Goth Girl and the Sinister Symphony Read online

  For Carole

  First published 2017 by Macmillan Children’s Books This electronic edition published 2017 by Macmillan Children’s Books an imprint of Pan Macmillan 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR Associated companies throughout the world www.panmacmillan.com ISBN 978-1-4472-7795-8 Copyright © Chris Riddell 2017 The right of Chris Riddell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases

  and the Sinister Symphony

  CHRIS RIDDELL

  MACMILLAN CHILDREN’S BOOKS

  THIS BOOK CONTAINS CLOVEN FOOT NOTES WRITTEN BY a FAUN WHO LOVES ANTIQUE FURNITURE

  Chapter One da gripped the handlebars of her hobby pony, Little Pegasus, and kicked out her legs. The little bicycle sped down the Hill of Ambition towards the Pond of Introspection, which, because it had been a fine, hot summer, was now little more than a thought-provoking puddle. Behind Ada, Emily and William Cabbage gave chase on their own hobby horses, Snark and Boojum. ‘To think,’ said Ada, splashing through the puddle and continuing on to the Gravel Path of Conceit, ‘before I went to school, I had no idea how much fun the school holidays are!’ Ada was the only daughter of Lord Goth, England’s foremost cycling poet. They lived in Ghastly-Gorm Hall, a rather large country house surrounded by spacious gardens and grounds

  designed by the famous landscape architect, Metaphorical Smith. In fact, it was Metaphorical Smith who had designed the hobby-horse racecourse that Ada and her friends were racing around. ‘Don’t forget to feed the squirrels on the Avenue of Outrageous Fortune,’ Metaphorical Smith had instructed Lord Goth, on completion of his masterpiece, ‘or they won’t throw pine cones at the riders.’ Emily Cabbage caught up with Ada at

  Slough of Despond, which, because of the fine weather, was more like a sandpit of disappointment. ‘The school holidays are fun!’ Emily laughed as she overtook Ada in a cloud of dust. ‘Especially when it’s sunny like this.’ Emily Cabbage was the daughter of Charles Cabbage the famous inventor, and she and Ada were best friends. They both attended the Windy Moor School, which was run by one of Ada’s governesses. Before Lord Goth had been persuaded to allow his daughter to go to school, Ada had been taught at home by a total of seven governesses, who all kept in touch . . .

  The governesses had all been supplied by the Psychic Governess Agency of Clerkenwell, and had seemed to arrive completely out of the blue, usually appearing on a day just after Lord Goth had made a casual comment about Ada needing a proper education.* ‘You didn’t see me coming!’ Emily’s brother William called out as he raced

  *Although governesses had stopped arriving since Ada went away to school, fashionable young ladies had started to appear from the Psychic Marriage Agency of Shoreditch, much to Lord Goth’s annoyance. They left their calling cards on a rather attractive side table in the entrance hall.

  past them both on Boojum. William, who had chameleon syndrome (which meant he was good at blending in with things), had taken his shirt off because it was so hot and turned the colour of the fir trees in the Avenue of Outrageous Fortune. ‘Ow! Ouch! Ow!’ he cried out, as several pine cones hit him on the head and bounced off. ‘The squirrels don’t seem to have any trouble seeing you, William!’ laughed Emily, sprinting past him on Snark. Ada and Emily reached the

  Chicane of Thwarted Hope neck and neck and sped towards the finishing post. They came skidding to a halt just past the post and climbed off their hobby horses. ‘A dead heat!’ said Arthur Halford the hobby-horse groom, who was leaning on the railings at the end of the racecourse. ‘Once we’ve put the hobby horses back in their stables, Ruby’s saved us all some of Mrs Beat’em’s ice-cold rhubarb cordial with custard froth. She’s set

  everything out in the outer pantry where it is lovely and cool. Kingsley says he’ll meet us there once he’s finished dusting the chimneys.’ Kingsley the chimney caretaker, Ruby the outer-pantry maid and Arthur Halford, together with William, Emily and Ada, were all members of the Attic Club. They met once a week in the attic of Ghastly-Gorm Hall to report on any interesting or unusual things they’d come across, and in a house as big and old as Ada’s, there was always something worth reporting.

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  The members met in other places too, but that was because they were all friends. ‘You go. I’ll meet you there,’ said Ada, pushing Little Pegasus over to Arthur. ‘I need to change into something a little cooler. These woollen culottes were a mistake in this weather.’ ‘Still no new lady’s maid?’ asked Emily. Ada shook her head. Her last lady’s maid, Fancyday Ambridge, had left to pursue a career on the London stage with her singing sisters. In truth, Fancyday hadn’t been a very good maid and had left Ada’s wardrobe in a complete muddle. Ada had hoped her father would sort things out while she was away at school, but he’d had

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  on a new epic poem called Don Jumpy, about a giant jumping mouse from the distant colony of Australia who keeps falling in love. Ada didn’t like to bother him when he was working so was trying to manage without a lady’s maid. At Windy Moor School it had been fine, with only three outfits to choose from, including a warm shawl, large ‘sonnet’ bonnet and sensible walking shoes. But back home at the hall Ada had hundreds of outfits that Fancyday had left scattered all over the place, and getting dressed was now something of a puzzle. As the others headed off to the kitchens in the east wing, Ada walked to the west wing, entering the Hall through the Byzantine windows of the Venetian terrace. As she stepped inside, she heard the sound of a blunderbuss going off. Ada glanced back with a sigh. Her father was in the middle of the west lawn, sitting on his hobby horse, Pegasus. He had a sheaf of paper in one hand, a smoking gun in the other and a quill between his teeth.

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  In the distance, one of the garden gnomes on the rockery had had its head blown off. As Ada watched, Lord Goth took the quill from between his teeth and dipped it in the inkwell attached to the handlebars of his hobby horse, before scribbling furiously on the paper. Ada turned away and walked briskly through the hall towards the staircase. She understood that taking potshots at his garden ornaments helped her father to think, but she was glad nobody else was around. Her father had a reputation for being mad, bad and dangerous to gnomes, and this sort of behaviour would only make that reputation worse.

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  Chapter Two da climbed the grand staircase that led up to the first floor. The walls were lined with family portraits in ornate gold frames. There were the six Lord Goths, including her father, looking very handsome in Albanian national dress. There were also portraits of the Lady Goths. Ada liked to stop and look at them, taking in the detail of the magnificent clothes they wore. She had given them nicknames: the 1st Lady Goth, Dizzy Lizzie, wore a pearl-studded skirt that stuck out at the sides and an enormous lace collar. The 2nd Lady Goth, Dotty Diana, had magnificently plumped-up sleeves of satin and a spaniel under each arm. The 3rd Lady Goth, Dressing-Room Celia, wore a lacy Spanish cap on her head and was admiring her reflection in a mirror o
n a dressing table laden with

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  make-up. The 4th Lady Goth, Frolicking Frances, was dressed as a shepherdess with a beautiful wide-brimmed bonnet fastened with a blue silk bow. In the background several oblong-shaped sheep munched grass thoughtfully. Ada paused on the staircase and gazed up

  the 5th Lady Goth, Sparkling Lady Carole. She loved this portrait of her grandmother. She was wearing an extremely tall powdered wig with floral garlands strung from it, and a beautiful flowing dress of white muslin. In the background behind her was a rose garden in full bloom. Next to this portrait there was an empty space where the portrait of the 6th Lady Goth, Ada’s mother, would have been hung. Sadly, Lady Parthenope Goth, the beautiful tightrope walker from Thessalonika, had died before her portrait had been completed, in an accident while practising on the roof of Ghastly-Gorm Hall during a thunderstorm. Ada was just a baby when it happened, but she had a locket with

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  a miniature portrait inside, which plainly showed that her mother had been the most beautiful of all the Lady Goths. Her father had never remarried, even though Lady Carole often urged him to when she visited. ‘Your daughter needs a mother, Goth,’ she would say. ‘I do what I can, but you know how busy I am.’* Ada noticed that whenever her grandmother brought up the subject of his marrying again, Lord Goth would look especially brooding and change the subject. Soon afterwards the

  *It was true that, since the 5th Lord Goth had died, Lady Carole had been extremely busy, ‘taking the waters’ in spa towns up and down the country. This meant taking lots of baths in mineral water and sipping the water in small glassfuls and being paid lots of money to say how healthy it made her feel.

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  blunderbuss would be heard, blasting away at the garden gnomes. She loved her grandmother, but for the sake of her father’s reputation she was glad she was too busy to visit very often. Ada reached the first-floor landing and walked along the corridor to her enormous bedroom. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside. ‘Oh dear,’ she sighed. There was no getting away from the fact that her bedroom was extremely untidy. In one corner were pairs of shoes, all jumbled up in a heap

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  Fancyday Ambridge had left them. In the other corner was a pile of jackets, dresses and shawls that needed patching, mending or buttons sewing on. Fancyday had been meaning to get round to them, but instead had spent her time practising juggling shoes for her part as one of the Juggly sisters in Cinderella Joins the Circus,* a musical entertainment staged in the village barn of the little hamlet of Gormless. Ada really hadn’t minded because she loved listening to the play and the funny voice Fancyday used for her character.

  *Cinderella’s sisters juggle with a selection of shoes before dropping the glass slipper and smashing it. Cinderella is delighted at this excuse not to marry Prince Charming and joins the circus instead.

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  In the far corner, by the door to the dressing room, was a mountain of bonnets next to an equally tall stack of hat boxes. Fancyday would have put them away in Ada’s walk-in wardrobe in the dressing room, but she couldn’t remember which bonnet fitted in which hat box – at least, that’s what she told Ada. Ada suspected that Fancyday had been having too much fun singing and juggling to get round to sorting out her clothes, shoes and hats. Not that Ada blamed her. After all, she herself had been having such a lovely summer holiday from school that she hadn’t tidied up either. ‘Perhaps tomorrow,’ Ada said to herself, with a smile. Ada stepped over a hat box and went into her dressing room, which was smaller than her bedroom but equally untidy. Just then, she heard a sound. It was a soft, snuffly snore and it was coming from the wardrobe. Ada tiptoed over to the wardrobe door and quietly opened it. She looked inside. Ada’s wardrobe was rather tidier-

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  looking than either her bedroom or her dressing room. That was because most of her hats, shawls, dresses and shoes were no longer neatly folded or stacked on the shelves and racks it contained. Towards the back of the wardrobe, Ada’s winter coats and cloaks were hanging from a line of hooks, and beneath them, curled up close against the wall, was a small sleeping figure.

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  ‘Hello,’ said Ada softly, and then, a little more loudly, ‘Hello, can I help you?’ The little figure stirred, then woke up with a start and jumped to its feet. ‘You’re a faun!’ exclaimed Ada, staring at the figure’s little goat feet. Ada had met a faun before: Mr Omalos, half-man, half-goat, who had visited Ghastly-Gorm with Hamish the Shetland centaur, who was half-boy, half-tiny Scottish pony. ‘But what are you doing sleeping in my wardrobe?’ ‘I’m terribly sorry, miss,’ said the faun in a trembling voice that was little louder than a whisper. ‘It’s a terrible habit of mine.

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  Whenever I visit a big house like this, I find myself being drawn to the furniture – sideboards, cabinets, chests of drawers and especially wardrobes . . .’ The faun shuffled nervously. ‘I just can’t help myself, miss.’ ‘Please, call me Ada,’ said Ada gently. ‘And there’s no harm done. As you probably noticed, I’m just in the middle of reorganizing things . . .’ ‘I’m Shaun the Faun,’ the faun told her, holding out a hand which Ada shook. She noticed he was wearing a rather worn

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  ‘You can have that if you like,’ said Ada. ‘Oh! Thank you, Miss Ada,’ said Shaun the Faun, skipping past her on his nimble feet. ‘I’m here for the music festival. I play the pan pipes for the Ladies of G.A.G.G.A. But I’ll try not to bother you again!’ ‘Wait!’ said Ada. ‘What music festival?’ But the little faun had skipped speedily out of her room and moments later Ada heard his footsteps clip-clopping away down the hall.

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  Chapter Three hen Ada reached the outer pantry, she found the other members of the Attic Club all waiting for her. She had changed out of the woollen culottes into a floral shepherdess smock she had found near the top of the pile of dresses in the corner of her room, and a pair of Grecian sandals. ‘I’ve saved you some rhubarb cordial with custard froth,’ said Ruby the outer-pantry maid. ‘Drink it while it’s cold!’ ‘Thank you, Ruby,’ said Ada, pulling up a high stool and sitting down with the others. Kingsley, Arthur, Emily and William had all finished their cordial and were talking excitedly. ‘Have you seen this, Ada?’ said Emily, pointing to the newspaper spread out on the desk. Ada looked. It was the Baa-Baachester Chronicle . . .

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  Incorporating the Ghastlyshire Gazette LORD GOTH ANNOUNCES A FESTIVAL OF NEW MUSIC GOTHSTOCK

  IN THE GROUNDS OF GHASTLY-GORM HALL, GHASTLYSHIRE, THE LEADING COMPOSERS OF EUROPE WILL CONDUCT PERFORMANCES OF NEW WORK SITTING IN TRADITIONAL VILLAGE STOCKS. THE AUDIENCE WILL BE SUPPLIED WITH ROSE PETALS FOR THE PURPOSES OF THROWING, IN APPRECIATION

  THE LADIES OF THE GENERAL ASSOCIATION OF GARDEN GARLAND ASSEMBLERS THE BAND OF BARDS AND DRUIDS FASHIONABLE CAMPSITE ACCOMMODATION AVAILABLE ALSO ANNOUNCING: ON THE RETURN OF THE SCIENTIFIC VOYAGE OF THE SAUSAGE DOG, AN EXHIBITION OF NEWLY DISCOVERED ANIMALS AND BIRDS OF THE ANTIPODES BY THE CELEBRATED WILDLIFE ARTIST SIR SYDNEY HARBOUR-BRIDGE.

  THE BAA-BAACHESTER CHRONICLE

  ALSO APPEARING:

  ‘A music festival?’ Ada said uncertainly. ‘Here at Ghastly-Gorm?’ ‘And all the festival-goers will be camping,’ said Arthur Halford excitedly. ‘Us hobby-horse grooms have been told to prepare a campsite in the dear-deer park.’ ‘The village stocks will be arriving from Gormless tomorrow,’ said Kingsley, ‘and I’m in charge of putting them up, in front of the bandstand.’ ‘Mrs Beat’em is very cross because all the kitchen maids have to pick roses in the bedroom garden ready for the audience to throw,’ said Ruby, with a nervous glance over her shoulder in the direction of the main kitchen. Mrs Beat’em

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  the cook was notoriously short-tempered and, sure enough, Ada could hear her raised voice echoing from the huge kitchen. ‘Why must his lordship spring these surprises on everyone? How am I supposed to run my kitchen without my maids?’ Mrs Beat’em’s voice boomed out from next door.
‘I do think she has a point,’ said Ada. ‘And it’s not just the

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  the festival – there’s an art exhibition too!’ ‘I’m really excited to see that . . .’ said Emily, who was a keen artist herself. ‘And I overheard Maltravers saying that there’d be a cannon!’ said William excitedly. ‘A really big one!’ Maltravers was the indoor gamekeeper and outdoor butler and was always up to something suspicious, usually a money-making scheme. Ada didn’t trust him one little bit. ‘I might have known Maltravers would be involved,’ she said darkly. ‘I think the Attic Club should keep an eye on him.’

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  Just then, there was the sound of a bell ringing from the kitchen. ‘Ruby! Ruby!’ Mrs Beat’em bellowed. ‘That’ll be his lordship expecting his afternoon tea, and me with all my maids picking rose petals! Ruby!’ ‘Don’t worry, Ruby,’ said Ada. ‘I’ll take the tea tray up to Father. I’d like to have a word with him.’ Ada knocked on her father’s study door and stepped inside. Lord Goth was sitting at his writing bureau, specially made for him by Thomas Ripplingdale, the shirtless furniture maker whose workshop in London was always full of admiring fashionable ladies. A sheaf of papers was spread out across the bureau and cascaded in a papery waterfall down across the carpet, each page covered in Lord Goth’s elegant handwriting. Lord Goth was wearing a magnificent starched gothkerchief and a