Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism

by Georgia Byng

When it was time for supper on the plane, Nockman found himself only wanting to eat fruit. Then he went to sleep. Rocky and Molly, on the other hand, stayed wide-awake, making the most of the first-class menu.

  “I wonder what the rest of the plane are having,” said Molly brightly, biting into a ketchup sandwich.

  “Meat in congealed fat, followed by fruit that tastes of cardboard?” suggested Rocky, biting into a crispy pancake that oozed lemony syrup. “That’s what the Alabasters and I had on the way here.”

  “You know what?” Molly said, looking up from her in-flight magazine. “It says here that you can get a neck massage in first class.”

  “Who by?”

  “I dunno. The captain?”

  This made them both giggle, and Rocky got quite a lot of his syrupy pancake on the magazine.

  “Mmmnnn, first class is gggrrrreat. Luxury!” Molly added, taking a slurp of concentrated orange squash. “But you know what, Rock? It’s going to be difficult coming back down to earth when we land.”

  “Why? Hasn’t the plane got wheels?”

  They started laughing again.

  “Pathetic joke …” said Molly, her eyes watering as she recovered. “No, what I mean is …” She glanced at Rocky. “And don’t make me laugh, Rocky, because I’m about to say something serious.”

  “Okay.”

  “What I mean is, it’ll be difficult to not use our hypnotism anymore when we’re back. I mean, think of all the times you’ve used it over the last few weeks. It’s so useful. I know we agreed we should make our way honestly from now on, but what if, let’s say, you saw an old man crying on the street because his wife had died, and because he was lonely…. Wouldn’t you want to hypnotize him to not feel quite so sad? Hypnotize him to join the old peoples’ party club, or something? Or let’s say you saw a kid crying because she’d got a bad report card, and on the same day her gerbil had been eaten by a cat and her friend had gone to the hospital with a terrible disease and …”

  “Molly,” interrupted Rocky, “stop it. We agreed.”

  “Yes, but I just think it’s going to be difficult to resist the temptation.”

  “True. It will be. But we have to resist, because if we start using it for good deeds, soon we’ll be doing useful deeds, and before we know it, we’ll be using it again every time we don’t get our way. And then we’ll be living unreal lives again.”

  “Okay, you’re right,” said Molly glumly, turning her head to look out of the window. Outside, the night sky was full of stars, and 35,000 feet beneath them the Atlantic Ocean’s tides moved with the moon. Molly stared out, finding it difficult to believe that she would never hypnotize anyone again. It struck her that it would be hours before they landed, however. It wouldn’t be breaking the rule if she used her powers on the plane.

  Rocky was watching a music video. Molly got up and stretched. Then she went for a little walk.

  Molly had quite a few conversations over the next two hours.

  She met a man by the toilets who was shaking, because he hated flying. Molly persuaded him that from now on he would love it. She talked to an exhausted mother who was up holding a child who wouldn’t sleep. After ten minutes they were back in their seats, both completely conked out. She spoke to a weepy flight attendant who’d just broken up with her boyfriend, and Molly mended her broken heart. Then she helped three kids who hated school, she turned a grumpy old codger into a mild old man, and she fixed a small boy so that he would love eating green vegetables, especially spinach.

  Molly sat down in her seat feeling very satisfied, and a bit like a fairy godmother.

  The plane touched down at six o’clock in the morning.

  “Remember what we agreed,” said Rocky, walking down the jetway.

  “Here goes,” said Molly, stepping into the terminal.

  Nockman collected their mass of luggage from the baggage carousel. Then Molly and Rocky decided that it would be cool to travel back to Hardwick House in style. So they chartered a helicopter.

  The journey in the helicopter took twenty minutes. Molly looked out, seeing the coastline in the distance and then, from afar, the town of Briersville. As the pilot flew closer, she pointed out the hill where Hardwick House was. Approaching the dilapidated, unkempt building, Molly was reminded of how she used to shut her eyes and picture flying away from Hardwick House into space.

  Very soon, they were hovering directly above the grounds of the building, and the pilot began to bring the helicopter down. He landed just outside the orphanage, on a small area of flat ground, the wind from his propellers whipping up the bushes and thistles and grass.

  “Here you are,” he shouted.

  Molly looked out expectantly, to see who would emerge from the building first, but no one came out.

  “I suppose no one’s up yet,” said Rocky. “I mean, it is early. At least it shows Hazel’s not strict about getting up.”

  “The place looks as crumbly as ever,” said Molly. They jumped out. While Petula sniffed enthusiastically about the frosty drive, Nockman unloaded the helicopter. Once that was done, the pilot wished them all good luck. With a thumbs-up signal he was off. In a minute the machine was only a blot in the sky.

  Molly and Rocky turned to look at Hardwick House. A small face dodged from one of the windows.

  “Someone’s up.”

  “Something’s up,” said Molly. “It’s all a bit too quiet round here.” She went to ring the front doorbell, but then she noticed that the splintered door was already open.

  Thirty-six

  The first thing that hit Rocky and Molly when they walked through the door was the smell. The hall smelled awful. It smelled like something rotten. Like decayed food and garbage and dirt. The checkered floor, instead of being black and white, was so dirty that it looked all black.

  “Yuck!” said Molly, putting her cashmere scarf up to her nose. “Revolting!”

  “It smells like someone’s died,” said Rocky. “And it’s cold, like a morgue.”

  “Oh, don’t say that.” Molly winced. “You’re spooking me out.”

  “I think the smell is coming from the kitchen,” said Rocky, shutting the door that led to the basement passage. “Everyone must be upstairs. Nockman, please bring in the luggage, and leave the front door open so we can air the place.”

  “Yes, Mr. Cat Basket,” said Nockman obligingly. And Molly, Rocky, and Petula ventured up the stone staircase.

  On the landing all the bedroom doors were shut and there was a pungent, unwashed, vinegary smell about the place. Molly pushed open the door to the room where Gordon and Rocky used to sleep.

  The room was quiet, with the curtains shut, but holes in the curtains let in enough light to see that no one was there. And the place was a garbage dump. Sheets, blankets, and lumpy mattresses were scattered on the floor, leaving the crisscross wire-framed beds bare and cold. Orange peels, apple cores, old milk cartons, cans, empty baked-bean tins, and dirty plates were dropped everywhere. And when Rocky opened the flimsy curtains, a cloud of moths fluttered out of the material.

  Molly and Rocky shut that bedroom door to open the next.

  That one was empty too, and in a similar chaotic state. The third and fourth bedrooms at least had mattresses on the beds. In every room the air was so cold that Rocky and Molly could see their breath.

  “But we saw someone,” said Molly. “Maybe they’re in here.” She pushed open the fifth bedroom door to find that it was jammed. However, it wasn’t jammed well, and with another push it gave way.

  In this room the curtains were open. And there, sitting in the harsh December light, were Gerry, Gemma, and the two five-year-olds, Ruby and Jinx.

  They were huddled together under dirty blankets, their hair mangy, their faces grimy, their eyes wide open and scared.

  Molly glanced about her. Piles of dirty clothes were strewn messily about. White feathers, from a pillow that had burst, covered the mattresses and the floor, so the room was more like a nest than a bedroom.
A toothpaste tube that had been trodden on had squeezed its contents onto the wooden floor, in a sticky, minty mess, and a can of Qube lay beside it, crunched, empty, and sad-looking.

  “What are you all doing in here?” was the first thing Molly asked. When none of the children answered, not even Gerry or Gemma, she walked over and crouched down in front of them. The children shrank toward each other, like magnetized bits of iron filings. Their behavior was shocking.

  “Gemma,” said Molly quietly, “don’t you recognize me?”

  “N-no,” said Gemma, looking quizzically up at Molly’s face.

  “I’m Molly.”

  “But,” said Gemma weakly, “Molly’s flown away, and anyway, Molly din’t look like you. She didn’t have nice clothes an’ stuff, like you’ve got, an’ her shoes weren’t clean lookin’ like yours, an’ her ‘air weren’t tidy, an’ her face were different.” The little girl wiped her runny nose with the edge of a blanket and shivered.

  “Yeah, Molly had a blotchy face,” said Gerry.

  “I am Molly. It’s just I’m a bit fatter and better kept. You know, like your mouse, Gerry, after you’d looked after him. You know.”

  “My mouse died,” said Gerry hanging his head.

  “Oh no, Gerry, did it? That’s awful. Isn’t it, Rock?”

  “Yes,” he said. “That is very bad news, Gerry. I’m very sad to hear that Squeak died. Do you remember me, Gerry? I’m Rocky.”

  Gerry nodded.

  “And this is Petula. She’s changed too. See, she’s not mean anymore, and you know, she actually likes running about now.”

  Gerry stared numbly at Petula, who licked his hand.

  Molly looked anxiously down the row of children. “You all seem sick,” she said. She could hardly believe the change in them, and how quickly it had happened. While she’d been fattening up, they’d all been half starving. A few more weeks, and Molly might have returned to find them all dead. As she looked at their little faces, which were as familiar to her as brothers’ and sisters’ faces might have been, she felt completely responsible for their misery.

  She leaned over and gave Gemma a hug. “I’m so sorry,” she said, from the bottom of her heart. The little girl clung to her, and Molly felt how frail and cold she was. Rocky gave Gerry a hug, and then Ruby and Jinx, too. Jinx and Ruby began to cry. Utterly shocked with herself, Molly wondered how she could have been so uncaring; leaving this lot at Hardwick House. Why hadn’t she come back when she’d known that horrible Hazel was in charge? Molly saw that she’d been self-centered and, she remembered, desperate, too. But how could she have left for America in the first place, thinking that there was nothing left in Briersville for her? Molly supposed it was because she hadn’t realized, until now, how much she loved these children.

  “Is there any food in the house?” Molly asked Gemma, determined to make things better as soon as possible.

  “Yes, yes, we still get deliveries, like ’tatoes an’ eggs an’ groceries an’ stuff, but we run out of saucepans, and the kitchen’s full o’ rats so we’re scared to go down, but we do make a trip sometimes, with sticks.”

  “So what have you been eating?” asked Rocky, aghast.

  “Cold baked beans …”

  “But the can opener is difficult to use …”

  “An’ we eat bread an’ fruit an’ cheese sometimes, if we can get to it before those ‘orrid rats do.”

  “But why’s it all gone wrong? Doesn’t Mrs. Trinklebury come and help you?”

  “No,” said Gerry, piping up, “Miss Adderstone gave Mrs. Trinklebury the sack, and she never come back. Adderstone said we’d be happier on our own. But we’re not … an’ my mouse died.” Gerry looked down at the floor.

  “I know, Gerry, that is very, very sad,” said Molly, touching his head.

  “But listen,” said Rocky, trying to be positive, “you must be really hungry. So how about if we make you omelettes and hot chocolate for breakfast?”

  All four children stared at Rocky in amazement. “Yes, please,” they said.

  “Okay then. Put on your robes and slippers, and let’s take you downstairs and we’ll light a fire and you can all get warm.”

  The small children looked so worn out and grateful that Molly felt compelled to say, “And listen, you lot, you mustn’t worry anymore. Everything’s going to be lovely from now on, I promise. We’ve come back to look after you, and we’ve got someone else to help too, and everything will be tidied up and there’ll be nice things to eat and we’ll be warm and … well, just you wait.”

  With that, Molly led the waiflike children, in their threadbare robes, downstairs. In twenty minutes a fire was blazing in the hall hearth and they were sitting round it warming their grubby feet. Molly wondered where the older children were but decided to ask Gemma later. First of all she had to sort out breakfast, so she called Nockman and Rocky and they made their way down to the stinking kitchen.

  The kitchen was in a diabolical state. Garbage bags lay on their sides with rotten food and maggots in them. The sinks were piled high with dirty saucepans, plates, and cutlery. In fact, every piece of kitchen equipment was dirty, either in the sink, on the counters, or dropped on the floor. Chairs were pulled up to the stove, where the small children had tried to cook.

  Petula sniffed about and smelled rodents. When Molly opened a cupboard, three mice, who were eating some crumbs, darted down holes.

  “You know, Molly,” observed Rocky, “there can’t be rats here, because I heard that where there are mice, you don’t get rats. Which is good, because rats carry nasty diseases, whereas mice are just a bit dirty. If Nockman cleans the surfaces with some sort of disinfectant, it should be safe to cook.”

  “Just shows how scared they were. I mean, Gerry loves mice, but his imagination saw the mice as rats.”

  Nockman, thanks to the days when he’d worked at Shorings Bank, was very good at cleaning. First he took the kitchen rubbish outside; then he filled one of the sinks full of bubbly water and another full of hot, clear water, for rinsing. He washed frying pans, bowls, plates, and cutlery, and then he started to peel potatoes. Rocky cracked twenty eggs into a bowl and began to whisk them, while Molly found two trolleys, which she wiped down. Then she went to the back door to see if the milkman had been.

  Near the doorstep were two crates of extremely rotten fish, several more smelly old bins, and old milk bottles with their silver tops pecked by small birds. Molly grabbed the milk basket with its five new bottles and hurried back inside.

  “Nockman, when you’ve finished breakfast and had some yourself, too, please can you spring clean the kitchen?” she asked.

  “Yes, Miss Hair Dryer,” said the willing Nockman.

  A terrific smell of omelette and french fries and logs burning on the fire soon filled the house. Molly and Rocky watched with satisfaction as the small children ate up. With every mouthful more color came back to their cheeks.

  Gerry was the first to get his curiosity back. “So,” he said. “What was the place you went called again?”

  “It was called New York,” said Molly. “Do you remember, I called you?”

  “Yup. So what was it like in New York?”

  “Amazing,” said Rocky.

  “What did you do there?”

  “Well, we did different things,” said Rocky. “I lived with a family, and I found that I liked you lot as my family better.” Gerry looked pleased at this. The other children nodded and smiled.

  “And I,” said Molly, “I lived by myself and had everything I wanted.”

  “Everything?” asked Gemma.

  “Yes. I had posh, posh everything, like everything you’ve seen in the ads and more. I had clothes and cars and TVs and films and shops and as many candies as I wanted. And I was in a play and I was on TV and people rang me up all the time and I was famous!”

  “You were famous?” Jinx echoed.

  “So why didn’t you stay?” piped up Gemma.

  “Because,” explained Mol
ly, “I also had something I didn’t want.”

  “What was that?”

  “Lice?” guessed Gerry.

  “No, not lice. I had loneliness.”

  “Loneliness?”

  “Yup. Loneliness. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “Loneliness makes all those snazzy, posh, posh things look like rubbish.”

  “Rubbish?”

  “Yes, like rotten old stinking rubbish.”

  “But why?” asked Gerry.

  “Because when you’re lonely, what you want more than anything is not to be lonely. All those posh things don’t make you feel better. You don’t care about the posh things then, you just want to be with people you like.”

  “So,” said Rocky, “when Molly bumped into me, she was very pleased to see me. And we decided we were both lonely for you lot, and we were worried, too, and so we came home.”

  The children seemed very impressed and happy that they’d pulled Rocky and Molly home. They all stared in wonder at Rocky and Molly and slurped their drinks.

  “An’ was Petula lonely too?” asked Jinx, stroking Petula’s soft head.

  “Yes,” said Molly.

  “‘Cause we were lonely, too, weren’t we, Gemma?”

  “Yes,” admitted Gemma, “an it weren’t very nice.”

  Tiny Ruby was sitting by the fireplace, next to Nockman, with a big mustache of hot chocolate above her lip. She slipped her hand into Nockman’s. “Thank you, mister,” she said, blinking up at him. “That was the best.”

  Nockman had been feeling different since his fit on the plane, and now, looking down at the little girl, he felt something he hadn’t felt for years. He felt all warm inside. Warm because the little girl had found the way into his heart and because he was glad he had helped her. He could hardly believe the feeling. “Zat vas my pleasure,” he said quietly.

  “Now,” said Molly to Gerry and Gemma, “tell us everything. Where have Hazel and the others gone?”

  “Gone? They’re not gone,” said Gemma. “They’re still here.” And she began to tell them everything that had been going on at Hardwick House.