‘I hope Samuel and Isaac will be okay,’ said Whimsy, taking Eloise in her hands. Again they had left their friends to deal with the aftermath of their escape. And again she felt guilty. Samuel, Isaac and perhaps even Elanora might now be in the sinister hands of Mr Ignatius Solt.
Looking out the window, brother, sister and mouse watched the town of Boole go by. Where worn houses and battered buildings once filled the landscape, soon empty and arid fields replaced them and then, when Boole was just a blurry speck behind them, the scenery turned green, with large woodlands the siblings’ only view for miles.
A thought occurred to Whimsy and she gasped!
‘The photograph,’ she said as she rifled through her belongings. In the excitement of staying at House Blackwood, she had forgotten to pack the cast picture of The Purple Puppeteer that Elanora had given them. It was their clue. Their next step. Woe searched his belongings too. He didn’t find the photograph either, but, thankfully, he found the My Lunch With Mermaids poster folded neatly in his pocket. It would have to do.
‘What now?’ Woe asked.
Neither the missing photograph nor the poster told them what to do next, where to go, whom to speak to, or how to find their parents. On a locomotive bound for somewhere, the Mordaunt children were still directionless.
Passengers chatted happily in the carriage. A man holding a blue top hat sat in front of them, his two young children running up and down the aisle. Opposite the man were three almost identical-looking women, who must have been sisters, with their hair in matching tight curls. One knitted what looked to be a very large sock, another read a book titled When You See the Sea by Seally Seaworth and the third slept soundly. In front of the three sisters, Whimsy could see the back of an elderly woman who wore a yellow cardigan. A very familiar yellow cardigan. It couldn’t be, Whimsy mused. She shook her head of the thought and gazed out the train window, thankful that Mr Ignatius Solt was well and truly behind them.
They had been travelling for a little over three hours in what Woe determined to be south. The Mordaunt siblings used the time on the train to try to piece together what they knew of their parents’ disappearance.
‘We are still no closer to finding this Fry fellow,’ Whimsy said, puzzled. ‘Or Mother and Father.’
‘Maybe we should change course,’ Woe replied as he studied the My Lunch With Mermaids poster. ‘Perhaps we should look for Hortensia.’
Without the cast photograph of The Purple Puppeteer, the travelling troupe was their only lead. The photograph showed that their parents once knew Hortensia. And Elanora recognised Hortensia in the travelling troupe.
‘If only Mr Abernathy was here,’ Whimsy said. ‘If only he knew that Hortensia was not lost to him forever in the Wallowing Woods.’
They decided that their next move was to find the travelling troupe that performed in Boole. They owed it to Mr Abernathy.
‘And there are five silhouettes,’ Woe continued, holding up the poster to show his sister. ‘One is Hortensia but who are the others?’
Time passed slowly as the siblings sorted through their thoughts. Whimsy sat with Eloise in her lap, drifting in and out of daydreams, her head resting on the train window and her eyes darting to and from the lady in the yellow cardigan. Looking at his pocket watch, Woe noticed that it was fast approaching lunchtime. He hoped a tea trolley would be making its way towards them soon. Woe looked over his shoulder to see that the man with the blue top hat was looking at a map. He could just make out the coastline and the Sea of Teers before a low, rasping voice echoed through the carriage.
‘Tickets. Present your tickets, please.’
25
In which The Runaway Seamstress saves the day
Woe felt his stomach drop. Whimsy stifled a small gasp. They didn’t have tickets.
The children watched as a burly train guard made his way over to the first passenger, a lady wearing a blue-feathered dress, who showed him a small, yellow ticket.
‘What do we do?’ Whimsy whispered, her eyes on the guard as he moved closer.
‘Another distraction?’ Woe suggested, motioning to Eloise.
Whimsy glanced out of the train window at the steadily moving ground. An image of them jumping from the fast-moving train entered her mind and she quickly shook her head. ‘We wouldn’t get very far with the train still moving. Can we sneak past?’
This time it was Woe’s turn to shake his head, ‘The aisle is too narrow.’ Looking around, Woe’s eyes landed on the travelling troupe poster. He thought of his parents. He thought of all the times he and Whimsy went to the theatre. All the times they watched their parents rehearse and act. He searched through the suitcase filled with their belongings and pulled out the scuffed bowler hat and broken hair clip. Placing the hat on his head and the hair clip against his mouth, he squared his shoulders and said, ‘Follow my lead.’
The train guard coughed into a white handkerchief as he stepped in front of Whimsy and Woe. There was something about his large shape and red face that reminded Whimsy of Mrs Solt.
‘Tickets?’ he croaked at them.
‘Certainly, my good man,’ Woe said and began to search his pockets for a ticket that was not there.
The train guard looked at Woe closely, his eyes squinting slightly.
‘How old are you?’ he asked.
‘Twenty-four,’ Woe said confidently.
‘You don’t look twenty-four,’ he said, looking Woe up and down.
‘Looks can be deceiving,’ Woe added with a gruff chuckle, as he straightened up to look taller.
Whimsy realised what Woe was doing. He was acting. Acting his way out of trouble. Whimsy felt a small pang of sadness hit her stomach. Their mother used to say that their father could act his way out of all sorts of trouble. And now Woe was trying to do just that. At home they were forbidden from using acting in such a way. Their mother said that acting should only be used to entertain, but one day Whimsy and Woe were able to convince their father to teach them the basics; make sure you have an audience, use all the emotions, wave your hands about as much as possible and always, always tell a good story. Looking around she saw that a few passengers had turned their heads towards the siblings. An audience, she thought with a smile.
‘Tick —’
‘Actually, sir,’ Whimsy said, interrupting the train guard, ‘we are on a very important mission,’ her voice was grave and slightly raised so all could hear.
‘And what mission is that?’ the guard asked, clearly uninterested, his eyes on Woe who was still patting his pockets in search of the imaginary ticket.
‘We are looking for a runaway seamstress,’ Whimsy said with sadness in her voice. It was the first good story she could think of. She bent her head and looked down at her hands. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the train guard turn his attention to her.
Woe knew where Whimsy was going with her story and he hoped that nobody in the carriage had seen the production of The Runaway Seamstress. It got terrible reviews but the Mordaunt family enjoyed it anyway.
‘We are on a very important mission.’
‘She has been missing for so long,’ Whimsy continued. ‘One day she was busily sewing dresses and the next day she was gone. Poof. In a cloud of smoke,’ Whimsy said, using her hands to show smoke.
‘In a cloud of smoke?’ Whimsy heard someone ask from a few rows down.
‘Was she a magician?’ another asked.
‘Where did she go?’ a woman’s voice came from across the aisle.
‘She ran away to find her children. Who were taken by a . . . by a . . .’ Whimsy closed her eyes, held up a hand and shook her head as though she couldn’t say another word. She felt all the eyes in the carriage on her now.
‘Go on, miss,’ said the train guard, who was now completely absorbed in her story. He handed her his used handkerchief. Whimsy didn’t want to take it but Woe cleared his throat. He was right, she had to commit to the part she was playing. She took the train guard’s handkerch
ief and said in a loud whisper, ‘A villain.’
‘A villain who knows magic?’ someone asked.
Whimsy wasn’t sure why magic was so important but she nodded her head slowly and said, ‘A villain clothes designer who is also . . . a part-time witch.’ She dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief.
There were gasps all around them.
‘A part-time witch!’
‘You know I’ve heard they are the worst kind.’
‘We are heading to the coast to find her. Perhaps even sail the Sea of Teers,’ Woe said bravely, remembering the map.
‘I know a fine fisherman in Cleeth Bay,’ said the train guard with what looked to be tears in his eyes. ‘His name is Jeremiah and he has sailed the Sea of Teers many times. You tell him Harold sent you,’ and with a tip of his hat, the train guard turned and left the carriage.
Whimsy couldn’t believe it. They had acted their way out of trouble! The train guard had completely forgotten about the tickets. It wasn’t long until the carriage buzzed with activity again and passengers returned to their own conversations.
Whimsy sat in her seat shaking with excitement. What had she just done? She felt guilty for using acting to get away with not having a train ticket, but she also felt something else. She felt alive. She felt proud. Would her parents approve?
Woe felt himself relax in his seat and was about to remove his hat and moustache before realising that he should probably remain in character until they got off the train. He watched his sister, her conflicted emotions written across her face. He knew his parents would approve of their acting, even if it was used to get them out of trouble.
‘What was that?’ Woe whispered.
‘I . . . I don’t know,’ Whimsy said shyly looking down at her hands.
‘Whimsy, you stole the show,’ he said to his sister happily. He wore an impressed grin.
‘It felt so . . . natural,’ she said, laughing, her brother’s happiness contagious.
‘A true thespian,’ Woe said admiringly.
‘Thespians indeed!’ came a voice from the aisle.
And there, standing in her yellow cardigan, was Constance Everlee.
26
In which the siblings meet an old friend
‘Constance!’ Woe said, surprised.
The Mordaunt children jumped up to give their long-lost friend a bear hug. Whimsy knew she had recognised the yellow cardigan, but after Constance had left the Idle Slug, she never thought she would ever see her again, let alone on the number 7 train bound for who knew where.
Their old friend sat down and pulled the children next to her, looking them up and down.
‘Well,’ she said with the same sparkle in her eyes, ‘it looks as though you’re on an adventure.’
Whimsy and Woe took turns telling Constance about everything that had happened since the day she left the Idle Slug. They told her about the letter they found, that it said their parents were abducted, that Apoline tried to burn it, about Mr Solt wanting to buy them, the unknown fellow named Fry, about Boole and Elanora Blackwood. Throughout it all, Constance listened carefully. But by the time Woe got to the part about the poster, the photograph and Hortensia Abernathy, Whimsy noticed that the sparkle in Constance’s eyes had dulled.
‘ . . . and that’s how we ended up here,’ Woe finished.
Constance sat quietly for a moment. Woe thought that perhaps he should repeat a few parts of their story in case Constance was lost, but then the old lady said softly, ‘I’m so sorry, children. I should have taken you with me the day I left.’
Woe looked at Whimsy, unsure of what to say. He had never imagined that Constance would have wanted to take them with her. And yet here she was, upset with the thought that she had abandoned them. Instinctively, Woe placed a hand on top of Constance’s.
Whimsy shook her head at Constance. ‘If you had, we wouldn’t have discovered that our parents were taken. And we wouldn’t be here at all if you hadn’t left us your book filled with reliable recipes.’
Constance nodded before letting out a laugh. ‘I wish I could have seen that evil woman’s face covered in pie!’
Whimsy and Woe laughed too.
Constance pulled something out of her cardigan pocket. It was a map. Woe noticed that it looked very similar to the one the man in the blue top hat was looking at earlier. He turned to see if the man still had his map. He didn’t.
‘You can’t have been part of the Benton Brothers Circus without having picked up a few tricks,’ Constance said, winking at Woe.
Opening the map, Constance pointed a polished fingernail to a seaside town near the Sea of Teers. Whimsy and Woe saw that it was called Cleeth Bay. It was marked on the map by a small lighthouse.
‘That is the train’s next stop. I would suggest you two get off there in case the train guard realises he still hasn’t seen your tickets.’
‘Will you come with us?’ Whimsy asked hopefully.
Constance shook her head.
‘Although I would love to join you on your adventure, I am in the middle of one of my own.’
‘Where are you going?’ Woe asked.
Constance pointed to another place on the map marked with a star. Whimsy and Woe knew that place — Whitby City. The Mordaunt family home was just outside Whitby City and their parents often travelled into town to perform at the Broken Leg Theatre. Whimsy longed to stay on the train with Constance, to travel to Whitby City and to go back home. But she knew Constance was right, they needed to continue their search for Hortensia, the travelling troupe and their parents, at the next stop.
‘I am on my way to the Favian Festival which begins in two days,’ she said, looking at her watch worriedly.
Whimsy and Woe knew of the Favian Festival. It was so exclusive that thespians had to be invited to attend. Their parents were invited once.
‘How did you get an invitation?’ Woe asked.
‘My brother, Teddy. He was supposed to meet me a few days ago so we could travel there together, but he never showed up. He is forgetful at times.’
A whistle sounded from the train. Looking out of the window, the three of them saw that the train had reached the seaside. Sunlight shone off the blue water ahead, and sand and white cliffs surrounded them. As the train moved around a bend, Cleeth Bay came into view. The first thing Whimsy and Woe noticed was that it was bright and beautiful. People were everywhere. Woe saw that some were dressed in striped swimsuits; some were walking around with parasols, some were cycling and others were eating ice cream.
Nearby, Whimsy could see a beach and a pier with a Ferris wheel. There were families, couples and children lying on the sand under beach umbrellas and in deckchairs. There were shops and houses lining the wooden walkway and dotting the cliffs above.
A second whistle sounded from the train as it slowed and approached the red and white building of Cleeth Bay railway station.
‘I’m afraid this is farewell again,’ said Constance.
They gave Constance a hug goodbye, which she returned fiercely.
‘Be safe and remember, we must keep going,’ she whispered to them before letting go.
Whimsy wiped away a tear as Woe — who was still in disguise — grabbed their things. As they moved down the aisle, the siblings could make out the odd murmur of ‘magic’ and ‘sewing’ from passengers.
They stepped onto the platform and waited. Looking up they saw Constance smiling and waving to them from her seat near the window. Whimsy and Woe waved back until the whistle sounded for the final time, steam filled the station, and Constance, along with the number 7 train, moved away from them.
27
In which hunger hits Whimsy and Woe hard
They stayed on the train platform and waited until it emptied. Whimsy looked at her brother, unsure of whether they had made the right decision. In the distance, she could hear music. It was light and cheerful. Woe turned his head towards the beach, hearing the music too.
‘Let’s find out where we are,’ he
said, putting away his bowler hat and hair-clip moustache. Eloise squeaked her approval from Whimsy’s dress pocket. Together they walked out of the train station and descended a set of sandstone steps leading to the beachside below. The sun was so bright, Whimsy held a hand up to shield her eyes. Ahead of them, the boardwalk was cluttered with people. Shops lined one side of the walkway and the white sand of the beach lined the other.
Whimsy looked out longingly at the sand and sea. She wanted to feel the sand in her toes and the cool water on her skin. She wanted to be one of the people lying lazily in the sun or splashing happily in the waves.
When they reached the bottom of the steps they found where the music was coming from. A brightly coloured organ sat nearby. Steam puffed out of its tall gold pipes as the happy tune filled the bay.
The shops on their left were brightly coloured and each had an elaborate sign painted above its doorway. A crowd was gathered outside THE JAUNTY JOKE SHOP. Intrigued, Whimsy and Woe walked over. A woman in a pink dress stood on a box facing the crowd. She held in her hand a small glass bottle.
‘I present to you the Jaunty Joke Shop’s newest invention — Bubble-Oh.’ She held up the glass bottle. ‘With one shake,’ she shook the bottle once, ‘a bubble shower.’ Pulling the stopper out, she blew into the round end and out came many small bubbles. As each popped, smaller bubbles appeared and then they popped and even smaller bubbles appeared and again until there was a teeny tiny shower of bubbles raining down on the crowd. The people around Whimsy and Woe oohed and aahed. ‘With two shakes,’ the woman continued, shaking the bottle twice this time, ‘a bubble bang.’ She blew and out came a regular-sized bubble. It floated in the air innocently until it burst with a large bang like a firecracker. The crowd shrieked in surprise. Woe clapped in awe.
‘And with three shakes,’ she shook the bottle three times, ‘a mega bubble.’ She blew and out came the largest bubble Woe had ever seen. It bobbed in the air slowly and then hovered above everyone before bursting and drenching the crowd in a gallon of water. Gasps and then cheers erupted from the crowd. At once people began pulling money out of their pockets and holding it up high, eager to grab a bottle of Bubble-Oh. Whimsy saw her brother instinctively reach into his pocket for money that wasn’t there and led him away from the crowd.
Whimsy and Woe Page 8
