MOLLY’S SPIRITS BUCKLED. BUT STILL SHE mounted the steps, the muscles in her legs liquefying as she ascended.
Her pursuers were close now and snorting with laughter. There was no need to hurry any more. No need to grab Molly on the stairs. They knew that she was trapped.
At the top of the stairs was a circular lookout, stone-floored, with the Bell of St Fell’s dangling from the eaves. Usually the room would have been empty except for the rows of stakes fixed to the walls; according to the old stories, some pupils had, in 1611, staged a last stand here against booncranks – bloodsuckers that looked like, and preyed on, children. Now, though, the room was full of life-sized cardboard cut-outs of pupils holding stakes. One was reaching up to ring the bell.
From the corner of an eye, Molly noticed a real human standing amidst the cardboard ones as she tripped into the room. Wait – two humans. One was a studious pupil named Kiran, who’d helped make the display. The other was Molly’s form tutor, Mrs de Ville.
Molly had time to register a smidgen of relief at the sight of the teacher before she waded slap-bang into the cardboard cut-outs.
And Felicity and Belinda arrived just in time to trample the fallen display pieces.
Kiran screamed. Molly stumbled and fell, her nose bumping on the stone floor. Belinda tumbled over Molly with the gawky grace of a circus clown. Felicity ran into a wall, trying to stop herself from ploughing into her form tutor.
Molly looked up to see that Mrs de Ville was very angry indeed.
The telling-off went on for a long time, and concluded with a grisly punishment.
“Felicity Quick, I used to be able to count on you! But this year you haven’t volunteered to help with a single thing, and now you’ve helped destroy Kiran’s work! Belinda Penhall, I’m tired of seeing your sneery face on the scene every time there’s trouble! And, Molly Thompson – no girl as accident-prone as you should be running around a school.” Molly lowered her head and felt blood trickle from a nostril where she’d bumped her nose. Mrs de Ville narrowed her eyes at the shamefaced trio. “As of now, the three of you have volunteered to spend the summer holidays as members of Doris de Ville’s Street Cleaning Crew.”
“What!” choked Belinda. “All summer?”
“We’ll be cleaning every street, starting Sunday. And we’ve been asked to clean the museum before the opening of a new exhibition called The Silver Forest. And don’t look so sour-faced. Some people – like Kiran here – volunteered to help.”
“Will they get tee-shirts too?” said Kiran, sulking.
“Yes, they will get Doris de Ville’s Street Cleaning Crew tee-shirts, Kiran.”
“Not fair,” Kiran muttered.
Felicity said, “Honestly, I don’t need a tee-shirt.”
“Nor me,” said Belinda.
“You will all wear Doris de Ville’s Street Cleaning Crew tee-shirts, and you will wear them with pride,” snapped Mrs de Ville. “We’re meeting by the bandstand at the dance square at two o’clock on Sunday. Felicity and Belinda – stay here and help me get these cardboard people back on their feet. Molly – you’ve got a nosebleed. Go and see the nurse. And all three of you – I hope you enjoy each other’s company, because you’ll be spending the holidays together.”