by Georgia Byng
“Well, from now on, you will forget your past,” she said suddenly, “and you will be happy to do that. And now you will have a long sleep. When you wake up, I don’t want to hear another word about your horrible life, unless I ask it of you.”
Cornelius Logan nodded and, curling up on the floor by the fire, he slumped into a deep sleep. Molly pulled a blanket over herself and stared at the flames, her thoughts broken only by Cornelius’s incoherent mutterings.
“Baaaah,” he brayed. “Nooooo,” he begged. And “Please don’t eat me,” he bleated.
Forty-two
When Molly woke up, the light outside was dusky. She had slept so heavily that one side of her face was hot and red. As she opened her eyes, she saw Cornelius Logan still in a pile on the floor. Rocky and Primo were sitting at the coffee table drinking something from mugs, and behind them Los Angeles glittered, electric. Primo looked weary. He was telling Rocky about things that he had done under Cornelius’s spell. Molly wrapped her blanket around her and shuffled over to sit down beside them. For a moment she wondered whether Rocky had told Primo that Molly was his daughter. Then, knowing that of course Rocky wouldn’t have done this, she relaxed.
“Hi, you’re up,” said Primo, smiling. He pointed at Cornelius. “I expect he’s got jet lag.”
“Hypno lag,” suggested Molly.
“He was a bit of a hypno hag, wasn’t he?” said Rocky, and everyone laughed.
“And what a hag,” said Primo more seriously. “It’s going to take me a long time to come to terms with the fact that I have lived like a radio-controlled robot for eleven years. I would have lived my life a lot differently if I hadn’t been on Cornelius Logan’s string.”
Molly and Rocky didn’t know what to say to make him feel better. They both knew how cheated they had felt to have someone take away their time and choose how they should spend it. Primo, they supposed, would have enjoyed himself some of the time, but unlike them, he had been forced to behave really badly.
“Try and think of the nice things that have happened to you,” suggested Molly. “I mean, you’ve made lots of friends. Now you can really make friends with them.”
“They were hypnotized to like me, Molly. When I release them, they won’t see me as successful and amusing and brilliant anymore.”
“Some of them might.”
“Maybe.”
“And look, you’ve got lots of good businesses that you still own and you can still run them. You still have your TV stations. And you can do lots of stuff that Cornelius Logan never allowed you to do.”
“That’s true.”
“And you’re very, very rich,” said Rocky. “At least you’ve got tons of money.”
“You can’t buy time,” said Primo morosely. “I’ve had eleven years ripped away from me. And worse than that, you can’t buy love. Nobody loves me. Nobody. I haven’t even got a dog or a goldfish that loves me.”
Molly felt very sorry for Primo, because what he said was true. She didn’t know how to cheer him up. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that she was his longlost daughter. She didn’t want a big soppy scene.
“Listen, Primo,” she tried. “I feel sorry for you, and you know what? I don’t think I could feel sorry for you if I didn’t love you a bit.”
“Same here,” said Rocky.
“Love has to start somewhere, and as you can see, it’s started in both of us, for you, if you see what I mean. So you’re not alone. You’ve got us.” Petula made a little comforting woof noise, as if she loved Primo just a bit too.
“Thanks, you three,” said Primo. “But I don’t deserve it.” His face darkened and he shuddered involuntarily. “I’m sorry. I keep remembering things that have happened and suddenly they fill me up with horrible feelings and, oh …” Primo shut his eyes in pain.
“It’s because you weren’t allowed to feel anything for years,” said Molly. “Cornelius barred you from feeling anything. So now the feelings are all tumbling out of the cages they’ve been kept in.”
Primo sighed sorrowfully. “They sure are,” he said. “I can’t believe what I’ve done.”
Molly looked at her father. For the next few years, she realized, he was going to be a basket case. There was no way that she, Rocky, and Sinclair could handle him on their own. Then she remembered Forest.
Molly found Forest downstairs eating alfalfa sprouts and unwrapping some healing crystals that he’d bought.
“Hey, Molly,” he said. “Glad you’re here. You can help hang up this body map. Look, if you have a headache, you can get rid of it by pressing the ball of your big toe.”
It turned out that Forest knew all about Primo Cell and hypnotism. In fact it was he who had encouraged Sinclair to break away from his father. When Forest learned how Cornelius had stolen years of Cell’s life away, he rolled his eyes and chuckled.
“Whoooaa. Some people are crazy as headless chickens.” And when Molly asked him to help Primo recover, he replied, “Molly, that would be my cosmic pleasure.”
“Of course, it won’t all be nice,” said Molly. “He has done lots of bad things. He even tried to kill us.”
“Killin’ people’s not good,” said Forest, “But don’t forget, Cell was not in control of himself when he did that. I can handle it, Molly, don’t you worry. Remember—I’ve lived with cannibals.”
Molly gave Forest a hug.
“And will you help sort out Davina Nuttel, too? Work out how we can put her back without her knowing where she’s been and all that?”
“If you’d like me to,” said Forest.
“And Forest,” she asked, “would you do me one last favor? Please don’t tell Primo that I’m his daughter. I just don’t want all that heavy stuff right now. I’m kind of happy the way I am.”
“You bet you are,” said Forest, passing her a piece of ginger tofu turnip. “You, Molly, are one cool kid.”
“Thanks, Forest,” said Molly, taking a lump of the gunky vegetable. “That looks … interesting. I’ll take it upstairs and eat it there.”
Forty-three
Molly and Rocky were dying to be reunited with all their friends from the orphanage as soon as possible. And the following day, the perfect opportunity offered itself.
Thunder Roll, the film that Petula had costarred in, directed by Gino Pucci and starring Gloria Heelheart, was having its premiere that night. The evening promised to be full of stars, glamour, and excitement. Primo hadn’t yet dehypnotized any of his celebrities, and at Molly’s request, he had invited most of them to come. Molly knew that everyone from Happiness House would love this, especially Mrs. Trinklebury and Hazel. She wanted to give them a night they would always remember.
So the next day, as Primo Cell tackled the serious task of informing Congress and the world that he didn’t want to be president, Molly handled the more pleasurable job of taking Petula to Bella’s Poodle Salon. Then she made sure that she and Rocky had some nice clothes to wear.
At six that evening, Cell parked his favorite Rolls-Royce next to Sinclair’s Aston Martin underneath the hill house. Rocky, Molly, Petula, Sinclair, and Forest came down the elevator all spruced up and ready to hit the town. Forest was in his usual socks and flip-flops, but because it was a special occasion, he was wearing his brown cheesecloth suit and his favorite T-shirt, which said RECYCLE, DUDES. Unfortunately, Cornelius had to come with them, as no one was entirely happy about leaving him behind. Dressed in a gray tracksuit and with a stubbly beard, he looked reasonably normal, although as they drove along he stuck his head out of the window and bleated with excitement. Everyone ignored him.
They drove to Hollywood Boulevard, where they all climbed out and headed toward the movie theater.
As they neared the crowded, spotlit entrance, Molly’s heart fluttered. She couldn’t wait to see her old orphanage family.
And suddenly, there they were, standing on the sidewalk, all dressed up and obviously just as excited as Molly and Rocky.
“Oooooh, they’r
e here!” shrieked Mrs. Trinklebury, launching herself toward them like a violet chiffon rocket. “I c-can’t believe how much I’ve missed you both,” she said, practically knocking their heads together and suffocating them with her embrace.
Molly and Rocky breathed in Mrs. Trinklebury’s familiar smell. It was a country-cottage smell, of cakes and rose water, of vanilla and lavender honey and butter. A smell that reminded them of her nursery rhymes and games of hide-and-seek.
“Oh, Mrs. T.,” said Molly, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, it’s just lovely to see you again.”
“Same here, chick,” said Mrs. Trinklebury, giving her a squeeze that made her know she’d come home at last.
“And congratulations … you know, being engaged and all that.”
“Thank you, s-sweetheart. We won’t be m-married for a little while, but look at my ring.” Mrs. Trinklebury showed Molly a bright-yellow buttercup that girdled her fat finger.
“It’s lovely!”
Molly felt a tug at her dress. Ruby and Jinx were staring up at her.
“I can read now, Molly,” Ruby said. “And I can write. Look.” She ripped open an envelope that said “Welcum bac,” and inside was a card with a picture of Petula painted on it.
“It’s for you two,” she said, thrusting it into Molly’s hands.
Then everyone wanted to say hello.
What Molly found amazing was how all the children had changed. Everyone was taller, especially Gemma and Gerry. Gordon, Cynthia, and Hazel had slimmed down a lot. Craig was muscly. Hazel was the most difficult to recognize, as she’d dyed her hair platinum blond. And everyone looked healthy, as though they’d had a lovely summer in the sun.
“Hi, guys,” Hazel said, kissing them.
“What’s happened to your accent? You sound American,” Molly observed.
“I’m practicing for a walk-on part I got in a film,” said Hazel. “I’ve got loads to tell you.”
“Hello, you two, nice to see you,” said Nockman, smiling from behind Hazel. He was wearing a green velvet suit and a Hawaiian shirt with a red parrot on it. Molly was amazed—his German accent had worn off, so now he spoke in his original Chicago accent.
The only person missing from the Happiness House crowd was Roger. Molly saw him thirty feet away, talking to a palm tree. He seemed completely oblivious of Cornelius, who was bleating madly and cantering around and around him, shouting, “Bah mine, baaaah mine, baaaah mine.”
Sinclair went over to quiet him down.
Cameras flashed as everyone stepped onto the short red carpet in front of the theater. Already the stars were arriving. Hercules Stone kissed Mrs. Trinklebury’s hand and escorted her past the barriers lined with cheering fans. Mrs. Trinklebury batted her eyelashes and waved at them as if she was the queen. Cosmo Ace introduced himself to Hazel. King Moose went in with Cynthia, and Stephanie Goulash took a blushing Mr. Nockman and Gordon by the hand. Dusty Goldman led in Jinx and Ruby, Sinclair dealt with Cornelius, Rocky found himself making friends with Billy Bob Bimble, and Molly was very happy to accompany Gemma, Gerry, and Primo Cell in.
Petula and Gloria Heelheart behaved like the true professionals they were. Petula barked at the applauding crowds, twirled on her hind legs for the photographers, and let Gloria smother her with perfumed caresses. Everyone loved her.
The film was Gino Pucci’s best work to date. And without doubt, the most entertaining bits in it were Petula’s. Everyone clapped and cheered—especially when she had to parachute with Gloria from a burning airplane.
After the premiere, they all went out with the hypnotized stars for a celebratory supper.
Los Angeles is a great city for restaurants. There’s Japanese, Chinese, Thai, Spanish, English, Mexican, Indian, Moroccan, Persian, and, of course, always, American. But the restaurant that Primo Cell picked for the party was French. It was called the Orangerie and had a very famous chef. This was the home of lobster bisque and snails in garlic, of complicated sauces and dishes that took hours to prepare, of frites, not French fries, and of towering soufflés and oozing desserts.
It was a lovely evening. The ordering was chaotic, as no one understood the French menu, but everything was delicious and all the guests got fuller and fuller and fuller. Molly and Rocky were eager to hear what the others had been doing.
“Craig can surf really well,” said Jinx, stuffing frites into his mouth. “But he said to start with, it was like being a fly flushed down the toilet. Soon I’m gonna learn too. Except I don’t know if we’ll be here.” Jinx turned to Mrs. Trinklebury. “Are we going to stay in California for a long time?”
The chatter round the table subsided as the ears of the orphanage children responded like radar scanners to Jinx’s shrill question. The room went quiet.
“Well, ch-chuck,” Mrs. Trinklebury stammered, halfway through a mouthful of salad. “I really don’t know. I mean, what d-do you all think? Molly and Rocky are b-back now. Maybe the time has come for us to go h-home. You know we c-can’t expect Mr. Sinclair to pay our rent f-f-forever. And Simon will b-be able to make a living if he finishes his locksmith exams back in Briersville.”
Primo Cell interrupted. “You can all come and live at my place,” he said.
Mrs. Trinklebury coughed as a piece of lettuce went down the wrong way. Mr. Nockman patted her on the back.
“Of course, you and Mr. Nockman are invited, too,” said Primo. “Unless you’d prefer to be somewhere else, but I think the children would miss you if you lived farther away than the gatehouse.”
“Well, it’s a lovely idea,” said Mrs. Trinklebury. “Isn’t it, Simon, dear?”
“The only problem is that we have a lot of animals and birds,” Nockman said.
“Yeah, I’ve got thirty-three mice now,” said Gerry. “Actually, I think Scrunchball might be having her babies right this minute.”
“My house is huge. We could start a zoo there,” said Primo.
And so it was decided that a vote should be taken. Everyone wanted to come to stay at Primo’s. And the matter seemed final, until Molly remembered Roger, who was sitting under an orange tree in the restaurant’s hallway.
Roger was eating a bowl of pecan nuts.
“How are you, Roger?” Molly asked quietly. Roger looked shifty and threw a blue paper dart at her.
Molly opened it up. Inside, the scrawled writing said:
Sorry about this, but I know too much.
“Know too much about what, Roger?”
Roger looked up at her sadly. “Too much about the she-he,” he said mournfully.
Memories of the words in other paper messages that Roger had written filled Molly’s head: “Send help quick!
Aliens have eaten my brain!” “Watch out! The brain centipedes are here!” “Don’t judge your body by its skin.”
Molly thought of the topiary hare in Cornelius’s collection of clipped bushes. Was it a mad March hare? Did it represent Roger?
In a moment of pure instinct, Molly stopped the world. She took Roger’s hand and sent a shaft of coldness into it so that he could move, and she looked deeply into his confused eyes.
“From now on,” she said, “you, Roger, will no longer be under anyone else’s power. You will be yourself.” Then she added the old, useful password, “Perfectly punctually!”
And with that, Roger blinked and the glazed look in his eyes fell away.
Molly let the world move. Roger stared around him and seized Molly’s hand as if he was finding it difficult to balance. He looked completely disoriented, as though everything in the room was upside down. Then he put his hand on his chest as if checking he was alive. In a moment he’d absorbed what had happened.
“Oh, thank you, Molly. Molly, you’ve saved me,” he cried. He threw his arms around Molly’s neck and hugged her tightly. He smelled of leaves and bark and grass.
“I’ve been trapped inside myself—it’s been horrible,” he sobbed. “All the time I was trying to tell everyone, but I couldn’t communicate. C
ornelius did it. And he made me have hallucinations. He hypnotized me to think that voices were hunting me. It’s been so frightening. I can’t tell you how frightening.”
“Don’t worry, Roger, it’s going to be all right now,” said Molly, hugging him back.
“Thank you, Molly,” Roger sobbed. “You’ve freed me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” For a moment Roger clung to Molly. Then he let go and put his head in his hands.
“So, you found out too much about Cornelius Logan?” guessed Molly. “How?”
“You remember how I liked to go through garbage cans,” said Roger. “Well, I went through the cans at the library, Lucy Logan’s cans. I found instructions that Cornelius Logan had written. I saw Lucy Logan arguing with him. They looked so alike. It was weird. I saw him push her into a car. She was driven away. Cornelius saw me. I knew too much. He hypnotized me. I’ve been crazy for months.”
“Well, not anymore, Roger,” said Molly.
Molly thought of Forest. He was going to have two basket cases on his hands this winter. Roger, like Primo, would need to stay here with Forest until he had recovered. And the decision that everyone must stay in L.A. became clear.
Except for Molly. Molly had to leave. For Molly knew that soon Primo Cell would learn that she was his daughter, and she really wasn’t ready for that yet. She wanted to live with the idea of having a father before she introduced herself to him properly. Besides, she had something much more important to do.
Much later that night, as everyone else arrived at Primo Cell’s gray stone mansion, thrilled that this was to be their new home, Molly, Petula, and Rocky stood on the tarmac of Los Angeles airport. A private jet, a black-and-golden symbol painted on its tail fin, awaited its single passenger.
“I’ll miss you,” said Molly.
“I’ll miss you,” said Rocky. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”
“No, Rocky. This is something I need to figure out. It won’t be any fun for you. You need a vacation. And Billy Bob Bimble seems to be very interested in doing some music with you. You’ve got to go for it. I’ll be back soon.”
