Molly Moon & the Monster Music (24 page)

Molly gave her great-great-great-grandfather a big hug. “Thanks. Thanks not just for this but for everything. Without you I never could have sorted this all out. And after this, you deserve a big rest. You look so tired, Grandpa.”

Dr. Logan did a funny little salute, then he took his floom in his fingers and he put his hand on Mr. Proila's shoulder. He shut his eyes.

In the next second, there was a hiss as they shrank and disappeared.

“Wow!” Gerry said. “If everyone had one of those disc things, we wouldn't need planes!”

“Cool guy,” Toka declared.

“Now,” Rocky said, “we need to decide what to do with the music coin.”

“Petula could look after it,” Gerry suggested. “Al
though that wouldn't really be fair. I don't 'spect it tastes that nice.” He took Titch out of his hat to let him see what was going on.

“We could bury it under a mountain or throw it into the deepest part of the sea,” Rocky suggested.

Molly's eyes lit up.

The perfect solution involved, first of all, arranging to meet Hiroyuki, Chokichi, and Miss Sny and telling them everything that had happened. They of course needed some decompressing from the hypnotic music that Mr. Proila had played to them, but that wasn't difficult. With earphones on himself, Rocky played them a recording of Molly's music. Though Molly no longer possessed the coin, her music from that time had the strength to cancel out the power of Mr. Proila's.

Then Miss Sny arranged for a limo to drive them all to the fishing village of Nakaminato.

A small but comfortable fishing ship awaited them. It had enough berths for everyone. But more important was that the crew were friendly and, crucially, whale loving. In fact, the captain, a thickset mustached man, had a special interest in whales. In his cabin he had albums full of photographs that he had taken of whales throughout his long years at sea.

There was also a cabin full of radar equipment and devices to locate whales, and recording equipment that the captain could let down into the water to film the creatures and listen to the amazing sounds they made.

“It was very disturbing when hunting whales was made legal,” he said as everyone crowded into his cabin. “I am probably the happiest man in Japan today, knowing that the prime minister has banned whale hunting again.”

Gerry looked admiringly at the captain. “What a nice job you've got.”

The journey was an easy one as the sea was calm. And the next morning, after a good night's sleep, everyone gathered on deck. Sunlight poured down on them and the sea flashed silver, reflecting the sky. It stretched for miles, water in every direction.

“They are near,” the captain said. “It looks empty, but the whales are there.”

Molly found that her heart was beating fast. Were they under the boat, or a mile off?

And then they appeared. First it was just a glimpse—the glint of a wet whale back, the tip of a tail surfacing and catching the sun. And then there was a massive noise—a
PAH
on the other side of the ship that broke the hush of the sea. It was
the unmistakable sound of life—giant life—giant ocean life. It was the noise of a massive animal in the sea, an animal with lungs the size of trees, surfacing and letting out a breath and taking in another. It was a sound like Molly had never heard before.

Everyone ran to that side of the ship.

“One, two, three,” Gerry counted. “Look! Four, five, six, seven! Seven of them! Look! Two babies! And those ones are teenagery whales. That one's a giant!”

“He must be the dad,” Rocky said.

Everyone was thrilled and overwhelmed by the wonderful sight.

The whales rolled and played in the water, their huge bodies gray and wet, the sea as comfortable to them as air to humans. And then they were off. They began swimming away, in a line. Their bodies came up and went down, almost as if each one was connected to the next.

The engines started. Soon the ship was traveling with the whales on either side of it. When the whales slowed down and began to play again, the ship stopped, too. Molly looked over the edge.

A huge whale was swimming beneath the boat. And then an amazing thing happened. This giant whale came up, rising like a gentle monster from the
deep. It surfaced right beside the ship, water spraying from its blowhole—showering everyone watching. It was an exhilarating moment, half scary to be near such a powerful creature, half exciting and totally awe-inspiring.

Petula barked at Molly.

“Yes!” Molly agreed, knowing exactly what Petula wanted to do. “Give it to him!” Molly held Petula up and held her over the edge of the ship. Petula positioned herself and then, with a toss of her head, she threw the music coin into the sea.

At once the coin sank, dropping down through the water onto the bull whale. The whale dived down, taking the coin with it.

“Captain,” Molly said urgently, “can we go to your cabin and watch the whales through your cameras?”

“Certainly. Come with me.”

With the press of a few buttons, the equipment was switched on. And out of the speakers in the recording cabin came the most extraordinary sound. It was of a bull whale singing.

“That is quite extraordinary,” the captain said, twiddling knobs to check his machinery was working properly. “I've never, ever heard a whale sing as
wonderfully as that. It seems to be splitting its voice into two and harmonizing! It's completely . . . mesmerizing! I must record this.” He pressed a button.

Molly gave Gerry a wink.

“When you've recorded him,” Gerry suggested, “you can sell the CD. And the money you make can help save the whales and protect the seas everywhere in the world.”

Molly picked up Petula and hugged her. She carried her out onto the deck. And from there they watched the pod of whales as they swam away.

T
hat afternoon they all returned to Tokyo. They were salty-faced and windswept from their brilliant time whale watching.

When they got back to the apartment, Do was waiting for them there, looking very out of place in his simple monk's clothes. He'd traveled from Kyoto. Everyone looked at him in surprise.

“Has Mr. Proila escaped?” Molly blurted out.

Do got up. “Oh no, Molly. He fine. He like sloth. He stay there like pet until I return.”

“I'm sorry, Do. I thought you wouldn't mind having him,” Molly said, walking toward him. “Do you not want him there?” she asked anxiously. “Is that the thing? I can completely see why you wouldn't.”

The monk shook his head. “No! No, I like him. He remind me how to be still. Good inspiration.” His smile dropped.

All the children came and gathered around the monk.

“Have you come to say good-bye?” Molly guessed. “You know, Do, I never would have gone back home without coming to see you again.” Molly smiled.

Do sighed. “I know. But I have to bring you something.”

He pulled a small bag out of his pocket and gave it to Molly. She opened it. Inside were four things. A clear time-stop crystal. A green crystal. A red crystal. And her great-great-great-grandfather's floom.

“He wanted you to have them,” Do said.

Molly paused, confused. “But . . . but he can't give me this.” She picked out the red gem. “He'll never get back to his own time without this.”

“No.” Do shook his head. “He won't.”

Molly looked at Do's peaceful face.

“He wanted you to have these. He told me to tell you that meeting you was one of the greatest pleasures of his life.”

“Where's he gone?” Yet even as these words left Molly's lips she knew the answer.

“The question of what happens after life is question that unifies human beings.” Do sighed again, his chest giving a slow heave up and then down. “I don't know the answer.”

Molly was stunned. “I can't believe it . . .” she whispered.

“He very old, Molly. His spirit strong but his body weak. It run out of power. He conk out. I'm sorry for you.”

Molly shook her head and held the precious bag tight. “I wish . . .” she murmured. “Oh, I wish I'd gotten to know him better.”

Everyone was quiet.

Do broke the silence. “Now you come upstairs. I have good surprise for you.”

Molly nodded and she and the others followed the monk out of the apartment and up in the elevator to the roof garden.

There a lovely sight greeted them. The trees on the roof had all burst into blossom. White blossom.

“They're all boffed up!” Gerry shouted.

“Boffed up?” Rocky asked. “What does that mean?”

“I made it up,” Gerry replied.

“It like six white clouds living on our roof!” Toka exclaimed.

“All over Japan, blossom start,” Do said. “Look, see in park!”

The children peered out beyond the roof terrace and saw that, indeed, the park a few blocks away was full of blossom trees. Pink ones and white ones.

“It's like cotton candy!” Gerry said.

“That cherry blossom. And see people having picnics?” Hiroyuki pointed out. “Now the season of
hanami
, of celebrating blossom. Everyone
celebrate life.”

There were blossoms everywhere. On rooftops, on balconies, in small triangles of grass in the city and in the parks.

Do sat cross-legged beneath one of the trees. “White blossom my favorite. It blossom with big beauty but only for a week. Then blossom blow away. It remind me of life. So beautiful . . . then suddenly gone.”

Molly sat down beside him. “Thank you for bringing Dr. Logan's things, Do. But . . . but what about his . . . his body?”

Do nodded. “He ask me to cremate body. I did.” The old monk dipped his hand into his bag and passed Molly a green porcelain urn. “These are Dr. Logan ashes.”

Rocky sat down beside Molly and put a hand on her shoulder. “That's really cool, Molly. We can take them back to Briersville and scatter his ashes there.”

“Yes,” Do agreed. “Like blossom blowing away on the wind, he will go.”

Tickets were bought for Molly, Petula, Rocky, and Gerry to travel back home.

It was arranged that Miss Sny was to be left in
charge of Chokichi's and Hiroyuki's music careers until Mr. Proila returned, which everyone knew was going to be never.

On the day that Molly and her friends were due to leave, they finally met the boys' parents. They were all going to live together again, with Miss Sny.

As Molly, Rocky, Petula, and Gerry drove away, the boys' mother was making lunch in the kitchen, and their father was playing a Japanese board game with all three of his sons. And the old grandmother was painting the missing eyes onto her strange dolls. All the wishes she had made had evidently been granted.

As they boarded the plane, Molly realized how lonely she had been when she'd lost all of the people she loved in her life. She realized how fabulous it was that they had cared so much for her that, even when she was a monster, they had wanted to help her.

Molly knew she could be a monster again—a mini-monster, cross about something or bad-tempered or angry—and her friends and family would be horrible sometimes, too. But she knew for certain that underneath, however grumpy the people in her family might be, they actually all cared about one another.

Molly saw clearly how amazing and brilliant and lucky this was. And she knew, too, from losing her great-great-great-grandfather, how she must try from now on to appreciate the people about her. For in Do's words, they might just “conk out.” Then it would be too late to show them how much they were appreciated.

Part of Molly was sad that she had lost her powers. But oddly she was also half pleased that they had gone. Without them life was more of a challenge. She would be a regular person now, someone without incredible hypnotic skills; someone who couldn't hypnotize people with the flash of an eye, who couldn't time travel or mind read or morph.

She recognized that her greatest pleasures in life came from her friends and her family. She didn't need the hypnotic arts to make this better.

But the greatest lesson that Molly had learned in her time in Japan was about badness. She saw how bad deeds not only hurt the people they were aimed at, they also hurt the person doing them. And it had become obvious to her that the more bad things a person does, the more their character becomes bad. A pinch of it here, a ladleful there, the badness mounts up until it starts to mold the person. The person becomes what they do.

Molly saw that it was all about choice. A person who does good things glows with goodness because they have chosen good things. You are what you do, Molly thought.

She watched Rocky helping Gerry work the airplane DVD player.

“You are what you do . . .” she said under her breath.

She looked out of the window at the earth below and thought of the billions of people living on it. The billions of people of the world living, breathing, each one being who they were because of what they did, each one affecting the world and one another by their actions. As though a mass of voices were whispering to her inside her head, a bigger thought came to Molly:

“We are what we do.”

T
hanks to my patient editor in the UK, Polly Nolan, for her brilliant notes. And to Sarah Dotts Barley, my editor in New York, for her careful reading, her good suggestions, and for translating all of the British words into American ones.

Also a big thank-you to my agent, Caradoc King, who has been with me since Molly Moon's adventures began. He is very clever and well-read and has always been hugely helpful and supportive.