The Music Box: Chapter Thirty-Five

The further they went along the passageway, the less Emily knew what she would do when they met Minerva. She had originally been excited to think that there was someone who might be able to help her – and someone she could talk to other than the strange old Mr Topkinses – but as time went on she was less and less sure what her next step should be. She hoped against hope that Minerva was going to treat her kindly, but the deeper down the tunnel passed the less sure she was that this had been a good idea after all. How did she know it was not some sort of trap?

She couldn’t know, but such was her desperation to get home she felt she had to try anything. So down she plunged, almost running now, with rolly old Mr Topkins struggling to keep up. It was, she noted, Bernard now who was trailing her, Oscar clearing finding it all a bit too much like hard work and electing to nap. Bernard was still yet to properly wake up, but quite unimpressed to find that he would have to jog along to keep up.

“Must we really be in such a rush?” he puffed, redder in the face than ever.

“Yes we must, in fact,” Emily shot back. “If you had wasted a little less time earlier in and been a little more helpful in the first place, then perhaps not. But as it is, I must find Minerva as soon as I can and find a way out of here before...”

She really didn’t want to think about what came next. Her mind had already turned over far too many horrible things, she felt it best to keep it on the tasks at hand and worry about things one at a time.

Past one bend after another they snaked, slowing sinking down as doorways appeared and shot off in other directions. She hoped against hope she hadn’t already taken the wrong one, knowing there was a chance you could get so lost in here you would never find your way back out. It felt right, however, and sure enough they soon emerged into a wide open room. This one was not a lot larger than the first one in which they had been, not all that wide but very long. In the centre was a large wooden table, big enough to sit at least 20 people. But there were no chairs, simply a deep golden dish with a vast variety of fruit resting in it.

“I wonder where we go to from here?” Emily asked aloud, noting the room had a number of doors leading from it. As she stood there, Emily couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. She spun a full circle but was unable to see anyone other than Mr Topkins, who had finally made it into the room, panting and wheezing and all but doubled over from the effort.

“Food!” he exclaimed, stumbling over to the fruit on the table. He was just reaching out to grab a bunch of purple grapes when they heard someone clearing their throat. Mr Topkins and Emily both turned around to see who or what had made this sound, but couldn’t see anything other than their shadows, strewn across the floor and wandering up the wall near the corner.

As they watched, Emily was sure her shadow was moving around more than she would have expected, given the light was being cast by a lantern hanging over the table and the flame seemed to be standing straight up. While she watched she was amazed to see it make its way higher up the wall. She looked down at her feet and saw the shadow had by now stepped a few strides away from her, completely detaching itself. Mr Topkins’ rather rounded shadow was doing the same, and to her amazement the two shadows had soon climbed as high on the walls as they were standing, moving quite independently of any movement they themselves made.

Emily was still coming to terms with this unexpected turn of events when she saw Mr Topkins’ shadow brusquely brush past Mr Topkins and help himself to the very grapes Mr Topkins had picked out as his own. She was dumbstruck as the shadow tilted its head back, watching as it dropped the grapes into its mouth and they disappeared swiftly from sight. It smacked its lips in appreciation and leant in for some more, an oblong, blue fruit that Emily didn’t recognise.

Her own shadow, meanwhile, had wandered around to the other side of the table. It was moving from door to door, seemingly listening at each for signs of life on the other side. It returned to the table and Emily almost fainted at hearing her own voice escape from it.

“Well Toppy, once you’ve finished stuffing your face how about we actually get a move on?”

Emily was shocked to hear the shadow speak to Mr Topkins’ in such a way – she could imagine thinking such a thing, but would never dare speak in such a fashion.

She was lost for words and, for once, so it seemed too that Mr Topkins was short of anything to say. The pair watched as their shadows bickered over how long things were taking and who was to blame and how annoying the other was. Before they knew it fruit was flying everywhere, projectiles that flew across the table and squashed wherever they hit. Emily was at first amused but then appalled once it occurred to her that she was likely to end up with the blame.

“Stop it you two!” The shadows turned to see who this upstart was who had so rudely shouted at them in the midst of their fruit war. Before she had any time to take shelter they began pelting her with the fruit, acting as one and clearly relishing every moment. She had to close her eyes as the juices ran down her face. Cringing against the onslaught, she blindly brushed what she could off her face and opened her eyes long enough to see that Mr Topkins had joined in – she had thought his fit of giggles suspicious but thought he must have been an amused observer, not an enthusiastic participant.

There was nothing left for it but to grab a handful herself and fling it back at her attackers. She had to admit it was actually a huge relief to have a moment of naughtiness, although it wasn’t long before she began worrying about what Minerva would say when she discovered what had happened in here. She was a complete mess and Mr Topkins wasn’t much better – she thought he must have accidentally got caught in some of the cross-fire, but realised he had simply been stuffing what he could into his mouth and was making a right old mess.

The fruit bowl was finally empty, with the combatants clearly tired out. Just then, Emily realised that there were two figures standing in the doorway at the end of the room. Their beards ran down their chest and she saw they had been looped around their waists and back up over their right shoulders. They wore outfits like something out of a book she had seen about King Arthur and his knights – she saw that they, too, were wearing swords on their hip.

“What on earth is this?” bellowed one, the sternest looking of the two.

Emily looked around just in time to see the shadows slink back into place, acting innocent as newborns. Mr Topkins, on the other hand, had nowhere to hide. Nor did Emily for that matter and the two just stood there, not knowing what to say.

“You better come with us – this simply shan’t do,” the second man said.

“We’re taking you to see the lady. She’ll sort you out good and proper, that’s for sure,” sneered the first. “I don’t fancy being in your shoes.”