The Music Box: Chapter Thirty-Four

A gigantic hardwood tree stood straight ahead of them; its rough red bark lifting and cracking in crooked lines that criss-crossed its wide body. As they stood looking at the tree, Mr Topkins explained that Minerva lived in a vast subterranean lair that spread right beneath where they were presently standing. He believed there were secret entryways and exits throughout the forest, with tunnels and passageways linking them all, but this was the main access point by which all guests must arrive if they wished to be considered for entry.

“But what if she won’t see us?”

“Then she won’t see us.”

“But what do we do then?”

“We do what we do. There’s no point in worrying about what might or might not happen, it’s not going to change a thing. Mind you, if I know Minerva, she won’t be able to resist meeting you. She likes meeting interesting new characters and while I’m loathe saying anything that will make your head grow too big, you do seem one of the more interesting things to have dropped by in a little while at least.”

“What should I say to her?”

“Anything you like. She does like compliments though, so it might be wise to start with something nice about her.”

At that, a section of the tree swung noiselessly out towards them, swinging on a silent hinge. There was nobody there to greet them, though as they moved closer and saw the stone stairs spiralling down they caught the shadow of a large pair of ears cast against the passageway by the candlelight dancing further down the stairs. Coolness stirred around them as they began their slow descent, spiralling their way down and down until they reached a wide, cavernous vestibule.

It was empty but for a hat stand, a candlestick with a solitary lit candle and an enormous blue pumpkin which puzzled Emily enough to see, but completely scared her stiff when it began talking to them.

“If it’s Madame Minerva whom you seek, your choice of doorway cannot be meek. One right of way will leave you weak, another stranded up the creek. A third ends in a manner bleak - only through one door is it safe to peek.”

Emily looked around to see that there were indeed four doors at the end of the chamber, opposite the entryway through which they had just come. She had no idea which door was best - lucky Mr Topkins was here. She threw a quizzical glance his way.

“Oh I can’t remember which one it is,” he said. “Last time I was here I had been into the puzzleberry nectar – I can’t recall a thing, other than the thumping headache I woke up with.”

Well that was just great. The way the pumpkin had put it, she really didn’t want to find herself wandering the wrong way – who knew what might be there? But there was little point standing around feeling sorry for herself or wasting precious time on deciding what to do, so Emily made up her mind that she was going to head through the second door from the left. She marched up to it and placed her hand on the knob, ready to open it and pass through.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Emily turned to see that it was the pumpkin addressing her again. “The one on the very left is even worse. The far right I would not wish upon my worst enemy – well maybe the very worst.”

He sighed quite audibly, as they the world was simply too much sometimes. “I really don’t know why people just charge on in like that and don’t ask me which door they should use. Do they think a silly little pumpkin isn’t going to know what the best way to go is? I sit here all day, it’s not like I have a lot else to remember, other than that explanatory rhyme. All they need to do after I rattle that off is to ask ‘so which should I take?’, but do they? Not on your life. Just as well for you that you seem an all right sort – I might not have thought to speak up otherwise. If it was just Topkins here for example, I’m not sure I would have said a thing.”

Emily didn’t know what to say. She had never encountered a talking pumpkin before, so it had not really occurred to her that she might ever offend one.

“Why thank you for your advice. I’m ever so grateful, you’ve been very kind to help me this way,” she said as sweetly as she could muster, even throwing in a small curtsey for good measure.

Mr Topkins, on the other hand, merely glared at the pumpkin, muttering under his breath something about soups and pies and scones while rudely rubbing his big round belly.