The Music Box: Chapter Thirty

Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. Mr Topkins and Mr Topkins may have disagreed over all manner of things, but one view they shared was that you don’t give something away for nothing.

“We would be quite happy to help, little girl, especially bearing in mind that a girl will tend to always need all the help she can get.”

Emily bit her tongue, letting them have their fun.

“But the thing is, well, once word gets out that we helped someone simply because we could, would there’s be all sorts of folk lining up left, right, centre, over and under to ask us for things. And what good does that do us? Where did the kindness of anyone’s heart ever really get them?

“That’s a rhetorical question by the way little girl,” Bernard threw in for good measure, “which means you’re not actually expected to answer it.”

“I know what a rhetorical question is, thank you very much,” Emily retorted, her temper slipping again.

“And I’ll ask you not to keep calling me little girl, if you please. It is Emily Button, you may call me Emily.”

“Well, Emily, that is most gracious of you. Isn’t it most gracious of her Mr Topkins?”

“Why Mr Topkins I believe it is most gracious indeed. What a gracious little girl this Ebily Mutton is proving to be.”

“E-mmmm-ily Button! Not Ebily Mutton!”

“Oh dear, we do seem to have got ourselves muddled Mr Topkins. Perhaps if she spoke up and learnt to e-nun-ci-ate and not mumble so, then all this kerfuffle could be avoided?”

“Perhaps indeed. But I believe we have digressed Mr Topkins. Young E-mmmm-ily Button here has asked us for some help.”

“Oh yes, she did didn’t she? Well let’s see. If we were able to help you Emily, and I’m not saying we can or cannot, what exactly would be in it for us?”

Emily stared in disbelief. She felt she had made it quite clear what was at stake, but she was clearly dealing with hearts made of stone. Disconsolately rummaging through her pockets, she was gloomily resigned to admitting she had nothing whatsoever to offer. Suddenly an idea struck her. She knew it was likely to be her only chance. Reaching down to her sock, Emily was relieved to discover her lucky rock was safely in place. She let out a dark little harrumph at the thought of how useless it had been to her so far and felt few qualms about never seeing the silly thing again.

By now, she had developed a fairly good idea of how the minds of Mr Topkins and Mr Topkins worked. She was fairly sure if she simply offered the rock to them they would have little interest at all. She flashed a quick look at them to make sure at least one of them was watching – pleased to see that it was the more suspicious Bernard – and made a deliberately clumsy show of concealing the rock in a hand held behind her back.

“It seems I have nothing that would be of even the slightest interest to either of you. I suppose that means you won’t be able to help me after all,” she glumly offered, rubbing the toe of a shoe in a little patch of dirt at her feet. She knew she had to keep her mind as blank as she could, lest either of them decide to read her thoughts and catch her out.

“Don’t be so sure about that Emily. Pray tell – what is that you are holding behind your back?”

“Um, nothing.” She allowed a picture of the rock to come into her thoughts. But instead of the dull pink rock she knew she held, she imagined it as a glowing crystal shining with power and magical uses.

“Now Emily, we told you before – there’s no point fibbing to us, we know what you are thinking. Please hold out your hand.”

Emily did so, and to her amazement saw that the rock was indeed glowing just as she had pictured it. Staring into its bright light, she suddenly regretted her plan. She saw Mr Topkins and Mr Topkins were both very much taken with its dazzling promise, each struggling to turn to face it at the other’s expense.

“Oh yes, that looks like it will do just splendidly, doesn’t it Mr Topkins?”

“I think we can come to some sort of arrangement, yes.”

Emily was loathe to let it go, but didn’t see what choice she had. She handed the stone over to Oscar, watching his greedy eyes drink in the miraculous light.

“Well I’m not sure what it actually does, but I sure like the looks of it,” he said. “I suppose you will be wanting something in return now?”

“Well that was the idea,” Emily huffed, exasperated at how short an attention span these two seemed to possess.

“Mmmmm, and what might that be?”

“I want to go home!”

“Didn’t we already tell you? This is home!”

“No, my home. Seaforth. My home and my parents and my real life, not this...this... horrible place.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say so? And you want our help? Okay, let’s begin.”