Stopping for a Spell (5 page)

Chair Person stopped waving his arms and stood like a statue, looking quite frightened.

“You two come this way with me,” said Mr. Pennyfeather, and he took Simon and Marcia down to the far end of his shop, between an old ship's wheel and a carved maypole, where there was an old radio balanced on a tea chest. He turned the radio up loud so that Chair Person could not hear them. “Now,” he said, “I see you two got problems to do with that old conjuring set. What happened?”

“It was Auntie Christa's fault,” said Marcia.

“She let the crystal ball drip on the chair,” said Simon.

“
And
tapped it with the magic wand,” said Marcia.

Mr. Pennyfeather scratched his withered old cheek. “My fault, really,” he said. “I should never have let her have those conjuring things, only I'd got sick of the way the stuff in my shop would keep getting lively. Tables dancing and such. Mind you, most of my furniture only got a drip or so. They used to calm down after a couple of hours. That one of yours looks as though he got a right dousing—or maybe the wand helped. What was he to begin with, if you don't mind my asking?”

“Our old armchair,” said Simon.

“Really?” said Mr. Pennyfeather. “I'd have said he was a sofa, from the looks of him. Maybe what you had was an armchair with a sofa opinion of itself. That happens.”

“Yes, but how can we turn him
back
?” said Marcia.

Mr. Pennyfeather scratched his withered cheek again. “This is
it
,” he said. “Quite a problem. The answer must be in that conjuring set. It wouldn't make no sense to have that crystal ball full of stuff to make things lively without having the antidote close by. That top hat never got lively. You could try tapping him with the wand again. But you'd do well to sort through the box and see if you couldn't come up with whatever was put on the top hat to stop it getting lively at all.”

“But we haven't got the box,” said Simon. “Auntie Christa's got it.”

“Then you'd better borrow it back off her quick,” Mr. Pennyfeather said, peering along his shop to where Chair Person was still standing like a statue. “Armchairs with big opinions of theirselves aren't no good. That one could turn out a real menace.”

“He already
is
,” said Simon.

Marcia took a deep, grateful breath and said, “Thanks awfully, Mr. Pennyfeather. Do you want us to help tidy up your shop?”

“No, you run along,” said Mr. Pennyfeather. “I want him out of here before he does any worse.” And he shouted down the shop at Chair Person, “Right, you can move now! Out of my shop
at
the double, and wait in the street!”

Chair Person nodded and bowed in his most crawlingly humble way and waded through the papers and out of the shop. Simon and Marcia followed, wishing they could manage to shout at Chair Person the way Mr. Pennyfeather had. But maybe they had been brought up to be too polite. Or maybe it was Chair Person's sofa opinion of himself. Or maybe it was just that Chair Person was bigger than they were and had offered to eat them when he first came out of the shed. Whatever it was, all they seemed to be able to do was to let Chair Person clump along beside them, talking and talking, and try to think how to turn him into a chair again.

They were so busy thinking that they had turned into their own road before they heard one thing that Chair Person said. And that was only because he said something new.

“
What
did you say?” said Marcia.

“I said,” said Chair Person, “I appear—er, hn hm, snuffle—to have set fire to your house.”

Both their heads went up with a jerk. Sure enough, there was a fire engine standing in the road by their gate. Firemen were dashing about unrolling hoses. Thick black smoke was rolling up from behind the house, darkening the sunlight and turning their roof black.

Simon and Marcia forgot Chair Person and ran.

Mum and Dad, to their great relief, were standing in the road beside the fire engine, along with most of the neighbors. Mum saw them. She let go of Dad's arm and rushed up to Chair Person.

“All right. Let's have it,” she said. “What did you do
this
time?”

Chair Person made bowing and hand-waving movements, but he did not seem sorry or worried. In fact, he was looking up at the surging clouds of black smoke rather smugly. “I—er, hn hm—was thirsty,” he said. “I appear to have drunk all your orange juice and lemon squash and the stuff snuffle from the wine and whiskey bottles, so I—hn hm—put the kettle on the gas for a cup of tea. I appear to have forgotten it when I went out.”

“You fool!” Mum screamed at him. “It was an electric kettle, anyway!” She was angry enough to behave just like Mr. Pennyfeather. She pointed a finger at Chair Person's striped stomach. “I've had enough of you!” she shouted. “You stand there and don't
dare
move! Don't
stir
, or I'll—I'll—I don't know what I'll do, but you won't like it!”

And it worked, just as it did when Mr. Pennyfeather shouted. Chair Person stood still as an overstuffed statue. “I—hn hm—appear to have annoyed you,” he said in his most crawlingly humble way.

He stood stock-still in the road all the time the firemen were putting out the fire. Luckily only the kitchen was burning. Dad had seen the smoke while he was picking up apples in the garden. He had been in time to phone the fire brigade and get Mum from upstairs before the rest of the house caught fire. The firemen hosed the blaze out quite quickly. Half an hour later Chair Person was still standing in the road and the rest of them were looking around the ruined kitchen.

Mum gazed at the melted cooker, the crumpled fridge, and the charred stump of the kitchen table. Everything was black and wet. The vinyl floor had bubbled. “Someone get rid of Chair Person,” Mum said, “before I murder him.”

“Don't worry. We're going to,” Simon said soothingly.

“But we have to go and help at Auntie Christa's children's party in order to do it,” Marcia explained.

“I'm not going,” Mum said. “There's enough to do here—and I'm not doing another thing for Auntie Christa—not after this morning!”

“Even Auntie Christa can't expect us to help at her party after our house has been on fire,” Dad said.

“Simon and I will go,” Marcia said. “And we'll take Chair Person and get him off your hands.”

6

Party Games

The smoke had made everything in the house black and gritty. Simon and Marcia could not find any clean clothes, but the next-door neighbors let them use their bathroom and kindly shut up their dog so that Marcia would not feel nervous. The neighbors on the other side invited them to supper when they came back. Everyone was very kind. More kind neighbors were standing anxiously around Chair Person when Simon and Marcia came to fetch him. Chair Person was still standing like a statue in the road.

“Is he ill?” the lady from Number 27 asked.

“No, he's not,” Marcia said. “He's just eccentric. The vicar says so.”

Simon did his best to imitate Mr. Pennyfeather. “Right,” he barked at Chair Person. “You can move now. We're going to a party.”

Though Simon sounded to himself just like a nervous person talking loudly, Chair Person at once started snuffling and waving his arms about. “Oh—hn hm—good,” he said. “I believe I shall like a party. What snuffle party is it? Conservative, Labour, or that party whose name keeps changing? Should I be—hn hm—sick of the moon or over the parrot?”

At this, all the neighbors nodded to one another. “
Very
eccentric,” the lady from Number 27 said as they all went away.

Simon and Marcia led Chair Person toward the Community Hall trying to explain that it was a party for Caring Society Children. “And we're supposed to be helping,” Marcia said. “So do you think you could try to behave like a proper person for once?”

“You—hn hm—didn't have to say
that
!” Chair Person said. His feelings were hurt. He followed them into the hall in silence.

The hall was quite nicely decorated with bunches of balloons and full of children. Simon and Marcia knew most of the children from school. They were surprised they needed caring for, most of them seemed just ordinary children. But the thing they looked at mostly was the long table at the other end of the room. It had a white cloth on it. Much of it was covered with food: jellies, cakes, crisps, and big bottles of Coke. But at one end was the pile of prizes, with the green teddy on top. The conjuring set, being quite big, was at the bottom of the pile. Simon and Marcia were glad, because that would mean it would be the last prize anybody won. They would have time to look through the box.

Auntie Christa was in the midst of the children, trying to pin someone's torn dress. “There you are at last!” she called to Simon and Marcia. “Where are your mother and father?”

“They couldn't come—we're awfully sorry!” Marcia called back.

Auntie Christa rushed out from among the children. “Couldn't come? Why
not
?” she said.

“Our house has been on fire—” Simon began to explain.

But Auntie Christa, as usual, did not listen. “I think that's extremely thoughtless of them!” she said. “I was counting on them to run the games. Now I shall have to run them myself.”

While they were talking, Chair Person lumbered into the crowd of children, waving his arms importantly. “Er, hn hm, welcome to the party,” he brayed. “You are all honored to have me here because I am—snuffle—Chair Person and you are only children who need caring for.”

The children stared at him resentfully. None of them thought of themselves as needing care. “Why is he wearing football socks?” someone asked.

Auntie Christa whirled around and stared at Chair Person. Her face went quite pale. “Why did you bring
him
?” she said.

“He—er—he needs looking after,” Marcia said, rather guiltily.

“He just nearly burned our house down,” Simon tried to explain again.

But Auntie Christa did not listen. “I shall speak to your mother very crossly indeed!” she said, and ran back among the children, clapping her hands. “Now listen, children. We are going to play a lovely game. Stand quiet while I explain the rules.”

“Er, hn hm,” said Chair Person. “There appears to be a feast laid out over there. Would it snuffle trouble you if I started eating it?”

At this, quite a number of the children called out, “Yes! Can we eat the food now?”

Auntie Christa stamped her foot. “No, you may
not
! Games come first. All of you stand in a line, and Marcia, bring those beanbags from over there.”

Once Auntie Christa started giving orders, Chair Person became quite obedient. He did his best to join in the games. He was hopeless. If someone threw him a beanbag, he dropped it. If he threw a beanbag at someone else, it hit the wall or threatened to land in a jelly. The team he was in lost every time.

So Auntie Christa tried team Follow My Leader, and that was even worse. Chair Person lost the team he was with and galumphed around in small circles on his own. Then he noticed that everyone was running in zigzags and ran in zigzags, too. He zagged when everyone else zigged, bumping into people and treading on toes.