by Georgia Byng
“Right. Now, Miss Adderstone, I’m going to take you into a deeper—trance—and—you—will—obey—everything—I say.”
Miss Adderstone nodded like a wind-up toy, and Molly licked her lips. All Molly’s life, she had been the target of Miss Adderstone’s beastliness. Now it was time for revenge.
Twenty minutes later, Molly left Miss Adderstone’s apartment with Petula trotting beside her. She felt more powerful than she’d ever felt before.
The dress rehearsal for the talent show was at eight o’clock in the hall. Molly sat on the eighth step of the stairs, so that she could see well. When Miss Adderstone stepped onto the makeshift stage, in front of the empty fireplace, Molly sighed a deep, satisfied sigh. For Miss Adderstone had dressed herself up. She was wearing a pink frilly nightie and rubber boots. On her head she wore a bra, and round her neck, on a string, hung her false teeth.
“Good evening, everybody,” she said in a sing-songy voice, her mouth a rubbery cave without her teeth. Then she lifted up her nightie and showed everyone her knickers. “Woopsie daisy!”
All the children went quiet and stared aghast at Miss Adderstone’s white, wrinkly legs. The change in her was so dramatic and strange that it was as if a Martian had landed in the room.
“On with the show!” Miss Adderstone announced flamboyantly. Clicking her false teeth in the air like Spanish castanets, she stamped her rubber boots and with a flamenco flourish stepped off the stage.
A few stifled, nervous giggles came from here and there. Then Miss Adderstone screeched in her usual crabby way, “Gordon Boils! Spit that gum out.” Gordon Boils shrank in his chair. He’d preferred being told off by the old Adderstone. This Adderstone was creepy.
“Sorry, Miss Adderstone,” he said in a tiny voice, spitting out his gum and putting it in his pocket.
Molly walked down the stairs and stepped onto the stage.
Cynthia and Craig booed in unison, “Eurgh, get off, Drone Zone.”
Molly stared at her shoes, concentrating on the eye sensation very, very hard. She was going to try to hypnotize everyone using only her eyes.
“What’s the matter … forgotten the tune of your drone?”
“That’s enough of that,” snapped Miss Adderstone, clacking her false teeth castanets and biting the air with them. “Anyone who makes trouble will get the nip.”
Everyone went quiet. Then Molly slowly lifted her eyes to the audience. They beamed out into the small crowd like a searchlight. And each and every person out there was caught, stunned like a rabbit in headlights. Molly felt as if she were playing a computer game. Every time a person locked onto her eyes, she felt their defenses fall. She worked through the rows. Gemma, Gerry, Ruby, and Jinx were the easiest, but even the older ones were a walkover. All the eyes that normally held scorn and dislike for Molly were now blank and expressionless. Gordon, Roger … Then someone tapped Molly’s shoulder.
“I think I’m first,” came Hazel’s mean whine. Molly turned and cast her look upon Hazel. Hazel’s slit eyes challenged Molly’s. Then her face twitched oddly.
Hazel’s eyes felt funny. She was looking at Molly—ugly, unpopular Molly, whom she normally wouldn’t look at for long, but for some reason now her eyes felt magnetized. Hazel tried to look away, but she couldn’t. And like a person clinging to a riverbank, being pulled away by a strong current of water, Hazel, too weak to hold on any longer, let go.
Molly looked around the room. She was very impressed that she hadn’t needed to use her voice at all. Everyone sat wide-eyed and thunderstruck.
“In a minute I will sit down. When I do, I will clap my hands. When you hear me clap, you will all snap out of your trances and you won’t remember that I hypnotized you at all…. And from now on, whenever you remember nasty things you have said or done to Molly Moon, you will hit yourselves over the head with whatever you are carrying.”
Molly left the stage and sat down. She clapped sharply once. She hadn’t hypnotized everyone to love her. She didn’t need to do that now. She just wanted to be sure she could manage a crowd, and she could. As the room came to life around her, Molly reached into her pocket, pulled out the sheet of paper that she’d found in Adderstone’s files, and ripped it up.
So far in life, Molly had drawn a short straw. Now she was going to get what was due to her. A life like the world of Molly’s favorite commercials. It might be just around the corner. Molly shivered with anticipation as she thought of all the lovely things she’d always wanted but never had. She’d line her pockets with the talent competition prize money, but that would just be for starters. She felt sure that with hypnotism under her belt, she’d never be short of money again. And as for people, Molly decided there and then that from now on, no one would push her or pinch her or boss her or bully her or ignore her. She was going to be a somebody now, and the world better watch out, because a new, shiny Molly Moon was about to burst through the ether and dazzle it.
Eleven
The next morning the orphanage awoke to the lovely smell of fresh croissants and bread, and the aroma of baking matched Molly’s sunny mood.
Edna’s Italian theme was going over the top in the dining room. She’d brought her radio in, and opera was playing loudly. Laid out on the tables were books on Italy.
“Been to the library, Edna?” Molly asked, helping herself to a croissant and a sweet bun from a plate.
“Yes, you see I’m a fan of Italy,” Edna explained politely, as if Molly didn’t know. “I love Italy, Italian cooking in particular. The Italians really bleedin’ know ‘ow to live.” She poured Molly a hot chocolate.
“Let me do that, Edna,” said Miss Adderstone with a toothless smile, tugging the chocolate jug from Edna’s stubborn grip. “Molly, my dear, let me seat you.”
She led Molly across to the window as if she were royalty. Children whispered as Miss Adderstone swept past, her false-teeth necklace swinging with every step. This morning she had a huge pair of knickers on her head. She was wearing her polyester suit, except that it had been snipped all over and was full of cuts and slashes. It looked like the mad creation of some crazy fashion designer.
“I like your suit,” said Molly.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, Molly. I did it myself last night with a pair of scissors.”
Behind them someone screamed. Miss Adderstone turned with her usual foul expression (for nothing had changed in the way that she felt toward other children) and looked horrified. Hazel Hackersly had hit herself with her mug and tipped hot chocolate all over her head.
“What do you think you are doing, Hazel?” Miss Adderstone said furiously. “Excuse me, Molly.”
There was another yell as Roger chucked milk all over his hair. Miss Adderstone snapped her false-teeth castanets and descended upon him like a bad-tempered lobster. “That’s it, Roger Fibbin. For that, you get a nip.” And, click-clacking her way toward the quaking Roger, she gave him a nasty nip on the arm.
“Eeeooooww,” Roger cried out, his eyes wide with alarm.
Molly winced. She didn’t think she had hypnotized Miss Adderstone to be quite that fierce.
Edna, who had come over to Molly’s side, whispered in her ear, “I think Agnes ‘as gone a bit bleedin’ funny in the ‘ead.”
When Molly left the dining room, she noticed Gordon Boils hitting himself on the head with a croissant. She smiled at him innocently.
All morning Edna and Miss Adderstone were at Molly’s disposal. Edna made her delicious snacks and Miss Adderstone gave her a foot massage while Petula sat on her lap. By noon Molly was feeling wonderfully relaxed and ready for the talent show.
The other children left on foot, but Edna escorted Molly down to the minibus, carrying her knapsack and opening the back door for her. Then she climbed into the front seat with Miss Adderstone. Molly, with Petula on her lap, was chauffeured to the Briersville Guildhall.
The hall was a Victorian stone building with a copper-green pepper-pot roof. Its steps fanned out in two directions like
a mustache on the front of the building. And today its steps were covered with children. Children dressed up in all sorts of outfits. In sequined suits, in top hats and tails. Some were dressed to sing and dance, some were dressed to do magic, some were dressed to act a part, and some were dressed to do a comedy routine. All were prepared for the talent competition. And each child was accompanied by a parent. There were parents tying back hair, parents stitching last-minute hems, and parents giving pep talks.
“Just belt it out, Jimmy…. Show ‘em what you’re made of.”
“Sally, don’t forget to smile when you sing.”
“Remember, Angelica, it’s all in the eyes.”
“It certainly is,” thought Molly as she made her way up the steps.
No one noticed the plain, gangly girl who squeezed past.
Clutching her knapsack, with the hypnotism book safely in it, Molly made her way to a desk in the front hall.
“Name?” asked a lady with rhinestone-rimmed spectacles.
“Molly Moon.”
“Address?”
“Hardwick House Orphanage.”
The woman handed Molly a card with her name on it. “Make sure you’re backstage when the show starts, and you’ll be told when you’re on. Good luck,” she said with a kind smile.
“Thanks. I need it.”
Molly walked down a parquet-floored passage to the tall-ceilinged Grand Hall, where hundreds of metal chairs with red-canvas seats were lined up in rows, some already occupied. Molly saw a low platform in the middle of the room with six chairs on it. These were for the judges.
The passages around Molly echoed with voices singing musical scales, as contestants warmed up. She walked past Hazel and Cynthia, who both made faces at her, and entered the backstage room. This was like stepping into a cage of brightly colored birds, all squawking and clucking. Mothers and fathers fussed over their children, children fussed over their costumes. The sight of these family groups gave Molly a pang of envy. She turned away and sat down in the corner in front of a television that had the sound turned off. Molly felt that it was only fair that she should win the talent competition. These other kids had had it easy all their lives compared to her. But Molly’s confidence was slipping. She watched the TV, hoping it would calm her and stop her palms from sweating.
A commercial break was showing the Qube ad. The same man from the Qube poster on the billboard overlooking Briersville was now on the television tipping back a can of Qube. Molly felt very at home. “Oooh, you’re so cute, can I sip your Qube?” Molly spoke the lines of the woman in the sparkly bathing suit. Then she spoke along with the hero of the ad. “Hey, the world really looks better with a can of Qube in my hand.” Next Molly knew a deep voice over the top of the scene would say, “Qube … it’ll quench more than your thirst!”
Molly watched and felt homesick for Rocky. They always laughed together when they acted out the Qube ad. She wished they were both on that paradisiacal beach now. An explosive sneezing shook Molly from her thoughts. Mrs. Toadley had walked into the room.
“Aaaaaatishshshoooooo. Oh,” she said disdainfully, wiping her nose with a hanky. “I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t know you had any particular talents.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Molly coolly.
“I’m a judge, you know,” declared Mrs. Toadley with another sneeze.
“I know, and I’m really looking forward to performing for you,” said Molly cheerfully, as Mrs. Toadley waddled away.
After five more minutes a man with a shiny red waistcoat came in and began handing out cards with numbers on them.
“May I go last?” Molly asked politely.
“Certainly.” The man gave her a card with the number thirty-two on it and took Molly’s card with her name on it.
The competition began. Molly left the changing room when two boys began fighting over a magic wand. She stepped up to the wings of the stage and waited, next to the woman who was in charge of the curtains. From there Molly had a side view of the stage. After every act the woman pulled a cord, and the heavy velvet curtains swung shut with a swish of musty air. The MC, the man in the red waistcoat, then hopped in front of the curtain and announced the next performance.
Molly watched the other contestants go before her. Tap dancers, jugglers, mime artists, ballet dancers, a boy with a drum kit who did a five-minute drum solo, and a girl who did impersonations of TV stars. Some children took sheets of music up with them, for an accompanist who sat at a white piano on the side of the stage. She watched ventriloquists, singers, musicians, comedians, and a few who were overcome with stage fright. Each time an act finished, the performer went down the front steps to sit in the audience. Each time, Molly’s stomach fluttered with nerves.
Molly peeped through a hole in the curtain to see what the audience looked like. She saw fat Mrs. Trinklebury in the front row staring up happily. But Molly could see only the front few rows lit up by the stage spotlight. The rest of the audience was in darkness. This made her panic. If she couldn’t see the audience’s eyes, how could she be sure that they were looking at her? If a mother in the back row was fishing about in her handbag, or a judge was doing up a shoelace, they might not look at Molly’s eyes. If they weren’t hypnotized, her secret would be out. Molly didn’t know how to hypnotize a whole audience with just her voice. The chapter “Hypnotizing Using the Voice Alone” had been ripped out of her book. This was terrible.
“Number twenty-seven, Hazel Hackersly,” announced the MC.
Hazel bustled onto the stage. Molly should have enjoyed this delicious moment. The night before, she had had a “meeting” with Hazel. But instead, she was worrying about how to see her audience.
Hazel’s dance began. A dance? Really it was more of a stamping about the stage. Hazel jumped and stomped as if she were hammering nails into the floor. She sang, or rather shouted, her cat song, the words of which had changed. Now it went:
“I’m sorry I can’t dance.
I’m sorry I’m a brat
I’m sorry I’m a bully-
It’s just I am a PRAT.”
When she came offstage, smiling as if she’d just given an Oscar-winning performance, there was a shocked silence before a few people began to clap half-heartedly.
“Oh dear,” said the curtain lady, “I don’t think that’ll win.”
“Number twenty-eight,” announced the MC, and Molly’s stomach cramped painfully, confidence draining out of her. The darkness in the audience was terrifying. She sat down, trying to compose herself, trying to get the feeling in her eyes, but doubts kept interfering with her concentration. This was dreadful.
And then Molly’s desperate mind had a brain wave.
Number thirty was a boy who did bird impressions and made the audience ooh and aah. Number thirty-one, a girl dressed as a Greek goddess, went on. It was now or never.
Molly focused her eyes and tapped the MC on the shoulder. When he looked around, her eyes locked onto his. Then Molly turned to the curtain lady and looked into her eyes, too. She had to hypnotize them now, as they weren’t in the audience. Number thirty-one finished. The jolly man went back onstage.
“And now, last but not least,” he said, “we have number thirty-two … Miss Molly Moon.”
Molly walked onto the stage, her hands more sweaty than they had ever been in her life. The curtain opened and the hot spotlight hit her face. She walked up to the microphone, her stomach twisting with nerves. She was suddenly filled with a fear that she couldn’t remember how to hypnotize anything, let alone a whole audience full of Briersvillians. She looked out into the black hole of the hall and could feel the people out there all looking at her. The air was thick with anticipation. There was silence except for a few scattered coughs and a sneezing fit from Mrs. Toadley.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” she said nervously. “I am Molly Moon, and this afternoon I’m going to show you the talent that I have for reading minds.”
She heard a murmur
of interested noises.
“For this I have to be able to see you, so ladies and gentlemen, er, boys and girls, the hall lights will now go on.”
Shielding her eyes from the spotlight, Molly looked upward. “Light controller, please could we have the spotlight off and the audience lights on.”
In two switches, the stage spotlight went off and the gang of lights above the audience came on. There were lots of people out there. In the front row Molly noticed Hazel hitting herself on the head with her cat’s tail.
“Hello, everybody,” Molly said, feeling calmer.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I can show you what I can do, if you’ll let me concentrate for a moment. Soon I will start to get telepathic thoughts … your thoughts, and I will tell you what you’re thinking.”
Molly stared at the floor.
From the audience’s viewpoint, this girl looked the part. There she stood, concentrating in a very theatrical way. Of course, all this mind-reading business was an act, but the girl was pretending very well.
Then, when the girl looked up again, each person in the hall thought to their surprise how, on a second glance, this girl was much more special than they had first thought. The wafer-thin, plain child was really rather enchanting. The longer the audience studied Molly, wondering why they hadn’t seen her charm before, the more ensnared they became by her mesmerizing gaze.
“It won’t take long now,” Molly said as she went methodically through the rows of gaping faces, checking each person’s eyes. A second was all it took to sense the fusion feeling getting stronger and stronger. Molly was amazed that most of the audience had fallen under her spell immediately, the judges included. Mrs. Toadley looked like an old toad, with her mouth hanging open. Mrs. Trinklebury looked as if she were about to have a fit of giggles.
