Monster Mission

Aunt Etta and Aunt Coral had been in prison for several weeks before their trial for kidnapping came to the courts. The children were not allowed to visit them and so the first time they saw them was in the dock at the Old Bailey, handcuffed to the policewomen who brought them up from the cells.

For Minette and Fabio, seeing them like that was like being kicked very hard in the stomach and Minette gave a gasp of distress which the people in the courtroom heard.

‘Poor little thing—look how frightened she is,’ they whispered—and it was true. Minette was very frightened and so was Fabio—frightened for the aunts and what might happen to them; very frightened indeed.

Etta had always been thin but now she was all bone, and Coral’s bulk had gone so that her skin hung in folds. It wasn’t the prison food or the other prisoners that had worn them down, it was waking up day after day to the grey walls which closed them in. It was their loss of freedom.

The courtroom was very dark and very old. The judge sat high above everyone else like God, and below him were men in gowns and wigs: a ferrety-looking man who was the prosecuting counsel and had to prove that the aunts were guilty, and a man with a round face like a Christmas pudding who was the defence counsel and had to try and show that the aunts were innocent. The jury—three women and nine men, sat on the judge’s right. One of them, a lady with a large bosom and red hair, kept fanning herself with a piece of paper. Minette’s parents sat on benches facing the judge, as far away from each other as possible, and the old Mountjoys were in the back row.

It was only Aunt Etta and Aunt Coral who were being tried. Myrtle had been allowed to return to the Island because Mr Sprott was in a clinic in America and too muddled to accuse anyone of kidnapping his son. Etta and Coral were glad of that. They thought that Myrtle would probably have died in prison.

The case had attracted a lot of attention. Killer Aunts Brought to Justice screamed the newspaper headlines and the strange pictures of Etta and Coral that had been on the walls of the police station were printed again, making everyone certain that these were the most evil women in the world.

‘Will the prisoner stand,’ said the clerk of the court

-  and the children drew in their breath for the prisoner was Etta.

The charge was read out.

‘Do you plead guilty or not guilty?’ she was asked.

‘Not guilty,’ said Etta, holding her head high.

Then the witnesses were called. Minette’s mother came first, tripping towards the witness box and patting her hair. She was sorry the trial wasn’t shown on the telly because her hat was exactly right

- serious and dark but very flattering—and because she had been an actress she swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth in a very dramatic way.

‘Is this the woman who met you at King’s Cross Station?’ asked the prosecuting counsel who looked like a ferret, pointing at Etta.

‘Yes it is.’

‘And did you think she was a fit person to have charge of your daughter?’

‘Yes, I did, because she came from an agency. But I thought she had a sinister face.’

‘Could you tell us what you mean by sinister… ?’

Minette’s father was called next and described the false message he had had to say that Minette would not be travelling to Edinburgh.

Then it was Minette’s turn.

There had been a lot of argument about whether Fabio and Minette were old enough to give evidence, but in the end it was decided that they could. So Minette too swore to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth and then a footstool was fetched so that her head came over the edge of the witness box and the ferrety man began.

‘Now, Minette, will you tell us what happened when you travelled with this person to Edinburgh,’ he said. ‘Just take your time,’ he said, speaking very carefully, as though Minette was three years old.

‘We talked about things,’ said Minette.

‘What sort of things?’

‘Seals … and whether there were ghosts or not … and then I asked her if there was a third place.’

‘Could you tell us what you mean by that?’

Minette bent her head, thinking. ‘All my life I’ve kept going backwards and forwards between my parents … and when I got there they were always horrible about each other so I got… tired. And sad. And I asked Aunt Etta if there was a third place. A place that wasn’t either or or—and she said there was, there was one for everybody. Only they had to be brave and want it.’

‘And what happened then?’

‘I fell asleep. And when I woke up I was there. In the third place.’

‘I see. You woke up in a completely strange place. And were you frightened?’

Minette smiled—a slow, very sweet smile which lit up the dark courtroom like a beacon. ‘No. Not for long. I had a nightlight you see. I was frightened in London and in Edinburgh because of the dark and the cracks in the ceiling. I used to think I saw tigers … and my parents both thought I was silly. But there when I woke, the first thing I saw was this light.’