The air in the palace gardens was thick with scent as evening jasmine flowers opened. Molly was outside the nursery. She pushed the pad on the wall and the door slid open. She’d decided to pay Nurse Meekles a visit.
Inside, three beautiful women dressed in long white robes like maidens out of a fairy tale sat holding babies. One held a tiny infant a few weeks old. The other babies, both very pretty, were bigger and were holding their heads up and squawking like parrots. Four young children ran about, chasing one another on the flowered lawn of the nursery garden. Then Nurse Meekles, dressed in a blue-and-white-striped pinafore over a pale yellow dress, came out of the building. She was holding a bowl of peaches.
“Five more minutes, my little prawn dumplings, and it will be ion time,” she announced. The children halted for a moment as they grumbled. Then they continued romping around. Nurse Meekles watched them fondly, then her eyes caught sight of Petula and Molly. A flash of recognition crossed her face as she matched Micky’s looks with Molly’s, and for a second the bowl nearly slipped from her hands.
“Can I … help you?” she asked uneasily as Molly approached.
“I just wanted to say hello,” said Molly.
“Princess Fang’s quarters are back through there.” Her voice trembled slightly as she glanced toward the door. Her face was tanned, round, and flat and smile lines creased the skin beside her blue, slanted eyes. Her black hair was arranged in a cottage-loaf style. She reminded Molly of the kind lady, Mrs. Trinklebury, who’d looked after her when she’d been little. Molly suddenly felt homesick and full of tears.
“Can’t I stay for just a few minutes? It’s so nice here.” Molly watched the kids beside her kick a ball. “I’ve got no one to talk to.” Nurse Meekles furtively checked that the camera trained on her garden was looking away. Then she put her hand up and touched Molly’s cheek.
“Had a bit of trouble with your hair, haven’t you, my petal?” she said with a smile. “You’re the split image of him. Micky told me that a girl had arrived, a girl called Molly Moon, who claimed to be his twin sister. He said it was a trick. But I remember the day he arrived here with Redhorn. I know about this time-traveling malarkey.” She shook her head and sighed. “I hear you’ve been on the machine.” Molly could feel a dry lump rising in her throat. She didn’t want to cry—not now, with this woman she barely knew. She glanced about for the children, who were now digging about in the sandpit.
“Who are these children? Where are their parents?”
Nurse Meekles rearranged the peaches in her basket. “I c-can’t tell you,” she stammered and shook her head. Above it swam pictures of mothers in long dresses sitting outside what looked like gingerbread houses. Then, as if talking to the peaches, she said, “I know what goes on here. I’m ashamed to be part of it, but someone has to do the job. I love my children. I love Micky. I hardly get to see him these days.” She looked beseechingly into Molly’s eyes and whispered, “I’m lucky to have my mind, Molly. I fear that machine, you see. Anyone with their right mind would. I’m sorry about what they did to you. I can’t say any more.” A small boy tugged at her pinafore and pushed a muddy rubber toy squid against her hip.
“Can I get squid’s dirt off in the ionic cleaner?” She nodded to him.
“I’d better be going,” she said hurriedly. “You must too.” The old woman stroked Molly’s arm. “Good luck, dumpling.” Molly watched as she rounded the children up, like a goose with her goslings. And they went inside. The three women got up to follow. The one with the tiniest baby took slightly longer. Her eyes were empty, except when she looked at her child, when they shone.
Molly and Petula left the nursery area, and the green door slipped shut behind them. They took a left turn and came to a balcony. This one overlooked another mountaintop residence and below, in a walled garden, Molly could see a group of children sitting at a garden table. A servant poured them drinks. These children were behaving oddly, just like the children in Princess Fang’s palace. One was reading from a screen, two were immersed in serious conversation, and the fourth was smoking a cigar. Molly supposed they had all been on the mind machine and so were now super-intelligent. At least, Molly thought, the princess wasn’t too mean to let her friends have a go on her jellyfish toy. The curling cigar smoke wafted up to Molly’s nose. She waited a while to see what the children’s parents looked like, but no one came.
Molly leaned her elbows on the balcony wall and watched as small flycopters buzzed about the cliff lower down. She scanned the horizon to see whether she could spot another cow with wings, but instead, against the ember-orange sky, she saw the silhouette of a flying person. Molly rubbed her eyes. It must be the dusky light and her tiredness playing tricks on her. She picked up Petula and gave her a hug.
“How many of these weird people live up here, Petula? Two hundred? Three hundred? And how many hypnotized people are down there? Fifty thousand? This is a terrible country, Petula. It’s got a creepy royal family that has everything, and people working for them all dressed like characters from nursery rhymes and fairy tales, who have nothing—not even their own minds. Oh, what are we going to do, Petula? We can’t get back to our own time. I don’t think we can escape this place either. And even if we did, where would we go?”
Petula licked Molly’s cheek. It tasted salty. Molly’s hair, now hanging from her head like a limp wind sock, stank of gel. Oh Molly, what are we doing here? Petula whined. Then a metallic bell chimed. Molly groaned.
“That’s the seven o’clock bell, Petula. Come on. It’s time for ‘Fun with Cribbins.’”