Granny Magic, Page 6

  ‘But we want to continue as a knitting knot,’ said Hortense. ‘We want to be part of the Knitwork. Let’s show them what we can do.’

  ‘Let’s go!’ said Will. ‘Let’s try! Gran would want us to!’

  ‘Well, we couldn’t take you anyway, Will,’ said Jun-Yu. ‘Your parents would never give us permission. And it might be dangerous.’

  ‘It’s a moot point,’ said Ivy, holding up her phone. ‘Booked, booked, booked. This week is the TT.’

  ‘You mean that crazy thing where they race round the island on motorbikes?’ said Jun-Yu. ‘I thought that was in June.’

  ‘It is,’ said Ivy. ‘But this week is the classic TT. Vintage motorbikes from all around the world will be gathering to race. The ferry to the island will have been booked since Christmas.’ She sighed.

  ‘She used to ride,’ Hortense whispered to Will, who tried not to look surprised.

  ‘So we can’t get there anyway,’ said Jun-Yu.

  They sat still. The pigeons on the roof made sounds like sighs.

  ‘But we have to do something,’ said Will. ‘He’s also watching us.’ He told them about seeing Fitchet on the roof. ‘Jasper Fitchet’s after Magic Wool, and he’ll do anything to get it.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Hortense. ‘But if he’s really watching us, the last thing we should do is lead him to the magic sheep.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Jun-Yu. ‘Let’s not lose our heads, now. Keep calm and knit on.’

  ‘But—’ said Will.

  Jun-Yu put a hand on his shoulder and said gently, ‘As long as he doesn’t know where to get Magic Wool, everything will be fine.’

  Will knew there was something wrong as soon as he woke up the next morning. Something missing. Something Not Right. He shook his clothes on, and stepped out into the upstairs hallway.

  The Not-Right thing was the sound. He thought at first it was the cricket on the radio, but it wasn’t. It was the telly. Will went downstairs, past the open door to Dad’s empty study, and into the living room. Dad was sitting in his pyjamas on the sofa eating a doughnut. He wasn’t even wearing his glasses.

  ‘Dad! You’re watching the shopping channel!’ said Will. Dad only ever watched programmes about castles or the plague.

  Dad shrugged. ‘Well, why not?’

  ‘But you don’t like those things,’ said Will. ‘Don’t I?’ asked Dad, and he laughed. It didn’t sound like his laugh. ‘Well, I seem to like it this morning!’ He turned back to the TV screen. It was then that Will noticed Dad was wearing a jumper over his pyjamas. It was pale yellow-green, with little black flecks in it, and stripes the colour of wet concrete.

  ‘Dad, where did you get that horrible jumper?’

  ‘Quiet, Will,’ said Dad, without even looking at him. ‘I’m watching something important.’

  Will backed out of the living room. He found Sophie in the kitchen eating a giant bowl of Cookie Puffs.

  ‘Dad let you eat those?’ The Cookie Puffs had been in the back of the cupboard since Uncle Robert had visited.

  ‘Yes!’ said Sophie, her eyes wide. ‘He just poured them out for me and went to watch telly.’

  That was the missing thing, Will realized suddenly. The smell of bacon. Usually Dad and Sophie made a cooked breakfast on Saturday mornings, while Mum had a lie-in – at least until Mr Rover started playing his bagpipes. Come to think of it, it was awfully quiet. He went to the back door. There was no sound from Mr Rover’s. And the Pingles weren’t trying out their massive catapult. Even Arthur and Rosie’s striped garden was deserted.

  Will poured himself a bowl of the Cookie Puffs and ate it slowly. He’d wanted some for months. But they weren’t as good as he’d thought they’d be.

  Things didn’t get any less weird when Mum came down. She made coffee instead of tea, and hardly seemed to notice Will and Sophie. ‘We had Cookie Puffs for breakfast,’ Will announced, staring as Mum stirred three spoonfuls of sugar into her mug.

  ‘Brilliant!’ said Mum, smiling like someone on a toothpaste advert. ‘That sounds yummy!’ There was something wrong with her face.

  ‘Do you . . . do you want some?’ asked Will, looking hard at Mum. It was her eyebrows, he realized. They’d been painted on and they looked like long, fat squiggly slugs.

  ‘Not hungry!’ said Mum, smiling that weird smile again as she took a long drink from the giant mug.

  ‘Mum,’ said Will, ‘where did you get that jumper?’ It was Disney-princess pink, with tiny black flecks, and sparkly fake diamonds stuck all over.

  ‘This?’ said Mum, looking down at herself. ‘It came in the post yesterday – from Fitchet & Ferret. Pretty, isn’t it?’

  Will didn’t think so at all, but he didn’t say it. It didn’t look like Mum.

  ‘But maybe you won’t want to wear it to story hour,’ said Will, trying to think fast. ‘I mean, it’s a bit fancy for the library.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to go to story hour today!’ said Mum. ‘I want to go shopping for more clothes!’ She bent down and ruffled Sophie’s hair. ‘How about that, cupcake?’

  ‘You mean, like, go to the charity shops?’ asked Will. That was where Mum usually went for clothes. She loved saying, ‘charity shop!’ whenever anyone told her she looked nice.

  ‘Nah!’ said Mum. ‘Sophie and I want new, fashionable things, don’t we?’

  Sophie looked from the Cookie Puffs box to her empty cereal bowl, and back up at Mum. ‘Could we get a dog?’ she asked.

  ‘How about a new jumper instead?’ said Mum. ‘You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, Wills,’ she continued. (Wills?) ‘You’ll probably be bored. Why don’t you go and play some games on Dad’s computer while we’re out?’

  ‘What?’ asked Will. He was only allowed half an hour of screen time a day, measured with an old oven timer that always went off just as things were getting interesting. But there was no way Will could let Mum go out on her own while she was acting like this. ‘No, I want to come with you,’ he said.

  He paused for just a second on their way out, to look into the living room at Dad. Should he stay behind? What if the ferrets came back while they were gone and took Gran’s cushions? Dad probably wouldn’t even notice.

  But then Mum swept past him with Sophie’s hand clasped in hers. ‘We’re going to get new jump-ers! We’re going to get new jump-ers!’ she sang.

  Will rushed out after them.

  ‘Fresh strawberries! Two pound a punnet! Fresh strawberries!’

  Mum wouldn’t look at any of the things she usually bought as they crossed the marketplace. She didn’t even smell the basil.

  ‘Local tomatoes! Two pound a bag! Local tomatoes!’

  ‘What about the egg lady?’ said Will, running to keep up. ‘And don’t you want flowers from the Hippy Farm? Blackberries? We could make crumble!’

  ‘Nah!’ said Mum. ‘All that cream will make me fat! Besides, who wants to cook?’

  ‘I do!’ said Will. Suddenly he’d have given anything to be chopping up apples in the kitchen.

  ‘Such a waste of time making anything when you can just buy it!’ said Mum. ‘I’ll buy you some sweets if you want pudding.’

  Sophie stumbled as Mum pulled her across the street. Will trotted after them. Down the hill they went, Mum stopping in front of every shop window, and Sophie bumping into her legs each time. They were headed towards the stone bridge, which was draped with a huge sign saying: GRAND OPENING! FITCHET & FERRET! THIS WAY! The arrows were pointing towards Jasper Fitchet’s factory.

  ‘Oh, this is so exciting!’ said Mum. ‘A proper new shop down here in the old mills!’ She gave Sophie an extra-strong yank as she strode up the bridge.

  Will’s heart was beating like a pile driver. He had to stop them.

  The overgrown lot around the old Woolman Mill had been cleared, re-paved and lined with tubs of fake flowers. The wide wooden doors that led from the car park to the shop level were flung wide and hung with bunting. GRAND OPENING! said the sign over the
doors. DELICIOUS DRESSES! FANTABULOUS FROCKS! TERRIFIC TIES! SENSATIONAL SWEATERS!

  ‘Mum, I don’t think we should go in there!’ Will looked around wildly, hoping to catch sight of anyone who could help him. All he could see were people walking down to the new boutique from both sides of the river. Everyone wanted to shop.

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling!’ said Mum, pulling Sophie into the building and leaving Will to follow.

  The shop couldn’t have looked more different from the basement below it. Instead of rough stone, there was a gleaming parquet floor. In place of the spider-shaped machines with their splayed steel legs, there were elegant sofas and vases full of sweet-smelling lilies. Headless mannequins, each wearing a knitted jumper or dress, hung from the ceiling, floating silently above the floor like phantoms. And instead of the rumble of knitting machines, there was the din of people buying things.

  ‘Ooh, that’s gorgeous!’

  ‘Can I get some service here?’

  ‘I’ll take all three of them!’

  A slender young woman with eyelashes like centipedes’ legs smiled with candy-pink lips as Mum and Sophie walked in. ‘Welcome to Fitchet & Ferret!’ she said.

  Mum let go of Sophie’s hand and rushed towards a minidress all the colours of a mouldy orange, decorated with fake rubies. ‘Oh. That is just adorbs!’ she said.

  ‘Everything is marked down to a hundred pounds today!’ said another slender woman, who had nails like lobster claws.

  Mum began running from one dress to another. ‘I want to try on that one! And that one! And that one!’

  ‘Mum! No!’ said Will, following behind and pulling on her elbow. He tried to think of what Mum would say about these dresses when she was her normal self. ‘I mean, do you think that’s a natural fibre? I’m not sure you could recycle it.’

  ‘Shall I bring these to a dressing room for you, madam?’

  ‘Thank you!’ said Mum.

  Will wanted to rush into the dressing room behind Mum, and yank dresses out of her arms. But the slender young woman drew the velvet curtain closed as Mum went in.

  Suddenly Will looked around him. ‘Mum! Where’s Sophie?’ He looked under the curtain. All he could see were Mum’s plimsolls and her big jute shopping bag on the floor.

  ‘Oh, she’s somewhere,’ said Mum from behind the curtain. ‘Don’t worry! She’s a big girl.’

  ‘Sophie!’ Will rushed through the hanging mannequins. ‘Where’s my little sister?’

  The shop was fuller than ever. As he ran around the racks, Will was jostled, shoved, and hit in the face with an elbow. He’d never seen grown-ups act so rudely.

  ‘That’s mine!’

  ‘I’ll take that!’

  Will froze. It was Bicycle Bob, wearing the jumper he’d won at the duck race. It was hanging in shreds, the sleeves dangling with loose strings. He was clutching at one sleeve of a new jumper and tugging. Pulling at the other sleeve was Ben’s dad, in the jumper he’d won on fete day, which now looked like a ragged net.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Bicycle Bob. ‘I’m cold – I’m so cold.’

  ‘But I need this jumper,’ said Ben’s dad. His eyes were round and he was sweating. ‘Please, please.’ He pulled the jumper towards him. Ben’s dad pulled it back, clutching it to his chest.

  Will couldn’t stop to see what would happen. He ran to the dressing room. ‘Mum, I can’t find Sophie!’

  ‘Who?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Sophie. Our Sophie! My sister!’

  Will looked out of the door of the shop to the car park. Suddenly he felt very, very angry.

  Jasper Fitchet was there. He had a ferret on a leash. Stepping up close to it, her hand outstretched, was—

  ‘Sophie!’ Will hurtled out on to the tarmac. ‘Sophie! What are you doing?’

  ‘I want to meet the ferret!’ said Sophie.

  ‘Your sister and I were just having a little chat about your summer holidays,’ said Mr Fitchet. ‘Only it was too noisy inside for my pet. What a shame it is that you aren’t able to go to the Isle of Man with your granny. You’d be there right now, wouldn’t you?’

  Will ran to Sophie, and whirled her up in his arms. ‘Stay away from my family!’ he said to Fitchet.

  ‘What on earth do you mean, dear boy?’ said Fitchet calmly. The ferret was running back and forth around his neck and shoulders. ‘There’s no need for raised voices!’

  ‘Yes, there is!’ said Will. ‘Just because everyone else thinks you’re Father Christmas doesn’t mean I do. I see you, Jasper Fitchet!’

  ‘Well, I did say you were a clever one.’

  Will ran back through the open door of the shop with

  Sophie’s arms and legs wrapped round him. This time he didn’t stop outside the curtains, but went right into the dressing room, dumping Sophie on the stool next to the mirror. ‘Stay right there, Sophie!’ he said desperately.

  Mum was standing in her T-shirt, with a sparkly jumper in each hand. She blinked at Will and Sophie.

  ‘Mum! Sophie just walked right out of the shop and into the car park with Mr Fitchet!’

  Mum laughed that weird laugh again, but her forehead had sprouted a wrinkle. ‘I’m sure it’s all right, darling. She just— She just—’

  ‘Mum. We have to get out of here. Now!’ Will picked up Mum’s shopping bag from the floor of the dressing room and was about to thrust it into her hand when he spotted something at the bottom of it. It was the patchwork cardigan Gran had made for Mum. Will whipped it out of the bag.

  ‘Put this on,’ he said, and he pressed it against her. Dropping the bag to the floor he grabbed both of her hands, forcing her to hold the cardigan.

  ‘But—’ Mum looked dazed.

  Quickly Will gathered up all the sickly sparkly dresses in his arms and threw them out of the dressing room in a heap.

  ‘Will, that’s rude!’ said Sophie.

  ‘Well— But—’ Mum was still dazed, but she was putting her arms into the cardigan sleeves. As she buttoned the front, she blinked down at Sophie and then at Will, her eyes finally looking into his.

  ‘Did you say that your sister—?’ She looked back at Sophie. ‘Are you all right?’ Swiftly she knelt down and lifted Sophie off the stool. Will grabbed the shopping bag with one hand, and Mum’s sleeve with the other, tugging Mum along.

  ‘Let’s get out of here!’ said Will, and this time Mum followed. ‘Sorry about the mess!’ she called on their way out. It sounded like her real voice now.

  Jasper Fitchet was now back in the shop, with no sign of the ferret. He stepped in front of them and bowed.

  ‘Well, hello, Mrs Shepherd,’ he began. ‘How very lovely to—’

  ‘Don’t listen to him!’ shouted Will, pulling at Mum’s arm. But Mum had become Mum again and she needed no pulling.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said firmly, clutching Sophie closely to her as she stepped around the man. ‘It’s just that we’re in a hurry, Mr Fitchet.’

  ‘What a horrible shop that was,’ she said as they came to the market stalls. ‘I can’t think why we went in there. The clothing was repulsive. Are you all right, Will?’

  ‘Fine!’ said Will, nodding hard. He was now.

  Mum let Will hold the shopping bag and get the money out for the egg lady and the blackberry man and the hippy flower people. She didn’t let go of Sophie the whole way home.

  The telly was still on when they got back, and Dad was asleep on the sofa.

  ‘He’s been working too hard,’ Mum said when she went in to check on him. He woke when she turned off the telly. ‘John, where did you get that strange jumper?’ she asked. ‘You don’t look like yourself at all.’

  ‘I don’t feel like myself,’ said Dad.

  ‘I’d take it off if I were you, and let’s get you some lunch. I’ve had enough weirdness for one morning.’

  Will followed Dad upstairs and watched as he paced back and forth in front of the clothes hamper. Three times he put his hands on the hem of the
jumper and began to lift it off over his head. Three times he stopped.

  ‘Dad,’ said Will softly.

  Dad blinked at him sleepily. ‘Cold,’ he finally said. ‘Just can’t bear to take this off. Can’t remember why I was going to.’

  Will ran back into his room.

  ‘Here, Dad! If you’re cold, try this.’ He handed Dad the hat he’d just finished knitting. It had no Magic Wool in it, of course. It was just a dark green hat made of soft, thick yarn. All it had in it was Will trying to quiet his mind to get ready for Harkening Stitch – although Ivy had shown him how to knit a green leaf to attach to the top, so it looked like the top of a green bean. Will had no idea if it would help.

  Dad put the hat on, looking puzzled.

  ‘Huh. Thank you, mate. Yes, that’s better.’ He looked down at himself and blinked for a minute. ‘Your mother’s right. This is a terrible jumper.’ He pulled it off over his head and dropped it into the clothes hamper, putting the hat back on as he wandered from the room.

  As soon as Dad had gone downstairs Will fished the jumper back out of the hamper, using his thumb and forefingers like pincers. He lowered it into a plastic carrier bag. There. The grans would know what to do with it.

  Stuffing the bag into the wire basket of his bicycle, he pedalled to The Knittery as fast as his legs would go.

  ‘What fresh devilry is this?’

  The grans were gathered around the table in the upstairs room at The Knittery, looking down at the flecked jumper. They were wrapped up to their chins in magical knitting, and Jun-Yu was using a pair of pliers to hold one of the sleeves up to the light.

  ‘This looks like a generosity jumper, only . . .’

  ‘Dicky,’ said Matilda.

  ‘Wonky,’ said Hortense.

  ‘All over the shop,’ said Ivy.

  ‘And the other sleeve – that’s a happiness pattern, only . . .’

  ‘Jump-started,’ said Ivy.

  ‘Gingered,’ said Matilda.

  ‘Sprightled up!’ said Dorcas.

  ‘And this bit round the neck looks like a wisdom jumper, only . . .’

  ‘Is that in reverse?’ asked Dorcas, her eyes wide.