Mr Majeika (4 page)

‘O frog,' said Jody in her high voice, ‘O frog, I command you, turn back into a prince!' And she kissed the frog.

‘Now, really,' said Mr Potter, ‘I'm not at all in favour of nature-study being mixed up with story-times. And school curtains should not be used for this sort of thing. While as to that frog, its proper place is a pond. I'll
allow tadpoles in school, but not frogs. They jump out of the tanks and get all over the place. Now, if you'll just hand that one over … Where is it?'

‘Here I am,' said Hamish Bigmore. He had appeared out of nowhere, and the frog was gone.

Mr Potter sat down very suddenly in the nearest chair. ‘I don't feel very well,' he said.

‘Ah,' said Hamish Bigmore, ‘you should try being a frog for a few days. Does you no end of good. Makes you feel really healthy, I can tell you. All that swimming about, why, I've never felt better in my life. And being kissed by princesses, too. Not that my princess was a real one.' He turned to Mr Majeika. ‘You really should have taken me to Buckingham Palace,' he said. ‘I'm sure the Queen herself would have done it, to oblige me.'

Mr Potter got to his feet and left the room, muttering something about needing to go and see a doctor because he was imagining things.

‘And now,' said Hamish Bigmore to Class Three, ‘I'm going to tell you all about the life and habits of the frog.' Which he did, at great length.

‘Oh dear,' said Pete to Thomas. ‘He's worse than ever.'

It was about three weeks after this that several of Class Three went to see a film about Superman.

‘The best bit,' said Jody to Pete and Thomas, ‘was when he flew right over those tall buildings. I'd love to be able to fly like that. Do you think people ever can?'

‘I shouldn't have thought so,' said Pete. ‘But you could ask Mr Magic. I'm sure he'd know.'

So, when Class Three were beginning their next lesson, Jody did ask him: ‘Mr Magic, can you really fly, like Superman?'

Mr Majeika smiled at her over his glasses.
‘If you mean
me
, then certainly not! I'm too old for such things. But someone a bit younger could manage it, with a little help.'

‘Do you mean a little magic?' asked Jody. Mr Majeika nodded.

‘Rubbish!' shouted Hamish Bigmore. ‘You couldn't make
anyone
fly, Mr Magic. No one could. It's scientifically impossible.' Since the business of the frog, Hamish Bigmore had been behaving worse than ever. Obviously he thought Mr Majeika wouldn't dare to do anything else to him.

Mr Majeika sighed wearily. ‘It is not rubbish, Hamish Bigmore, but I don't intend to waste time showing you.'

‘Oh do, please
do
,' said Jody, and soon there was a chorus of: ‘Yes,
do
, Mr Magic! Couldn't you, just
once
?'

‘Of course he can't,' sneered Hamish Bigmore.

‘Very well then,' snapped Mr Majeika, ‘just to prove Hamish Bigmore wrong, I will. But it will have to wait until tomorrow, when I can bring the potion.'

Everyone fell silent, wondering what ‘the potion' was.

When the next day came, Mr Majeika seemed at first to have forgotten all about his promise, for he said nothing about it. At last Jody asked him: ‘Did you bring the flying potion, Mr Magic?'

Mr Majeika frowned. ‘Well, yes, I did. But really I think the whole idea is a mistake. I'd much rather we forgot all about it. These things have a way of getting out of hand …'

‘There you are!' jeered Hamish Bigmore. ‘I told you he couldn't do it.'

‘Oh, really, Hamish Bigmore, you're enough to try the patience of a witch's broomstick,' grumbled Mr Majeika. ‘I
suppose I'll
have
to do it just to keep you quiet.'

‘Do what, Mr Magic?' asked Thomas.

‘Why, give you all some of the flying potion,' said Mr Majeika.

There was a happy uproar. ‘What, all of us?' asked Pete. ‘Are we all going to be able to fly?'

‘Well, it'll have to be all or none,' answered Mr Majeika. ‘Can you imagine how jealous everyone would be if I only let one or two of you do it? But it won't be proper flying, mind. Just a little hover in the air. The potion is far too precious to be wasted.'

Class Three tried to make him change his mind and allow them to fly properly, but he wouldn't. So in the end they queued up, and were each given a very small spoonful by Mr Majeika. It was green and sticky, and tasted like a rather nice cough mixture. Only
Hamish Bigmore refused to have any; he said the whole idea was silly.

As soon as they had taken it, Class Three began to jump up and down, in the hope of taking off into the air. But nothing happened.

They were all dreadfully disappointed. ‘There you are!' sneered Hamish Bigmore. ‘I told you so! It doesn't work!'

‘Oh, but it does,' said Mr Majeika. ‘I forgot to tell you that it takes exactly half an hour before anything happens. So we must get on with the lesson for the next half hour, and
then
see.'

It was a very long, slow half hour, and even when it ended nothing happened to Class Three. ‘What's gone wrong?' Jody asked Mr Majeika.

‘Nothing,' answered Mr Majeika, smiling. ‘You can't just sit there and expect to fly without
doing
anything.'

‘Do you mean we should wave our arms about or something?' asked Pete.

Mr Majeika shook his head. ‘No, my friend. The secret is to
think
about flying. If the notion of flying comes into your head, then – hey presto!'

‘I'm thinking hard about it,' said Jody. ‘I'm thinking about floating up in the air from my desk, and – Oh!
Oh!
' Suddenly she found herself doing just that.

In a moment they were all doing it. It was a very peculiar feeling; you simply had to think about leaving the ground, and you did. What's more, once you were in the air, if you thought about (say) spinning round like a top, you found yourself doing it. Pete said:

‘I'm going to think about floating across the room to the door –' and there he was, doing just that.

The only thing that disappointed them was that they were never very far from the floor. ‘Can't you let us go higher?' they pleaded with Mr Majeika.

He shook his head. ‘Too risky,' he said. ‘You might bump your heads on the ceiling, or do all kinds of dreadful things. And anyway, I want to save my precious flying potion. It always wears off in half an hour, however much you take, so it would be an awful waste to give you lots of it.'

Alas, it did wear off in half an hour, to everyone's regret, and all too soon they were
down on the ground again, quite unable to float, however much they thought about it.

‘Well, my friends,' said Mr Majeika, ‘I hope you enjoyed that. And,' he turned to Hamish Bigmore, who had been sitting watching everyone else float through the air, ‘I hope
you
believe me now.'

‘Oh yes, Mr Magic,' answered Hamish Bigmore, with a rather peculiar smile on his face.

‘Very good,' said Mr Majeika. ‘Well then, let me put the potion away, and we can get on again with our proper lessons, which today –' He stopped suddenly. ‘What's happened to the potion?' he said.

The bottle had vanished.

‘
Where is the potion?
' said Mr Majeika again, in an anxious voice. ‘It was on my desk. Someone has picked it up and hidden it. Will they please return it at once?'

No one said anything. Mr Majeika turned to Hamish Bigmore. ‘Hamish,' he said, ‘somehow I have a feeling that
you
are behind this.'

Hamish Bigmore shook his head. ‘Oh, no, Mr Majeika,' he said sweetly, ‘why should
I
do a thing like that?'

Mr Majeika looked at him steadily. ‘Turn out your pockets,' he said to Hamish. But the bottle wasn't in Hamish's pockets.

After that, Mr Majeika searched everyone in Class Three, saying as he did so: ‘Oh dear, I
knew
I shouldn't have brought the potion to school. One of you has played a wretched trick on me, and it's quite unfair.'

‘Perhaps,' suggested Hamish Bigmore, ‘the bottle itself can fly, and it's flown away?' He laughed uproariously, but Mr Majeika was not amused.

Nowhere could the bottle be found, and
by the end of school for that day Mr Majeika was looking very worried and very cross.

‘I'm sure it
is
Hamish,' said Pete to Thomas. ‘He had something tucked under his coat when he left the classroom.'

‘Well,' said Thomas, ‘I'm sure we'll find out who's got it. Whoever they are, they're bound to start flying pretty soon.'

But no one did. Days went by, then several weeks, and nothing peculiar happened in Class Three. After a time Mr Majeika, who at first had continued to look very worried and cross, stopped seeming to be so unhappy about the loss of his potion. Eventually he seemed to have forgotten all about it.

The weather gradually began to warm up. One morning, about two weeks before the end of term, it was so hot that Mr Majeika opened the windows in Class Three. For some reason Hamish Bigmore seemed very pleased at this, though no one could make out why.

Mr Majeika was in charge of school dinner that day, and he walked up and down between the tables, making sure that everyone was eating tidily and not making a mess. Hamish Bigmore was being unusually nice to him. ‘Oh, Mr Magic,' he kept saying, ‘isn't it a lovely day? I do hope you're feeling well today?'

‘Yes, thank you, Hamish,' said Mr Majeika, obviously pleased that Hamish was being polite.

‘Is there anything I can get you?' Hamish asked, smiling sweetly. ‘I'm sure the dinner-ladies would give me a cup of tea for you if I asked them nicely. Shall I go to the kitchen and see?'

Mr Majeika smiled back at Hamish. ‘That's very kind of you,' he said. ‘Yes, I would love a cup of tea if they can make me one without too much trouble.' And off went Hamish.

A few minutes later he came back, carrying the tea. ‘Here you are, Mr Magic,' he said, still smiling sweetly. ‘I do hope you like it.'

‘Thank you, Hamish,' said Mr Majeika, putting it down on the table to let it cool before drinking it.

At this moment Mr Potter bustled up. ‘Ah, Mr Majeika, I wonder if we could do a bit of a change-round this afternoon? I haven't seen much of Class Three this term, so I'd like to take them after lunch, and you can
take Class Four, whom I'd normally be teaching. Will that be all right?'

‘Certainly,' said Mr Majeika.

‘That's fine,' said Mr Potter, and he was just going when he saw the cup of tea. ‘Ah,' he said, rather puzzled. ‘I see the dinner-ladies have left my tea out here today. I always have a cup of tea after lunch, you know. Wakes me up!' And with that, he downed the tea at one gulp, muttered ‘Far too much sugar,' and hurried back to his office.

Hamish Bigmore had gone rather pale. ‘What's the matter?' Pete asked him.

Hamish said nothing. But a moment later, after Mr Majeika had gone off to teach Class Four, he whispered to Pete: ‘We're for it now! Really for it!'

‘What do you mean?' asked Pete.

‘That cup of tea!' said Hamish. ‘It was meant for Mr Magic.'

‘I know that,' said Pete. ‘But I don't think he really minded Mr Potter drinking it.'

‘It's not that, you ass,' said Hamish. ‘
There was flying potion in it
.'

‘
What
?' shouted Pete.

‘Ssh!' said Hamish. ‘I meant it for Mr Majeika. I thought I'd get my own back for being turned into a frog, so I hid the flying potion and meant to make him drink it all one day when the window was open, and I hoped he'd fly away out of the window and
never come back. And now Mr Potter's drunk it instead!'

‘Was there a lot in the cup?' asked Pete.

‘The whole bottle,' said Hamish gloomily. ‘I can't imagine what's going to happen.'

Pete thought for a few moments. Then he said: ‘If odd things start to happen to Mr Potter, we'll
all
get into trouble, you can be sure of that. And if he finds out that Mr Magic's flying potion is at the back of it, you can be sure Mr Magic will lose his job, and Class Three will be given an ordinary teacher instead. Now, that may be what
you
want, Hamish Bigmore, but the rest of us certainly don't. So I'm going to warn everyone
not to pay any attention if Mr Potter starts to fly
. It's the only hope …'

When Mr Potter arrived to teach Class Three fifteen minutes later, everyone had been warned. They sat silently at their desks,
knowing that something very odd was probably going to happen, but determined not to laugh or give any other sign that something extraordinary was going on.

In fact, for a very long time nothing happened at all. Mr Potter began to give them an ordinary, boring lesson, and the afternoon dragged by as slowly as usual.

‘It takes half an hour to work,' Jody whispered to Thomas. ‘The flying potion, I mean.'

‘The half hour was up a long time ago,' whispered Thomas. ‘I can't think why nothing's happening.'

‘
I
know,' whispered Pete. ‘It's because he's not
thinking
about flying. You've got to think about it in order to leave the ground.'

‘Well, let's hope he
doesn't
think about it,' whispered Pandora.

Mr Potter glanced up irritably. ‘Stop that
whispering at the back!' he said. ‘Have any of you been listening to me? What have I been talking about, Jody?'

There was an awkward silence as Jody tried to remember what Mr Potter had been saying. ‘It was something about how the wind works, wasn't it?' she asked hopefully.

‘Certainly not!' spluttered Mr Potter. ‘I have been giving you a lesson on the force of gravity. Do you know what gravity is?'

Jody shook her head.

‘Oh, really!' said Mr Potter. ‘You haven't been listening at all. Gravity is the thing which keeps us all on the ground, and stops us floating up
into the air
…'

His voice became a squeak of surprise on these last three words, for as he spoke them, he himself left the floor and began to rise slowly towards the ceiling.

There were a few snufflings among Class Three as they stuffed handkerchieves into their mouths to stop themselves laughing. But otherwise, silence.

Mr Potter had stopped rising, and was suspended in mid-air, about four feet from the floor, ‘Er,' he said, ‘something peculiar seems to have …' He looked at Class Three, and Class Three looked back at him. No one laughed or said anything. Slowly, Mr Potter came down to the ground.

‘He must have stopped thinking about floating,' whispered Jody. ‘Let's make him talk about something else. That should keep his mind off it.'

‘Mr Potter,' said Thomas loudly, ‘we don't really want to hear any more about the force of gravity. Why not tell us about winds instead?'

‘Certainly not!' said Mr Potter crossly. ‘Kindly attend to the lesson. As I was saying, gravity stops us from floating in the air. Now you may ask how it is that birds manage to fly? Let me tell you. When birds wave their wings –' He started to wave his arms to show them what he meant; and, as he did so, he rose once more in the air. At first he didn't seem to notice, and simply went on talking.

‘By moving their wings,' he said, ‘birds create a current of air which permits them to
fly wherever they want. They can fly to the left' (and so saying, Mr Potter flew across the classroom) ‘or to the right' (he flew back to his desk) ‘or round and round in circles.'

As he said these last words, Mr Potter slowly circled the room, and then returned to his desk. He looked puzzled. ‘Er,' he said, ‘I don't know how to put this, boys and girls, but during the last few minutes, while I was talking to you, I had the strange sensation that … well, that
I
was flying like a bird. Did you notice anything odd, boys and girls?'

‘Oh no,' said Thomas.

‘We didn't see a thing,' said Pete.

‘You must have imagined it,' said Jody.

‘Only,' said Thomas, ‘we wish you'd stop thinking about – I mean talking about – flying, and tell us about something else.'

‘Listen, boy,' said Mr Potter crossly, ‘I am going to finish my lesson on the force of
gravity, and I want no more interruptions from you! Now you must understand that, if it were not for the force of gravity, we couldn't simply walk about on two legs. Why, we'd often find ourselves standing on our heads!' And of course, as he said these words, Mr Potter's feet rose a little from the ground and he slowly turned right over in the air, coming to rest standing on his head.

There was silence. ‘Are you
sure
nothing peculiar is happening to me, boys and girls?' came Mr Potter's voice from the floor.

‘Oh, nothing at all,' said Pandora Green. ‘You're just standing by your desk as usual.'

‘Oh,' said Mr Potter. ‘Oh well … I really ought to go and see a doctor about these funny things I keep imagining … Still, I must finish the lesson.' He cleared his throat. ‘Not only would we often find ourselves standing on our heads,' he continued, ‘but
without gravity we could simply float out through any open window, sail up into the sky, and never come back.'

And of course, exactly as these words left Mr Potter's lips, he left the floor and began to float, still upside-down, towards the open window.

‘Quick!' shouted Pete. ‘Someone shut the window, or he'll never be seen again.'

Everyone made a rush for the window. But just at that moment the bell rang for the
end of afternoon school; and as it did so, Mr Potter came back to earth with a bump and sat up, rubbing his head.