Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism (10 page)

“And now, last but not least,” he said, “we have number thirty-two … Miss Molly Moon.”

Molly walked onto the stage, her hands more sweaty than they had ever been in her life. The curtain opened and the hot spotlight hit her face. She walked up to the microphone, her stomach twisting with nerves. She was suddenly filled with a fear that she couldn’t remember how to hypnotize
anything,
let alone a whole audience full of Briersvillians. She looked out into the black hole of the hall and could feel the people out there all looking at her. The air was thick with anticipation. There was silence except for a few scattered coughs and a sneezing fit from Mrs. Toadley.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” she said nervously. “I am Molly Moon, and this afternoon I’m going to show you the talent that I have for reading minds.”

She heard a murmur of interested noises.

“For this I have to be able to see you, so ladies and gentlemen, er, boys and girls, the hall lights will now go on.”

Shielding her eyes from the spotlight, Molly looked upward. “Light controller, please could we have the spotlight off and the audience lights on.”

In two switches, the stage spotlight went off and the gang of lights above the audience came on. There were lots of people out there. In the front row Molly noticed Hazel hitting herself on the head with her cat’s tail.

“Hello, everybody,” Molly said, feeling calmer.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, I can show you what I can do, if you’ll let me concentrate for a moment. Soon I will start to get telepathic thoughts …
your
thoughts, and I will tell you what you’re thinking.”

Molly stared at the floor.

From the audience’s viewpoint, this girl looked the part. There she stood, concentrating in a very theatrical way. Of course, all this mind-reading business was an act, but the girl was pretending very well.

Then, when the girl looked up again, each person in the hall thought to their surprise how, on a second glance, this girl was much more special than they had first thought. The wafer-thin, plain child was really rather enchanting. The longer the audience studied Molly, wondering why they hadn’t seen her charm before, the more ensnared they became by her mesmerizing gaze.

“It won’t take long now,” Molly said as she went methodically through the rows of gaping faces, checking each person’s eyes. A second was all it took to sense the fusion feeling getting stronger and stronger. Molly was amazed that most of the audience had fallen under her spell immediately, the judges included. Mrs. Toadley looked like an old toad, with her mouth hanging open. Mrs. Trinklebury looked as if she were about to have a fit of giggles.

The only problem was a woman in the sixth row. “Madam, yes, you in the sixth row, with the sunglasses, please could you take them off.”

When the woman removed her glasses, Molly found that she was already in a trance. A boy who had been to the bathroom almost slipped through Molly’s net, but she caught him on the way back to his seat. And as he sat down glazy eyed, Molly was confident that every single person there was well and truly in the palm of her hand, sweaty as it was. She’d even eyeballed the light operator. “Now, dim the audience lights again,” Molly told him.

Under the shiny beam of the spotlight, she began to talk to her audience.

“You … are all under my command,” she began. “You will all forget that I came onto the stage to read minds. Instead, you will think that I came onstage and …” Molly’s clear instructions reverberated through the guildhall.

Molly’s act began. All the people sat back in awe. This Molly Moon’s song-and-dance routine was so good, so accomplished, so entertaining, that they felt they were witnessing a star being born. The girl was breathtakingly talented, charismatic, and funny, with an adorable face. She danced so gracefully that her feet didn’t seem to touch the ground. She sang like an angel, and then she told jokes. Such funny jokes! Jokes
that made them laugh until they thought their sides would split.

In reality, Molly was simply standing on the stage, describing to the audience what they thought they were seeing and hearing.

Before she finished, Molly had a special word with Mrs. Toadley.

“From now on you will tell everyone you meet what a horrid, bullying teacher you are,” Molly told her, and Mrs. Toadley opened and shut her mouth like a goldfish to show that she agreed.

Then Molly clapped her hands and instantly brought everyone out of their trances. The whole audience erupted into loud applause, cheers, and wolf whistles. Number thirty-two, Molly Moon. She was obviously and undisputedly the winner. She had more talent in her little toenail than all the others put together. And there she stood, dressed in a very ordinary skirt and top. It just went to show that all those fancy outfits really weren’t necessary. Why, that Molly Moon had such stage presence that she didn’t need a costume or makeup. There was something extra special about this girl. She was just so—likeable. She definitely had that special magic that people call
star quality.

The audience clapped until their hands hurt. Molly stood there, smiling and bowing. She liked this
applause and adoration. At last she went to sit down in the front row. People near her congratulated her profusely.

“M-Molly, that was m-marvelous,” stuttered Mrs. Trinklebury. Even Hazel Hackersly was smiling at her, which Molly found a revolting experience.

Then the judges walked up the aisle and onto the stage. Mrs. Toadley was second in line after the mayor. “I’m a horrible, bullying teacher, you know,” Molly heard her tell the judge behind her.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve got a child in your class.”

As the mayor announced Molly the outstanding winner, the other judges nodded their heads like those nodding toys you see on the back shelves of cars.

“… quite simply the most talented child this town has ever had the pleasure to watch. So please put your hands together once again for our very own homegrown Molly Moon.”

Molly stepped up to receive her prize money. She could hardly believe she’d done it. Her fervent wish on the hill above Briersville as she’d gazed at the Qube poster had been to become rich, popular, and good-looking. And now, with a flash of her eyes, those wishes had been granted.

“Thank you very much,” she said happily.

As she clutched the fat envelope, full of crisp, new
bank notes, she was seized by a strong feeling of wanting to leave the scene of her crime as quickly as possible. So, after posing for a few pictures, she left the stage and walked swiftly out of the building. Before anyone realized she was leaving, she’d walked down the guildhall steps and climbed into the back of her chauffeur-driven minibus.

“To the Briersville Hotel,” she ordered.

Edna turned to smile at her, Petula jumped on her lap, and Miss Adderstone looked at her obediently. “Yes, madam.”

With a screech of rubber tires on the road, the car sped away.

E
verything was going according to plan. Molly and Petula spent the afternoon in a room in the Briersville Hotel. And while it was far from being the best hotel in the world—its beds were old and lopsided and its oak furniture was scratched and worn out—it was a good place for Molly to catch her breath, and Petula found the armchair comfortable.

Molly instructed Miss Adderstone and Edna to wait for her in the minibus, while she started on the next phase of her plans. She picked up the telephone and called the international operator.

“The name’s Alabaster. They live in America,” Molly explained.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more precise than that,” the operator replied. “Which state and what’s the town?”

“Polchester, or Pilchester or Porchester. It’s somewhere near New York City.”

“I’m sorry, but this is just too vague,” the lady said. “There are thousands of Alabasters in New York…. It would take me all night to go through them.”

“Are—you—feeling—relaxed?” Molly said slowly.

“Sorry?” said the operator. “If this is some sort of prank, you can hang up now.”

“No, er, thanks for your help,” said Molly. She was very disappointed to learn that Rocky was going to be a lot more difficult to find than she’d expected.

Still, Molly was excited to be in the hotel room. She switched the television on and sat down to count her prize money. Inside the envelope the money was in a bundle held together by a flat piece of paper. Molly ripped the paper off and fanned the cash out like a pack of cards. She had never held a ten-pound note, and never even seen a fifty-pound note, let alone
sixty
fifty-pound notes! Three thousand pounds looked good, smelled good, and felt good. The money made Molly feel powerful and free. She could go anywhere in the world with £3,000. Australia, India, or China. Or America—to find Rocky! That’s what she would do.

But first she wanted to get a few things. So, putting the money into her pocket and her hypnotism book under her jacket, she and Petula went shopping.

Ten minutes later they were walking down Briersville High Street. Molly was carrying a traveling basket for Petula, which she had bought in Animal Love, the pet shop. Petula was looking proud and perky, with a brand-new red collar around her neck.

Molly stopped at the optician’s and, on a whim, went inside. Five minutes later she came out again, in a pair of sunglasses. She’d always wanted a pair, and now, she felt, they might also be useful to disguise her. She didn’t want people recognizing her from the talent show. Then she continued on around the bend in the road and paused in front of the wooden-framed window of the antique shop, Moldy Old Gold.

The window display was an eccentric collection of interesting bits and pieces. Mirrored glass balls, cut-glass crystal goblets, silver boxes with secret compartments, a parasol with a parrot handle, magnifying glasses, a corset, a huge ostrich egg, a bowl of wax fruit, a sword, and a pair of Victorian riding boots. And then, on a small velvet platform at the back of the display, a golden disc caught Molly’s eye. On its surface was etched a black spiral that seemed to pull Molly’s eyes toward it. It was beautiful, and though her breath had steamed up the window, she was sure she could see that it was on a chain. It looked exactly like a pendulum should look.

Molly took off her sunglasses, pushed open the shop door, and stepped inside. An old-fashioned bell rang over the top of the door, alerting the shopkeeper, Mr. Mold, who was at the back polishing a pair of antique spectacles. He briskly licked his fingers, tweaked his bushy eyebrows, and scurried to the front to greet the customer. When he saw a scruffy child with a pug dog, his eagerness faded.

“Good afternoon,” he said, adjusting his collar.

“Afternoon,” said Molly, looking up from a display case full of jewelry and fancy hairpins.

“Can I help?” asked Mr. Mold.

“Yes please. I’d like to have a look at the pendulum from your window display, please.” Molly had decided to treat herself. She needed a proper, heavy pendulum, and it would be the perfect present for herself to celebrate her achievements in hypnotism.

“A pendulum … hmm …” hummed the shopkeeper.

He went to the window and reached inside. Then he brought out a tray and put it on the glass counter between him and Molly.

“I think there may be a pendulum sort of thing in here.”

Molly looked inside the drawer. It was full of colored bead necklaces, chains, lockets, and pendants, but the
pendulum she’d seen wasn’t there.

“Ah. The one I’m talking about is the golden one on the velvet at the back of the window,” she explained.

“Hmm.” Mr. Mold coughed. “I’m afraid that pendant will be beyond what you can afford, young lady.” He fetched the antique pendulum on its chain and let Molly admire it. Close up it looked even better than it had seemed before. Its gold was worn but not dented, and the spiral on it was perfectly etched.

“How much is it?”

“Well … hmm … five hundred fifty pounds. It’s solid twenty-two-carat gold and rather old. Perhaps this one would be more suited to your purse.” Mr. Mold picked up a pewter necklace with a dull brown stone in it. Molly ignored the pewter piece and studied the golden pendulum. Its spiral seemed to turn as she looked at it. She found it irresistible. She had to have it. She was sick of not being able to afford things. From now on, she’d buy whatever she wanted! With an extravagant gesture, she reached inside her pocket and pulled out her wad of cash. “I’ll take the gold pendulum,” she said politely, and she counted out eleven fifty-pound notes.

Mr. Mold stared. “You must have been lucky at the races!”

“No, lucky at the talent competition,” Molly explained.

“Oh! So you’re the girl who won! My granddaughter called me and told me about you. She said you were just fabulous!” The old man couldn’t disguise his amazement. He was astonished that a girl as ordinary looking, as ugly even, as Molly could be thought of as “cute,” “gorgeous,” and “lovely”—which was how his granddaughter had described her.

He shook Molly’s clammy hand. “So you had them all cracking their ribs laughing,” he said, half hoping Molly would do an impersonation for him or tell him a joke.

“Mmmnnn,” Molly said, smiling enigmatically.

“So you’re buying yourself a present.” The shopkeeper pressed the button on the till, making it open with a
ting,
and slipped the £550 into its drawer.

“Yup.”

“And where did you learn to perform like that?”

Molly was so happy and excited that she didn’t mind telling him. “From a very old book,” she said mysteriously, tapping the big, heavy shape under her jacket.

“You’re joking!”

“No, I’m not. It’s a very special book.”

“Which is why you’re carrying it about with you,” said the shopkeeper.

“You got it,” said Molly.

Mr. Mold wrapped Molly’s purchase. “Thank you, and enjoy your pendant.”

“Thank you. Good-bye.”

As Molly tucked the parcel into her pocket and turned to leave, the bell above the shop door rang, and another customer came in. In a cloud of cigarillo smoke he bustled past Molly, knocking her slightly.