In which Molly bids the Spooks a fond farewell.

‘It was the best of rhymes!’ exclaimed Billy the Pan indignantly.

‘It was the worst of rhymes,’ said Hetty Hardwicke with a sniff. ‘You couldn’t even call it a poem – it barely rhymed at all – who rhymes Her Majesty with too scratchity?’

‘I liked it, Billy,’ said Rose.

‘Yeah, me too,’ said Shep. ‘Read it again!’

Billy stood in the centre of Madame Flo’s velvet-lined sitting room and took out the crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of his ragged jacket. He looked around at his audience, cleared his throat and removed the saucepan from his head for extra respectful gravitas. Shep nodded his head encouragingly at his friend.

‘A Powem on de Hawliday of Moly Malowne to Lundun,’ read Billy out loud in as deep a voice as he could muster, ‘by ree-nowned pikpokket, rispectid member of the Brudderhud of Beggarmen –’

‘And Beggarwomen!’ interjected Rose, who never liked to see girls left out. Hetty snorted a scornful snort.

‘And Beggarwimmen,’ continued Billy, darting a peeved look at Hetty, ‘and prowd member of de faymus Dubblin gang, de Sakvill Strete Spoockes … me, Billy the Pan.’

‘Get on with it, you lanky eejit,’ jeered Hetty.

Billy the Pan cleared his throat again and, raising his saucepan in the air, read out his poem.

O, deerist Moly

Wee will mizz yew soe

As awf to Lundun

Yew wil goe

Furst on de boawt

Den by de rayle

Wit owr frend Bram

Yew wil set sayle

Have a gud tyme in Lundun

With Bram and Hur Matchisty

I hope dat hur flees

Don’t get too scratchity.

‘And another thing,’ said Hetty, ‘Her Majesty doesn’t even have fleas anymore! Molly keeps her dog nice and clean.’

‘Which is more than can be said for your dog,’ said Billy. ‘Prince Albert’s got so many fleas, his fleas have fleas.’

‘Face it, Billy,’ snarled Hetty, ‘You’re about as good at poetry as you are at pick-pocketing!’

‘Well, I …’ said a voice from behind them, ‘… LOVED it!’

‘MOLLY!’ exclaimed Rose and Shep in unison as they ran to their friend and hugged her.

‘As it happens, Her Majesty actually still has a couple of fleas,’ said Molly, glaring at Billy and Hetty, who didn’t notice Molly’s glare as they were too busy glaring at each other. ‘I just hope they aren’t charged the full ticket price on the boat!’

Her Majesty, Molly’s beloved knee-high, brown-furred, floppy-eared, floppy-tongued mutt sniffed loudly and licked Molly’s knee to show that she took no offence.

‘Just tell this scraggy dimwit here to leave Prince Albert out of it,’ said Hetty, her voice rising in outrage. ‘Prince Albert might have more fleas than Her Majesty, but at least he doesn’t wear a stupid saucepan on his head!’

‘Ah, Hetty,’ said Rose. ‘You know Billy has to wear that saucepan for work, it makes him stand out from all the other beggarmen – punters rap on the side of the pot for luck and then give him a ha’penny – it’s how he makes his living.’

‘Besides that,’ said Billy, polishing his slightly rusty saucepan with a very dirty jacket sleeve and placing it back on his head, ‘I think it makes me look very fashionable.’

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. ‘Shep,’ she said, ‘did you have any luck getting me a travelling trunk?’

‘Yes!’ said Shep and eagerly pushed a large table-cloth-covered rectangular shape into the centre of the room. ‘Madame Flo borrowed it from her pal, The Marvellously Mystical Michelangelo Malvolio – you know him, his patch is three down from Flo’s fortune-telling tent in Smithfield Carnival.’

‘Ah, yeah,’ smiled Molly, ‘Magic Mick! How is the flamboyant old fraud?’

‘He’s grand, Mol,’ replied Shep. ‘He said to say thanks very much for the favour you did for you-know-who about the who-knows-what, that time they got stuck in the you-know-where – he said you’d know what he was talking about.’

Molly nodded, but to be honest, she couldn’t quite remember what favour she had done for Magic Mick – she did so many good deeds for so many people that she had a hard time keeping track of all of them. But doing favours for people meant that they, in turn, owed her a favour. And the favour she asked from Magic Mick was one that only a magician could perform.

Rose bounced to her feet and, with a very magician-like ‘Ta-daaa!’ swished the patterned tablecloth off the rectangular shape. It was a big red travelling trunk with a curved lid. The trunk was tall – the top of the lid came up to Rose’s chest – and its sides were festooned with labels and triangular stickers: some that read Buenos Aires, others reading New York, Glasgow and Oslo; there was even one that read Kathmandu. According to the labels, this huge travelling case has seen a great deal of travel. Rose opened the catch with a soft KLIKK and lifted the lid. ‘It’s big because Magic Mick hides his assistant in there during his act,’ she said.

‘Plus, two turtledoves, five hamsters, seven rabbits and a Norwegian Blue parrot,’ added Shep.

Molly came closer for a better look. In the lid of the trunk were compartments for toiletries – toothbrush, washcloths, hairbrush and so on. There was a pull-out drawer for boots, and another for books (Molly had specifically requested the book drawer). The inside of the trunk looked very normal; Rose had neatly laid out some of Molly’s petticoats and dresses, and they seemed to completely fill the trunk’s interior.

‘Janey Mack, Rose,’ said Billy the Pan, ‘how many dresses do you think Molly will be wearin’ in London? That trunk is massive and it’s full to the brim – she’s only goin’ for a week!’

‘Ahhh,’ said Rose, ‘the trunk does look full up, but this is no ordinary travellin’ trunk – right, Shep?’

Shep nodded. ‘Yep,’ he agreed, ‘this trunk was made by the Marvellously Mystical Michelangelo Malvolio himself – just look at this!’ He reached out his hands to both sides of the trunk and pressed two tiny hidden buttons, then, with a flourish and a cry of ‘Abra-ka-boouushh!’ he whipped out a wooden tray that held Molly’s dresses – the dresses were stacked four-deep and wobbled as he held it high in the air. The tray had stretched from one side of the box to the other and had completely concealed a large space underneath.

Molly’s eyes widened. ‘It’s like a dog kennel!’ she said, walking around the trunk and peering in. ‘It’s got a little doggy bed, a built-in bowl, it’s even got a holder on the side with a tiny toy bear in it!’

‘That’s just in case Her Majesty gets bored while she’s on her journey; I asked Magic Mick for that meself,’ said Shep proudly. At the mention of her name, Her Majesty jumped up and laid her shaggy paws the side of the trunk, trying to look in too.

‘No, no,’ said Rose, ‘you don’t get in that way, girl.’ She reached down to the back of the trunk, peeled back one of the...