Molly Moon & the Morphing Mystery (10 page)

“I said, are you all right, Sofia?” her husband repeated. Brought to her senses, Molly was now in the moment. She saw two street performers, one with a violin, the other with a flute, who were sitting near the bus stop filling the evening air with their music, and she saw the man, Wilf, looking concernedly at her.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Molly as Sofia said, an Italian accent rounding her words. “I think something stung me, that's all.”

“Stung you? Where?”

“On my nose,” Molly said. Then she added, “Um, are you there, Micky?”

“Micky? What are you talking about, Sofia?”

“Nothing, nothing, you just look like Mickey Mouse in that hat.”

The man looked very confused.

Molly glanced upward, then saw a scruffy pigeon flying toward her. It flapped over and landed on her arm. She knew at once it was Micky.

“Good lord, Sofia,” her husband exclaimed. “Get that filthy bird off you.” He lunged toward Micky the pigeon, who fluttered upward and then back down to perch again on her shoulder.

“Don't worry, Wilf. The poor bird's just being friendly. Now I must use the bathroom in that restaurant, dear. Please wait here.”

Without waiting for Wilf's reaction, and still with Micky the pigeon on her shoulder, Molly as Sofia waddled to the curb. She looked left and right, and crossed the road.

 

A mile and a half away, the truck that was carrying Petula and her new friend Stanley pulled into the Nine Elms Flower Market. It drove around the vast covered building and parked. The giant plastic electric doors were in operation, opening and shutting as flower sellers
wheeled trolleys piled high with boxes of flowers inside. Stan's driver climbed out of his truck, and Petula and Stanley the bulldog heard him greet an old friend.

“How are ya? Cor, me legs ain't 'alf stiff. Don't feel like unloadin' this lot now. Fancy a pint?”

“That's the spirit.”

“See you later, Stanley. Good dog.” And then their voices receded into the distance.

Stanley pushed his nose under the tarpaulin at the side of the truck to check they'd gone.

“Here we go, luv,” he said to Petula. “Squeeze past 'ere, and we'll get you sorted.” He disappeared past some flower boxes and hopped off the truck. Petula followed him. After a leap onto a bale of cardboard and a jump onto a crate full of flowerpots, she was down.

Stanley had already found his friend.

“How long you been standin' here all on yer Jack Moss?”

“Not long,” said his friend, a small brown-and-white Jack Russell with a cheeky face and an amused look in his eye.

“Do your people know you're out?”

“The boys were playing a card game with their dad. Let myself out of the dog flap. See you found yourself a girlfriend, Stan.”

“I'd be so lucky! This is Petula. Petula, meet
Magglorian. He's got a good loaf a' bread, and he'll be able to 'elp ya.” Magglorian smiled and nodded. Petula smiled back, a little bit embarrassed by the introduction.

“Loaf of bread is head in rhyming Cockney,” Magglorian said. “Talking to Stan here can be like talking to someone who's speaking double Dutch.” Magglorian laughed. “Nice to meet you, Petula. So how can I help?”

“I'm trying to find the children that I live with. They've disappeared,” Petula began. “A woman has taken them.”

Magglorian's eyes widened.

And so Petula told Magglorian what had happened. Magglorian frowned and shook his head so that his brown ears flapped. “Hmm.” When Petula got to the bit about hypnotism, she saw Magglorian give Stanley a “I see we've got a right one here” look, which annoyed her.

“Look, mister, you can believe what you like,” Petula said. “I haven't got time to waste trying to persuade you.” She turned to Stanley. “Thanks for the lift. I should be just fine now. Really, thank you so much, Stanley. Good-bye.”

Petula didn't pay Magglorian another glance. She turned and began walking away.

“Magglorian, how come you did that?” Stanley asked, amazed by his friend's behavior.

“It is a bit far-fetched, Stanley. Come on, you have to admit it, it is a bit crazy.”

“Well, I believe her,” Stanley said. “And I'm going to help her.” With that, Stanley trotted after Petula. Magglorian watched them go. Then he barked.

“Wait! I'm coming, too.” He ran after the other dogs. “I'm sorry, Petula,” he said, panting as he arrived. “I'd search the world over for the boys who own me if I ever lost them. Let me help you find your friends.”

 

A Glitz doorman in a red suit with gold braid on its shoulders and a smart black cap opened the door to the hotel for Molly the old woman. Molly thanked him, adding, “Is this the way to the restaurant, young man?” She hoped that was where Black had gone.

She felt very out of place in her shabby coat and her old-fashioned cobbled leather boots, but she knew from experience that if you act like you are supposed to be somewhere, people usually believe you. As the doorman pointed down the lavishly carpeted orange passage, thronged with golden lamps, Molly noticed Micky, who was still a pigeon, hop behind him.

“Thank you very much,” she said gratefully, and started making her way along to the arched entrance
of the restaurant at the end of the corridor. Molly marveled at what it was like to be eighty-two. Her legs were stiff as wood, and her joints felt tight. As for the woman's memories, Molly could tell that she had only seen a fraction of them. The others, as though in a thousand-mile-deep glacier, were hidden in the deep waters of her mind.

“May I help you?” a slim hostess asked, eyeing Molly as Sofia's woolly hat.

“A table for one, please,” Molly demanded.

“Do you have a booking, madam?” the hostess inquired.

“No,” Molly replied, realizing that the hostess was about to refuse her entrance. “And don't give me any of that ‘we're full' nonsense. I can see lots of empty tables.”

“But, madam, all these tables are reserved,” the hostess replied, sneering slightly.

“What? I'm not good enough for this place? Is that it?” Molly said, and immediately she turned to her hypnotic powers now for help. “Look into my eyes.”

Unfortunately, nothing happened. Just as Molly couldn't mind read in another body, neither could she hypnotize.

“I'm sorry, madam. Really, we are full,” the smug woman retorted.

“Everything all right, dear?” Sofia's husband, Wilf, had followed her inside. He stood looking very out of place in his beret and long black coat. Molly noticed Micky the pigeon hop behind a cheese trolley. She smiled reassuringly at the old man.

“Perfectly all right, Wilf. I think we'll take the table over there.” Pushing past the hostess, Molly gripped her handbag and stepped toward a table. Immediately she saw Theobald Black sitting near the window table. He was deep in conversation with a young, smartly dressed, beautiful, auburn-haired woman whose wrists, fingers, and ears were adorned with gold and diamonds.
Her
body, Molly realized, was the one she ought to be inside, because she was sitting very, very close to Black's bag, and inside the bag, of course, was the hypnotism book.

“Madam, I'm so sorry—” the snooty hostess began to pester. She smiled, but her expression was false, and an unkind look came from her eyes.

“Oh, go and stuff your nostrils,” Molly said to her. “Who do you think you are, Little Miss Fancy?”

The headwaiter now stepped toward them. Molly could see that the situation was getting sticky. She didn't want to attract Black's attention, so this wasn't good. But then the headwaiter said to the hostess, “Fiona, this lady is a friend of mine. She and her
husband are going to have supper here, and it's on the house.” At once Molly realized that it was Micky inside the headwaiter's body.

Fiona, the mean hostess, looked stunned, as though she had just swallowed a peeled boiled egg in one gulp.

“That means free!” wheezed Wilf in amazement, winking at Molly.

“Yes, sir. Eat and drink whatever you want,” the headwaiter replied.

 

In the portico of the hat shop outside sat the white Burmese cat, Miss Hunroe. Beside her, in their cat forms, were Miss Oakkton, back in her ginger tomcat body, and Miss Teriyaki, the gray Siamese.

They stared across the road at the restaurant window and watched Black and his dining companion.

On the other side of the street was the bus stop where AH2 had just arrived. He was consulting his red tracking machine. Molly Moon, it told him, was inside the grand building opposite. He rubbed his fingers together in excitement. If he played his cards right, he was on his way to making groundbreaking history.

M
olly hid her old-lady face behind her wine list. She didn't want Wilf to see what she was doing.

“Well, what a choice!” he was muttering. “Fois gras, caviar!”

Molly stared at the floral pattern wallpaper to the left of her. With its twisting vines, it was difficult to find another picture there, but Molly knew she had to if she wanted to morph again. So, staring stubbornly, she waited for a shape to emerge. All at once Molly saw a picture in the flowers. A strangely shaped umbrella. Shutting her eyes to make it like a photograph in her mind, she turned her attention to the beautiful, rich woman opposite Black. Her auburn hair was thick and glossy, as though she'd just walked out of a shampoo
ad. Her slim face had a Caribbean tan, and she wasn't wearing much makeup. She had lovely big brown eyes, and as they twinkled, Molly saw how they must have looked thirty years before.

Molly's imagination, like some sort of magical camera, plumped out the woman's complexion. Her hair turned lighter, and Molly even conjured up the idea of some pigtails. She turned her designer suit into a simple school uniform. The vision was complete.

Now juggling this picture with the image of the wallpaper umbrella at the same time, Molly was able to lift herself out of Sofia toward Black's dinner partner.

Good-bye, and thank you! she managed to think to Sofia before she left.

As Molly's spirit and personality arrived, the woman sank from her position of control. She didn't stand a chance. With focused strength, Molly pushed her out of the way and down. As though from the bottom of a pool, Lady Storkhampton—for that was the woman's name—looked up at who had snatched her body and mind. She saw it was a girl, a girl with a mission.

“My name is Molly,” said the girl. “I'm borrowing your body for a little while. I won't harm it. I'm sorry if this might make you feel that you have gone a bit mad afterward.”

Lady Storkhampton's body bent forward slightly, like a limp puppet. Then Molly took the helm.

 

Two tables away, Sofia, now in control of her body and mind again, shook her head as she took in her surroundings.

“Ooh, Wilf, I just had the oddest experience….”

 

“Lady Storkhampton?” Black frowned at her over his oysters. In his hand he held a piece of paper—a check, in fact, that Lady Storkhampton, had given to him. Molly took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to give herself away. She had no idea whether Black was a mind reader, and she didn't want to rouse his suspicions enough that he might try and probe Lady Storkhampton's mind.

“Oh, I think the lettuce I ate was a bit too peppery,” she explained, eyeing her plate of shrimp and sitting upright with a big smile.

“Do you want some water?” Black poured Lady Storkhampton a glassful.

“Thank you,” Molly as Lady Storkhampton said, her accent clear and posh. As Molly drank some water, she got her bearings. Like a person standing in a landscape looking at the surroundings, Molly looked about Lady Storkhampton's mind to see who she was.

She was the daughter of a very wealthy shipbuilder. She was married to an even richer man who owned vast swathes of land in England. She bred miniature horses and kept an aviary full of exotic birds. She spoke four languages—French, Italian, Spanish, and Russian—and she loved to ski. Her body felt very healthy, Molly thought. This was because she practiced martial arts every day.

“Lady Storkhampton, this really is exceedingly generous of you!” Black was saying. “Five hundred thousand pounds!” I don't think we have
ever
had such a generous donation! The children's homes will be hugely helped by this.” Black folded the check that Lady Storkhampton had just written to him and slipped it into the inside pocket of his green velvet jacket.

Molly was appalled. So Black was tricking people into giving him money for
children's homes that didn't exist
! This made Molly really angry. She knew about children's homes firsthand. She'd lived in an orphanage until she'd been ten and a half. She knew just how decrepit and run-down they could be. Hers had been the worst of all. It made her furious that Mr. Black was skimming off this generous woman's money—money that might have gone to
real
orphanages. If this was how Black used hypnosis, she thought, what might he do once he'd learned to morph? She looked down at the
shrimp on her plate and felt sick. Now wasn't the time to argue. Her main objective, her absolute number-one job now, was to get the hypnotism book off him. She tried to judge whether Black had hypnotized the rich heiress or not, but Molly found it difficult. She couldn't feel the woman's will at all, since it was buried underneath her own.

With huge control of her temper, Molly as Lady Storkhampton looked up and smiled sweetly.

“It's my pleasure,” Molly said, her new voice crisp, each word flowing from her mouth perfectly formed. Then she nudged her handbag so that it fell on the floor. Before Black could offer to get it, she dived below the table to retrieve it.

“Got it!” she exclaimed.

Underneath the tablecloth, Molly saw Black's bag. It was close to his leg, near the window, its strap hanging loose on the ground. Molly retrieved her handbag and came up for air.

“That was a lightning move!” Black commented admiringly.

“The martial arts keep me alert,” Molly replied. She took another sip of water and tried to think of a clever way to get Black's bag.

“I'm visiting the queen tomorrow,” Black said conversationally.

Molly felt her eyebrows rise.

“The queen!”

“Yes. She's a close friend of your mother's, isn't she?”

“Indeed.” Molly edged her silk-stockinged leg across the floor to try to hook the strap handle of Black's bag with her foot. In doing so, her body slipped slightly down in the seat. She hoped that, to Black, her change of posture would simply look like she was relaxing.

“She's given me a morning appointment. Eleven o'clock. I am hoping she will get involved with my children's charity, too.” Black smiled.

Molly couldn't believe it! So Black was going right to the top to get rich. It was well known that the queen of Britain was one of the richest women in the world!

Then the toe of her shoe caught hold of the bag's strap. Without letting Black know what she was doing, Molly began to pull it across the floor toward her.

Black's cell phone went off. He ignored it.

“Don't you think you ought to answer that?” Molly suggested, eager to have Black's attention diverted. “I don't mind if you do.”

Black shrugged. “I suppose I should. I have been ignoring it for the last twenty minutes.” He pulled a slim black phone from his outside jacket pocket.

“Theobald Black speaking.”

Molly felt the bag's weight as she tugged it toward her. She shifted herself more upright on her seat to haul it up.

“You were
where
?” Black was saying into the phone. He looked very concerned. “
What
were you doing in there?” The person on the phone was now gabbling away, and as they spoke, Black's expression changed. He glanced worriedly from the waiter, to the other customers in the room, to people on the street outside. Then his eyes fell upon four cats sitting in front of a mailbox. Oddly, the animals appeared to be looking directly at him.

“Cats?” he said disbelievingly. His eyes came back to his table and Lady Storkhampton. She seemed to be squirming in her seat.

On the other end of the line, Lily was frantic.

“Why didn't you answer your phone? You are just
so stupid
. You probably saw it was me and ignored the call like you always do. I've been trying to get you for ages. I didn't follow you to start with because I was scared you'd be cross with me. And I was scared of the children. But then I realized it was important. They're after the book. They disappeared. And those cats were spooky! And who knows where they are now? Don't trust anyone! Do you hear me?”

Black nodded. “I can't chat now, Lily. Thank you,”
he said as calmly as he could. “I'll meet you at the hotel later. Thank you. Good-bye.”

Now on high alert, Black automatically reached for his bag. The strap slipped off Molly's foot.

Micky the headwaiter, who had been hovering nearby, saw Black lift his bag onto the banquette beside him. He'd noticed a sudden change in Black—he'd seen how, after his telephone call, he'd glanced nervously about the restaurant. Micky's instincts told him that he and Molly ought to get out of the restaurant now. So, taking a pen from his waistcoat, he quickly found a menu to write on.

I'll meet you near bus stop,
he wrote on the menu beside the list of desserts. Then he stepped up to their table.

“Finished, madam?” he asked.

“Yes, I don't feel quite up to shrimp today,” Molly answered.

“Maybe something sweet will do the trick, madam,” Micky the headwaiter cajoled. “May I recommend the iced berries and the white chocolate sauce? Definitely worth
a look
.” He pointed to the list of desserts and to his urgent message.

“Thank you,” Molly replied at the same time, reading his note. “What a good suggestion. Why not? Mr. Black, excuse me, I need to go to the powder room.”

 

Beside the bus stop, AH2 held his red gadget up to where he suspected Molly Moon the alien was, and he inspected its reading. Extraordinarily, the glamorous woman standing up in the Glitz Restaurant seemed to now be the body of Molly Moon. This was very, very odd. So the alien could change into thin air and then into different bodies! This was beyond AH2's wildest dreams. This was the stuff of science fiction. He was incredibly excited. Part of him was bubbling with delight because he could hardly believe that he, Malcolm Tixley, was actually making this historical discovery. The other part of him was steaming with exhilaration because all he had ever really wanted to do in life was
meet
an alien. And there was one, calmly having dinner.

He wondered what to do. If he spoke to the alien, perhaps he would be able to persuade it to communicate with him.
He
could be the alien's contact with Earth people. He could be the world expert. This would be very, very interesting. And as for the glory! AH2 could imagine his picture on the front page of
every
newspaper in the world! Maybe a movie would be made about his life!

Then his gadget started to bleep and putter. Its silver coordinates were rejigging. It was telling him that the Molly Moon alien was moving through the
building opposite. And now the readings showed that the Moon creature was leaving the Glitz Restaurant. Molly Moon, in the form of the glamorous woman, was crossing the road toward him. A waiter was by her side. They were already standing on the traffic island midway!

AH2 gulped. Did the alien know about him? He'd made up his mind. He prepared himself to speak with it.

 

Miss Hunroe, now back in her human form, stood with the collar of her thick fur coat wrapped up high around her neck. On her head was a heavy Russian fur hat, so that very little of her face could be seen. Beside her stood Miss Suzette, in a cream, frilly-collared cashmere cape; Miss Teriyaki, in a red patent-leather raincoat with a smart silver crutch under her arm; and Miss Oakkton, in her long green coat with two baskets of cats.

“You,” Miss Hunroe said to Miss Teriyaki and Miss Suzette, “will follow Theobald Black when he comes out of the hotel.” Miss Oakkton passed Miss Suzette the basket with the Siamese and the Persian cats in it. “And remember,” Miss Hunroe warned. “He is far more masterful a hypnotist than either of you and will turn you to putty before you can blink. Don't attempt
to challenge him or hypnotize him. Miss Oakkton and I will deal with the Moon children.”

“What a good idea,” gushed Miss Suzette.

“Very sensible,” said Miss Teriyaki, her irritation with Miss Suzette showing in her voice.

Miss Hunroe nodded at them. “Don't argue, it's not attractive.” Then she turned to cross the road.

Miss Teriyaki sneered at Miss Suzette. “Why am I always stuck with you?”

 

Micky as the headwaiter put his arm under Molly's. Once across the street, they began to walk as quickly as they could along the pavement away from the Glitz. But as they passed the bus stop, a man in a dark parka obstructed them.

“Excuse me,” he said, addressing Molly as Lady Storkhampton. “I'd like to introduce myself. I am AH2. My real name is Malcolm Tixley.” He gave a little bow. “Do not be alarmed. You can trust me. I know your secret, and I want you to confide in me. I want to be your contact on Earth.”

Molly looked at Micky, bewildered.

“I am a sympathetic human being,” AH2 insisted. “You can tell me all about your planet, your own species, your purpose here on Earth. I will keep the
information confidential until a mutually agreed time when you want to talk to the other earthlings.”

“Listen,” Molly as Lady Storkhampton said. “I'm not sure what you are talking about. Please leave me alone.” But the man in front of her shook his head and put his hand on her shoulder. He was beginning to look desperate. “Get
off
me,” Molly said, twisting away from his grip. This time the man grabbed both her shoulders.

Miss Hunroe was almost across the road when she saw the strange situation in front of her. She drew closer.

“You
must
confide in me, Molly Moon,” AH2 hissed. “It's imperative that you do.”

Miss Hunroe heard the name and was at once absolutely alert. Her mind catapulted. Who was the man ahead? Was the rich woman the Moon girl? Was the waiter beside her the Moon boy? Had they learned how to morph into
humans
?

Miss Hunroe faltered and her heartbeat quickened as she considered what to do. Amazingly, the twins had already mastered the art of morphing. And so they had the secret that she was desperate for. Miss Speal, as a child, had only learned animal morphing, and so this was all she had been able to teach Miss Hunroe.
Morphing into
humans
was so much more useful! If she could get the secret from Molly or her brother, she'd be able to easily get the hypnotism book from Black. And then—why then…