The Minivers Fight Back Book 2

by Natalie Jane Prior

  Emily sat, stunned. Rosamund’s expression was perfectly serious; it was clear she had meant every word she’d said. Emily did not know how to reply. She trusted Rose – of course she did. She would lay down her life to save her without a second thought. But this was not about trust, or sacrifice. It was about Rosamund pulling rank as the elder sister, when being the eldest no longer mattered. Everything screamed out to Emily that promising to obey Rosamund in a real crisis could be a disaster. Yet the memory of their argument still hung between them like smoke after a fire, and Emily knew she could not risk this happening again. For the sake of her love for Rose, for the sake of their future as Minivers, there could be only one reply.

  ‘All right, Rose,’ said Emily reluctantly. ‘I promise. From now on, you’re in charge.’

  Rosamund exhaled. Until that moment, Emily had not realised she had been holding her breath, or known how desperately anxious her sister had been. She reached out her hand and felt Rosamund grab her fingers like a lifeline.

  ‘Oh, Emily,’ she said, and her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘it’s been so awful not being able to talk to you. I have to show you something. I found it in Livia’s handbag when I was putting back her car keys, and I just don’t know what to think.’ Rosamund put her hand into her pocket and handed Emily a small rusty tin. The lid was printed with the words LION MINTS, and an old-fashioned picture of a peppermint plant.

  ‘What is it?’ Emily opened the tin and stared at the contents. ‘What – Rose, how on earth could Livia get this?’

  ‘That’s what I thought, too,’ said Rosamund in a frightened voice. ‘It is my key, isn’t it? The one Papa King gave me for my birthday? I don’t understand how Livia found it. I thought Titus stole it from you.’

  ‘He did.’ Emily fingered her throat, where Titus had ripped Rosamund’s key from the string on which she had worn it. There had been a bruise on the back of her neck for days afterwards. ‘Livia was at the palace last night. Do you think she might have got it from Madame?’

  ‘If she did, then why hasn’t she said something?’ demanded Rosamund. ‘Emily – do you think Livia can be trusted? She’s so strange and difficult sometimes, and I’m sure she doesn’t like me. Could she be on Madame’s side?’

  ‘I don’t think so. If she was, she would have handed us over long ago.’ Emily turned the key over in her fingers and examined it. She had worn Rosamund’s key around her neck for the best part of a week, and this certainly looked like the same one. On the other hand, the key to the Most Secret Room had been deliberately made in two pieces, and only worked when the halves were joined together. Papa King’s half had been given to Rosamund. Was it possible that this was the other?

  Emily put the key into the tin. ‘We have to put it back,’ she said firmly, and then, remembering her promise, added, ‘That is – if you think it would be a good idea, Rose.’

  Rosamund flustered slightly. ‘Yes – yes, you’re right, we should. Livia’s bag’s over there, beside the dresser.’ She jumped down off her chair and she slipped the tin back into the front pocket of the bag. As she did, a soft footstep sounded outside on the back staircase, and was followed by a gentle rap on the kitchen door.

  Emily and Rosamund froze, like rabbits caught in the headlights of a car. The back door was closed, but not locked, and its top half was filled with a lattice panel, through which any normal-sized person could easily peer. The tap sounded again, and a girl’s voice spoke through the lattice.

  ‘Emily? Emily, are you there?’

  The fear dropped from Emily’s face like a shutter. She ran to the door and started jumping up and down, trying to reach the knob. Rosamund ran instinctively to help. The door flew open and two girls in drab blue clothes burst excitedly into the kitchen.

  ‘Emily!’ cried the smaller of them. She dropped to her knees and Emily flung her arms joyfully around her neck.

  ‘Fiona! Fiona, it’s you!’

  The kettle was on the hob and the introductions had been made. Gibraltar had come home, and now they were all sitting at the kitchen table, eating cake and biscuits. Livia filled her biggest teapot with tea-leaves and poured on the boiling water. She carried it over to the table and set it down on a trivet to brew.

  ‘Have another piece of fruit cake,’ she said to Fiona and Bridget.

  ‘Yum,’ said Bridget. She had already eaten three pieces. ‘Do you think we could take some home to Delinquent Central?’

  ‘If there’s any left,’ said Livia. ‘The way we’re going, I think you’ll be lucky.’

  ‘To think I’m eating supper with the Minivers,’ said Bridget happily. ‘Cool.’

  She looked across at Rosamund with an awestruck expression. Rosamund smiled back. The discovery that she still had fans was like healing balm poured into her soul. Admittedly, it was disconcerting that their main fan base was now operating out of a girls’ home, but meeting Bridget and hearing about the Minivers Underground had cheered her and Emily up immensely. The fact that Fiona was working with her made them even happier. Fiona had helped Rosamund and Emily escape from Operation Miniver, and was a true friend. Besides, she had brought with her a piece of news that made everything else seem unimportant. Millamant was alive and safe in the Delinquent House hospital. She was the person who had told Fiona and Bridget where to find them.

  ‘So you see, it wasn’t a waste, your going to the Bridge House,’ said Fiona triumphantly. ‘If you hadn’t spoken to Millamant, we would never have learned where you were.’ Rosamund said nothing, but Emily could not resist a glance in her direction that said ‘I told you so’.

  ‘Tell us more about the Minivers Underground,’ Emily said aloud. ‘Have you managed to get in touch with any other fans?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Fiona regretfully. ‘It’s really difficult, working out of Delinquent Central. There are only five of us and we can’t leave the home during the daytime. We’ve done all we can, but we can only manage so much.’

  ‘It’s still a brilliant idea,’ said Rosamund. ‘You’ve done much better than we have.’ Fiona and Bridget both looked pleased.

  ‘That’s true enough,’ said Gibraltar, speaking for the first time. ‘But I think, now Fiona and her friends are involved, that it would be a good idea to talk about what happens next. It’s not sensible or practical to have two groups working separately. If we’re to achieve anything useful, we need an overall strategy.’

  ‘You mean, we should pool our resources?’ asked Livia.

  ‘Yes,’ said Gibraltar. ‘But before we do that, we need to agree on what we are trying to achieve. Are we fighting for the Minivers’ survival? Or are we fighting to defeat Titus and Madame? The two things are linked, but not quite the same. Before we can go on, the time has come for Rosamund and Emily to start making some decisions.’

  Emily and Rosamund exchanged glances. ‘Decisions?’ Rosamund asked. ‘What sort of decisions?’

  ‘Decisions about your own future,’ said Gibraltar. He took the teapot in his strong hands and twisted it. ‘It’s a bit like making tea, you see. Leave the pot too long and the leaves stew. Pour too soon, and the tea’s too weak to drink. It’s a matter of timing, of knowing exactly when to pour.’

  ‘You’re saying,’ said Rosamund, ‘that the time has come for Emily and me to pour?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Gibraltar. ‘But I am saying that you’re moving towards that more quickly than you realise. If you and Emily don’t make choices now, someone else will make them for you. How long do you think you can stay here in this house? A week? Three days? A few hours, even? We just don’t know. But sooner or later, someone will notice something. Livia knows that. Every time a car drives by, she jumps; when she hears a bird or a possum in the garden, you can see in her eyes she thinks it’s Madame. And she’s right to be afraid. Madame’s spies are everywhere; she has almost the whole population of Artemisia on her side. Everyone is looking for the Minivers, and sooner or later, no matter how careful you are, somebody will find you. One s
lip-up: that’s all it will take. That’s why you need to decide what you’re going to do. Do you want to run forever? Or do you want to reclaim your lives, and start fighting back?’

  ‘Fight back, of course,’ said Rosamund. ‘The only problem is, how? We’re so small, and there’s only two of us.’

  ‘Seven,’ put in Fiona firmly. ‘The Minivers Underground is right behind you. Besides, it’s only your bodies that are small. As far as your fans are concerned, you and Emily are the biggest people in Artemisia.’

  ‘The most famous people, yes. That’s not exactly the same thing.’

  Emily suddenly sat forward.

  ‘No, Rose,’ she said. ‘Fiona’s right. The other night you called this a war, but it’s a war for people’s hearts and minds, for the way they think. Where that’s concerned, you and I are as big and strong, and have as much experience, as anybody. The Minivers Underground is on the right track. We have to find a way of joining with them and hitting back against Madame’s lies. We need to put the record straight.’

  ‘But how?’ demanded Rosamund. ‘You know, it’s all very well for you to say that, Emmie, but we’re not as clever as you seem to think. When we were famous, we had a whole press office to deal with that sort of stuff. We just gave interviews, or turned up at the TV station, and the whole thing was managed for us. You’re talking about getting in touch with the whole population of Artemisia. To do that properly means a broadcast on TV or radio, and there’s no way that’s going to happen. It’s simply impossible.’

  ‘Why?’ said Bridget. ‘Nothing’s impossible if you really want to do it. Look at the Minivers Underground. We dug a tunnel out of a high-security building. Why shouldn’t you do a broadcast?’

  ‘We’ll help you,’ put in Fiona.

  ‘That’s very kind,’ said Rosamund. ‘But I still don’t see how we could do it.’

  ‘A TV broadcast would certainly be very difficult,’ said Gibraltar thoughtfully. ‘Television stations have extremely tight security; the moment you entered the building, you’d be caught. On the other hand, with careful planning I think we might pull off something on the radio. It will be dangerous, though, and it will get harder the longer we leave matters. Madame intends to rule Artemisia, and her position is growing stronger every day. She is trying to make people love her, the way they have always loved the Minivers. The question is, are you prepared to let her do it? Are you prepared to see Madame become queen?’

  ‘No!’ said Rosamund at once. ‘No, I’m not. Papa King gave that key to me. I’m not going to roll over, just because Madame’s fighting dirty. We’re not cowards, you know.’

  ‘I never thought you were,’ said Gibraltar. ‘There is a choice, though. If you don’t want to fight, you can always leave Artemisia. It won’t be the first time someone’s gone into exile.’

  ‘That would be running away,’ said Rosamund. She shook her head. ‘I’d much rather try the broadcast. Someone needs to tell the truth. Besides, it’s not just about us any more. Look at poor Fiona, locked up just for helping us. Madame has Milly in her power, and Papa King, too. The moment we were out of the way, I’m sure she’d kill them both.’

  ‘You’re right, there,’ said Gibraltar. ‘The fact that Papa King is old and sick wouldn’t stop her for an instant. It would just make it easier for her to murder him.’ He turned to Emily. ‘What about you, Emily? Rosamund said she wanted to fight back, but is this what you want, too?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ said Emily. She looked at Rosamund meaningfully. ‘Rose and I are in this together. I’m behind her, one hundred percent.’

  10

  Secret Plans

  At nine o’clock on Monday morning, an orange taxi pulled up outside the Artemisia City Archives and a single passenger got out. It was Titus. With his canvas backpack and shabby clothes, he looked like a student. In a sense, this was exactly what he was. Titus had taken time off from running Operation Miniver to do some research behind Madame’s back.

  Titus walked through the big bronze doors into the Archives foyer. Most people found their first visit to the Archives unnerving, for there were no windows and inside the building was dark and claustrophobic. Titus, however, was rarely troubled by atmosphere. Like Livia and Madame, he was hunting for the Most Secret Room, but because he was going about it in a different way, he was much closer to finding it than they were.

  From the very start of his search, Titus had known he did not have much time. Unlike Livia, who was a member of the Archives staff, he did not have access to the basements where the records were kept, and he was also anxious that his investigations should not attract Madame’s attention. Madame was suspicious about everything nowadays, and Titus knew that Ron did not trust him either. The longer he spent in the Archives building, the more likely it was they would find out. Besides, Livia had already been searching the place for months. Titus assumed that if there had been something in the basements, by now, she would have found it. The hiding place had to be somewhere else, in some part of the building where Livia had not yet searched, or to which she did not have access. To find out where it was, he simply had to ask the proper person.

  Titus walked up to the reception desk. ‘Good morning,’ he said to the girl on duty. ‘My name is Titus, from Operation Miniver. I’m wondering if I could have a word with the City Archivist.’

  ‘I’m afraid you can’t see Ms Milton without an appointment.’

  ‘I won’t take up much of her time,’ said Titus. He gave the receptionist his most charming smile. ‘It’s very important that I see her. Look: here’s a letter from Madame, authorising my visit.’ He handed over an envelope and the girl opened it. It contained a letter he had written himself on stationery stolen from Madame’s office, but, as Titus had expected, the receptionist was completely taken in. Her manner changed at once and she hopped off her stool.

  ‘Please wait, sir.’ She disappeared, and came back a minute or two later with a serious young man.

  ‘Mr Titus? I am Tom McMahon, sir, Ms Milton’s assistant. We can give you ten minutes. Please come this way.’

  Tom McMahon led Titus up a flight of stairs to an imposing door marked CITY ARCHIVIST. Titus waited while he was announced, then walked into a huge white office. A dark-haired woman was sitting behind an enormous desk, covered with perspex business trophies. Ms Glenda Milton had been City Archivist for three years. She had succeeded to the position on the death of Livia’s Grandfather Kennedy, and a large plaque on the wall announced that she had just been given an award for Bureaucrat of the Year.

  ‘Good morning Mr Titus,’ said Glenda Milton. She picked up his letter and waved it at him. ‘I’m told this is important. I hope it is. I am a very busy person.’

  ‘It is important,’ said Titus, ‘and since I’m a busy person too, I’ll come straight to the point. Papa King is very ill and likely to die. His will is stored in the Archives. I have been sent by Madame with instructions to go to the Most Secret Room and look at it. Here is Papa King’s half of the key which opens the door. I believe, as City Archivist, that you have the other.’

  Titus put the half key on the table. Glenda Milton stared at it.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘What Secret Room is this?’

  ‘It is the room where Papa King keeps his confidential papers,’ said Titus. ‘Papa King and the City Archivist are the only people who know where it is.’

  Glenda Milton burst into tinkling laughter. ‘Oh, no!’ she said. ‘No secrets here. In this modern age, we must have Accountability. Accountability, Availability and Access is our motto.’

  ‘Access is precisely what I’m asking for,’ said Titus. ‘I want to know the location of the Most Secret Room. Can you tell me where it is or not?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of it,’ said Glenda Milton. ‘My predecessor never mentioned it, and he certainly never gave me a key. Between you and me, the old fellow was quite gaga. Things have changed a lot since his time. Manage, Modernise and Move On, that’s my method
. What’s been done in the past is no concern of mine.’

  ‘Really? I would have thought the past was very much your concern,’ said Titus sarcastically. Glenda Milton looked blank. Titus decided to give it one last try. ‘Has Papa King ever been to the Archives himself?’

  ‘He has no need to,’ said Glenda Milton proudly. ‘Trust, Transparency and Truth are our organisation’s watchwords. Papa King has the utmost confidence in my management.’

  ‘I’m sure he does,’ said Titus, mentally adding Glenda Milton’s name to the list of people he would have sacked as soon as possible. He left her and found his own way down to the public reading room.

  It was a setback, but Titus was not deterred. To find the right person was clearly going to require a bit more effort, but he was good at ferreting out information. He already had a backup plan prepared. Titus wrote a list of the files he wanted on a stack slip and handed it to the archivist on duty. About fifteen minutes later, a porter came by with a trolley and handed him several ancient folders tied up with pink tape.

  Titus took the folders to a study carrel and worked steadily for about an hour, making notes in a firm clear hand on some sheets of paper. Around lunchtime, he sent back the files and asked for more. By two o’clock, he had covered three pages with a list of names taken from the records of the Artemisia Works Department. They were builders, carpenters, plasterers and electricians, and they all had one thing in common. Seventy years before, in the days of old Queen Rosamund, they had helped construct the building in which Titus now sat.

  One sheet of names was headed APPRENTICES. These people had been very young when they worked on the project, and Titus knew it was more than likely that some were still alive. It was simply a matter of looking them up in the phone book. Titus tucked the list away in his backpack, put the files he had been using on a trolley, and left the building. In the Archives forecourt, Glenda Milton was being photographed with some VIPs.