The Secret of Platform 13 by Eva Ibbotson Read Free Book Online Page B

and no one had seen him yet. Hans, though, decided to stay behind. He didn’t like crowded places and he lay down under an oak tree and went to sleep which made a great muddle for the dogs who didn’t understand why they couldn’t walk through a perfectly empty patch of grass.
    Gurkie absolutely loved Fortlands. The vegetable display was quite beautiful – the passion fruit and the pineapples and the cauliflowers so artistically arranged – and she had time to say nice things to a tray of broccoli which looked a little lonely . I n a different sort of shop, the rescuers might have stood out, but Fortlands was full of old-fashioned people coming up from the country and they fitted in quite well. The only thing people did stare at a bit was the beetroot in Gurkie’s hat so she decided to leave it in the fountain to soak quietly while she went up to the restaurant. It was as she was bending over the water to look for a place where the beloved vegetable would not be noticed, that she saw, beneath the water weed, a small, sad face.
    Bending down to see more clearly , s he found that she had not been mistaken.
    ‘Yes, it’s me,’ said a slight, silvery voice. ‘Melis-ande. I heard you were coming.’ And then: ‘I’m not a mermaid, you know, I’m a water nymph. I’ve got feet.’
    ‘Yes, I know, dear; I can see you’ve got feet. But you don’t look well. What are those marks on your arms?’
    ‘It’s the coins. People chuck coins into the fountain all day long, heaven knows why . I ’ m all over bruises – and the water isn’t changed nearly often enough.’
    And her lovely, t iny face really did look very melancholy .
    ‘Why don’t you come down with us, dear?’ whispered Gurkintrude. ‘The gump’s open. We could take you wrapped in wet towels, it wouldn’t be difficult.’
    ‘I was going to,’ said the nymph sadly . ‘ But not now. You’ve seen him.’
    ‘The Prince, do you mean? We haven’t yet.’
    ‘Well, you will in a minute; he’s just gone up in the lift. There was a lot of us going, but who wants to be ruled by that ?’
    She then agreed to hide the beetroot under a water lily leaf and Gurkie hurried to catch up with the others. The nymph’s words had upset her, but feys always think the best of people and she was determined to look on the bright side. Even if Mrs Trottle had spoilt Raymond a little, there would be time to put that right when he came to the Island. When children behave badly it is nearly always the fault of those who bring them up.
    ‘There he is,’ whispered Ben. ‘Over there, by the window.’
    There was a long pause.
    ‘You’re sure?’ asked Cor. ‘There can be no mistake?’
    ‘I’m sure,’ said Ben.
    He then slipped away and the rescuers were left to study the boy they had come so far to find.
    ‘He looks . . . healthy , ’ s a id Gurkintrude, trying to make the best of things.
    ‘And well-washed,’ agreed the wizard. ‘I imagine there would be no mould behind his ears?’
    Odge didn’t say anything. She still carried the suitcase, holding it out flat like a tray, and had been in a very nasty temper since she discovered that Ben was not the Prince.
    What surprised them most was how like his supposed mother Raymond Trottle looked. They both had the same fat faces, the same podgy noses, the same round, pale eyes. They knew, of course, that dogs often grew to be like their owners so perhaps it was understandable that Raymond, who had lived with the Trottles since he was three months old, should look like the woman who had stolen him, but it was odd all the same.
    The visitors had looked forward very much to having lunch in a posh restaurant, but the hour that followed was one of the saddest of their lives. They found a table behind a potted palm from which they could watch the Trottles without being noticed, and what they saw got worse and worse and worse. Raymond’s shrimps had arrived and he was pushing them away with a scowl.
    ‘I don’t want