Horten's Miraculous Mechanisms (18 page)
He closed his fist around it and was back out of the house in seconds.
In the front garden, April’s father was still shouting. “And your sisters will also be getting new bikes. And a hundred dollars to spend on clothes. And … and a
horse
each!”
April had put her fingers in her ears.
Stuart sneaked back to the sidewalk, but the rain had eased off, and there was nothing to cover the sound of the broken fence rocking under his feet.
“What are you doing?” asked one of the men, swinging around.
“Nothing,” said Stuart. “Just watching.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look casual.
“… and a trip to London. Without you!” called April’s father. “Madame Tussaud’s, Leicester Square, the—”
“Okay, Dad, I’ll come down,” said April.
“
What?
” Her father gaped up at her, but she was already sliding back along the hydraulic arm. She landed neatly on both feet on the roof of the cab, and scrambled quickly down the outside of it to the ground.
“Sorry, Dad,” she said, looking up at her father meekly.
He looked too stunned, or too furious, to speak.
“Sorry, Dad,” she repeated. “But there was a really good reason for it. Sorry, everyone. Really sorry.” And then she ran, and Stuart ran with her.
“Are you going to be in trouble?” he asked her breathlessly, as they galloped along the sidewalk.
“Massive trouble,” she gasped. “
Massive
. Probably no spending money for a year. Probably washing the dishes until I’m eighteen. Here …”
She veered toward a house that they were passing. It had a weeping-willow tree planted in the front yard, with leafy branches hanging thickly to the ground. She pushed through the rustling curtain, and Stuart followed her.
“We’ve used this before for secret meetings,” she said. “No one can see us from the street.”
It was as if they were standing in a green cave.
“That was a fantastic thing you did,” he said.
April shrugged. “Glad it worked. But did you get the safe open?”
He nodded and opened his fist, and they both peered at the small key.
“What’s it for?” she asked.
Stuart grinned triumphantly. “The entrance to the workshop,” he said. “And I think I know where to look for it.”
“The trouble with the bandstand,” said April, “is that if Jeannie follows us, there’s nowhere to hide. You can’t sneak there without being spotted.”
It was the next morning and they were in the bedroom that April shared with her sisters, a large-scale map of Beeton spread across the floor in front of them. Stuart had marked the bandstand with a dot of black ink, and all around it were the broad green acres of the park.
“If we went after dark—” began Stuart.
April shook her head. “I’m not allowed out anywhere in the evening for about a thousand years,” she said. “That’s one part of the punishment.”
They were silent for a while, staring at the map. “I wonder—” began April, and then a bell rang from somewhere downstairs, and she got up with a groan. “I won’t be long.”
She was gone for ten minutes, and when she came back she smelled strongly of shoe polish.
“Dad needed his work boots cleaned,” she told Stuart gloomily. “That’s the
other
part of the punishment. For the next month, whenever Mom or Dad needs a job done, they ring that bell, and I have to run. So, have you had any ideas?”
“No,” said Stuart.
“It’s a pity there aren’t a few bushes around the bandstand. We could camouflage ourselves like soldiers, put green paint on our faces and leaves in our—”
The bell rang again. April rolled her eyes and left the room.
Stuart stood up and stretched, and wandered over to the girls’ desk. Stuck to the wall above it was a photo of the three of them looking ridiculously serious, with the words
NEWS TEAM
printed underneath. The latest edition of the
Beech Road Guardian
was still on the printer beside the computer and he glanced at the front page.
EXCITING LINE-UP FOR
BEETON SUMMER FESTIVAL
A thrilling day of exciting activities awaits the inhabitants of Beeton, beginning with an outdoor children’s talent show, to be judged by the lady mayoress, and ending with a parade of decorated floats along Main Street.
For an EXCLUSIVE interview with the lady mayoress, conducted by June Kingley, with photographs by May Kingley, see
I have to go away
.
For a detailed timetable of the day’s events, see page 4.
Stuart turned to the back page of the newspaper and began to read idly.
“Sorry,” said April, opening the door. “I just had to empty the compost bin. What are you looking at?”
“This,” said Stuart, holding up the paper.
She shrugged. “I don’t work on it any more. Much too dull.”
“No, I mean,
this
!” He jabbed a finger at the timetable on the back page. “There’s a children’s talent contest the day after tomorrow. And they’re holding it at the bandstand!”
April made a face. “So? There’ll be a million kids there. That’s no good.”
Stuart shook his head. “You’re wrong,” he said. “It’ll be perfect. In a crowd of a million kids, who’s going to notice two extra?”
There were big kids. Small kids. Tiny kids. Kids dressed as superheroes, kids with pink plastic guitars, kids with juggling balls, kids in ballet shoes, and one kid with a parrot that kept shouting, “HELLO THERE!” in a Welsh accent. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and the park was absolutely, completely, totally full.
With painful slowness, Stuart and April edged their way toward the bandstand, where a small girl was singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” while accompanying herself on a miniature drum kit.
There were a few dozen rows of seats and a table for the judges, but nearly everyone else in the crowd was standing, craning for a better view, taking photographs.
“Excuse me,” said Stuart to a large woman. She had a double baby carriage and was rocking it rather violently, trying to quiet a pair of wailing twins.
“Excuse me,” he said again.
She frowned down at him. “You should have gotten here earlier if you wanted a good view. You can’t just shove your way to the front like that.” She rocked the twins harder, ignoring him.
Stuart looked around at April, who was carrying a folding chair. “She won’t let me past,” he muttered.
“Start panting,” ordered April.
“What?”
“Just do it.
Pant
.”
He panted.
“Can you let us through?” said April loudly. “My little brother’s having a panic attack. Let us through, please!”
The crowd parted.
“Thank you,” said April, squeezing through the gap.
Stuart followed her, still panting, avoiding the pitying looks. He could feel himself going crimson with the humiliation. “You didn’t have to say ‘little brother,’” he hissed crossly.
“WHAT?” asked April. The drum solo was incredibly loud.
“Oh, never mind.” He forced himself to concentrate. The base of the bandstand was just ahead, the bulletin board now visible through the thicket of legs. As he reached it, he dropped to a crouch and unslung the bag he’d brought with him. As planned, April stood in front, using the folding chair to screen him from view.
The board was about three feet square and bolted to the brickwork. This time Stuart had come prepared with a backpack full of tools borrowed from April’s father’s garden shed. The first bolt came out fairly easily.
“WON’T BE LONG!” he shouted to April, just as “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” came to a noisy end. The applause went on for what felt like minutes. Stuart took out another two bolts.
“
Thank you, little Dora Moffatt!
” said a hugely amplified voice. “
We now realize that all that was missing from
The Wizard of Oz
was a prolonged drum solo! What did our panel think of it? Ah, yes, I can see the lady mayoress giving the thumbs up. And next up is a tap-dance troop. Let’s hear it for the Beeton Beat!
” There was more applause, and then the rattle of tap shoes and the rumble of a giant sound system belting out “Thriller.”
“LAST ONE!” yelled Stuart. He checked over his shoulder, but all he could see was people’s legs. No one was spying. No one even knew he and April were there. He checked in his pocket. He had the key and he had the last two threepences, one intact and one bent. He was ready.
As he took out the final bolt, the bulletin board fell forward, and he caught it, laying it to one side.
Behind it was a small, square metal hatch, hinged at the bottom and fastened with a padlock at the top. Quickly Stuart used the key, and the padlock sprang open. He pulled at the handle. The hatch stayed closed. He pulled again and it opened about an inch. Flakes of rust fluttered onto his fingers.
“What’s the matter?” asked April, peering down.
“I think it’s rusted shut,” he said. He pulled, and pulled again, and then stood up and used his foot. Then April tried too, and with a horrible screech the door opened halfway before sticking there, immovably.
Stuart crouched down again and took a flashlight out of his bag. Shoving his head and shoulders through the gap, he shone it into the darkness. Directly below the hatch, a metal ladder spanned the gap to the floor, ten feet below. Beyond it, a huge circular room opened out below ground level.
“What can you see?” asked April.
Stuart moved the flashlight beam around and felt his breath catch and his eyes grow wide. “Wonderful things!” he said.
It was a very tight squeeze, getting through the hatch and onto the ladder. As Stuart descended, April peered down at him, her head framed by the narrow opening.
“I won’t be able to get through,” she called despairingly. “I’m too big.”
“I won’t be long,” said Stuart. He realized that he was grinning.
As he climbed down into the void, the music grew muffled, but the noise of the tap dancers became even louder. It was like being on the inside of a drum.
He stepped off the ladder and switched on his flashlight. The huge circular room was brick-walled. In the center, a series of tapering iron pillars supported the floor of the bandstand overhead. Outside the circle of pillars lay his uncle’s workshop. He could see a hoist and a workbench, a lathe, a vice, and a rack of tools. But it was not those that had made his eyes widen.
Slowly he walked around the circumference of the room, and his flashlight beam caught and flashed on one object after another—a golden pyramid, taller than himself; a bronze throne, entwined with silver wire and enameled flowers; a giant fan, iridescent as a peacock’s tail; a graceful mirrored arch that sent the flashlight beam bouncing back to him, endlessly multiplied.
Fascinated by the reflections, he moved closer to the arch and saw dozens and dozens of Stuarts …
“WHAT HAVE YOU FOUND?” called April through the hatch.
“TELL YOU IN A MINUTE!” he shouted back.
An oval cabinet came next, pierced by a cluster of gold-handled swords, and after that a giant book propped up against the wall, the jet-black cover locked by a huge key, the words
OPEN AT YOUR PERIL
picked out in letters of red and silver.
