‘I’ve tried to get out already. I’ve done everything I can think of. The door’s been jammed and the windows don’t open wide enough. We’re coming off the bridge. I can see the city. Where are you? Over.’
‘We’re stopped at a light … Turning back into Miniver Boulevard. We’re looking out for the van –’
‘There it is!’ shouted Livia, and Rosamund, against instructions, bobbed up again like a jack-in-the-box. ‘Hold on! I’ll try and cut it off!’
She put her foot down on the accelerator and the car shot forward through the sparse late-night traffic. A shabby blue sedan was heading in the opposite direction, weighed down at the back by Gibraltar’s van. It was travelling slowly, with its indicator on, as if the driver did not know where to turn. Livia’s car bore down on it. The sedan began to turn across the traffic, into the main gates of the Artemisia Royal Palace. Livia gave a shout. She flattened her foot until her car almost flew, then jammed on the brake and slewed to a halt in front of the gates. There was a puff of smoke, a stink of burning rubber, and the sedan towing the caravan ploughed with a crash into the rear of Livia’s car.
Rosamund was flung off the back seat, hitting her head with a resounding thump as she fell. She landed on the floor, half-stunned, and by the time she scrambled up, Gibraltar had flung open the door and was running towards the van. Rosamund stood up shakily on the seat, struggling to see exactly what was happening. The yellow car had stopped at a right angle to the road, its headlights shining through the iron gates into the palace carpark. Rosamund heard Livia scream, and her dazed eyes snapped instantly into focus. Caught in the headlights, in the act of walking out the palace door, were Ron Burton and Titus.
For a moment the two men stood staring at them. They were dazzled by the headlights, and clearly thought they were looking at an ordinary traffic accident. Then Titus saw Gibraltar on the footpath. He gave a shout and started to run. Livia shoved her hand against the horn.
‘Gibraltar! Gibraltar, come back!’ She wrenched the steering wheel to the right and the yellow car began to move. There was a crunch of damaged metal as it pulled away from the blue sedan, and it began rolling forward, the open door flapping as it gathered speed. Rosamund grabbed at it, nearly falling out of the car. She heard Gibraltar’s feet pounding back over the pavement, and then he jumped and landed on the front seat, slamming the door behind him just as Titus reached it.
Livia stamped her right foot on the accelerator. The yellow car skidded forward, bounced off the gutter, and roared through a red light onto the on-ramp leading to the bridge and southern freeway. Over her shoulder, Rosamund saw the caravan, with Emily inside it, disappearing into the palace courtyard.
‘Emily! We’ve got to go back for her!’
‘We can’t,’ said Gibraltar. ‘They’re already following us. Look.’ He pointed, and Rosamund saw a car’s headlights turning out of the palace gates. Livia was watching too, in her rear-vision mirror. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and she tried to accelerate, but her damaged car was already travelling as fast as she could make it go, and its engine whined in protest.
‘What shall we do?’ she cried. ‘They’re catching us up. We’ll never outrun them in this heap!’
‘We’ll be fine,’ said Gibraltar. ‘Just keep your cool, and do as I tell you. Stay in this lane and get ready to swerve on my count. One … two … three – off onto the bypass, quickly!’
Livia yanked down the wheel. Her car swerved across two lanes of traffic and shot onto an off-ramp, narrowly missing a truck in the process. The truck slammed on its brakes and the white security car carrying Ron and Titus along the freeway had to brake behind it.
Behind the wheel Ron yelled, and lost control of the car. There was a screech of tyres, a tremendous bang as they clipped the truck, and then the whole car spun around in a darkened blur. A second later, it hit a metal barrier with a rending crash and all was still.
In the passenger seat, Titus was shaken, but unhurt. The roof was crushed. Broken glass was everywhere, and beside him, Ron lay slumped against the steering wheel. Blood streamed from a cut on his forehead, but he was still breathing, and Titus had no doubt he would survive. Meanwhile, the yellow car carrying Gibraltar and Rosamund Miniver had disappeared and Titus knew that for now he had lost them.
Titus took off his seatbelt. He leaned over, pulled a notebook and pencil out of Ron’s pocket, and carefully jotted down from memory the registration number of Livia’s car. He did not know who she was, but it would be easy enough to find her. The Minivers might think they had eluded him, but they would not keep their freedom for very long.
15
Emily
Emily crouched on the caravan table, curled up in a tiny ball like a mouse. Her stomach was cramped and her mouth tasted of fear. She did not understand why the others had driven off. She only knew that she must face whatever was about to happen completely alone.
The caravan now stood in the courtyard between the palace offices and the private wing where Papa King actually lived. Emily had tried everything to get out. The door would not open, the windows were too thick to smash, and the radio had fallen onto the floor when the cars had crashed and was broken. Nothing had worked, and now she was trapped. Through the window Emily saw the square, shambling figure of her kidnapper, standing in the courtyard. He was dressed scruffily in baggy shorts and a drill shirt, and wore a small towelling hat on his head. Emily did not know who he was or why he had captured her, but he seemed to be waiting for someone to come and take charge.
Five minutes went by, then ten, and then fifteen. It was dark outside, with no moon, and the lights inside the palace buildings were switched off. Emily grew sick with fear and anticipation. At last, a door opened unexpectedly in the adjacent building. A smartly dressed, grey-haired woman came out, and for a moment Emily allowed herself to hope. The elegant woman was Adelaide, Papa King’s secretary, whom she had known since she was a baby. She tapped anxiously on the window and Adelaide glanced up. Their eyes met, and Adelaide looked away.
Upstairs in the Walnut Office, Madame was waiting for Adelaide to report. After what seemed a very long wait, the secretary came back, clicking down the polished corridor in her high-heeled shoes and letting herself in without knocking. She looked tired, and her mouth was a thin, grim line.
‘I’ve spoken with him,’ she said. ‘It’s true: he is Gibraltar’s neighbour, and he does have one of the Minivers. He says he noticed someone inside the caravan and went to investigate. When he realised who was in it, he towed the caravan here.’
‘Did he say what his name was?’ asked Madame.
‘He’s called Malcolm,’ said Adelaide. ‘He mumbled so much I couldn’t make out his surname. He doesn’t have any teeth.’
Madame nodded. During her years in exile, she had made a number of rather disreputable acquaintances. Ever since her return to Artemisia, she had been afraid that one of these people would turn up and try to cadge off her. Fortunately, this toothless visitor did not sound like anyone she knew. She hoped he was not expecting her to buy him dentures.
‘Why has he brought her here instead of Miniver House?’ she asked.
‘I gather,’ said Adelaide, ‘that he had trouble finding the right entrance. He was looking for Operation Miniver and he turned into the wrong driveway by mistake.’
‘Ah,’ said Madame. Her colourless eyes began to gleam. Perhaps, she thought, the situation was not as bad as she had feared. She would have to move quickly, though. There was no saying when Titus might be back.
‘Make sure all the rooms overlooking that courtyard are emptied,’ she said to Adelaide. ‘We have to move fast now. Send two men down to secure the caravan and have the Miniver brought to my office.’
‘And Malcolm?’ Adelaide coughed. ‘What should I do with him? I think he’s expecting to get a reward.’
‘Get rid of him,’ said Madame. She was not going to waste any more precious money now. ‘Have Primrose see to it when she get
s back. By the way, do you know which Miniver it is?’
Adelaide’s grey eyes were sombre. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘But I think it’s Emily.’
The yellow car nosed out of the laneway in which it had been lurking. Its headlights were off and thick black smoke floated out from under the bonnet. Livia put her foot down gingerly on the accelerator, and the car crept out into the street and drove away.
The engine made an ominous chopping noise. The black smoke grew thicker, and there was a tick-tick-tick, as if something loose was hitting the inside of the bonnet. The car crawled onto the main road and inched along the outside lane to the first exit. As they turned off and headed into the inner suburbs, Rosamund sat forward on the back seat.
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Home,’ said Livia. ‘Where else can I go?’
‘But what about Emily?’ exclaimed Rosamund. ‘We have to go back for her. She’s still at the palace.’
‘Rosamund,’ said Gibraltar in a reasonable voice, ‘Livia’s right. This car is about to break down. Emily has stopped answering the radio. We don’t know what’s happened to her. Until we find out more, we can’t do anything to help her.’
‘We can’t find out more if we don’t go and look.’
‘We’re not going to look,’ interrupted Livia. ‘This is it. It’s over. I’ve done enough for you, Rosamund. I’m not going to risk everything I have, just because something’s gone wrong with a plan I never wanted anything to do with in the first place.’
‘But you can’t stop now,’ Rosamund’s voice rose in a crescendo of panic. ‘Emily’s a prisoner. They might kill her. She might be dead already, and it will be your fault!’
‘Oh, shut up!’ shouted Livia. ‘When are you going to learn this isn’t just about Emily and you? What about the rest of us? What about me? What about Fiona and those other girls? Who do you think you are, Queen of Artemisia?’ As she spoke, the engine gave a loud shudder, and died. The car puttered to a halt at the top of Daventry Street and Livia burst into tears.
Rosamund had opened her mouth to speak, but the hot words she had intended to say did not come out. She waited while Livia groped for a tissue, and said, quietly, ‘I’m sorry. I know you don’t like me. I know it’s not fair; you shouldn’t have to help. But Emily is my sister. Just because you don’t care, you can’t expect me not to.’
‘I do care,’ said Livia. She mopped her face and blew her nose on the tissue. ‘You don’t understand. It’s because I cared that I helped you in the first place. But I can’t go on. I have to stop now, or I don’t know what will happen to me. I feel like my head is about to explode, like I’m going mad. I just can’t do this any more.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Rosamund. ‘I know you never wanted to get involved. And you’re right. I’m not the Queen of Artemisia, and I probably never will be. But if ever I get out of this mess, Livvy, I won’t forget what you’ve done for me. I’ll make it up to you. It might be goodbye, but it won’t be goodbye forever.’
‘I don’t think it’s goodbye at all, just yet,’ said Gibraltar quietly. He pointed down the street. Through a haze of drifting smoke, the orange glow of a fire could clearly be seen at the bottom of the hill. A smell of burning floated in through the car windows, not the oily stink of their overheated engine, but a wood fire smell, as if someone was having a barbecue and had put too much wood on the fire. In the distance they heard the sound of a fire engine. Livia and Rosamund sat staring at the blaze, unable, for a moment, to take it in.
‘My house,’ Livia whispered. ‘Oh, no. My house.’
Emily was dreaming of Papa King.
In her mind’s eye she saw the courtyard as it had been on the day of her last visit. It was summer and the gardenia bushes were in blossom. The stone colonnades were bathed in sunshine, and the fountains played gently over the water-lilies. She and Rosamund had been to afternoon tea with Papa King, and as they walked off together, arm in arm, on their way back to Miniver House, they looked up and saw him standing in the window of the Walnut Office. He was smiling, and they waved goodbye. He had blown them a kiss in reply, and it had been the last time he had ever done it, for that was the afternoon he had suffered his stroke.
There was a dull thump outside and the caravan door opened. Emily jerked upright, all thoughts of the past banished from her head. Two men came into the van, and in a last desperate effort she jumped off the table where she was sitting and charged their legs, hoping to make it to the door. She was not quick enough. As she dived for the opening, one of the men caught her by the scruff of the neck and tossed her painfully back into the van.
‘Oh, no you don’t.’ The man leaned over and hauled Emily off the floor. She bit and kicked, but they dragged her out into the courtyard. The kidnapper was no longer there. Everything was in darkness and though Emily’s eyes darted wildly around the colonnades, she could see nowhere to run.
The men frogmarched her across the paving stones and into the palace. The red carpet and cream walls were exactly as they had been on that last day, and so were the carved wooden stairs at the end of the passage. Up, up, up, Emily was dragged, her tiny legs barely keeping pace with the men pulling her along. The struggle was tiring her, and she knew it was pointless, but she would not give in without a fight.
They reached the top of the stairs and turned into a passage. Emily knew it well, for it was the corridor that led to Papa King’s private suite. Against all reason, her heart beat harder and she began to hope. They stopped at a door, the door of the Walnut Office, and when it opened, there was Adelaide in the outer office, just as she had been in the old days, when Papa King had stood at the window waving, and they had not known they were saying goodbye.
Adelaide hurried from behind her desk, her eyes averted. She opened the door into the main office, and for some reason, perhaps because they had reached their destination, or because they were simply tired of her struggling, Emily’s captors loosened their grip. She slipped free and ran forward. The desk lamp was on and there was a figure in a dark suit bent over the desk. The sight was so familiar that, even as she realised it was impossible, Emily opened her mouth to say hello. Then the heavy door closed behind her and the figure put down its pen and looked up.
‘Hello, Emily,’ said Madame.
The story continues in Book 3
Minivers and the Most Secret Room
The Minivers
Minivers on the Run
Minivers Fight Back
Find out more at theminivers.com.au
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, the young adult novels Fireworks and Darkness and The Star Locket, and the first book in The Minivers series, Minivers on the Run. 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.
The Minivers Fight Back Book 2 Page 14