Magicalamity (6 page)

Tom shivered. Iris had little currant eyes, a tiny nose and a wide, lipless slit for a mouth; she did look a bit like a disapproving
Tyrannosaurus rex
, if you could imagine a T. rex with stiff gray hair and glasses. He had
a horrible feeling she was going to be one of the “nasty” fairies.

Lorna browsed through the photos on the Crackdown Park website. They were all of very clean, serious schoolgirls playing cellos and staring into test tubes. The school fees, discreetly listed on a separate page, were enormous.

“Trust old Iris to do well for herself!” Lorna said sourly. “She always had her eyes on the prize.”

“Will she know how to help my dad?”

“Don’t you worry—she might be on the mean side, but she’s fiendishly clever. Go and get your stuff while I give Hector his instructions and show him where the food is. We’re on the move again.”

Tom went upstairs to repack his belongings. He was sorry to be leaving Uncle Clarence’s bedroom before he’d had time to explore it properly—one of the cupboards was filled with rifles, and he longed to investigate the wooden chest that held rows and rows of little silver bottles. Perhaps he could come back someday, when he had found his parents and the nightmarish part of this adventure was over.

Lorna’s luggage was six plastic bags, each stuffed to its bursting point. When Tom returned to the kitchen she was tying these around her waist on a piece of string, like a puffy plastic skirt.

He snorted with laughter. “Sorry—it’s just—maybe
we shouldn’t be flying in broad daylight.” This portly flying bag lady was bound to attract attention. “Maybe we should wait till it’s dark.”

“Oh, nobody will see us,” Lorna said happily. “I took this out of your dad’s underwear drawer.” She held up a tiny tube of bright green glass. “It’s the hour of invisibility Iris sent you for your christening. I reckon we’ll only need about forty minutes of it.”

Once they were both winged and ready, they went outside to take off from the patch of concrete. Lorna unscrewed the top of the glass tube and delicately tipped a little heap of glittering green powder into the palm of her hand. She hurled it into the air and it wrapped them in a pale green mist.

“We’re totally invisible now,” she said. “To both mortals and fairies.”

“Good—I was worried we’d get arrested.”

Lorna grimly adjusted her plastic bags. “That, my dear Tom, is the least of our worries.”

It was a very fast journey. The speed they were flying at took Tom’s breath away—it was like being an arrow, or a bullet. He saw the country below as a speeded-up film—rivers and valleys, busy high streets, gray ribbons of motorway, soft green hills—rushing past beneath him.

Crackdown Park was just outside Cheltenham, a stately gray mansion surrounded by immaculate formal
gardens. Tom and Lorna slowed to a hover above it (Tom was already better at speed control than his godmother).

“This place is amazing,” Tom said. “Iris Moth must be really rich.”

Lorna looked at her watch. “We don’t want to run out of invisibility—we need to touch down somewhere.”

“How about those bushes by the tennis court?”

“Good idea. Gently does it—don’t want to crash.…”

They flew down to the clump of bushes. Tom landed neatly on both feet while Lorna collapsed in a heap, with a loud “Ooof!” Luckily the plastic bags cushioned the impact.

Tom shrugged off Uncle Clarence’s wings. The bony struts collapsed like telescopes, so that the wings could be folded small enough to stow in his backpack. Lorna crammed her wings into one of her plastic bags. Cautiously they emerged from the bushes.

Tom’s summer holidays had started nearly a week ago, but the Crackdown Park girls hadn’t broken up yet. They were very quiet, sedate girls. Tom saw them strolling in groups of two and three, or sitting with books on benches under the trees. He and Lorna must have stood out, yet nobody took any notice of them. The girls, elegant in their navy-blue uniforms, walked past them with dreamy faces, barely seeing them.

“This is spooky,” Tom muttered. “Why are they all walking about in silence?”

“Because they’re so refined,” Lorna said, scratching her bottom vigorously. “This is a very posh school.”

They walked up the imposing stone steps into a huge cool hall with a white marble floor.

“Hello!” called Lorna. The hall was a chamber of echoes and her loud voice sounded like a trumpet fanfare. “Anybody home?”

A girl came out from a door under the stairs. She was a tall, pretty teenager with long blond hair. “Good afternoon. May I help you?” Her voice was flat and dull, and the blankness of her eyes made Tom uneasy—she wouldn’t quite look at them, and spoke as if reading from an invisible script.

“Yes,” Lorna said, “we’ve come to see Iris Moth.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. This is an emergency.”

“If you phone the office you can make an appointment.”

“I told you,” Lorna snapped, “we’re here on very urgent business.”

The girl droned, “The headmistress can’t see you without an appointment.”

“This is ridiculous!” Lorna stamped her boot. “IRIS MOTH!” The echoes bounced and clamored around them. “IRIS CLUTTERBUCK MOTH—COME OUT THIS MINUTE!”

A door burst open—and there stood Iris Moth. Tom
saw at once that this fairy godmother was not kind like Lorna. Her lips had pursed into a thin streak of fury, her little eyes shot sparks and it was impossible not to think of her distant dinosaur ancestors. She clicked across the marble on her high heels and the echoes were like gunshots.

“What is the meaning of this? Who are these people?”

“They don’t have an appointment,” the girl said.

“Hello, Iris,” Lorna said.

Iris Moth looked at her properly, her furious expression changing to one of horror. “Lorna Mustard!”

The two fairy godmothers gawped at each other in silence for a long moment.

“You know why I’m here,” Lorna said.

Iris Moth turned her hard little eyes to Tom. “And this … this—BOY?”

“This is Jonas’s son, Tom Harding.” Lorna was stern. “You chose to ignore the summons, but I didn’t.”

“Thank you, Camilla,” Iris said to the blank-faced blond girl. “That will be all.”

“Yes, Ms. Moth,” said Camilla, drifting away like a sleepwalker.

“You’d better come into my office. Bring this creature.” Iris nodded towards Tom. “Jonas’s demisprite.”

The way she spat out the word made Tom wince. He felt that she hated him for something that was not his fault. The feeling was horrible and it made him clumsy;
he tripped over his feet as they followed Iris’s clicking heels into her office.

“Blimey, Iris—this is fancy!” Lorna admired the richly furnished, book-lined office while she untied the string round her waist. The heap of plastic bags slithered to the floor. “That’s better! Any chance of a cup of tea?”

“I’m afraid you won’t be staying long enough for a cup of tea,” Iris said. “Just tell me what you want.”

“You know perfectly well! You ignored the godmother-summons.”

Iris was shifty. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did! It went out two days ago!”

“I’m a very busy woman.”

“Haven’t you heard the news from the Realm?” Lorna demanded. “Jonas has been charged with murder and misbegetting—he’s gone into hiding, and they’re hunting for Tom.”

“I don’t follow the news from the Realm,” Iris said coldly. “I live as a law-abiding mortal these days. I haven’t practiced magic for years.”

“What about that Camilla kid just now?”

“She’s very shy.”

“Knickers!” said Lorna. “Either she’s drugged up to her eyeballs, or she’s under a spell.”

Iris scowled. “I told you, I don’t have anything to do with magic. I run a highly successful mortal school and I’m a thoroughly decent citizen.” She shot another toxic
glance at Tom. “I’m sure I’d like to help, but there’s not much I can do.”

Tom was very disappointed, and Lorna was angry. “This is your godson!”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Iris did not sound sorry. “I don’t dabble in spells anymore. The best I can offer this demisprite is a sex change and a free place at the school.”

“A sex change!” Tom gasped. “I don’t want a sex change!”

“Iris, listen,” Lorna said. “I don’t like bothering you, but I didn’t know where else to turn!”

There was a knock at the door.

“Ah, that’s the Year Nine nature ramble coming back.” Iris Moth was suddenly brisk and businesslike. “Come in!”

Three girls came into the room. Two of them were lugging plastic bags. They had the same vacant, dreamy look as Camilla. Lorna was right, Tom thought; they had to be under a spell.

Taking no notice of Tom and Lorna, the girls stood in a silent row in front of the headmistress’s desk.

“Hello, my dears,” Iris said, with a sideways glance at Lorna. “I do hope you had a lovely ramble. Let’s see what you’ve brought back for the nature table.”

The first bag contained an elaborate gold clock, several sparkling necklaces and a large vase. “Eighteenth century—what a super specimen. Well done, Hester.”

“Thank you, Ms. Moth.”

“And Catriona, what about you?” Iris eagerly pulled the other bag towards her. “More Rolex watches! You do have such a talent for finding them lying about. Well done, dear.”

“Thank you, Ms. Moth.”

“And Leonora—surely you haven’t come back empty-handed?”

The third girl droned, “No, Ms. Moth.” She took something from the pocket of her navy cardigan. It was a wedge of banknotes the size of a brick.

“Crikey!” Lorna squeaked.

Iris glared at her, then smiled at the girl. “Well done—this lovely lot of … er … specimens will win you a house point, dear.”

“It came from the Abbey National,” said Leonora.

“Fascinating! Off you go, girls.”

The three girls trooped silently out of the room.

The moment the door had shut behind them Lorna burst out, “You steaming old HYPOCRITE! You haven’t given up magic at all—far from it! You’re using it to turn your girls into zombies who go out stealing for you—and you must need a heck of a lot of magic to keep off the mortal police!”

Iris shrugged crossly. “So what? A fairy has to make a living.”

“I manage to make an HONEST one,” Lorna said.

“I need the extra cash to give my school the edge—the top of the league.”

“So you do know enough magic to help my dad,” said Tom.

Iris looked at him, her stubby nose wrinkling with disgust. “No amount of magic can undo his crime.”

“Come off it, Iris!” cried Lorna. “Jonas hasn’t committed any crime!”

“According to the laws of the Realm, he has,” Iris hissed. “Why should I help this creature? His father broke Milly Falconer’s heart!”

“POOH!” yelled Lorna. “What do you care?”

“She was my dearest friend!”

“You were just sucking up to her because she was a Falconer and you’re a SNOB!”

Iris Moth’s lips were so thin they were almost invisible. “I was NOT sucking up! She asked me to be one of her bridesmaids! And then Jonas refused to marry her.”

“He didn’t refuse,” Tom said.

“What did you say?” Iris turned to gape at him in outraged astonishment, as if a slug had suddenly spoken.

Tom’s heart thudded, but he had to speak up for Dad. “He didn’t refuse to marry her—he never asked her in the first place. It’s not his fault that he couldn’t fall in love with her.”

Iris shuddered. “You mortals really do have the most
disgusting way of talking about marriage—this silly mania you have for falling in love first! You probably can’t help it, but Jonas should have known better.”

“If you thought it was so bad, why did you agree to be my godmother? Why did you send me a christening present?”

The lizard-faced headmistress pursed up her mouth and her cheeks turned a little pink. “I’m a great believer in keeping up traditional fairy customs. And—and I liked your father at one time.”

“Don’t you still like him just a bit—just enough to help us?”

She was silent for a moment, and then she let out a long sigh. “All right, I know my duty. I suppose I’ll help. And I suppose you’d like a cup of tea.”

I
ris had cups and saucers and a kettle in one corner of her study. She made them all tea and handed round a plate of chocolate biscuits. Tom relaxed a little. This woman obviously didn’t like him much, but she was a very talented fairy, sure to know how to help his dad.

Iris and Lorna began talking about their businesses.

“OK,” Lorna said, “I admit I use a bit of magic—but only to clear the drains and stuff like that. I don’t use it to commit crimes.”

“But it’s so easy to bamboozle mortals!” Iris didn’t seem to mind being called a criminal—and she didn’t seem at all guilty about the schoolgirls she had turned into thieves. “In my opinion a fairy’s mad if she doesn’t
take advantage.” She took a small silver flask from the drawer of her desk. “How about a drop of Kaulquappe?”

“You’ve got Kaulquappe!”

“I take it for my sinuses,” Iris said. “It’s not for the demisprite, of course.”

“His name’s Tom.”

“Tom,” Iris repeated, shooting Tom a suspicious look. “Well? Do you want some Kaulquappe or not?”

“Go on, then—not too much—haven’t tasted it in donkey’s years.” Lorna chuckled suddenly. “It’s fairy gin, Tom—ten times as strong as the mortal sort, made by German kobolds. ‘Kaulquappe’ is German for ‘tadpole.’ Where on earth did you get it, Iris? Don’t tell me you found a fairy liquor store!”

“No such luck,” Iris said stiffly, with the pale ghost of a smile. “I still visit the Realm quite often, and I pick up the Kaulquappe in the duty-free.” She poured a slug of fairy gin into Lorna’s cup, and a larger slug into her own. “Now, let’s get down to business. Tell me about Jonas.”

Her mouth full of chocolate biscuit, Lorna filled her in on the background. Iris took notes in a little book, like a doctor, and every now and then she said, “I see.”

“And when we last heard from him, he was hiding with a colony of bats.”

“I see.” Iris put down her pen and folded her hands.

“We left in a hurry—we had a visit from Pindar Falconer.”