The Whizz Pop Chocolate Shop (19 page)

“Yes.”

“You believe him?”

“Yes,” Oz said. “Yes, I do.” He did believe this; and he had faith that the new, reformed Isadore could change that terrible picture of the future. He fell into the most comfortable sleep he’d had since his kidnapping.

They had breakfast the next morning in a big, bright modern canteen with rows of long tables. Though it was still early, the canteen was bustling. Oz, Lily and Caydon queued at the counter with their plastic trays, and Demerara bagged the best table beside the large window, which had a magnificent view of the sea.

Lily brought Demerara a sausage and pulled off the skin for her. While Demerara ate it, she told Oz the story of her burnt fur. As she kept mewing to anyone who would listen, this was her first day without her mauve suit—her portly form was now covered with
thick golden-brown fuzz like velvet. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? And it just appeared overnight—I couldn’t tear myself away from the mirror for ages. If I only knew where Spike was, I’d be RADIANT.”

“Spike’s lost?” Oz said.

“He’s away spying on the gang,” Lily said. “J said there was an explosion.”

They began to exchange their incredible stories. Lily and Caydon told Oz about the enormous cat, the mutant rat and the gang member posing as the new tutor. Oz ate scrambled eggs on toast and told the story of his imprisonment, the Jamaican farm and Isadore’s dramatic change of heart. He left out Elvira and the dreadful vision.

“You’re leaving something out,” Lily said. “Don’t bother lying to me.” Her voice was not unkind. “I know you too well.”

“Caydon, dear.” Demerara daintily licked one velvet paw. “Would you fetch me another sausage?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Caydon jumped up and went back to the counter—accidentally jostling a very old lady in a spangled headscarf. “Sorry.”

“You again!” The old lady scowled. “Young man, you watch where you’re going—you wouldn’t be so saucy if you could see how bald you’re going to look at your daughter’s graduation!”

“That’s Mrs. Fladgate,” Lily whispered to Oz. “She
works with a crystal ball; she’s the one who told Caydon about his future hernia.”

Oz decided to keep well out of Mrs. Fladgate’s way; he already knew too much about the future.

After breakfast, B62 told them they could walk in the garden for half an hour. The day was breezy, but clear and bright, and the three of them—and the cat—walked to the edge of the cliff to look at the waves breaking briskly on the small sandy beach below.

“I’m getting cold,” Demerara said. “Caydon, dear, pick me up and carry me indoors.”

“OK,” he said, bending down to scoop her into his arms.

“You don’t have to do absolutely everything she tells you,” said Lily.

“Oh, I don’t mind.” Caydon was cheerful. “It’s sort of like having a very bossy little sister, or a cuddly toy that answers back.”

“Don’t be cheeky—cuddly toy indeed!” The immortal cat settled herself comfortably and Caydon carried her back to the house.

Oz and Lily lingered a little way behind him.

“Give me your phone,” Oz said. “I want to talk to Mum and Dad.”

“What’s going on?” asked Lily. “Will I find out what you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t know.” Oz couldn’t pretend not to know what she was talking about; she knew his mind as well as he did.

She slipped her hand into his. “It must be something very bad.”

“It is.”

“I won’t pester you,” Lily said. She took her phone from her pocket and handed it to Oz. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to worry—I won’t freak out. I’m a lot braver these days. Even Mum and Dad have noticed. Mum says it was good for me not to rely on you for everything. They think you’ve been at music camp, by the way. You’ve had a wonderful time and visited wherever Mozart was born.”

“Salzburg,” Oz said automatically. “Where do they think we are now?”

“On an outward-bound holiday in the Lake District.” She added, “We’re loving it.”

Oz heard his mother’s phone ringing and swallowed the lump that rose to his throat.

“Oz! How wonderful to hear your voice, darling—thanks so much for all the lovely postcards.”

“It was great,” Oz said. “Are you—are you OK?”

“Me? I’m fine—my bump’s getting bigger by the day! It’s not due for another three weeks, but the doctor says it might be sooner—Bruce, it’s Oz!”

“Fantastic to hear you, Oz,” Dad said. “Can’t wait to have you back on Skittle Street. It’s as quiet as a tomb here, isn’t it, Emily?”

Oz didn’t trust himself to say any more to his poor parents. He gave the phone back to Lily, who told some amazing lies about what they were supposedly doing in the Lake District.

“Got to go now—we’re off rappelling. Love you!” She switched off her phone. “It’s something to do with them, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I won’t keep asking.”

He was grateful for this, and a bit surprised; Lily really did seem to have got braver. “I’ll tell you the important bit—Isadore must be allowed to make his special chocolate.”

“I can’t think why you like that man,” Lily said. “You should hear what he did to Demerara.”

“He’s changed.”

The man known as J was waiting for them in the library. Isadore stood beside the empty fireplace drinking a cup of coffee. Oz was glad to see that he was no longer in handcuffs.

“Good morning, dear boy—J and I have finally thrashed out a deal.”

“I don’t much like it,” J said. “I’m trusting you because I don’t have a choice.”

“FIEND!” shrieked Demerara. She launched herself at Isadore like a velvet missile, digging her claws
into his shoulders. “MURDERER! KIDNAPPER! CAT DROWNER! RAT BURNER!”

It took both Caydon and Lily to pry the furious, spitting cat off him.

“Ouch,” Isadore said. “Good grief, it’s Pierre’s cat! I left you in a bucket of water, didn’t I? Sorry I had to do that.”

“SORRY!”

“I advise you to let bygones be bygones,” Isadore said. “I’m working for the good guys now.”

“I wouldn’t trust you an INCH!”

“Demerara!” J said sternly. “Calm down and behave like a secret agent—or I’ll put you outside!”

“But I’ve been waiting to claw him to shreds since 1938!”

“You’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“Pooh!” Demerara flopped sulkily into Lily’s lap.

“Now kindly shut up.” J was not in a good mood. Oz could see that he didn’t like being forced to trust Isadore. “Welcome back, Oz—it’s a great relief to see you.”

“You will let him make the chocolate, won’t you?” Oz asked.

J’s face showed that he knew about Elvira’s vision of the future. “Yes—as soon as I get confirmation that he’s telling the truth about the gang.”

“He told me their target was the Albert Hall.”

“I need more than that, I’m afraid; he might have made it up.”

Isadore finished his cup of coffee. “My dear J, you behave as if we had all the time in the world!”

There was a knock at the door and B62 came in with a large padded envelope. “Excuse me, sir; this just came for you.”

J took the package. He opened one end, and a voice floated out: “Morning, all!”

“Spike!” gasped Demerara. “But—what’s happened to you?”

“I got run over, and I haven’t popped back into shape yet—somebody help me out!”

J put his hand inside the padded envelope and pulled out what looked like a furry pancake. Spike was squashed flat, with a tire print down his back. His head was the only part of him that moved. Lily was so pleased to see him that she nearly kissed his greasy little head. Caydon ruffled his fur affectionately.

“Oz—nice to see you, mate!”

“Nice to see you, Spike—are you really OK?”

Spike managed to turn his head toward Isadore. His whiskers bristled. “What’s HE doing here?”

“He’s changed sides,” Demerara mewed crossly. “Which means we’re not allowed to claw him to shreds.”

“You’ve been spying on the gang members, Spike,” J said.

“Yessir. I can’t tell you where they are because I lost them on the M11 when I got thrown out of a car window and run over by a truck. But I did learn that their target was the Albert Hall—until they had to cancel it because one of them got killed, and he’d had some sort of quarrel with the others—they couldn’t stop falling out! I got squashed before I could find out where they planned to bomb next.”

J looked at Isadore. “So you were telling the truth.”

“I don’t blame you for being suspicious,” Isadore said. “I’d be the first to admit that my history up to now has been one long list of misdeeds.”

“Those gang members don’t like you,” Spike said. “You double-crossed them, and when they find you they’re planning to tear out your entrails every night at—”

“Thank you, I know what they’re planning.” Isadore looked at J. “We’ll need protection.”

“You’ll get it,” J said in a kinder voice. “You’ll get everything you need.”

“Our last tutor turned out to be a spy,” Mum said.

“That was probably why she had nothing to say about her teaching methods.”

“I am not a spy,” the new tutor said. “As for my methods, I once had great success with a dyslexic girl who worked in a business of mine. Instead of rubbing in her weaknesses, I concentrated on her strengths. Her math was poor, but she learned to manage money better than the chancellor of the exchequer—and what else is math for?” He smiled at the twins as they came into the kitchen. “You must be Oz and Lily.”

“Hi, kids,” Mum said cheerfully. “This is Dr. Ian Sneed. He’s going to be Lily’s tutor, and he’s also giving some lessons to Oz.”

Under the table, Demerara let out a snarl. “Just tell me when you want me to SCRATCH him.”

Lily edged closer to Oz. He was pleased to find Isadore lounging in their kitchen as if he owned the place, but she was still scared of him.

“Well, I’ll pop out now, if that’s OK.” As usual, Mum had totally swallowed the SMU cover story. “See you later.”

The moment the front door slammed behind her, Isadore said, “Goodness, your parents are easy to bamboozle—OW! Oz, will you kindly stop this cat from scratching me?”

“Sorry,” Demerara said sulkily. “The temptation is just so hard to resist.” She trotted out from under the table.

“Your fur’s grown again,” Oz said.

Lily ran her hand across the cat’s golden back. The velvet fur was longer and softer now. “Mmm, this feels lovely—I didn’t think it would grow back this fast.”

For a fraction of a second, the square emerald eyes were shifty. “Neither did I.”

“It looks a bit different,” Lily said, bending down to examine it. “I swear there’s a slight curl.”

“Oh—fancy that!”

“Lily,” Isadore said, “I haven’t introduced myself to you properly. Please try not to be afraid of me—your brother will tell you I’m here to help.”

“He is,” Oz assured her. “It’s really important that you trust him.”

“This is about the secret thing, isn’t it?” Lily looked from Oz to Isadore; they were creepily easy in each other’s company.

“Yes—I can’t say what it is, but he’s our only hope. You have to trust him.”

“And so do you,” Isadore told Demerara. “You and the rat are a vital part of this operation. Where is he?”

“Spike’s having a smoke in the next door’s gutter,” Demerara said. “I expect he’ll be along in a minute. Why do you want us?”

“I need to get into Pierre’s safe.”

“Certainly NOT! I don’t care how long you leave me in a bucket of water this time—I’m NEVER going to tell you how to get in—so THERE!” If cats could stamp their feet, Demerara would have stamped hers.

“But you must!” Oz was alarmed; Lily could feel his gnawing anxiety.

“I made a solemn promise to Pierre, the very day before he died.” The green eyes shot poison at Isadore. “I can see him now. He sat me on his knee and said, ‘Demerara, I think my evil brother Isadore is trying to kill me—don’t ever let him near my magic safe!’ I promised him, and I’ve kept that promise ever since.”

“For pity’s sake,” Isadore snapped. “Someone tell this idiotic animal to cooperate!”

“Please, Demerara.” Oz was pale and looked as if he was trying not to cry. “I saw something horrible from the future—it’s no use asking what because I won’t say—but Isadore is the only person in the world who can change it—if anyone can—please, Demerara!”

Lily knew then why Oz had to trust their wicked great-great-uncle. He didn’t need to tell her what horrible thing he had seen. She felt his desolation. Once she would have burst into tears—but this was obviously a very serious emergency, and she needed to keep her head.

She stroked Demerara. “Pierre would be proud of you, but he’d expect you to tell us now. Isadore’s given up being wicked to help us.”

“Well—he’d better show me some respect.”

“I’ll grovel as much as you like,” Isadore said. “But I don’t have time now. Let’s assess the damage in the workshop.”

It was strange to see Isadore’s familiarity with their house. He drained his tea and bustled off to the workshop. “Good grief!”

Oz hadn’t been into the workshop since the fire, and he drew in his breath—it was a blackened, ruined mess.

“This was your fault,” Demerara told Isadore coldly. “Your postcard did this. I hope you’re satisfied.”