ve come,’ said Millamant. ‘Emily, I’ve been so worried about you! To hear your voice – it’s a miracle. Quickly, tell me, what about Rose? Is she safe, too?’

  ‘Rose is fine,’ said Emily. ‘She’s keeping watch outside. We came here looking for you. Ever since they took you away, we’ve been on the run. We didn’t know whether you were alive or dead. Do you know Madame tried to pretend you killed us?’

  ‘No. On the other hand, it doesn’t surprise me, either,’ said Millamant. ‘She’s evil, that one. She was always trouble, from the time she was a girl.’ Her fingers tightened on Emily’s. ‘Be careful, little Emmie. From the moment Madame came back to Artemisia I was afraid for you, but there was nothing I could do. Has she made herself queen yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Emily. ‘But she’s trying very hard, and she’s doing her best to get rid of us. Especially Rosamund. We think it’s because of that key Papa King gave Rose for her birthday.’

  ‘The key is very important,’ said Milly. ‘It opens a secret room in the City Archives that has all sorts of things hidden away in it. Tell Rose that she must keep the key safe at all costs. If it comes to the worst, you might be able to bargain with it.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s gone,’ said Emily in a very small voice. ‘I’ve lost it. It was stolen.’

  Milly patted her hand. ‘Never mind. It’s a pity, but it’s not the end of the world. Do you know, Emmie, I’m very proud of you and Rosamund? I was terrified that you’d both get caught, but it seems to me that you’ve been leading those people of Madame’s quite a dance.’

  Emily smiled briefly. Millamant continued, ‘And now, dearheart, I want you to leave. There’s nothing more you can do for me, and it’s too dangerous to stay. You and Rosamund must leave Artemisia. As long as Madame is in control here, you are in great danger. She plans to kill you; I know, because she’s told me so herself. You mustn’t be tempted to try and rescue me, or stay in the city because of me. Promise me that, whatever happens, you and Rose will put yo
ur own safety first.’

  ‘You can’t expect me to leave you!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘Milly, I came here to save you!’

  ‘My darling, that’s beautiful, but I’m afraid I’m way past saving,’ said Millamant calmly. ‘I’ve been ill ever since I got here; I couldn’t even walk down the stairs. No, Emily. I’m glad that you’re free – I can’t tell you how much that means to me. But it must finish here and now. Say goodbye, quickly, and then you must go.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Emily squeezed Millamant’s hand so tightly that her own fingers burned with the pressure. ‘I won’t leave you. I can’t give up, not after all that’s happened –’

  ‘Ssh!’ said Millamant. A door opened below, one or two floors down. ‘There’s someone coming!’

  Rosamund was scared, bored and angry. It was a particularly nasty mix of feelings. By insisting on going inside, Emily had put them both in danger. While she was in the Bridge House, Rosamund could not leave her post for an instant, yet if somebody turned up unexpectedly, what on earth was she to do?

  It was all Emily’s fault. Rosamund did not understand what had happened to her sister, but she was very aware that, in the weeks since they had gone on the run, Emily had changed. In the past, because she was the elder sister and the most popular Miniver, Rosamund had always known she was in charge. Now Emily had somehow grown up, and Rosamund felt as if she was being left behind. The girl who had been content to be the second Miniver, who had happily followed in Rosamund’s wake, was gone, it seemed for good. The new Emily was still sweet and thoughtful, but there was a steely determination in her that had not been there before. Rosamund was secretly dismayed by how willing this Emily was to make her own decisions and suggestions about what they should do. Even worse, her decisions were often the right ones. What did it matter now that Rosamund was good at choosing songs to sing or clothes to wear for their next TV appearance? None of that counted for anything any more, and Rosamund, sensing her control slipping away from her, felt Emily slipping too, and was resentful, angry and afraid.