CHAPTER NINE
A Bond is Forged

When Milli awoke safe and sound in her own bed the next morning, she wondered what was causing the feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach. Then she remembered the events of the day before. Luckily, Miss Macaw had been too relieved that they hadn’t been dismembered by Boi Toi or abducted by stuffed jungle animals to ask many questions. Milli and Ernest had simply invented a story about wandering off to take more detailed notes and losing track of time, and everyone believed them. It sounded just like something the conscientious Ernest would do. Besides, no one could imagine deliberately staying behind to risk incurring the wrath of the venomous Ms Anomali. At times during the tour, the curator’s expression had suggested that nothing would give her more satisfaction than to see the visitors pickled in a jar.

Milli and Ernest had agreed with Theo not to publicise their meeting and they fended off the queries from the other students, eager to hear what they had got up to. Both children were equally reticent when they returned home. They remained so all through dinner, which surprised their parents who had expected them to be brimming with stories about the arcade.

‘Too much glitz and not much substance,’ was Ernest’s rather dismissive report.

Mr and Mrs Perriclof attributed their first-born’s non-communication to him entering the uncharted waters of adolescence, something they had long been dreading. They had been warned by well-meaning friends that Ernest’s conversation would soon be reduced to a series of incomprehensible grunts. Change of any sort was not well received in the Perriclof household. Mrs Perriclof’s solution (as it was for most of life’s tricky situations) was to increase Ernest’s Vitamin B intake and rush him off to a yoga class.

Mrs Klompet, on the other hand, simply concluded that as Milli was so quiet she must be over-tired or coming down with something and advised an early night. Only Dorkus realised that her sister was neither ill nor tired. She had noticed Milli chewing compulsively on her lower lip; something she only ever did when she was hatching a devious plan or pondering a matter of the utmost importance.

Saturday turned out to be busy for both Milli and Ernest and they didn’t find an opportunity to meet to discuss the events at the arcade. Ernest was flat out with rehearsals for Macbeth despite the paucity of his lines, and Milli had agreed to help her ever-inventive father trial a new pre-mixed Christmas pudding that, instead of the usual ingredients, contained pistachios and pumpkin. On Sunday afternoon it rained steadily and both the Klompets and the Perriclofs insisted their children stay indoors. Milli divided her time between checking the weather and playing a game of Hide and Seek with Stench as no one was willing to brave the rain to take him for his walk. You had to feel sorry for him, lying with his nose between his paws by the door and looking up hopefully every time someone walked past. The game involved a member of the family (usually Dorkus) covering Stench’s eyes with her hands as she counted to ten. Then Dorkus would remove her hands and give the instruction, ‘Find Milli!’ Stench sprang into action and did a perfunctory lap of whatever room he happened to be in before bounding off to look for Milli. He always found her inside of sixty seconds, either behind the shower curtain, curled inside the blanket box or behind one of the coats hanging from the hall stand.

‘Ten seconds,’ announced Dorkus, checking her watch.

‘Shame there isn’t a Guinness Book of Records for animals,’ said Milli as she rewarded the dog with a scratch behind his woolly ears. ‘Or you’d be famous.’

When Monday came and the children sat on the school bus they felt quite disappointed with themselves for having achieved so little. Milli proposed that they return to the arcade after school that afternoon to find out more and see how the toys were faring, but Ernest wasn’t convinced. He argued that there was little sense in acting rashly; what they really needed was time to think things through. They were supervised carefully at school and no one was at liberty to wander off willy-nilly. Getting caught breaking the rules was a different matter now that they were in senior school. He felt certain that those in authority would be less forgiving now, and any misdemeanours could have damaging consequences. Perhaps even lead to the loss of future positions of responsibility.

On the other hand, Milli reminded Ernest, they had to do something. And if they could agree on what that something was, it would be better decided upon sooner rather than later in case things changed suddenly at the arcade and they could no longer gain access to the secret passage.

The second excursion group was milling excitedly around the courtyard when the school bus pulled up. Watching them, Milli suddenly was struck by an idea.

‘I’ve just had a great idea,’ she announced.

‘Really? Did it hurt?’

Milli held Ernest in a headlock until he took back the comment and agreed to listen.

‘Make it quick,’ he said, spotting teachers moving towards the common room for their first of many coffees for the day.

Milli outlined her plan in a low and urgent whisper. ‘We can smuggle ourselves onto the bus and get back to the arcade that way. Then, as soon as we can, we’ll wander off to spend the day with the toys. We won’t even be missed because we’re officially not there. And since today’s group have to wear school uniform we’ll blend in perfectly. Admit it…it’s good.’

‘The plan is good,’ Ernest had to concede, ‘apart from a few glitches—such as, how do we get on the bus if we’re not on today’s list?’

‘A detail, my dear Ernesto. It’s Mr Beaker taking this group, remember? He’ll have forgotten he’s even going and someone will have to go and find him. By that time we’ll be on the bus with the others. When he takes the roll, he won’t even realise there are two extras on board.’

‘What if he does a head count?’

‘He won’t. He can’t concentrate for that long.’

‘What about the fact that we won’t be in class all day?’

‘I’ll run up right now, get our names ticked off and say we need time in the library to write up Friday’s outing for the newsletter. Teachers love students showing initiative.’

‘Won’t they expect to see the article?’

‘That should take you all of ten minutes tonight.’

‘Um, no, it’ll take us all of ten minutes tonight,’ Ernest amended.

‘OK, but I doubt it’ll take ten minutes if I help,’ said Milli with a grin. ‘So are we going?’

Ernest looked uncertain, and clutched his satchel which Milli was trying to wrestle from him. She planned to deposit it in the shrubbery where hers was already concealed. ‘It seems a rash and poorly thought through plan, as well as involving the telling of several blatant lies which I’m not entirely comfortable with,’ Ernest pointed out. But Milli was already gleefully bounding off to find Miss Macaw. ‘But why let that stop us?’ he concluded to himself.

If there was one thing Milli had observed about teachers it was that they loved to bask in reflected glory. Miss Macaw was no exception and was ‘tickled pink’ by the idea of a piece written by two of her students making it into the newsletter. She waved Milli off, supposedly to the library, her eyes already distant as she imagined the article being read by the entire school community, with the words ‘Macaw Sparrows’ beneath the authors’ names.

Even the best of plans rarely unfold without some hiccup, but when one does it is immensely satisfying for the planners. Milli and Ernest were soon seated on the yellow school bus without so much as a challenge from even the most observant of the second-formers. They were too wrapped up in their own excitement to even consider the possibility of illegal passengers.

As the bus pulled into the sweeping drive and chugged its way to the arcade entrance, Milli was again struck by how ornate the building looked, rising up out of nowhere. On the way the children had considered the problem of being recognised by the curator, so they breathed a huge sigh of relief when the person who came out to greet the second group was someone entirely different. He introduced himself as Fritz Braun, one of Von Gobstopper’s trainees. He spoke with a slight accent and a clipped tone that suggested English was not his mother tongue. There was a stiffness and formality about him that belied his years, for Fritz Braun could not have been more than seventeen or eighteen years old. He had coarse barley-coloured hair, cropped short, and skin so fair that light seemed to emanate from him. He had a straight Grecian nose and eyes shaped like half-moons that shone like pieces of sky in his severe face. He was tall, with broad arms and a thickish neck, and stood as straight as an ironing board with his arms bent at the elbows and legs slightly apart, as if prepared to leap into combat at any moment. For some of the children, this stance was a little unnerving, but a more perceptive observer might have realised that Fritz Braun was ill at ease. His clothes were odd—a shapeless sand-coloured tunic worn over a pair of loose-fitting pants and belted at the waist. The young man looked positively medieval.

‘Wonder where Cruella is today?’ Milli whispered to Ernest as they aimed for front row seats in front of the puppet theatre, as enthusiastic to see the performance as they had been the first time.

‘Luckily for us, off duty,’ Ernest replied.

Fritz seemed to relax a little as time wore on and soon proved himself a much more animated tour guide than Ms Anomali. He seemed to take genuine delight in observing the children’s reactions. It was interesting, Milli and Ernest noted, that Boi Toi didn’t make an appearance this time round, and they wondered whether he had required repairs after his malfunction. Fritz didn’t bore them with a string of facts, instead relying on lively anecdotes to engage his audience. For example, while visiting a display on the second floor called Teddies at Work, which showed a selection of hefty teddies in construction hats operating various bits of machinery, he told them a story about how the teddy bear got its name. According to Fritz (who seemed an authoritative source) there was once an American president whom everyone liked to call Teddy. Teddy was a soft-hearted man who couldn’t bring himself to shoot a bear cub on a hunting expedition. The event came to public attention when it appeared as a cartoon in the local press. Not long after, an enterprising shop-owner fashioned a soft toy based on the bear cub that Teddy could not shoot and dubbed it Teddy’s Bear.

‘The teddy evolved to become the most prized item in most children’s toy collections,’ concluded Fritz. ‘In fact, research shows that the teddy has the special honour of being the one toy children are most reluctant to part with once they move on to other forms of recreation. It is the toy least likely to be passed on to younger siblings.’

He held the gaze of his audience as if challenging anyone to disagree. Nobody did. Ernest tried to look sceptical but Milli knew he was bluffing. She’d seen his Carpenter Ted, complete with leather apron and a pocket full of hammers and chisels, tucked away for future progeny.

Milli found Fritz’s explanations enthralling; he was the sort of storyteller who appeared to be talking to every member of his audience individually. She liked Fritz so much that she might have been lured into taking the entire tour again had she not noticed, as she stopped again to admire the snowscape on the first floor, that the doll called Gwendolyn appeared to be frowning at her in disapproval. Milli and Ernest were certain this hadn’t been the expression on her alabaster face the last time they saw her and it served as a reminder to them of their purpose in returning to the arcade. They chose an opportune moment when the teachers’ energies were flagging and everyone was thinking about morning tea to slip away unnoticed.

Outside, they flattened themselves against the wall where they thought the opening to the secret passage was. ‘Peppered Pancakes,’ Milli whispered as loudly as she dared. Several moments passed and they thought they’d got the wrong spot, but then several stone blocks shifted and slid inwards to reveal the passageway. They crawled through on hands and knees, and found Theo waiting for them with a lantern swinging from one paw. They could tell from the expression in his clear brown eyes that he was relieved to see them.

‘Wasn’t sure you’d come,’ he said hurriedly, ‘but very glad you did. We can now think of you as friends of the Resistance.’

When their eyes had adjusted to the darkness the children saw that a train made up of open carriages had come to collect them. Each was the size of a small wheelbarrow. They were glad that they wouldn’t have to walk the whole way doubled over. Their necks still hadn’t quite recovered from last time. A plastic conductor in a bright blue uniform shouted ‘All aboard’ and they climbed into a carriage each, the children sitting cross-legged to fit. The train moved off down the narrow tunnel.

‘The others will be pleased to see you,’ Theo told them. ‘They’ve not stopped talking about you.’

When Milli and Ernest scrambled out of the train into the subterranean hideout, Pascal’s tiny face lit up and she pirouetted for a full thirty seconds in delight. Captain Pluck stepped forward smartly and clicked his heels in greeting.

‘There’s someone else we’d like you to meet,’ Theo said, looking around. From the shadows emerged an elegant rocking horse the colour of crème brûlée. He was obviously an antique and the finest materials had been used in his construction. He had a leather harness and a mane of real horsehair. His bridle was red and his saddle made of calfskin. He had a broad back and sturdy haunches, and his rockers were glossy and black.

‘This is Loyal,’ the bear went on as the horse rocked his way forward. He stopped in front of the children and inclined his head graciously.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said in a low and gentle voice. His eyes were large and warm.

‘Loyal is our contact above ground,’ explained Theo. ‘He has been around a long time and is considered very valuable by collectors. He was originally created for a well-to-do Victorian family to help their young son who was afflicted with rickets.’

Milli’s face crinkled and Ernest could see she was on the verge of asking what ‘crickets’ was so he jumped in.

‘Rickets was a common disease in Victorian times, caused by inadequate diet and resulting in poor bone development.’

‘Exactly right, young Ernest,’ said the horse. ‘Riding me allowed the young master to develop some strength and mobility in his legs.’

‘Who was the boy?’ Milli asked.

‘Sebastian Von Gobstopper, Gustav’s grandfather,’ said the rocking horse with an affection that had not diminished with time.

The children instinctively put out their hands to stroke him. His muzzle was smooth and warm and his coat well brushed. He had been carefully preserved and didn’t appear to have a scratch on him. His honey eyes twinkled at their touch and the children couldn’t help but like him immediately. He reminded them of an old tree—strong, protective and not easily shifted.

‘Loyal is to be your transport should you need him,’ put in the soldier. ‘He can be surprisingly fast when the occasion calls for it.’

‘Transport?’ echoed Ernest.

‘Yes,’ said Theo with a very earnest look. ‘We have a favour to ask.’

‘What is it?’ Milli said.

‘We need you to venture into the basement. We’ve never tried as it’s too dangerous for us—if we were caught, there wouldn’t be much we could do. But you can get in there easily.’

‘What if we’re caught?’ Ernest asked.

‘You would be seen as two errant children doing some unauthorised exploring—a nuisance but nothing more. The worst-case scenario might be what I believe is called detention.’

‘We also have something called expulsion,’ muttered Ernest glumly.

‘Oh, I seriously doubt that would be a consideration—not for St Erudite’s star first-former. ’

‘Theo’s right,’ said Milli. ‘You’re far too great an asset to be expelled.’

‘I understand the young man’s hesitation,’ sympathised the bear. ‘We would not be asking this if we didn’t feel it was a matter of great importance.’

‘Our friends are disappearing and we don’t know why,’ said Pascal.

‘If something sinister is going on, we need to expose it,’ Captain Pluck added, jumping to his feet and preparing to meet danger head-on. ‘We need to know the enemy before we can deal with him!’

‘Calm down, Pluck,’ advised the wise bear. ‘Let us save our energy for when it is really needed.’

‘Please help us,’ entreated Pascal with a coquettish flutter of her eyelashes.

Ernest sighed. ‘It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice.’

‘Oh, there is always a choice,’ mused Theo with a smile. ‘It is the choices we make that determine who we are.

‘Loyal will come with you,’ Theo went on, then added rather cryptically, ‘in case he is needed.’

‘Won’t it be as dangerous for him?’ asked Milli.

‘Loyal’s value gives him immunity,’ explained the bear. ‘No one would dare harm him.’

And so it was settled. The Resistance toys wished them luck and Loyal led the children out of the underground chamber and up into a part of the arcade they did not recognise from their last visit.