“Avast!”
It wasn’t the feeding bell that woke Sophie but the Battleship’s cry, echoing along the tunnels and going through her head like a drill. She fell out of bed, where she’d gone to sleep soaking wet, and started pulling on her shoes and coat before she’d properly woken up. She was halfway out of the tunnels before she heard the cry again.
“Avast! Avast!”
She ran onto the oyster beach, shoelaces flapping, to see the Battleship struggling with something in the water. Up to her knees in the waves, the huge woman was having a tug-of-war with a sea creature, heaving on the end of a long, white rope. She was clearly losing. Sophie hit the water and tried to pull her away, but it was like shouldering an iceberg.
“It’s going to pull you under,” she panted. “It’s bigger than you!”
“It won’t win,” the woman growled, and grinding her teeth heaved on the rope again. It started to rip loudly, and Sophie realized that it wasn’t a rope after all: the monster had the Battleship’s twisted, stretched petticoat in its mouth. It finally broke, the Battleship fell back, and the creature howled triumphantly. It snapped up the petticoat and dove under the water, releasing an odor of rotten eggs.
“What are you doing out here?” Sophie asked. “How did it get your petticoat?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” the Battleship said shortly, her skirt wallowing around her. She didn’t make an effort to get up. “I wanted to see the monsters. They used to listen to me. They respected me.”
“I don’t think they respect anyone,” Sophie replied.
“Ha! You would say that. You’re young. They like young girls. They have softness for them, you’ll see. But it’s gone for me now. Everything’s gone for me.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Sophie, though she had no idea what the Battleship was talking about.
“You don’t know. I haven’t slept well in years. My bed is a funny shape. It feels like I’m sleeping on a bomb.”
The Battleship got up, water pouring off her like a beach ball.
“Breakfast,” she said. “It’s time. You may join us if you wish.”
With that she glided off, the back of her ruined skirt rustling. Sophie turned toward the sea, where the creature was eyeing her hungrily with a piece of petticoat between its teeth. She stomped into the water and kicked a stone at it.
“You shouldn’t do that,” she told it. “I know you can’t understand me, but I’m telling you anyway. And that was your breakfast, by the way. I’m not feeding you again.”
A flat-headed octopus the size of a horse lunged from the water. It sucked the bottom of Sophie’s coat into its mouth, which was full of teeth as small and brown as apple seeds. Sophie was spun around and pulled backward, but she regained her balance just in time and pulled back as hard as she could.
“I said NO!” she shouted, and to her surprise it let go and shot back into the water. She gathered her coat around her and stormed back to the catacombs, surrounded by the bubbling, inhuman laughter of the creatures. There was a large hole in her coat, and the bottom half of her skirt was missing, too.
“You didn’t win,” she called over the water. “I wanted a change anyway.”
* * *
Ten minutes later Sophie kicked through the doors of a wardrobe that had been glued shut with grime and barnacles. Everything else in the abandoned bedroom had fallen to pieces, but the wardrobe was like a time capsule, perfectly sealed and dry. It was the fifth one she’d tried that morning. And unlike the others, this one contained exactly what she needed.
She took a pair of black trousers, a shirt, a pair of boots, and a frock coat. Looking in the mirror, she thought she looked like a pirate. Yes, this outfit was much better than her foul old dress. She threw it out the window toward the sea, and for good measure tossed her old shoes out, too.
“I changed my mind,” she called out the window. “You get seconds!”
She slammed the window as the water began to seethe and the monsters started fighting over the scraps.
Sophie marched down to the dining room, where breakfast was being served by Scree. She could hear the twins inside, gobbling their food and slurping their tea, and the entirely one-sided conversation Cartwright was trying to politely have with his aunt. She took a deep breath. There would be no more hiding from Cartwright or the twins.
She threw the doors open. The sun was streaming in, and dust motes pirouetted around her. From the windows, the sea glittered like something from the poster of the New Continent. This tiny moment threw her. When she looked back she saw the twins, their faces blank and polite, and Gail pushed a plate of toast over to her.
“Hello,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
Ralf picked up a slab of butter, which he licked like it was ice cream. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “Sit.”
“I don’t want to,” Sophie said.
She thought they were going to argue with her, but Gail only shrugged and crammed the toast into his mouth. She stared at them, looking for a blob of paint, a hint of embarrassment, a single glint of triumph in their faces. Cartwright pulled out the chair next to him.
“Scree made scrambled glowfish,” he said. “It’s . . . unusual.”
Sophie stared at the twins again, willing them to say something incriminating. Their hands were completely clean of paint. She looked at her own nails, which she’d scrubbed clean last night. She did scrub them, didn’t she? Or was she imagining things? She sat down and gingerly picked up a fork as the Battleship swept half a kipper into her mouth.
“There’s paint on your shoulder,” she said to Ralf.
“There’s not,” he said without looking.
“And on your face,” she said, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. Ralf didn’t even blink.
Scree came in, dragging a trolley piled with plates of green jelly.
“Wasn’t expecting extra people,” he said, wrinkling his nose at Sophie. “Ain’t enough jelly for you, too. You could have mine, I suppose. It doesn’t matter. I can go hungry. I’ll just have yesterday’s fish. Never mind old Scree.”
“You enjoy your jelly,” she said to him as Ralf poked his with a long finger and the Battleship inhaled hers. Scree gave her a sour look and shuffled off again. Sophie realized with a pang of guilt that he must have cleaned up the paint-splattered mess that she trailed all through the house.
“What on earth happened last night?” Cartwright murmured as the twins tried to build their jelly into castles. “They haven’t thrown a single thing at me this morning. They’re pleased with themselves.”
“I’m not sure,” she said, then remembered that she was annoyed with him. “You’re not meant to be talking to me, are you? I’m the Great Betrayer.”
“I’ve forgiven you,” he said.
“How kind.”
“I’ve forgiven you for stealing my clothes, too,” he said. “They suit you.”
“You shouldn’t leave your things lying around in old wardrobes,” she said, suddenly irritable. “Why have you forgiven me? What’s in it for you?”
“Everything,” he said. “Shall we at least be polite to each other? I think it could be mutually beneficial.”
“What are you two driveling on about?” asked Ralf dangerously, flicking a lump of jelly toward them.
“Your wonderful nails,” said Cartwright. “Do you file them into points, or are they natural?”
“You’re a creep, Cartwright.”
“You’re a blithering little idiot.”
“Your face looks like it was hit with a really boring spade.”
“I’m sorry about your face. It must be terribly hard for you.”
“Shut up!” barked the Battleship, bringing her fist down on her plate, which cracked in half. “I’m sick of your bickering.”
“Yes. Do something fun or we’ll scream,” said Gail, fingers twitching impatiently.
“Let’s have a play!” shouted Ralf, leaping out of his seat.
“Great,” said Cartwright.
The twins jumped onto the table, kicking all of the dishes and cutlery out of the way. They sang completely out of time with each other, stamping their feet so the table shook. Their eyes were fixed on Sophie and Cartwright, and she knew it was a ploy to stop them talking, but they soon got carried away and started dancing up and down, slipping through the jelly and snorting with laughter when they landed on their backs. The Battleship picked up her butter knife as though contemplating a murder.
Sophie grabbed hold of Cartwright and pulled him under the table.
The thick tablecloth muffled the sound of falling cutlery, but the air vibrated with the twin’s stamping and horrible laughter.
“I know what you want from me,” Sophie said. “You want something called the Monster Box. I don’t know what’s in it, but you’re going to ask me to find it for you, and in return you’ll get me to the New Continent. That’s right, isn’t it?”
He stared at her, so she continued: “I’m not stupid. The twins are already trying to stop me.”
“I underestimated you,” he said. “You’re quite sharp.”
“As Ralf’s nails,” she said. “Tell me what’s in the box or I won’t do it.”
The noise above them stopped. They both held their breath.
“Applause! Applause!” shouted Gail, and Scree, who had secreted himself in a corner somewhere, clapped weakly.
“Well done, young sirs . . .”
“Don’t clap, Scree,” said the Battleship, and he stopped.
“Clap!” said Ralf.
“Don’t you dare!”
“ANOTHER ONE!” shouted Gail, and they started again, cheering themselves as they stamped across the table.
“I don’t know exactly what’s in the box,” Cartwright said. “I never had a chance to find out.”
“You’re telling me that you came all the way here for a box that your mad old uncle gave you, and you don’t even know what it’s for? Let them have it!”
“It’s important,” he said.
“Do you know that for a fact, or is it just a feeling?”
“You help me and I’ll help you. I can’t do it myself, not with both of them hounding me at once. If we work together we’re as strong as they are.”
“Is this box worth all the trouble?”
“If my suspicions are correct, it will save the world,” he said.
The twins’ song finished, and Scree clapped again. They jumped around on the table, whooping and applauding themselves.
“Hey, where did Silverfish and Cartwright go?” said Gail.
“You’re ridiculous,” said Sophie. “And you’re mad. I don’t trust you.”
He beamed. “Meet me in the courtyard this afternoon. And be careful of the twins.”
Sophie glared at him. The twins whipped the tablecloth away and light flooded in. Their heads appeared, upside down.
“Camping,” said Gail. “Can we play?”
Sophie crawled out from under the table. Ralf dropped jelly on her head.
“Whoops,” he said.
She scraped it out and flung it right back.
“Whoops,” she said. She scrambled up and sat at the table again, among all the wreckage. She slid her hand into her pocket and felt the silver scissors that she’d stolen last night, and which she’d kept, just in case. She was having an idea.
“How about a story?” she said. “A good one. If I tell you a story, will you let everyone eat breakfast in peace?”
The twins considered the offer. It was possible to see the corners of their lips twitching as they tried to work out what the catch was. Gail was the first to give in.
“Let’s hear it, then,” he said. “I bet it’s rubbish.”
“I bet it’s not,” said Sophie.
“Does it have blood in it?” said Ralf.
“It begins,” said Sophie, looking at them all, “with a murder.”