CHAPTER FIVE
Excursion Fever

School excursions can be a bother for teachers but for students they represent a welcome departure from routine—a light at the end of a dark tunnel, an oasis that offers refuge from the parched desert of classrooms and textbooks. It was little wonder that all of Milli’s lethargy had evaporated by the time she skipped her way down Peppercorn Place at the end of the day. A toy arcade erected in their honour and constructed for the express purpose of their enjoyment—now that was something to look forward to! She would bet all the money in her piggy bank that no other group of children had ever been singled out by someone as famous as Mr Von Gobstopper. Perhaps this momentous event might one day be featured in history books and be the cause of envy for students all over the globe. And if that was a little far-fetched, perhaps the fact that someone with an international profile had acknowledged their efforts would help dispel the suspicion that had followed Milli and Ernest of late. Milli inhaled deeply in an attempt to curb her excitement before she reached home but it would not be tamed. It bubbled inside her so fervently that she literally squirmed and wriggled her way through the front gate.

Milli’s elder sister, Dorkus, was sitting in a cane chair on the front porch. It had taken months of coaxing by Rosie to get Dorkus to have an outdoor experience; however, persistence had paid off, even though Dorkus still refused to venture beyond the porch steps in case the house should float away and leave her behind while her back was turned. If anyone ever did suggest she move beyond the porch, Dorkus would launch into a hyena howl and cling obstinately to the veranda posts, causing even Stench to slink away in fear.

Milli’s return from school was the highlight of Dorkus’s day. During the hours that Milli was at school, Dorkus filled the time with reading, needlework, shelling peas and other sedentary activities. Occasionally, she watched the people in their street coming and going. She had an eye for detail and could tell you who had left their house at exactly what time and what they were wearing. Milli could imagine her sister running her own business one day: Dorkus Investigations—No Stone Left Unturned. Once she could be enticed to leave the house, that is.

As was their usual routine, Dorkus followed Milli indoors to exchange the news of the day.

‘Mrs Nutcup went shopping with her wicker basket and came home with nothing but plums,’ Dorkus informed Milli.

‘Perhaps she’s making jam,’ Milli replied, feigning interest.

She dropped her satchel and rummaged quickly through the kitchen cupboards in search of a snack. Once she’d decided on some Wopple Juice and a plate of Nitty-Gritty Biscuits, she charged into the living room with Dorkus at her heels. Her parents were both there, heads together over the local paper and sharing a private joke.

‘You both knew about this all the time!’ Milli blurted. ‘You knew and didn’t say a word!’ It wasn’t a reprimand because at the same time she threw herself at her parents, hugging them so tightly that they struggled for breath.

‘Well, we didn’t want to spoil the surprise,’ said Rosie.

‘Your name’s in the paper,’ Milli told her. ‘The headmaster read it out at assembly and everyone knew that my mother was involved. I was really proud. Do you need help with anything? I could help with dinner if you like.’

‘Let’s just say this cancels any planned trips to find the Fountain of Youth?’ Rosie said with a wry smile.

‘Deal,’ agreed Milli.

Milli telephoned Ernest immediately after supper. The Perriclof family had recently installed a new Bakelite telephone as a concession to the advance of technology, but Milli rarely called as she knew the ringing unsettled Mrs Perriclof’s nerves. One of Ernest’s siblings answered, using his best phone manner.

‘Hello, Barabbas Perriclof speaking.’

‘Hello, Bas,’ Milli said. ‘Is Ernest there, please?’

‘This is Ernest,’ Bas replied in a high-pitched squeal.

‘Quit fooling around and put your brother on. Tell him it’s Milli.’

‘Milli who?’ Bas asked cheekily. ‘I’m sure Ernest doesn’t know a Milli. You don’t by any chance mean Millipop, do you?’

‘I’m not going to ask you again,’ Milli threatened. She could hear peals of laughter in the background and other little voices whispering together.

‘Pop goes the weasel!’ they shrieked before someone wrangled the phone from them.

Ernest apologised on behalf of his siblings and explained that they were probably hyper from eating too much roasted chickpea gelati. Milli wanted him to find Bas and spank him with a hairbrush but then remembered the purpose of her call.

‘Can you believe it? I mean, it’s such an amazing thing to happen. Who would have thought someone as important as Von Gobstopper would be interested in us! I simply can’t wait for Friday!’

‘How poor are they that have not patience,’ Ernest replied.

‘Ernest, please! I can’t understand you when you speak like that.’

‘Is the excursion the only thing we’re going to talk about till Friday?’ Ernest said sulkily.

‘What else is there?’ asked Milli.

‘Have you finished your Chemistry homework? It’s due tomorrow.’ Milli was instantly deflated. ‘There was Chemistry homework?’ she said, and rang off.

The rest of the week was excruciatingly long for the Sparrows and Starlings of St Erudite’s Academy. They tried their hardest to concentrate on school work and be deserving of the treat that was in store for them, but it wasn’t easy. Every conversation found its way towards the subject of the imminent excursion. Milli drove Ernest mad with her incessant predictions of how the day might turn out. A poet had more important matters to think about. Toys were childish objects designed to occupy the minds of the very young. Whilst in principle Ernest had nothing against a little fun, he also remembered the consequences the last time the town allowed itself to indulge in what it believed to be harmless entertainment. But when he voiced his reservations to Milli, he found her enthusiasm could not be quelled.

‘This is different,’ she reasoned. ‘Our parents and teachers are in on it, and, what’s more, there’s no one alive less like a villain than Von Gobstopper. You really need to relax, Ernie! Drink some more of that passionflower tea your mum’s always brewing and try to stop being such a wet sock.’

‘I think the expression is wet blanket and I’m not.’

‘Fine,’ Milli pouted. ‘Just don’t go spoiling things for the others. They have every right to be excited after everything they’ve been through.’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled a contrite Ernest.

Due to the number of students involved, it was decided that the excursion would be staggered over two days. On Friday morning, it was the first-formers who crowded around the school car park, all trying to get as close as possible to the door of the yellow bus in order to get on first and nab the prized back seats. Their animated chatter was relentless and the teachers accompanying them were already wincing in pain. The students were dressed in their dazzling best, having been permitted to be out of uniform for the day. They wore colourful beanies and jackets and carried little backpacks with packed lunches and clipboards should any note-taking be required. Most of the children had brought along their life savings (or as much of them as they had been permitted to withdraw) for the purchase of souvenirs. Milli had packed lightly, and swiftly disposed of her clipboard so as not to be weighed down during the tour of the arcade. Mrs Perriclof had packed Ernest’s bag and every compartment was bursting with items that might come in handy. Milli spotted several thick spiral notebooks, a tin of coloured pencils, packets of tissues and throat lozenges, an extra pair of thick socks and a thermos of cream of asparagus soup.

Miss Macaw insisted the Sparrows form a civilised queue and ticked off names as they boarded the bus. ‘Stop buzzing like bumblebees!’ she cried. ‘Stop chattering like chipmunks!’ But she was smiling so they concluded she must understand, if not share, their excitement.

The trip to the arcade was a mere twenty minutes but this didn’t stop the children from singing at the tops of their lungs as if they were heading off on a journey of several hours. They mostly sang one song, made up by a predecessor whose name had been forgotten. Parts of it made no sense at all but this did not, of course, detract from their pleasure in singing it. It was only the bus driver’s face that turned purple in exasperation by the time they had run through it for the fourth time.

Oh, off we go—dippy-dee, dippy-doe,
Bouncing on the ends of our tippy-tippy toes.
Hungry little beavers—eager to see,
Feeling dreadfully sorry for any absentees.

We look up, we look down,
We look left and right and round,
Not a thing do we miss,
Not one Bruce or Dick or Chris.

All the other children are doing ordinary things,
While here in our bus we sit like kings
And now we’re on our way!

As they sang they passed around bags of boiled sweets. Ernest munched on some roasted chestnuts that had turned as hard as pebbles. A boy called Ha-Ha Pyles shared his tin of blueberry marshmallows, which everyone had a try of. Ha-Ha Pyles was a sunny and good-natured boy despite his rather unfortunate surname. (Look it up if you think it doesn’t sound too bad.) Ha-Ha was a nickname acquired from a habit of laughing at most things people said to him. You could say a casual ‘It’s looking like rain’, or the slightly more sober ‘My grandmother has just been diagnosed with dementia’, and Peter’s (his birth name) inevitable response was ‘Ha-ha’. His teachers told his parents he would eventually outgrow the habit, and they were right; but the nickname stuck.

The singing stopped abruptly when the bus turned into a gravel driveway lined with poplars and pulled up in front of a magnificent construction that looked as if it had floated across the world from a Renaissance city. Milli and Ernest barely recognised the place that had once been their adoptive home. The twisting gravel drive was the only thing that had not been transformed. It seemed appropriate that what had once been a prison that repressed individual thought should now function as a place that celebrated childhood and enjoyment.

Von Gobstopper’s Arcade had been modelled on the arcades found in many European cities. If you have ever seen one, you will know that they are tunnel-shaped buildings with arches for entrances, and a fair bit of decoration in the form of carved stone pillars, more arches and a dome of glass. Leading up to the entrance were hedges that had been shaped with bewitching artistry into giant toys. The children marvelled at a shrub teddy bear sitting on his bottom and waving his paws, two soldiers cut from poplars that stood on either side of the entrance, and assorted gadgets such as yo-yos, bouncy balls and even a giant train set. Above the arched entrance, a painted daisy chain spelled out the words: Von Gobstopper’s Arcade—Children of All Ages Welcome. Nearby, still outside, was a giant statue of the building’s founder. Giant statues of founders or patrons usually look rather stern, but Von Gobstopper’s statue showed a gentle, smiling man. He wore overalls, and was holding a hammer and a chisel, the most basic tools of his trade. Although he had a moustache, the crinkling around his eyes and the corners of his mouth indicated that he had never quite grown up.

Miss Macaw announced their arrival to a man in a ticket cubicle, but their presence had already been noted. She had barely finished speaking when there was a sound like the clashing of cymbals and an elegant woman in a smart suit, bubblegum pink, and with matching stilettos, appeared at the entrance and moved towards them with crisp and decisive gestures. She was inordinately tall and insect-thin. Her heels made a crunching sound on the gravel when she walked. Her face and hands were chalk white and her lips only slightly less pale. Her black hair was swept back from her oval face, smoothed into place by some unguent and held by tortoise-shell combs. The dark circles under her eyes suggested she was not a good sleeper. Although she could not be more than twenty, her demeanour suggested someone much older. Milli noticed that she didn’t look directly at the children; rather, her eyes focused on an area slightly above their heads.

‘Welcome to Von Gobstopper’s Arcade,’ she said in a tight and formal voice. ‘My name is Ms Tempest Anomali and I am the curator.’ She almost hissed as she emphasised her title. ‘I will be conducting today’s tour and there will be opportunities for questions later. The arcade comprises various levels, each one, as you shall see, dedicated to a special genre of toy or theme. But before we begin our adventure there are some important things you need to know, so I now request your full attention.’

The rules were few and simple, as Ms Tempest Anomali explained. The arcade was not a museum and interaction with the toys was invited. They must, however, behave respectfully at all times, as some of the items on display had travelled a long distance and were priceless. They could not wander away from the group at any time unless told otherwise, and they would be shown which shops it was possible to make purchases from. They must leave all bags and valuables in the cloakroom and the taking of photographs was strictly prohibited. Toys reacted badly to cameras flashing in their faces.

By the time the curator had finished her speech her expression had relaxed a little. She forced her mouth into a smile but it came out lopsided, as if this was the first time her lips had received such an instruction from her brain. ‘Well, then,’ she said, putting her palms together and inclining her head slightly, ‘are we ready to go inside?’

She had not anticipated the eager cheer that followed. Her head jerked back and she suddenly looked affronted. But just as quickly her composure returned, along with the smile that looked more like a grimace, and she led the way inside.