Molly Moon's Incredible Book of Hypnotism (14 page)

I
t was all so easy!

At four o’clock that afternoon, Molly was dancing around her hotel room sucking a chewy candy and singing along to the CD of
Stars on Mars.

Scattered around were opened boxes full of tissue paper, with new clothes spilling out of them. Rixey Bloomy had chosen them, and Molly had spent the afternoon trying on jackets, dresses, trousers, and shoes. The coffee table was now a candy table, with two huge bowls filled with all sorts of candy and one full of multicolored marshmallows.

Petula had taken to patrolling the windowsill, barking at scrawny pigeons whenever they landed.

After the last number Molly switched off the CD player and lay on the bed, wearing new jeans and a very
cool T-shirt with a shiny moon on it. She wished she could tell someone about all this. Namely Rocky. Maybe he had telephoned Miss Adderstone and left his new address by now. It was five hours ahead in England—nine o’clock—so Adderstone would still be up. Molly picked up the telephone and dialed. After six rings the telephone was answered. “Good evening, Hardwick Orphanage,” said the familiar voice of Gerry.

“Oh, hello, Gerry,” said Molly.

“Molly! Molly, where are you? Adderstone said you’d gone on a plane!”

“I’m in New York,” said Molly, thinking how impressive that sounded. “And the plane was
brilliant.
But look, can I speak to Adderstone?”

“Adderstone’s gone.”

“Gone shopping? Gone to have her bunions done? When will she be back?”

“She’s never comin’ back,” said Gerry, suddenly whispering. “She’s gone, and Edna, too. Adderstone said they wanted to be nice to children from now on, so they were leavin’ us to rule ourselves an’ we could do
anything we
liked.”

This was the last piece of news Molly expected to hear.

“Why are you whispering, Gerry?”

“‘Cause Hazel’s nearby, down the passage. She’s in
charge now, see, and … gotta go … ‘bye!”

The line went dead. Molly dialed again, but this time the phone was busy. The idea of the orphanage being run by Hazel was horrifying! Then Molly supposed that Mrs. Trinklebury would keep an eye on everyone, and she relaxed. She wondered where Miss Adderstone and Edna had gone and felt responsible. She hoped they weren’t doing anything dangerous. Visions of Miss Adderstone snipping up other people’s suits and Edna hitting people who didn’t like Italy filled Molly’s mind.

Molly telephoned the orphanage once more.

Gerry picked it up again.

“Hello, it’s Molly.”

“Hi, Molly,” came Gerry’s tiny whisper. “Look, the thing is, Molly, I’m not s’posed to answer the phone. Hazel gets very cross. I’ve gotta go.”

“Gerry, stop, before you do, I want to give you my number in New York. In case Rocky calls. It’s important. Have you got a pen?”

“Erm, yes, I think there’s one in my pocket with my mouse. No, no, Squeak, you stay there…. Sorry, Molly, Squeak nearly escaped…. Oh yes, here’s a pen and, um, some paper.”

“Okay,” said Molly, and she gave Gerry her number at the Waldorf. The line crackled. “And if Rocky calls, give him that number—”

“Gotta go, Molly. Hazel’s not in a good mood, and I don’t want her catchin’ me. ‘Bye.” The phone clicked.

“‘Bye,” murmured Molly, not at all confident that Gerry would relay her message to anyone.

But she didn’t worry for too long. Molly looked at a box of clothes and marveled at how quickly her dreams were coming true.

Petula gazed through the window to watch the November lights of the city start to come on. If she’d had magic X-ray eyes, she would have seen that twenty-five blocks away, in a cheap, dingy room, Professor Nockman was stretched out on a bed, snoring, underneath a single lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. On the floor of the room and all over the bed were newspapers. Professor Nockman was gambling that whoever this M. Moon was, she was going to be in the papers sooner or later for doing something extraordinary. And like a bloodhound he was ready to pick up the scent.

In his dreams he saw the girl again, sitting in the back of the minibus with the hypnotism book in her lap and a pug dog next to her. In his sleep Professor Nockman growled.

Back in her hotel room, Petula sniffed the air. Somewhere out there, a long way off, someone was thinking about her—she knew it. And she didn’t like
the way he was thinking. Petula barked, then shivered. She jumped onto Molly’s bed and pushed her nose under the covers to find one of her stones.

Molly had a nightmare. She dreamed that she was a big, ugly cuckoo in a forest with no friends. In the background Mrs. Trinklebury’s song echoed through the branches, as if the very trees were singing it.

All the other birds ignored Molly. Some had the faces of the smaller children from the orphanage. When Molly walked toward them, they flew away. In the dream Molly felt desperately lonely. She was searching for Rocky and tried calling out his name, but all that came out of her beak was a squawk.

However, in the morning she soon forgot the heartache of her sleep. For she had work to do and money to make. She was about to become rich. Soon she would be popular as well, and, in other people’s eyes, even lovely looking, too. Rehearsals for
Stars on Mars
were starting, and Molly had no time to pine for her friend.

T
he Manhattan Theater, where
Stars on Mars
was playing, closed its doors suddenly. None of the newspapers knew why. Behind the doors Davina Nuttel had been fired and the theater staff had been sworn to secrecy. Molly hypnotized every single person who was working on the show: the conductor in the orchestra, the musicians, the ticket people, the sellers, the light operators, the stagehands, the makeup artists, the other actors, and the boy who swept the stage. Everyone thought she was marvelous.

Then rehearsals began. They started at ten every morning, with a brief break for lunch and more rehearsing all afternoon. Molly had to learn where to stand, how to dance, and what to sing and say.

To Molly’s surprise, she discovered that rehearsals
were really fun. And she was determined to try her hardest to be good. Of course, whatever she did, the rest of the cast thought she was fantastic. When she sang out of tune, no one noticed. When she got moves in the dance wrong, no one cared. Her tap dancing was useless, but everyone thought it was perfect.

Petula was enjoying it too. She didn’t like the Martian monsters, which were like enormous red peppers with antennae. But she loved the red astronaut’s outfit that had been tailor-made for her. She also enjoyed barking on the stage.

And then, on her third day at the theater, came a meeting that Molly wasn’t expecting.

Molly was in her dressing room when she heard a horrible screamy voice in the corridor shout, “WHERE IS SHEEE?”

“She’s in there, Miss Davina,” a sequined chorus girl said. “But Davina, don’t be too angry…. When you meet her, you’ll see why…. I mean, you’ll like her.”

“LIKE HER??!!!” yelled the voice furiously. “LIKE HER …? SHE’S JUST RUINED MY CAREER. She’s stolen what’s
mine
. What’s the matter with all of you? Rixey, Barry, all of you … you
know I
made this show what it is.”

The chorus girl squeaked, “Sorry, Davina, but …”

When Davina stormed into Molly’s dressing room,
where Molly was trying on an astronaut suit, Molly was ready.

“So,” said Davina, slamming the door behind her and stamping her high-heeled boot. “Who do you think you are? How
dare
you?” Then her mouth plunged open. “Are you Molly Moon?” she said in disbelief.

Molly looked at Davina, the singing, dancing prodigy. The starlet whose performances everybody loved to watch. And Molly was fascinated. For, close up, Davina didn’t look like anything special. Without makeup her face was pale and rather sickly looking. Her blond hair was limp and greasy. Her eyes were bulgy and had gray rings underneath them.

“B-but you’re so ordinary,” said Davina, amazed.

“So are you,” said Molly, equally bewildered.

“They said you were really, really special,” said Davina, too dumbstruck to register Molly’s remark. “How could someone as ordinary and as lumpy-nosed as you take my part?” She was overwhelmed for a moment. Then, grinding her teeth, she took a step toward Molly and in a calm, charming voice said, “That’s my costume. I think you’d better give it back.” Her eyes fixed on Molly’s.

Molly calmly looked back and suddenly noticed that the pupils of Davina Nuttel’s eyes were huge. More than that, in fact, they were spiraling and dark, like swirling black whirlpools. Molly felt unsteady, as if the
ground were starting to disappear. Quickly she concentrated and gave Davina a strong blast of her hypnotic eyes. But she was shocked to find, as she increased her voltage of glare to maximum power, that Davina’s eyes had a strong pull. With every ounce of focus that she possessed, Molly stood firm, until the ground felt balanced again under her feet.

This was a big surprise. Davina Nuttel had the gift. She could sing and dance, but on
top
of this she had the gift. She had the gift without really knowing what it was. It wasn’t as finely tuned as Molly’s, but she obviously used this power over other people, to influence them and charm them. Molly felt as if she almost wanted to make friends with Davina. She could train her and they could become partners. They’d be unbeatable! But these ideas went out of her head when she heard what Davina was saying.

“You’re so plain, so
ugly
even…. You’re not the kind of girl anyone would like to watch on stage, so why don’t you just give up? You’re not made for stardom, you’re just too boring, you’ve got no charisma at all, and your dog is revolting.”

Petula whined, and Molly determinedly increased her eye beam again. But Davina’s angry glare shot back. It was a tug-of-war between green and blue eyes. Molly’s hands began to sweat. She was concentrating so hard on her look that she couldn’t even begin to think
how to use her voice. She began to worry that she wouldn’t win. And as this negative thought clouded her mind, she weakened. She wondered what would happen if Davina managed to hypnotize
her
. Maybe Davina would rob Molly of all her powers and leave her empty-headed. Molly imagined herself as a tramp, on the New York streets, lost and confused, with a mind blanked by Davina. It was a future too horrid to contemplate, and so scary that it gave Molly a surge of energy. With a sizzling knockout stare that made her hair stand out from her head, the tension snapped, and Molly had won.

Davina looked away. In a shaky voice she said, “I don’t know how you’ve done it. You may have won everyone else over, but you won’t win me. You’re just a pimply, ugly country girl.” Breaking down in loud sobs, Davina stumbled away.

Molly was exhausted from the confrontation. She had never expected to meet someone who had the gift, and she was shocked at herself for not being prepared. She should have guessed that other people like her existed. Molly wondered how many people there were in New York who, like Davina, unconsciously used their hypnotic powers to get ahead. Then Molly wondered how many there were who had those powers and knew
exactly
what they were doing. She speculated on how many copies of the Logan book there might be. Maybe there
were people out there even better at hypnotism than Molly! All these thoughts were very unsettling. She was relieved when a knock at the door distracted her and Rixey Bloomy poked her plastic-looking face into the changing room. She smiled sweetly. “Are you ready to rehearse, dearest Molly?”

That night
The New York Tribune
had shocking headlines.

Davina Nuttel makes way for a new kid on the block

Professor Nockman bought his copy of the paper and read it eagerly on a street corner. So she was called Molly Moon, and she was starring in a Broadway musical. Fantastic! At last there would be no more hunting in the dark. Such a bright spotlight shone on this Molly Moon, he couldn’t possibly lose her again. This was brilliant! Professor Nockman couldn’t wait to meet her.

It didn’t take Nockman long to discover that Miss Moon was living it up at the Waldorf. He parked his rusty white van on the other side of the street from the hotel. All night he waited, huddled up in his sheepskin coat, trying to warm himself with a small heater plugged
into the cigarette lighter socket, chewing his long nails to bits as he waited to spot his prey. He slept fitfully, obsessively checking the hotel entrance.

Around nine thirty in the morning a silver Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of the hotel. Nockman shook himself awake and wiped his steamed-up windows to get a better look. A porter was opening the hotel door for someone. Nockman squinted, and at last he saw Molly Moon.

Down the steps toward her car she came. She was dressed in a soft white mink coat with a fur cap to match, and her feet were in cream-colored, knee-length, low-heeled leather boots. Under her arm was a flat-faced pug. The girl looked like a starlet—altogether different from the scruffy kid Nockman had seen in Briersville.

Nockman was beginning to respect Molly. He was amazed and impressed by the speed at which she’d arrived. She had exceptional talents, and he was sure he was the only person in New York who knew her secret.

From that morning on Professor Nockman kept close track of Molly’s movements about town. He followed her as she went shopping accompanied by bodyguards, watching as more and more smart bags and boxes were
loaded up into her Rolls-Royce. He waited as she went into amusement arcades and spent a fortune. He sat outside fabulous restaurants as she tasted the cuisines of the world with Rixey or Barry. And the more he watched her, the more convinced he was that he was right about the power of hypnotism. This Molly Moon obviously had everyone under her thumb.

Nockman had been looking forward for years to learning hypnotism himself—ever since he’d heard about the hypnotism book from a rich old lady he’d met in a coffee shop. He’d found out that the ninety-year-old woman was related to Dr. Logan, the great hypnotist, and what was more, she’d inherited his money. In her grand apartment she’d showed Nockman an intriguing letter from the librarian at Briersville, describing the hypnotism book.

“Why, if that book ever got into the wrong hands,” the old lady had said, “who knows what might happen in the world.” Nockman instantly hoped those wrong hands might be his. He became convinced that if he could get his hands on the book, he would be able to carry out the most ambitious crime of his career. For Nockman was no intellectual with a studious interest in hypnotism. He wasn’t a real professor but a professional crook. With a lot of experience under his belt.

Nockman had hours to while away in his van; hours
to mull over how pleased he was that all his efforts had been worthwhile. In a way Molly Moon finding the book had been a good thing. Because now, once he got his hands on her, he could very quickly rocket himself into the Super League of Crime. Nockman licked his lips greedily. He knew now that he was going to become the greatest criminal of all time.

As he dozed in his van, he imagined how much money Molly Moon must be making, and he murmured to himself approvingly. He flitted in and out of sleep, fantasizing that he, too, had hypnotic powers, dreaming of how powerful he could become. He had visions of himself in old-fashioned golfing clothes on a lawn beside a huge mansion, with a maid bringing him tea. He saw himself on a grand yacht, with a uniformed crew of ten, sailing around New York. He imagined himself sleeping on a pile of money, holding the book
Hypnotism.

One day, at dawn, Nockman woke to see a huge poster being pasted up on the side of the skyscraper near the Waldorf. The picture on it was a giant photograph of a hundred-foot-tall Molly Moon, in an astronaut outfit, holding her dog, who was also wearing a space suit. Nockman chuckled. This girl was a
genius!
And the better she was at hypnotism, the better it was for him.