The Whizz Pop Chocolate Shop (10 page)

“It’s probably nothing,” J said, “but let’s hear it anyway—and please bring some drinks in for Caydon and Lily. They’ve had a very stressful morning.”

“And something for ME,” said Demerara.

J’s lips twitched. “And a small, cheap saucer of milk for this expensive cat.”

“Yes, sir.” B62 retreated quickly, trying not to laugh.

“For the last time, it wasn’t my fault!” Demerara snapped.

B62 returned in a few minutes with a tray of drinks, and a wiry, tough-looking middle-aged woman with short gray hair, in the uniform of the London Transport Police.

“This is Joyce,” J said briskly. “She was recruited after she caught some goblins in the act of messing about with the signaling.”

“That’s right,” said Joyce. “The whole tube system’s plagued with them—they’re behind all the delays. Two of my colleagues were so shocked they had to go on sick leave, but I chased the little blighters out with a broom. Goblins don’t scare me.” She sat down and accepted a cup of tea. Lily and Caydon were given large glasses of Coke, and Demerara got a generous saucer of milk.

“You have something to report,” J said.

“Yes, sir. I think we may have another phantom busker.”

“Hmm, I suppose that could be significant.” J noticed
the blank faces of Lily and Caydon. “A busker is someone who plays music down in the Underground, and passersby throw them coins.”

“They have to have licenses,” said Joyce, blowing on her tea to cool it. “And we kept getting reports of the sound of a violin when there was no record of a licensed violin player.”

“Violin!” gasped Lily.

“We searched everywhere, but the sound was always in the distance and we never found a trace of the musician,” Joyce said. “So I thought I’d better file a ghost report. We have had phantom buskers before—there was a ghost with a tuba who was a right menace at rush hour.”

Caydon’s eyes were round with fascination. “Do you see a lot of ghosts, then?”

“All the time—the Underground’s incredibly haunted.”

“Oz plays the violin,” Lily said. “It could be him, couldn’t it?”

“It’s not very likely, I’m afraid,” J said. “But of course we’ll follow it up. I’ll arrange for you two to go on patrol with Joyce.”

“An excellent idea,” said Demerara. “If Oz is down there, they’ll activate the magic. When do we start?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” J said. “You’ll stay inside the house until further notice, do you hear?”

Demerara scowled. “Except when I slip outside for a breath of air.”

“You won’t be going outside at all.”

“Wha—wha—?” The cat was puffed up with indignation. “You’re telling me I can’t go outside?”

“And if I hear that you’ve been outside without permission, you know what’ll happen.” J was very stern now—though Lily was sure she saw a glint of humor in his face. “You’ll be taken straight back to the unexplained kennels—I’m not having this operation ruined by one naughty little cat!”

“Pooh!” hissed Demerara. “You are so UNFAIR! What about Spike?”

“Well, what about him?”

“Is he grounded too?”

“No,” J said. “There’s no reason to ground Spike—he doesn’t have so much trouble obeying orders.”

“Pooh and BUM!” The cat was furious. “You’ll regret this! I’ll go over your head! I demand to see Sir George!”

“He’s been dead for thirty years,” J said. “I’m in charge now—so kindly behave yourself.” He smiled at Lily and Caydon. “You two kept your heads very well today; you make an excellent team. Well done and thank you.”

Seeing that the important part of the meeting was over, Lily felt bold enough to ask about what was really bothering her. “Excuse me, but we saw—that is, we
didn’t exactly SEE him—but there was a ghost elephant.”

“Oh, you’ve met Edwin!” J chuckled. “Yes, he’s a dear old soul.”

“Where did he come from?”

“When he was alive, back in the 1920s,” J said, “Edwin was a very popular attraction at the London Zoo. He used to give children rides on his back; that’s him on the wall over there.”

Lily went over to the small framed photograph he had pointed out. It was a faded black-and-white picture of an elephant carrying several children in a wooden frame on his back. She stared at Edwin’s friendly face, with its bright little eyes and smiling expression; it was incredible to think that she had felt the gentle touch of that long-vanished trunk.

“One of those children on his back is the real Christopher Robin,” J said. “The little boy who owned Winnie the Pooh.”

Caydon came over to look at the picture. “This place is so interesting—I’d really like to join the magic branch of the police when I leave school. How do I apply?”

“Just apply to join the force in the normal way,” J said. “You’re already on the record; you’ll be put straight into the SMU, and sent to a secret magical training center attached to Hendon Police College.”

“Cool!” Caydon was beaming. “I just wish I could go there now, and not bother with any more school.”

Lily wanted to hear more about the elephant. “What happened to Edwin? How did he die?”

“He died of extreme old age,” J said. “But it was obvious that his ghost was still in his cage. He was never visible, and he never scared people.” (He shot a stern look at Demerara.) “So he stayed at the zoo until they needed the empty cage.”

“Does he ever get visible?”

“One or two of our agents have actually seen him, but he’s mostly happy to stay as he is.”

Lily thought she would give anything to see the ghost of Edwin. Thinking about his kindly face was somehow comforting, and made her feel slightly less miserable about Oz.

It wasn’t much fun being Isadore’s prisoner, but it could have been worse. Oz spent the dark hours playing the violin and reading the old books and magazines that were stacked against the walls. Though he missed television and his computer, he quite enjoyed the prehistoric copies of the
Beano
.

Isadore mostly left him alone. He was working in his lab at the far end of his Grotto, filling the disused tube station with the rich scent of chocolate. He put all
the chunks and squares of leftover chocolate in a huge bowl and told Oz to help himself. The chocolate was of the highest quality, but Oz quickly got tired of it. He also got very tired of the flat, damp, lukewarm takeout pizza boxes Isadore flung down in front of him every few hours.

After a few days (it was hard to keep track of the time down here), Oz plucked up the courage to ask, “Uncle Isadore, do you mind if we don’t have pizza again?”

“I thought you liked it.”

“Not for every single meal. Why don’t you cook something down here? You’ve got the pans in the cupboard.”

Isadore sighed heavily. “I was never very good at cooking and it’s depressing when you’re on your own. I’ve been living on fast food for years. It’s certainly improved since the 1970s. How about Chinese tonight?”

“You could buy some food from a supermarket,” Oz said.

“I haven’t the least idea what to do with it.”

“I could cook something.”

“You?”

“I’m not very good at it. But I’d really like some pasta and tomato sauce, like we have at home, and I’m pretty sure I could make that.”

“Really?” Isadore was eager. “Pasta would be a very agreeable change. Write me a shopping list—and don’t
try to escape while I’m out; I’ve sealed all the exits with magic fudge.”

“OK.”

“And please don’t touch the fudge; it’s vital for keeping out the goblins.”

“The—sorry?”

“Nasty little beasts—why doesn’t the government do something about them? If I paid any taxes it would make me very indignant. Do you promise not to escape? I’d hate to come back and find you gone!”

In spite of himself, Oz was touched. “I promise I won’t try to escape.”

“Thank you.” Isadore hurried away into the shadows.

He was out for such a long time that Oz started to get a little worried. When he came back, he was laden with plastic bags from Tesco Express and Marks and Spencer, and his sour face was unexpectedly cheerful.

“I know this is more than you asked for,” he said, “but it’s been so long since I’ve cooked down here, I thought I’d make it an occasion. I bought a salad, a selection of cheeses and an amusing-looking bottle of wine.”

“Great!”

“And I also bought you some new clothes.”

“Thanks.”

“I asked a woman in the shop what eleven-year-old boys normally wore—I must say, underpants are very colorful these days!”

Oz put on the jeans and sweatshirt, and they felt fantastic after Isadore’s baggy, disintegrating cast-offs. After this, seeing that Isadore really didn’t have a clue how to prepare the food, he took charge of the cooking. He heated water on top of the stove, cooked the spaghetti and heated the sauce, as he’d seen his parents do a hundred times.

Isadore laid the table more elaborately than usual, with linen napkins and candles in silver holders. He went to his lab to mix salad dressing, humming to himself—Oz wondered how many years it had been since he’d sat down for a meal with another person.

The food tasted excellent after a diet of nothing but pizza. Isadore sipped his wine and Oz drank red grape juice. Over cheese and chocolate, Isadore reminisced about his school days. “Mother wouldn’t let us cast spells on our teachers, but I disobeyed and turned a ghastly old man called Mr. Frobisher into a goat … and then there was the time Pierre changed the soup into toffee, and everybody’s teeth were stuck together until prep … and Mother smacked Marcel for growing toadstools on Father while he was asleep.… Dear me … happy days.…”

Oz had found that he could ask Isadore more or less
anything. “Are you ever sorry you killed your brothers?”

Isadore scowled, but looked more thoughtful than angry. “To tell the truth, I do miss them sometimes. We were very happy—until they betrayed me.”

“Pierre didn’t betray you,” Oz pointed out. “Why did you have to kill him?”

“That had nothing to do with Daisy,” Isadore said. “Pierre was furious that I used his mold without permission—he thought my immortality chocolate was wicked. When he found out I’d sold it to Heinrich Himmler, he most ungenerously hid all Mother’s equipment.” Isadore refilled his wineglass and cut another sliver of cheese. “Poor old Pierre—his trouble was that he was as wet as an August bank holiday. He had a lot of romantic ideas about using our chocolate to do GOOD—giving the stuff away for nothing!”

“So that’s why he made the safe,” Oz said.

“Yes—I don’t suppose you’d tell me where it is?”

“No, of course I won’t.”

Isadore shrugged. “Worth a try.”

“You’re not trying very hard,” said Oz. “Don’t you have a spell that’ll force me to tell you—like a truth drug?”

“I might have.”

“Why haven’t you used it? You haven’t even made a ransom demand yet.”

“I’ll get round to it eventually. I’m not in a hurry—let’s face it, I’ve got all the time in the world, and it’s rather pleasant to have company.”

“Oh.” Oz decided not to push it any further. On the one hand it was a good thing that Isadore liked his company. On the other hand, he was longing to see his parents and Lily, and he did not have all the time in the world—he was starting his new school in a couple of weeks. How long would he have to spend as the prisoner of this nutcase?

“Goodness, that was tasty!” Isadore sighed. “And since you did the cooking, I’ll do the washing up.”

They finished the evening as they always did, with Oz playing the violin and Isadore weeping.

“Where do our parents think we’re going today?”

Caydon asked. “My mum just left me a note on the table, saying have a nice time.”

“An outing to some Roman ruins,” said Alan, from the front seat of the government car. “Organized by the local youth council.”

“And where are we really going—the Underground?”

“That’s right,” Spike piped up. “We’re joining Joyce for one of her patrols.” He was perched on Caydon’s shoulder. “I like the Underground.”

“There are lots of rats down there.” Lily was fond of Spike, but didn’t know how Caydon could stand having the dirty little creature right up against his face. “I saw one at Goodge Street, running along between the tracks.”

“Spike’s the official Rat Liaison Officer,” Alan said. “If it weren’t for him, the whole Underground system would be swarming with hundreds and thousands of rats, like a moving carpet.”

“Oh.” Lily only just managed not to let this come out as “Yeuch!”

“Yeuch!” said Caydon. “I mean, I’ve got nothing against you guys personally—but that’s gross.”

The easygoing rat was not offended. “Yes—I’ve told them again and again, if the humans make such a stink about seeing ONE of us, they’re not going to be very keen about a million of us! It’s a case of give and take. They stay well out of sight, and the authorities go easy on the poison. Fair enough, I say.”

“It’s quiet without old Demerara,” Caydon said. “I miss her.”

“Me too,” Lily said sadly. “I haven’t seen her since we got back from the debriefing.”

“She’s furious about being kept inside,” Spike said. “But she’ll get over it—she’d never admit it, but she’s scared of the Underground.”