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  When Ms Anomali felt that they had seen enough, she pulled a lever on a panel and the toys clambered up onto the tables and resumed their stationary positions.

  ‘Now,’ the curator said, gliding over to the curtained display, ‘it is time for something really special. This toy has been years in the making and once you meet him you’ll understand why. Have you ever seen a toy that can look you directly in the eye, tell jokes and play catch? Allow me to present to you, on loan to us all the way from Tokyo, Boi Toi.’

  The heavy curtains fell away and there on a pedestal stood a mechanical boy roughly Ernest’s size. He had jet black hair, a swatch of which fell over one eye, and skin the colour of milky coffee. The whites of his eyes were whiter than white and his cheeks were perfectly sculpted. His painted rosy lips were parted slightly in a smile.

  Ms Anomali withdrew a remote control device from her breast pocket and pressed a button. Boi Toi’s arm bent at the elbow with a slight scraping sound. The action revealed an enormous metal key jutting from his side. His narrow eyes blinked, the lashes brushing against porcelain skin. Slowly, he opened his mouth, the jaw detaching from the rest of his face like on a ventriloquist’s dummy. Then the lips widened into a smile.

  ‘My name is Boi Toi,’ he said in a monotone. ‘I am happy to make your acquaintance.’

  He took a wonky step forward, which caused the children to take one back. Even the usually adventurous Miss Macaw had safely positioned herself behind Gummy Grumbleguts. Milli, who didn’t want to appear overwhelmed so early in the day’s preceedings, decided to take a step forward.

  ‘He’s not real,’ she said. ‘Look!’

  She reached out bravely to stroke the waving mechanical hand. They had not, after all, been instructed not to touch. Immediately the clockwork toy’s hand snapped shut around her wrist. Milli tried to shake her hand free but Boi Toi’s grip was as strong as a vice. The class gasped as his shiny face bore down on her. Milli saw Boi Toi’s eyes flash at her, so lifelike now they sent shivers up her spine, and he bared his teeth.

  ‘He’s just being friendly,’ the curator reassured her. ‘No harm done.’

  She pushed another button and the toy released Milli’s wrist. Milli moved away so quickly it caused Boi Toi to lurch forward. Ms Anomali was at his side with supernatural speed to catch him in case he fell. But he regained his balance unassisted and, smiling even more widely, parroted the words, ‘No harm done.’

  The curator punched a few more buttons and Boi Toi walked stiff-legged back to his stand and hoisted himself back up. ‘Perhaps we may meet again,’ he said vacantly before becoming immobile. The curtains swished shut, enshrouding him from view again.

  ‘Unique, isn’t he?’ said Ms Anomali with undisguised affection.

  No one replied.

  In an attempt to defuse the tension created by Boi Toi’s misconduct, Ms Anomali looked up at a spider clock suspended below the vaulted ceiling and announced it was time for morning tea, which would be served in the Teddy Bear Bakery.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she clucked, noting the wary expressions on some of the faces around her. ‘Teddies are friendly.’

  The Teddy Bear Bakery was an old-fashioned cosy tearoom on the ground floor. A tiered display in the window offered such delights as iced cakes sitting like monuments on silver platters, lamingtons so laden with cream and jam they wobbled, meringues in the shapes of cars and planes, and golden scones piled in a pyramid. The centrepiece was a giant pavlova with passionfruit oozing over a golden crust. Inside, there were checked tablecloths and spotted china. The children sat on upholstered chairs and were served by a team of teddy waitresses in pink aprons and hats who sped around on roller skates taking their orders.

  Gummy Grumbleguts rather shocked Ms Anomali by declaring that he would have ‘one of everything’ until Miss Macaw whispered something tactfully in his ear and he announced sheepishly that he was only joking.

  Morning tea was followed by a whirlwind tour of so many different exhibits the children wondered how they would remember them all. Ernest, assiduous as ever, made notes on everything they saw and also did some impromptu sketches in anticipation of the follow-up activities they might be given back at school. Milli, of course, decided that note-taking would only interfere with her appreciation of what she was seeing and decided that she would rely on memory (and Ernest’s copious notes if he could be bribed into sharing them) should there be some major assignment awaiting them on Monday.

  In Perambulator Place, prams made of the finest silk held infant dolls so lifelike they cried in response to noise of any kind and sucked on their rubbery thumbs. They visited a shop that gave off a distinct odour of emergency (if you have never smelled an emergency it is a sort of metallic scent with a hint of wood smoke and whisky). Inside this shop figurines of all of history’s superheroes were mounted on the walls, from Wonder Puss to Volcano Man. When the curator tugged at a cord behind each figure’s shoulders, they sprang to life and zoomed around the room, shouting catchphrases like I’ll save you and Have no fear, help is here! At one point, several superheroes joined forces to lift the smallest member of their class, Titchy Le Piccolo, right off his feet. Next the children visited the shop Milli had already peered into, where it seemed as if an entire forest had sprung up from the floor. They heard a strange snuffling then stuffed animals burst from all directions. Monkeys swung down from the vines, metallic snakes slithered from beneath bushes, and toucans squawked in the branches of the trees.

  In a shop called Farm Yard Friends they found sheep bleating, pigs grunting and horses whinnying in their various enclosures. In The Golliwog Tree, the entire space was filled with tree branches displaying gollies of all shapes and sizes. Golliwogs are so engaging they don’t have to do anything, and there was something very endearing about their button eyes and crimson smiles that made this one of the children’s favourite stops.

  Their next visit was to a large room draped in velvet and lit by ornate lamps on side tables. Those easily frightened were warned beforehand to wait outside as this room might hold some sudden shocks. No one took up the offer. The shop was called Haunted Chairs, and spread around its interior was a collection of chairs like assorted chocolates in a box. They ranged from a shabby low stool to a deep armchair upholstered in a cabbage rose design. The curator explained that each chair was inhabited by a character that only came to life once someone sat in the chair. After considerable deliberation, Gummy Grumbleguts offered to go first. He chose the small, inoffensive-looking stool, concluding that it couldn’t pose too much of a threat. As soon as he sat down, the notes of a harp filled the air and the stool, with Gummy atop it, sailed gracefully across the room and back. Milli tried the armchair, but quickly regretted her decision because a cabbage rose on the arm reconfigured into the face of an old witch, warty and as wrinkled as a prune. The witch hissed and glared at the terrified onlookers and her skinny arms reached right out of the chair in an attempt to catch hold of a child. Milli tried to leap up immediately but couldn’t move until the witch’s arms and face dissolved once more into the flower pattern. Ernest decided to take his chances with a sea captain’s chair. No sooner had he sat down than the menacing bald heads of four pirates emerged from each leg and threatened to make him walk the plank if he didn’t immediately empty the contents of his pockets.

  Their next stop was, thankfully, more sedate. The sign outside read: Thimble Sisters—Doll Dressmakers since 1864. The children were instructed not to make any noise or ask questions during this visit as the dressmakers were involved in work that required absolute concentration. The sisters, Ethel and Eve, were elderly women, delicate and fine-boned, who sat on a raised platform and were so engrossed in their craft they barely acknowledged the children’s entrance. The room they worked in was small and circular, and every inch of it was cluttered with tiny rolls of fabric, lacquered sewing boxes and tubes of sequins and glitter. One sister was sewing pearls onto a tiny ballgown whilst the other crocheted a mantle in gold t
hread. So skilful were they that they didn’t need to keep their eyes on their handiwork but instead gazed into the distance, in all likelihood dreaming of romance.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A Message in the Snow

  Exciting as all the displays were, nothing prepared Milli and Ernest for what happened during their tour of the first floor. This floor, as you may recall from the directory, was where dolls and their paraphernalia were located. Glass cabinets along the main walkway displayed rare dolls in all their finery, too fragile or too valuable to be handled by inquisitive hands. Striking as these were, most children gave them only a fleeting glance, so intent were they on discovering the contents of the individual shops. The dolls were all exquisite, with radiant eyes, flawless complexions and heart-shaped mouths the colour of the glacé cherries found in Christmas cakes. Some displays centred around specific themes, and one of the most lavish was called: A White Christmas for Gwendolyn and Friends. This charming scene had been assembled with the utmost attention to detail, from the crisp folds in the dolls’ dresses to the powdery snowflakes that fell in little mounds at their feet. Tiny presents were scattered around a decorated tree. Gwendolyn and her friends were dressed smartly in fur-trimmed navy capes and lace-up boots and arranged as if enjoying various snow-related activities. Two were busy constructing a snowman, others were rather recklessly skating on a pond that had frozen over, whilst Gwendolyn herself (easily identified by the finery of her dress) was stepping into a sleigh for a ride around the park. Dozens of glass eyes stared at Milli and Ernest.

  ‘Funny how if you stare long enough, you start to believe they’re looking back,’ Milli commented.

  ‘They are very lifelike,’ Ernest agreed, and they both hurried on to catch up with the others.

  It was then that the peculiar thing happened, and it happened, as most peculiar things do, quite by chance. When Ernest went to write down some historical fact Ms Anomali was telling them, he realised he had dropped his pencil. He ran back to look for it and found it, as expected, on the floor just in front of the snow display that he and Milli had stopped to admire. He bent to retrieve it and, giving the display a final glance, saw that something was different. He was sure that the main doll, Gwendolyn, had changed position. He was almost certain she had been standing alongside the sleigh the last time he looked. He looked more closely, and saw the imprint of tiny feet making a track through the snow. He followed the path and saw that someone had written a cryptic message in the snow in the foreground of the display. The letters were fine enough to have been made by the tip of Gwendolyn’s parasol; there was no other implement in the snowscape that could be responsible. He pressed his nose up against the display case and saw that the letters spelled out a phrase in a language he could not immediately identify: help us. On the glass right beside Ernest’s nose he thought he could see a tiny handprint, as if a doll’s hand had momentarily rested there. And when he looked at the dolls’ faces he imagined he saw something more than a glassy façade; he thought he saw a real and unaccountable sadness. The moment lasted only a second—interrupted by a call for Ernest to rejoin the group—but a second was enough for Ernest’s mind to click into top gear. When he looked at the letters again, he didn’t see a puzzle but a cry for help. For the letters were upside down and back to front. Positioned the right way they read: help us.

  As Ernest rejoined his classmates, he felt an icy hand clutch his shoulder. He jumped.

  ‘Young man,’ Ms Anomali scolded, ‘are you aware that you have been holding up the entire group? If we don’t get a move on we won’t be able to see everything.’

  ‘The doll, Gwendolyn…’ Ernest began rather helplessly, but stopped before he could say anything utterly absurd.

  ‘Yes, she’s very attractive,’ Ms Anomali continued for him, ‘but I’m afraid it’s not an attachment that shows the least bit of promise.’

  Some children tittered at this but Ernest just looked blankly up at the curator. It made Milli want to hug him. Only much later did it occur to the two children that Ms Anomali was trying to deflect attention from the snowscape display.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Milli quizzed Ernest during the lunch break.

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t explain it because I’m not sure it makes sense.’

  ‘Can you show me?’

  They made their way back to the exhibit and both scrutinised the scene behind the glass. Everything was as it had been upon first viewing. The dolls were rigidly in position and the scrawled message had disappeared. The artificial snow lay on the ground so neatly each flake might have been individually positioned.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t get it,’ Milli said finally.

  ‘It’s gone,’ Ernest replied flatly.

  ‘What’s gone?’

  Ernest rattled off the previous events in quick succession, in case they were suddenly intercepted.

  ‘There was a message before—help us—in the snow and now it’s gone. It could only have come from one of the dolls—Gwendolyn, I think. I’m sure it was meant for us.’

  What happened next cemented Milli’s and Ernest’s friendship for at least the next five years. Milli didn’t roll her eyes, smirk or do anything else that remotely suggested she doubted Ernest. In fact, she responded as if his assertion was the most normal thing in the world.

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Not sure. We need to think. After all, they stumble that run fast.’

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Milli, ‘and they get clobbered that speak in riddles.’

  ‘We don’t have much time,’ Ernest said. ‘Let’s see if anything else happens.’

  ‘Not much chance of that. That curator person seems to have eyes at the back of her head.’

  ‘There’s bound to be another break at some point. We’ll have a good look around then.’

  An opportunity presented itself mid-afternoon, when the children were given time to browse the toy shops on the ground floor. Miss Macaw’s instructions were clear: they were free to wander until 2:55 pm, when they were to meet at the arcade’s entrance in order to catch the bus back to St Erudite’s. Milli and Ernest slowly distanced themselves from the group and crept up to level one. The silence was eerie without the velvety commentary from the curator. They returned to the dolls in the snow and Milli even tapped lightly on the glass case.

  ‘Hello, in there. Blink if you can understand me.’

  ‘Shut up, Milli. Someone might hear us.’

  The children wandered aimlessly through the gallery, not sure of what exactly they ought to be looking for. Time seemed to stand still as they became engrossed in displays they’d been rushed past earlier. When they finally looked over the balcony to the floor below it was empty. With pounding hearts they charged down the stairs and froze in horror. The cloakroom too was empty, and the only thing in the gravel driveway was a magpie picking relentlessly at something lodged between the pebbles. The yellow school bus carrying their classmates had gone.

  ‘Don’t panic,’ said Milli. ‘They’ll be back as soon as they realise.’

  ‘Miss Macaw must have forgotten to do a head count.’

  ‘What bad luck. Should we wait here or keep looking?’ Milli asked.

  Ernest didn’t get a chance to answer because just then they heard the familiar sound of Ms Anomali’s heels tapping on the mosaic floor. It sounded exactly like twigs snapping. She was heading outside, right where they were standing.

  They hid behind some shrubbery growing against the arcade wall but it barely concealed them. Any moment now she would find them and then there would be real trouble. The last thing St Erudite’s needed was bad publicity after Von Gobstopper’s generous gift to the school. They could just see the headlines now: Errant Children Caught Trespassing! Then, just as Ms Anomali’s steps changed to a crunching as she reached the gravel, they heard a different sound. It seemed to be coming from behind the wall they had flattened themselves against in their attempt to become invisible.

  ‘Psst!’ a voice sai
d urgently. ‘Get inside, quick! Before she sees you!’ An opening appeared in the stone wall at around knee-height. Without thinking, Milli and Ernest ducked inside. They found themselves standing in a damp and poorly lit passageway. They looked around to see who had rescued them but nobody was there.

  ‘Down here,’ the voice said, making them both jump.

  It was coming from ground level, and when they looked down they saw a little toy soldier wearing a red military jacket. He gave them a salute and clicked his heels. Now that he had their attention he was beaming all over his little wooden face.

  ‘Fear not, little miss,’ the toy soldier said, ‘my name is Captain Pluck and I have come to guide you to safety.’ His eyes wandered to Ernest’s rucksack. ‘And you, young master, I see, have come prepared.’

  The children stared at him with mouths agape. Ernest blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision. He knew he wasn’t hallucinating because he saw on Milli’s face the same expression he imagined to be on his own. Toys weren’t meant to speak—they were inanimate objects. Even the breathtakingly lifelike toys created by Gustav Von Gobstopper were still only toys. If they could communicate at all it was in mechanical and toneless greetings.