Melody Trumpet Page 14

  After another long, eyelash-batting look to the camera, Mrs Trumpet pressed her plump lips close to the microphone. ‘First, thank you to everyone who’s travelled to be here, especially the Prince and Princess for their presence and most generous contribution.’

  The Princess bowed her head in the front row.

  Mrs Trumpet’s voice trembled as she went on. ‘We were so looking forward to Melody performing for you all after all these years. To have her disappear in such mysterious circumstances is so unfortunate. She’d been practising day in, day out, and we had the most perfect event planned. Instead, we now have a solemn concert to bring everyone together in the hope of finding our poor daughter.’ She whimpered, before adding in a rush, ‘And don’t forget to buy my latest “Best Of Viola Trumpet” album, which will be released in stores tomorrow. One per cent of the profits will go towards finding Melody and bringing her home.’

  ‘She is unbelievable,’ Mumma Rose said, and Moe barked twice in agreement.

  Melody’s jaw hardened as she watched her mother swan around the stage, swooning over her beautiful, missing daughter. She wished she was surprised by it all, but nothing her parents did could surprise her now.

  She turned away from the screen to find everyone’s eyes on her.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Allira asked. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what else to say.’

  ‘Then don’t say anything,’ Slack told her, wrapping an arm around Melody’s shoulders.

  Suddenly Melody gasped. ‘Surely not . . .’ she murmured, stepping closer to the television to get a better look.

  Melody squinted, unsure if she was imagining things. A bulky red-faced man who looked suspiciously like Royce was sneaking along the back of Crescendo Hall with two people wriggling and writhing across his broad shoulders. A girl and a boy. They were handcuffed, blindfolded and had tape stuck across their mouths, but Melody recognised the fiery red braid and shaggy brown hair. It was Clementine and Freddie!

  ‘Look, it’s them!’ Melody shouted, pressing her finger against the screen. ‘I think it’s them!’

  The troupe gasped and huddled in closer.

  ‘Clem! Our poor girl!’ cried Mumma Rose, gnawing at her fingernail as she watched the footage. ‘Where is that awful man taking them?’

  Melody wished she had the answer. She bit her bottom lip but it didn’t calm her racing mind — she had no idea what Royce and her parents planned to do to her friends.

  The footage on screen was cutting between different parts of the Charity Gala, from the dazzling dramatics on stage to the besotted audience. It was clear no one there had noticed Clementine and Freddie squirming on Royce’s shoulders as he lumbered towards a side door up the back. The audience was too transfixed by Mrs Trumpet’s teary performance that was intended to ‘pay tribute to little Melody’ to see anything else.

  Royce appeared to be hobbling under the combined weight of Freddie and Clementine as he fumbled at the door’s handle, but he managed to open it and they disappeared through it into the main area of the school.

  Melody knew what they should do next.

  ‘Forget Trumpet Manor,’ she said, clenching her fists. ‘If my parents are at Crescendo Hall, Royce won’t be leaving anytime soon. He’s their bodyguard and driver — where they go, he goes. We have to get to the school right now and save Clementine and Freddie!’

  30.

  The truth is out

  ‘Which way to the hall, Melody?’ asked Mumma Rose as they entered the winding corridors of Battyville Elite School For Musically Gifted Children. ‘Right, left or straight ahead?’

  Everyone looked at Melody.

  ‘I have no idea,’ she said. ‘I was banned from this part of the school. Um . . . let’s go right . . .’

  Moe suddenly wriggled in Gaff’s arms and delivered three barks in quick succession, tail wagging with excitement.

  ‘He’s found something,’ Slack said.

  ‘What is it, boy?’ asked Allira, scratching Moe under the chin.

  ‘Is it Clementine?’ Melody asked. ‘Can you take us to her and Freddie?’

  Moe leaped from Gaff’s arms and sniffed along the carpet, before barking three times at something small and silver on the ground. Everyone rushed over to see what he’d found.

  A button.

  ‘It’s Clementine’s,’ Mumma Rose said, picking it up and putting it in her pocket. ‘From her overalls. Quick, Moe, lead the way!’

  Moe whined, and bolted off around a corner. The troupe chased after him, turning left, turning right, winding their way through the corridors. They passed classroom after classroom, hurried through a tree-lined quadrangle, then raced up a set of steps and burst through double doors that led to . . . another corridor.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ Melody said. ‘Where are they?’

  Moe barked again and trotted further along the corridor. Its walls were lined with enormous framed portraits of the Trumpets at various points in their illustrious careers, from a black-and-white photo of Mr Trumpet conducting a one-thousand-person orchestra, to a heavily pregnant Mrs Trumpet singing at the former Prime Minister’s sixtieth birthday party. Melody groaned and hurried after Moe, shaking off the feeling of being spied on by her parents.

  The little dog led the group to a closed door with a sign that read Cafeteria and began scratching at the floorboards.

  ‘Get back, Moe,’ whispered Melody as the others pressed in tight around her. ‘We’re doing this in . . . three, two . . .’

  ‘One!’ everyone shouted in unison as Gaff kicked down the door and they burst into the cafeteria.

  ‘What in the . . .?’ Royce shouted.

  He jumped to his feet, spilling jam from the doughnut he was eating down his shirt, and ran over to stand guard in front of Freddie and Clementine, who were handcuffed to a thick pipe in the corner.

  ‘You came!’ cried out Freddie.

  ‘Our heroes!’ Clementine cheered. ‘Told you they’d find us, Freddie.’

  ‘Miss us or something?’ Allira smirked.

  She stretched one long leg up around her neck, then performed ten perfect aerial cartwheels to land right in front of Royce. His eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘Here we go!’ Clementine said, laughing. ‘It’s showtime.’

  Slack flexed his muscles, did three double backwards somersaults towards Royce, then grabbed six bowling pins from his backpack. He tossed them to Mumma Rose, who juggled them as she pirouetted with the others to surround Royce. Allira twirled and swirled her rhythmic gymnastics ribbon through the air, whipping and cracking it to give Royce a fright. Gaff, who had been guarding the door, pulled out his torch and set it alight, then stormed towards the group in a flurry of fiery flames.

  ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ Royce cried, cowering against the pipe as Allira’s ribbon licked at his calves.

  Within seconds, Allira and Slack had overpowered him and tied him to the pipe. He strained and tugged, but was trapped.

  Gaff plucked the half-eaten jam doughnut from the nearby table and popped it into Royce’s mouth.

  Not to be left out of the fun, Moe trotted over to Royce, lifted one leg and widdled on his trousers!

  ‘Being captured doesn’t feel so good, does it?’ Clementine said to Royce. ‘Meanwhile, hint, hint, you lot!’ She and Freddie jangled their handcuffed wrists against the pipe. ‘Mumma Rose, grab a bobby pin from my hair to work your magic.’

  ‘On it,’ Mumma Rose said. She fished out a pin from Clementine’s braid, and jiggled it around in the handcuffs until they unlocked.

  * * *

  Gaff peeked through another door before closing it with a disappointed sigh. ‘Nope, not the exit. Just a store room, although it’s about as big as The Workshop,’ he announced. ‘So if the cafeteria is back down the corridor to the left then that must mean we’re . . . well . . .’

  ‘Lost?’ Allira suggested with a grin.

  ‘So much for retracing our steps,’ added Mumma Rose.

  Melody exhaled. ‘
Are you sure you don’t know how to get out of here, Freddie? You come here every day.’

  ‘It’s a labyrinth.’ Freddie shrugged. ‘My classes are on the east side of the grounds, too – this is my first time on the west!’

  The troupe dawdled along, opening doors and peeking out windows to look for any familiar locations. Allira was the first to reach a wide mahogany door with brass handles.

  ‘This looks promising,’ she said to the troupe. ‘Maybe it could get us out of this enormous place?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Freddie shrugged again. ‘Or it could be a broom closet.’

  ‘You open it, Slack,’ urged Allira. ‘What if it’s the principal’s office?’

  Slack elbowed her. ‘You open it!’

  While the twins squabbled, Melody rolled her eyes and turned the handle.

  They all bowled through the door — into darkness. Melody bumped into something tall and spindly, and before she knew it the others had knocked into her and they were all twisted up in a large sheet of velvet. With an almighty crash and a clatter, they fell into a heap in the blackness. Panicked screaming echoed somewhere in the distance.

  ‘My legs are caught!’ Gaff said to the group.

  ‘Same,’ groaned Allira. ‘What is this thing? Move it, Slack!’

  ‘Freddie, you go left, I’ll go right,’ Clementine said.

  ‘Everyone, calm down,’ Mumma Rose chimed in.

  ‘But, Mumma Rose, I can’t see —’

  ‘What’s going on here?’ another voice asked. ‘Who are you all?’

  ‘Mr Pizzicato?’

  ‘Melody?’

  ‘Yes! And you’re back from your holiday!’

  ‘I think it’s a big curtain,’ Allira said. ‘The velvet is tickling my skin.’

  ‘Well, if there’s a big velvet curtain, we must be —’

  A bright white light suddenly shone down on them.

  ‘Alien invasion! There’s no other explanation.’

  ‘Allira, stop it! I’ll take a look.’ Slack peeped out into the light, then dived back under the curtain. ‘Ah, heads-up,’ he whispered. ‘We didn’t find the exit . . . we found Crescendo Hall! The back of the stage to be more specific.’ He noticed a dazed Mr Pizzicato twisted up in their mess. ‘Wait, who’s this guy?’

  The curtain began to slip off them and they all saw Clive the Chicken trembling at the front of the stage, shedding feathers with every distressed cluck and squawk.

  ‘Whoa, is that Clive the Chicken?’ Slack asked. ‘We should get his autograph!’

  By now, Melody, Mr Pizzicato and the troupe had struggled free of the curtain, revealing their identities to the audience packed into the hall.

  Principal Sharp gasped.

  Mr and Mrs Trumpets’ faces were frozen with shock.

  ‘It’s her! The girl!’ someone cried.

  ‘Can’t be — she’s got short hair.’

  ‘It is! It’s Melody Trumpet! And they must be her abductors! They’ve come to kill us all! Run, everyone!’

  Shrieking ripped through Crescendo Hall as people ran for the exits. Melody could hear Mr Pizzicato and Principal Sharp shouting, ‘Stay calm!’, but no one seemed to be listening. Camera crews jostled for the best positions to capture the chaos.

  ‘Oh no,’ Melody muttered, taking in the pandemonium.

  Only Mr Bloom and Freddie’s younger siblings were still in their seats, their jaws dropped. Even the Trumpets were trying to flee, but they were hampered by being in the front row.

  A swarm of police officers surrounded the stage, making sure that Melody and the troupe couldn’t escape.

  ‘Don’t just stand there!’ shrieked the Princess. ‘Arrest the kidnappers!’

  The officer in charge signalled to his team to block off the exits. ‘Everyone, stay in your seats,’ he shouted. ‘It’s for your own safety.’

  The Trumpets slunk back down in their seats in the front row. The Prince demanded answers of the police officer in charge, while the Princess stared in disbelief at the curious-looking troupe on stage.

  ‘This is outrageous!’ Mumma Rose told the officers. ‘Let us go!’

  ‘What do they think we’re going to do?’ Slack asked Allira. ‘Cartwheel them to death?’

  The police officers closed in further. ‘We don’t want any funny business,’ one of them said. ‘We’re just here for the girl.’

  ‘I’m fine! I’m not hurt!’ Melody said, her voice shaking a little. ‘These are my friends. They tried to save me from . . . well . . .’

  Whispers echoed through the remaining audience members as Melody sucked in a deep breath, walked over to Clive the Chicken and plucked the microphone from the stand in front of him. He clucked with displeasure.

  ‘There are criminals here,’ Melody continued, her voice booming out across the hall, ‘and they’ve been lying to everyone. They’re my parents — Viola and Barry T Trumpet!’

  The audience muttered in confusion.

  ‘The Trumpets are crooks?’

  ‘This must be a joke! Are we being pranked?’

  ‘Madness, all of it!’

  Clementine, Freddie, Mumma Rose and the rest of the troupe lined up on either side of Melody. The police officers dropped back a little.

  Melody looked at her parents. They were sinking lower into their seats and wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  ‘My name is Melody . . .’ She cleared her throat. ‘My name is Melody Trumpet, heir of the Trumpet empire, and despite what you’ve all been told for the past ten years, I’m not who my parents said I am.’

  Mrs Trumpet’s nervous laughter ricocheted around the hall. She pulled Mr Trumpet up from his seat by his suspenders. ‘If you’ll just excuse us,’ she said, forcing a fake smile for the cameras. ‘There seems to be a tiny mistake —’

  ‘Stay in your seat, ma’am,’ ordered the senior police officer. He gestured to two of his officers to guard each end of the Trumpets’ row. ‘We’re not done here.’

  Melody’s cheeks were flushed pink as she went on with her speech. ‘For ten years, I’ve been separated from you all,’ she said, her voice growing stronger. ‘Thanks to my parents’ lies, you believed I was special. A musical genius. A prodigy. Extraordinary.’ Her lip quivered. ‘But none of it is true. I can’t sing, or play an instrument, or do any of the amazing things you think I can do.’

  Outraged cries filled the hall.

  ‘My parents are the real kidnappers,’ Melody said, pointing at them. ‘They locked me in my bedroom, captured my friends and faked this whole thing. They’re the real criminals!’

  The room erupted as people shouted and gasped at Melody’s accusation. The police moved in on the Trumpets, handcuffs at the ready. The camera crews looked ready to explode with excitement as they surged forward to get the best shot of the Trumpets being arrested.

  Melody raised her voice to be heard over the uproar. ‘The truth is: I’m just ordinary. And you know what? I’m fine with that.’

  She bent to put down the microphone, but Clementine stepped forward, wrapped one arm around Melody’s shoulders, and took the microphone with her spare hand.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, everyone, I just need to correct something,’ Clementine said. ‘Um, so Melody hasn’t been entirely truthful with you all.’

  The audience broke out into angry shouts again. Melody looked at Clementine in shock.

  ‘Yes, the Trumpets are criminals,’ Clementine continued, tugging at her overalls, which were slipping due to the missing button. ‘They’ve been lying to the world, and they orchestrated this whole disaster to cling to their fame. But Melody told you that she isn’t extraordinary, that she’s not someone special. Well, that’s not true at all! Sure, she can’t sing opera like her mother, or conduct an orchestra like her father . . . but who cares? Those are their things. And if her parents had taken one minute to get to know their daughter, they would have discovered what we here from The Workshop knew from the beginning: Melody loves to write. So what if she can’t sing or pla
y the piano or the flugelhorn . . . she can write. It’s not in her fancy Trumpet blood . . . but it’s in her heart.’

  The audience had fallen silent. Even the police officers surrounding the Trumpets held their collective breath until Clementine spoke again.

  ‘Melody Trumpet is extraordinary. Because there’s nothing more extraordinary than taking the time to work out what it is that makes your heart sing.’

  The crowd leaped to their feet and burst into wild applause.

  ‘I’m sorry to take over proceedings,’ Clementine said, shooting a bashful grin at Principal Sharp, ‘but I believe you were promised a debut performance by Melody Trumpet. Well, we’re here to deliver it by performing one of Melody’s original songs on her behalf. Our dear friend Freddie Bloom will also be making his debut.’

  31.

  Under the spotlight

  What happened next was like a dream for Melody.

  Mumma Rose directed the troupe into a semi-circle on stage behind Clementine as she centred herself at the microphone stand. Freddie dashed off stage into the wings and emerged moments later holding a brown classical guitar. Melody stepped aside, eager to escape the spotlight, but Clementine’s hand found hers and drew her back to her side. Melody’s palm was clammy from nerves, but Clementine didn’t let go.

  ‘You should be so proud,’ Clementine whispered. ‘Don’t forget that.’ She turned to Freddie with a toothy grin. ‘Debut time, kid.’

  He nodded, guitar pick between his teeth as he tuned the strings.

  Clementine murmured, ‘Five, six, seven, eight . . .’ to Freddie, then brought the microphone to her lips.

  Waiting and hoping,

  For someone to see,

  The girl in the tower,

  And what she could be.

  But life just goes on,

  And things stay the same,

  So from a distance she watches,

  Away from the game.

  Clementine’s eyes were closed as her right boot tapped to the beat – and her fingers stayed entwined with Melody’s through every word of the song. The troupe swayed from side to side in unison, harmonising with Clementine’s vocals to create a beautifully rich and textured sound that rang clear through Crescendo Hall.