Table of Contents
Chapter 1: ADMIRAL ROCK
Chapter 2: BEWARE OF THE FOXES
Chapter 3: WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR
Chapter 4: THE IMPERIAL PARROT
Chapter 5: A CRESCENT MOON AND BLUE TIGERS
Chapter 6: MYSTERIES AT MIDNIGHT
Chapter 7: THE SMUGGLER'S DEN
Chapter 8: THOMASINA THE BLOODTHIRSTY
Chapter 9: OVER THE EDGE
Chapter 10: SNAIL SLIME
Chapter 11: THE ATTACK OF THE OWLS
EVENING NEWS
March 22
Baby Found in Bag at Victoria Station
March 22nd, London –
This morning a baby girl, just a few months old, was found in a travel bag in a waiting room at Victoria Station.
The bag was made of leather and, allegedly, rather fancy, with the initials “MM” engraved on its brass buckle. It seemed well used and was covered with stickers from all kinds of exotic places: Egypt, Beijing, Timbuktu, Tahiti, and even the Dark Jungle.
In addition to the little girl, the bag contained a book (The Universal Encyclopedia, Vol. IV, M–P), an envelope addressed to Mr. Septimus Hodge of Torrington Place, London, and the deed to a house called “Lizard Manor” at 1 Admiral Rock, Cornwall.
In all my years as a reporter, I’ve never seen anything like it! The girl’s parents must be very forgetful to have left her in the waiting room of a London railway station.
Fortunately, she was found by a station custodian, Geraldine Flopps. Mrs. Flopps told reporters, “I was mopping the waiting room floor when I found something under a bench; it was the baby. She was in a travel bag.”
Flopps took the baby to the lost property office, where they’d never seen anything like it. “People lose all kinds of weird stuff, but a baby?!” said Mr. Carson, the manager. Carson called the station master, who called the station manager, who called the head of the railways, who called a lawyer and a social services officer.
No one knew what to do. According to the rules, anything found in the station becomes the property of the railways until the owner comes to collect it. They all agreed, though, that a baby couldn’t possibly be left in a lost property office until her forgetful parents came back.
Flopps explained that the people in the lost property office — who’d more or less ignored her during the whole conversation — all suddenly started staring at her. “Would you like to look after the baby?” asked the social services officer with a hopeful expression.
Flopps explained that she lives in a studio apartment in Talgarth Road, West London. It’s an area that’s full of traffic, noise, smog, and smelly fish-and-chip shops. She told them that her apartment wasn’t at all well suited for a baby.
The lawyer reportedly pretended not to hear as he examined the deed to the house. “It’s a pity that we cannot read the owner’s name,” he was reported as saying. “But it’s all perfectly legal. The baby and Mrs. Flopps shall live at Lizard Manor until the parents come to claim them. The house and the child, obviously, not Mrs. Flopps.” Geraldine Flopps had no chance to say anything before the lawyer added, “But first, the baby needs a name.”
During a lengthy discussion among the station master, the station manager, the head of the railways, and the lawyer (the social services officer had left by this stage to look after some other case), Flopps spotted a bird perched on a sign in front of one of the many stores in the station. It was a huge snowy owl, a bird rarely found in London train stations. The sign read: Minerva Beauty — Five Pound Perms!
“How about Minerva?” Flopps asked. She then looked around in search of inspiration for a surname. She even checked her pockets, where she found a squashed peppermint candy. “Minerva Mint?”
The lawyer breathed a reported sigh of relief. “Well, it’s all decided, then,” he said, writing the name on the deed. “Minerva Mint.” He then solemnly handed the bag and its contents to Mrs. Flopps.
Tomorrow, Flopps will leave her old life in London behind her for her new home in Cornwall.
I would like to make an appeal to the forgetful parents: Come and collect your child! She’s waiting for you at Lizard Manor, 1 Admiral Rock, Cornwall.
Two bare feet stuck out from under an orange tent in the middle of a bedroom. The toes scrunched and unscrunched in time with a gentle snoring. There were other sounds, too: the howling of the wind and the constant plip-plop of the rain as it leaked down onto everything in the room, including a big, uncomfortable looking bed. If you listened hard, you could also hear a quiet nibble-nibble. The mice were already awake.
A clock, which until that moment had been ticking away calmly on the bedside table, suddenly let out an alarming clatter. The bare feet immediately disappeared into the tent, replaced a second later by a big, yawning mouth. Minerva, who was wearing blue pajamas at least two sizes too big for her, shot out of the tent to turn off the alarm.
She looked around and smiled. It wasn’t the leaky room that made her smile. And it wasn’t the dark, stormy day she could see out the window. Minerva was smiling because it was March 22nd, her ninth birthday. And it was going to be a very busy day!
Well, March 22nd wasn’t exactly Minerva’s birthday, but it was exactly nine years ago today that Mrs. Flopps had found her in the travel bag at Victoria Station. And there was something that Minerva did every March 22nd as soon as she woke up.
First she took a deep breath and stuck out her chest as if she was about to dive into a swimming pool. Then she stuck her head under the big bed with its brass headboard, reached through the dust balls, grabbed a travel bag, and pulled it out with a huge sneeze. She dragged the bag back into the tent.
She ran her finger over the initials engraved on the buckle and opened it with a click. She felt that familiar empty feeling in her tummy. Inside the bag were things of high importance. First there was a light blue folder where she kept all the newspaper articles about Mrs. Flopps finding her in the waiting room. There were at least a dozen of them, and they made her feel like a celebrity. She’d read them all hundreds of times.
What she found much more interesting, though, was the big book with its red cover and title in golden letters: The Universal Encyclopedia, Vol. IV, M–P. Minerva had read all one hundred fifty pages of it, always wondering why that particular book should have been in her bag. Why M through P? She’d thought about that a lot, and in the end, decided that her parents had put it in the bag because the words mama and papa were under the letters M and P.
Page 25 read, “A mama gives you unconditional love.”
Page 107 read, “A papa will always protect you.”
And Minerva always felt both loved and protected every time she looked through the huge book.
But there had to be something else in that book. She was sure of it. Something that she’d missed. Something that might help her find her parents. She just had to look more carefully.
Minerva laid the book on her lap and reached for the oil lamp she used to light up the tent. But the moment she began reading, a loud screeching made her jump. She snapped the book shut, put it on the floor, and ran out of the tent and over to the window.
The storm was raging in the garden. Rain was lashing everything. The wind was blowing the trees as if it was angry with them and wanted to uproot them all. Minerva cupped her hands against the glass and looked out. In the distance, she could see someone coming up the cliff. She blinked twice and muttered, “Who could that be?”
She hurtled out of the room, into the dark, cold upstairs hallway, and
down the stairs. The steps creaked as if they wanted to say hello to the new arrival as well.
* * *
Ravi Kapoor rode along the top of Admiral Rock, struggling against the wind and rain as it tried to pull him off his bike. His brakes made a terrible screech every time he slowed down to avoid a pothole. In front of him, perched on the cliff top like a figurehead on a ship, was Lizard Manor. It eyed him grimly through its empty windows.
Ravi had only just moved to Cornwall, but he’d already heard lots of terrible stories about Lizard Manor, including that it was haunted. It had stood empty for so many years that no one in the village could even remember who the last owners had been. He’d also heard that the current owners were . . . really, really weird.
Ravi was so distracted by all these thoughts that he almost ran into another pothole. He swerved to miss it and just about flew off the cliff. He stopped for a moment to calm down and check that the box was still attached to his bike rack. He then rode off again, without once looking at the sea on his left. Everyone knew that Ravi was afraid of heights, but his mom had sent him up there just the same!
He could hardly wait to leave the box by the door and get away. But the moment he finally stopped in front of the house — with another earsplitting screech of brakes — the big door swung open. There was a girl standing there. She was wearing pajamas that were too big for her and a blue nightcap with a mass of red, curly hair sticking out from under it. Two big green eyes peered at him from amid a sea of freckles.
“Um . . . hi,” Ravi greeted her. “I’ve got something to deliver.”
“I know,” answered Minerva. “I’ve been expecting you.”
The day before, she’d gone to the general store in Pembrose, the nearest village. The store was also the post office and the only place to buy groceries. Minerva had met Mrs. Kapoor. With her gentle, singsong voice, the woman had told her about the long journey that she and her son, Ravi, had just made to get from Mumbai, India, to Cornwall.
Minerva couldn’t be happier about Ravi and his mom buying the general store. Mrs. Kapoor played happy music and burned incense. And instead of the old, stale crackers that the previous owners left out, she offered bowls of exotic fruit to her customers. Ravi’s mother had bronze skin, shimmering black hair, and a red dot in the middle of her forehead. And she always wore a sari, a traditional Indian dress.
Minerva looked Ravi up and down and eventually decided that he had friend potential. The previous deliveryman had been elderly and would always arrive at the front door huffing and puffing like a steam engine. He was as deaf as a post, too, and no good for chatting with. This boy, though . . . She’d watched him ride up the cliff like a champion cyclist!
Ravi was actually running late for school. So he jumped off his bike, grabbed the box of groceries, and handed it to Minerva. “This is —” But just then, something big and heavy fell on his head. “Oww!” he yelled, dropping the box. He started jumping all around, waving his arms about to get the thing off of him.
Minerva tried to calm him down. “Hey, stop jumping about! It’s only Augustus! You’ll frighten him!”
“Who?” Ravi stopped jumping up and down and looked up.
Obligingly, Augustus flew down onto Ravi’s shoulder. Ravi carefully turned his head and found himself face to face with a big white owl. The bird stared at him with its round eyes, as yellow as fire. It then tilted its big feathery head and began to move jerkily, as if it was dancing to music that only it could hear. It finally rolled its eyes and cried, “Woot! Woot!”
Minerva reached out her hand to pet Augustus. “He’s a snowy owl,” she explained. “He’s here to say goodnight before going to sleep.” She pointed to the roof. “He’s made his nest in one of the chimneys with all the other owls.”
“Th-there are others?” Ravi stammered, without taking his eyes off Augustus. He knew nothing about owls. Even less about snowy ones.
“There are fourteen all together!” answered Minerva. Augustus made a loud Woot! Woot! as if he was agreeing with her. He then spread his wings and, majestically and silently, flew up to the roof.
“Wow!” exclaimed Ravi.
“Don’t you have owls in Mumbai?” Minerva asked, pulling up her nightcap, which had fallen down over her face.
“I don’t know . . .” answered Ravi, still with one eye on the roof. “At least, I’ve never seen one.”
“They’re good luck, you know.”
Minerva suddenly remembered something. “Yikes! I’ve gotta go!” she exclaimed. “The foxes are still locked in the living room!” She rushed back inside. Then, as if she’d just remembered something else, she stopped and turned to Ravi, who was about to get back onto his bike. “Hang on!” she cried. “Do you want to come to my birthday party this afternoon?”
Ravi felt cornered. If he didn’t say yes, he’d sound rude. But the last thing he wanted to do was ride all the way back up the cliff again. “Okay,” he finally said with a sigh.
Minerva’s face brightened. “Cool! See you at four! Bring someone with you, if you like.”
Ravi hesitated, but he decided the ride would be better if he came back with another person. “I could ask Thomasina Crowley. She’s in my grade.”
Minerva gave him a big smile. “Great!” she exclaimed. She was about to go inside again. Then, suddenly, she rushed over to Ravi and started shaking his hand so hard that she almost knocked him off his bike. “I’m so silly!” she cried. “My name’s Minerva Mint! I already know yours. It’s Ravi!”
He took his aching hand back — Minerva had a great grip! “Um . . . yeah . . . I’m very pleased to meet you,” he said, like his mother had taught him. “Okay, I’ll see you later then.” He pedaled off back down the hill, his brakes screeching loudly every few seconds.
Minerva picked up the box of groceries and went back inside, feeling very happy. It wasn’t even eight in the morning, but so many things had already happened! She had a new friend. And she was about to meet Thomasina Crowley. All she knew about Thomasina was that she lived at Crowley Hall. Her home was a magnificent mansion where everything — from the lawn to the lace curtains — was always neat and tidy. The exact opposite of Lizard Manor!
Minerva took the groceries into kitchen number two. They hadn’t used kitchen number one since a pipe burst and it had flooded. All things considered, Minerva thought she was lucky. Not everyone could say they lived in a house with more than fifty rooms, not including the attic and basement.
There were three kitchens (really handy if one flooded), thirty-one bedrooms (one for each day of the month), nine bathrooms (so you never had to wait if you needed to go), five lounge rooms (although one was full of foxes), a huge library (although you did have to be careful opening the old books since they were ready to fall apart). And then there were three more rooms that she hadn’t even found yet. Minerva was sure that there was at least one secret passage somewhere, too, but she hadn’t found that yet, either.
She sometimes felt a little alone in that big house, but there were always lots of things to do. Like fixing the big cast-iron stove in kitchen number two. It actually made so much smoke that Minerva couldn’t even see where she was going. Thinking she was putting the box on the table, she dropped it on the floor with a huge thump.
The thump was answered by a whole lot more thumps. They weren’t echoes, which were quite normal in a house that size. Someone was knocking furiously at the front door.
Minerva sped back off down the hallway. Her nightcap, which was as big for her as her pajamas, fell right down over her face. She flung the door open and found herself staring at a pair of smartly dressed people, who were obviously from London. The man was wearing a suit and tie and had an umbrella under one arm. The woman had high heels and a thin silk scarf tied around her long neck. A fire-engine-red car was parked in the driveway.
Both of them seemed surprised. They’d rung the be
ll again and again, but no one had come. Then they’d tried knocking and suddenly this small person whose whole head was covered by a nightcap appeared.
The woman was the first to talk. “We are Mr. and Mrs. Greatbore,” she chirped. “We would like to see Mrs. Flopps, please. We rang the doorbell repeatedly but no one opened.”
“Of course not! It’s broken!” said Minerva, eyeing the couple through her frayed nightcap.
“Oh, I see. Are we addressing Mrs. Flopps?”
“Oh, no! She’s in the garden painting.”
“In this weather?!” said the man in surprise. He had a perfectly groomed mustache that was thin and wiry.
“Mrs. Flopps paints in any weather,” answered Minerva, pulling a face as if she’d just smelled something bad. She’d actually just figured out who those people were.
Every year, two days before Minerva’s birthday, Mrs. Flopps put on her best suit and hat. Then she strode down to the general store to put an announce-ment in the Times, the most important newspaper in Britain.
It was always the same:
Would the parents of Minerva Mint, the owners of a huge mansion with ocean views, please contact Mrs. Geraldine Flopps, Lizard Manor, 1 Admiral Rock, Cornwall?
Each year a couple of imposters would answer, thinking that a huge mansion with ocean views sounded quite delightful. The house was in urgent need of repair, but it was on such a big piece of land that it was probably the most wonderful place in all the British Isles.
Minerva had a sixth sense for spotting phonies. And these two had “phony” written all over their faces. She pulled her nightcap back, revealing her inquisitive green eyes.
“Oh, you must be Minerva!” exclaimed Mrs. Greatbore, her eyelashes fluttering. Then, to Minerva’s enormous horror, she tried to hug her. “My little one! After all this time!” She nodded at her husband. “Arthur, this is our dear child! Isn’t this wonderful!”
The Order of the Owls Page 1
