“It is a bit far-fetched, Stanley. Come on, you have to admit it, it is a bit crazy.”
“Well, I believe her,” Stanley said. “And I’m going to help her.” With that, Stanley trotted after Petula. Magglorian watched them go. Then he barked.
“Wait! I’m coming, too.” He ran after the other dogs. “I’m sorry, Petula,” he said, panting as he arrived. “I’d search the world over for the boys who own me if I ever lost them. Let me help you find your friends.”
A Glitz doorman in a red suit with gold braid on its shoulders and a smart black cap opened the door to the hotel for Molly the old woman. Molly thanked him, adding, “Is this the way to the restaurant, young man?” She hoped that was where Black had gone.
She felt very out of place in her shabby coat and her old-fashioned cobbled leather boots, but she knew from experience that if you act like you are supposed to be somewhere, people usually believe you. As the doorman pointed down the lavishly carpeted orange passage, thronged with golden lamps, Molly noticed Micky, who was still a pigeon, hop behind him.
“Thank you very much,” she said gratefully, and started making her way along to the arched entrance of the restaurant at the end of the corridor. Molly marveled at what it was like to be eighty-two. Her legs were stiff as wood, and her joints felt tight. As for the woman’s memories, Molly could tell that she had only seen a fraction of them. The others, as though in a thousand-mile-deep glacier, were hidden in the deep waters of her mind.
“May I help you?” a slim hostess asked, eyeing Molly as Sofia’s woolly hat.
“A table for one, please,” Molly demanded.
“Do you have a booking, madam?” the hostess inquired.
“No,” Molly replied, realizing that the hostess was about to refuse her entrance. “And don’t give me any of that ‘we’re full’ nonsense. I can see lots of empty tables.”
“But, madam, all these tables are reserved,” the hostess replied, sneering slightly.
“What? I’m not good enough for this place? Is that it?” Molly said, and immediately she turned to her hypnotic powers now for help. “Look into my eyes.”
Unfortunately, nothing happened. Just as Molly couldn’t mind read in another body, neither could she hypnotize.
“I’m sorry, madam. Really, we are full,” the smug woman retorted.
“Everything all right, dear?” Sofia’s husband, Wilf, had followed her inside. He stood looking very out of place in his beret and long black coat. Molly noticed Micky the pigeon hop behind a cheese trolley. She smiled reassuringly at the old man.
“Perfectly all right, Wilf. I think we’ll take the table over there.” Pushing past the hostess, Molly gripped her handbag and stepped toward a table. Immediately she saw Theobald Black sitting near the window table. He was deep in conversation with a young, smartly dressed, beautiful, auburn-haired woman whose wrists, fingers, and ears were adorned with gold and diamonds.
“Madam, I’m so sorry—” the snooty hostess began to pester. She smiled, but her expression was false, and an unkind look came from her eyes.
“Oh, go and stuff your nostrils,” Molly said to her. “Who do you think you are, Little Miss Fancy?”
The headwaiter now stepped toward them. Molly could see that the situation was getting sticky. She didn’t want to attract Black’s attention, so this wasn’t good. But then the headwaiter said to the hostess, “Fiona, this lady is a friend of mine. She and her husband are going to have supper here, and it’s on the house.” At once Molly realized that it was Micky inside the headwaiter’s body.
Fiona, the mean hostess, looked stunned, as though she had just swallowed a peeled boiled egg in one gulp.
“That means free!” wheezed Wilf in amazement, winking at Molly.
“Yes, sir. Eat and drink whatever you want,” the headwaiter replied.
In the portico of the hat shop outside sat the white Burmese cat, Miss Hunroe. Beside her, in their cat forms, were Miss Oakkton, back in her ginger tomcat body, and Miss Teriyaki, the gray Siamese.
They stared across the road at the restaurant window and watched Black and his dining companion.
On the other side of the street was the bus stop where AH2 had just arrived. He was consulting his red tracking machine. Molly Moon, it told him, was inside the grand building opposite. He rubbed his fingers together in excitement. If he played his cards right, he was on his way to making groundbreaking history.
Nine
Molly hid her old-lady face behind her wine list. She didn’t want Wilf to see what she was doing.
“Well, what a choice!” he was muttering. “Fois gras, caviar!”
Molly stared at the floral pattern wallpaper to the left of her. With its twisting vines, it was difficult to find another picture there, but Molly knew she had to if she wanted to morph again. So, staring stubbornly, she waited for a shape to emerge. All at once Molly saw a picture in the flowers. A strangely shaped umbrella. Shutting her eyes to make it like a photograph in her mind, she turned her attention to the beautiful, rich woman opposite Black. Her auburn hair was thick and glossy, as though she’d just walked out of a shampoo ad. Her slim face had a Caribbean tan, and she wasn’t wearing much makeup. She had lovely big brown eyes, and as they twinkled, Molly saw how they must have looked thirty years before.
Molly’s imagination, like some sort of magical camera, plumped out the woman’s complexion. Her hair turned lighter, and Molly even conjured up the idea of some pigtails. She turned her designer suit into a simple school uniform. The vision was complete.
Now juggling this picture with the image of the wallpaper umbrella at the same time, Molly was able to lift herself out of Sofia toward Black’s dinner partner.
Good-bye, and thank you! she managed to think to Sofia before she left.
As Molly’s spirit and personality arrived, the woman sank from her position of control. She didn’t stand a chance. With focused strength, Molly pushed her out of the way and down. As though from the bottom of a pool, Lady Storkhampton—for that was the woman’s name—looked up at who had snatched her body and mind. She saw it was a girl, a girl with a mission.
“My name is Molly,” said the girl. “I’m borrowing your body for a little while. I won’t harm it. I’m sorry if this might make you feel that you have gone a bit mad afterward.”
Lady Storkhampton’s body bent forward slightly, like a limp puppet. Then Molly took the helm.
Two tables away, Sofia, now in control of her body and mind again, shook her head as she took in her surroundings.
“Ooh, Wilf, I just had the oddest experience….”
“Lady Storkhampton?” Black frowned at her over his oysters. In his hand he held a piece of paper—a check, in fact, that Lady Storkhampton, had given to him. Molly took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to give herself away. She had no idea whether Black was a mind reader, and she didn’t want to rouse his suspicions enough that he might try and probe Lady Storkhampton’s mind.
“Oh, I think the lettuce I ate was a bit too peppery,” she explained, eyeing her plate of shrimp and sitting upright with a big smile.
“Do you want some water?” Black poured Lady Storkhampton a glassful.
“Thank you,” Molly as Lady Storkhampton said, her accent clear and posh. As Molly drank some water, she got her bearings. Like a person standing in a landscape looking at the surroundings, Molly looked about Lady Storkhampton’s mind to see who she was.
She was the daughter of a very wealthy shipbuilder. She was married to an even richer man who owned vast swathes of land in England. She bred miniature horses and kept an aviary full of exotic birds. She spoke four languages—French, Italian, Spanish, and Russian—and she loved to ski. Her body felt very healthy, Molly thought. This was because she practiced martial arts every day.
“Lady Storkhampton, this really is exceedingly generous of you!” Black was saying. “Five hundred thousand pounds!” I don’t think we have
