CHAPTER SEVEN
A Message in the Snow

Exciting as all the displays were, nothing prepared Milli and Ernest for what happened during their tour of the first floor. This floor, as you may recall from the directory, was where dolls and their paraphernalia were located. Glass cabinets along the main walkway displayed rare dolls in all their finery, too fragile or too valuable to be handled by inquisitive hands. Striking as these were, most children gave them only a fleeting glance, so intent were they on discovering the contents of the individual shops. The dolls were all exquisite, with radiant eyes, flawless complexions and heart-shaped mouths the colour of the glacé cherries found in Christmas cakes. Some displays centred around specific themes, and one of the most lavish was called: A White Christmas for Gwendolyn and Friends. This charming scene had been assembled with the utmost attention to detail, from the crisp folds in the dolls’ dresses to the powdery snowflakes that fell in little mounds at their feet. Tiny presents were scattered around a decorated tree. Gwendolyn and her friends were dressed smartly in fur-trimmed navy capes and lace-up boots and arranged as if enjoying various snow-related activities. Two were busy constructing a snowman, others were rather recklessly skating on a pond that had frozen over, whilst Gwendolyn herself (easily identified by the finery of her dress) was stepping into a sleigh for a ride around the park. Dozens of glass eyes stared at Milli and Ernest.

‘Funny how if you stare long enough, you start to believe they’re looking back,’ Milli commented.

‘They are very lifelike,’ Ernest agreed, and they both hurried on to catch up with the others.

It was then that the peculiar thing happened, and it happened, as most peculiar things do, quite by chance. When Ernest went to write down some historical fact Ms Anomali was telling them, he realised he had dropped his pencil. He ran back to look for it and found it, as expected, on the floor just in front of the snow display that he and Milli had stopped to admire. He bent to retrieve it and, giving the display a final glance, saw that something was different. He was sure that the main doll, Gwendolyn, had changed position. He was almost certain she had been standing alongside the sleigh the last time he looked. He looked more closely, and saw the imprint of tiny feet making a track through the snow. He followed the path and saw that someone had written a cryptic message in the snow in the foreground of the display. The letters were fine enough to have been made by the tip of Gwendolyn’s parasol; there was no other implement in the snowscape that could be responsible. He pressed his nose up against the display case and saw that the letters spelled out a phrase in a language he could not immediately identify: help us. On the glass right beside Ernest’s nose he thought he could see a tiny handprint, as if a doll’s hand had momentarily rested there. And when he looked at the dolls’ faces he imagined he saw something more than a glassy façade; he thought he saw a real and unaccountable sadness. The moment lasted only a second—interrupted by a call for Ernest to rejoin the group—but a second was enough for Ernest’s mind to click into top gear. When he looked at the letters again, he didn’t see a puzzle but a cry for help. For the letters were upside down and back to front. Positioned the right way they read: help us.

As Ernest rejoined his classmates, he felt an icy hand clutch his shoulder. He jumped.

‘Young man,’ Ms Anomali scolded, ‘are you aware that you have been holding up the entire group? If we don’t get a move on we won’t be able to see everything.’

‘The doll, Gwendolyn…’ Ernest began rather helplessly, but stopped before he could say anything utterly absurd.

‘Yes, she’s very attractive,’ Ms Anomali continued for him, ‘but I’m afraid it’s not an attachment that shows the least bit of promise.’

Some children tittered at this but Ernest just looked blankly up at the curator. It made Milli want to hug him. Only much later did it occur to the two children that Ms Anomali was trying to deflect attention from the snowscape display.

‘What’s going on?’ Milli quizzed Ernest during the lunch break.

‘I don’t know. I can’t explain it because I’m not sure it makes sense.’

‘Can you show me?’

They made their way back to the exhibit and both scrutinised the scene behind the glass. Everything was as it had been upon first viewing. The dolls were rigidly in position and the scrawled message had disappeared. The artificial snow lay on the ground so neatly each flake might have been individually positioned.

‘Sorry, I don’t get it,’ Milli said finally.

‘It’s gone,’ Ernest replied flatly.

‘What’s gone?’

Ernest rattled off the previous events in quick succession, in case they were suddenly intercepted.

‘There was a message before—help us—in the snow and now it’s gone. It could only have come from one of the dolls—Gwendolyn, I think. I’m sure it was meant for us.’

What happened next cemented Milli’s and Ernest’s friendship for at least the next five years. Milli didn’t roll her eyes, smirk or do anything else that remotely suggested she doubted Ernest. In fact, she responded as if his assertion was the most normal thing in the world.

‘So what do we do now?’

‘Not sure. We need to think. After all, they stumble that run fast.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Milli, ‘and they get clobbered that speak in riddles.’

‘We don’t have much time,’ Ernest said. ‘Let’s see if anything else happens.’

‘Not much chance of that. That curator person seems to have eyes at the back of her head.’

‘There’s bound to be another break at some point. We’ll have a good look around then.’

An opportunity presented itself mid-afternoon, when the children were given time to browse the toy shops on the ground floor. Miss Macaw’s instructions were clear: they were free to wander until 2:55 pm, when they were to meet at the arcade’s entrance in order to catch the bus back to St Erudite’s. Milli and Ernest slowly distanced themselves from the group and crept up to level one. The silence was eerie without the velvety commentary from the curator. They returned to the dolls in the snow and Milli even tapped lightly on the glass case.

‘Hello, in there. Blink if you can understand me.’

‘Shut up, Milli. Someone might hear us.’

The children wandered aimlessly through the gallery, not sure of what exactly they ought to be looking for. Time seemed to stand still as they became engrossed in displays they’d been rushed past earlier. When they finally looked over the balcony to the floor below it was empty. With pounding hearts they charged down the stairs and froze in horror. The cloakroom too was empty, and the only thing in the gravel driveway was a magpie picking relentlessly at something lodged between the pebbles. The yellow school bus carrying their classmates had gone.

‘Don’t panic,’ said Milli. ‘They’ll be back as soon as they realise.’

‘Miss Macaw must have forgotten to do a head count.’

‘What bad luck. Should we wait here or keep looking?’ Milli asked.

Ernest didn’t get a chance to answer because just then they heard the familiar sound of Ms Anomali’s heels tapping on the mosaic floor. It sounded exactly like twigs snapping. She was heading outside, right where they were standing.

They hid behind some shrubbery growing against the arcade wall but it barely concealed them. Any moment now she would find them and then there would be real trouble. The last thing St Erudite’s needed was bad publicity after Von Gobstopper’s generous gift to the school. They could just see the headlines now: Errant Children Caught Trespassing! Then, just as Ms Anomali’s steps changed to a crunching as she reached the gravel, they heard a different sound. It seemed to be coming from behind the wall they had flattened themselves against in their attempt to become invisible.

‘Psst!’ a voice said urgently. ‘Get inside, quick! Before she sees you!’ An opening appeared in the stone wall at around knee-height. Without thinking, Milli and Ernest ducked inside. They found themselves standing in a damp and poorly lit passageway. They looked around to see who had rescued them but nobody was there.

‘Down here,’ the voice said, making them both jump.

It was coming from ground level, and when they looked down they saw a little toy soldier wearing a red military jacket. He gave them a salute and clicked his heels. Now that he had their attention he was beaming all over his little wooden face.

‘Fear not, little miss,’ the toy soldier said, ‘my name is Captain Pluck and I have come to guide you to safety.’ His eyes wandered to Ernest’s rucksack. ‘And you, young master, I see, have come prepared.’

The children stared at him with mouths agape. Ernest blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision. He knew he wasn’t hallucinating because he saw on Milli’s face the same expression he imagined to be on his own. Toys weren’t meant to speak—they were inanimate objects. Even the breathtakingly lifelike toys created by Gustav Von Gobstopper were still only toys. If they could communicate at all it was in mechanical and toneless greetings.

Milli’s initial amazement started to pass and she looked at the soldier with more curiosity than shock, as if some secret theory she had harboured all her life had just been confirmed.

‘Did you…’ Ernest began, and faltered. ‘I’m sure you didn’t just…’

‘Speak up, lad!’ the soldier demanded. ‘What are you jabbering about?’

Both children jumped upon hearing the voice again. There was no denying that it had come from Captain Pluck. They could see his lips moving, and not in an unnatural way but almost as the mouth of a human might move when speaking. In fact, the toy was staring at them as if he found their behaviour quite strange.

‘We beg your pardon…err…Captain Pluck,’ Milli began, realising he was waiting for an answer from them. ‘We don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that we’ve never met a talking toy before. You took us by surprise.’

Now it was the soldier’s turn to look surprised. ‘Never met a toy who could talk?’ he said incredulously. ‘Did you think we were all mute dummies? Surely your own special toys at home have acquired the ability of speech?’

‘Not as yet,’ Milli answered.

‘Slow developers then,’ said Captain Pluck, shaking his head. ‘Perhaps you haven’t provided them with sufficient stimulation.’ He became suddenly thoughtful as he eyed the children up and down. ‘How did you come to be loitering outside the arcade on your own?’

Ernest didn’t like his suspicious tone. ‘We were left behind by accident when we went to investigate an SOS,’ he said.

The soldier brightened suddenly. ‘An SOS? Why didn’t you say so! You had better come and meet the others.’

‘The others?’ echoed Ernest but the soldier was no longer listening.

‘Hurry along and follow me now. There’s no time to lose.’

Captain Pluck turned on his heel and marched off down the passageway ahead, which was rather narrow and more like a tunnel. Milli and Ernest hesitated a moment. They had no doubt that their absence would soon be noticed and the school bus (carrying a distraught Mildew Macaw) would return to collect them. But that might take a little time—perhaps, if they hurried, just enough time to follow this extraordinary little toy and learn more about the inhabitants of the arcade.