 
Wishing Well and Other Strange Stories

By Lynne Roberts

Published by Liberty Publications at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Lynne Roberts

ISBN 978-1-927241-21-9

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
Contents

Wishing Well

The Third Lamp-post on the Left

Practice Makes Perfect

Under a Cloud

Occasional Table

Wishing Well

Nina pushed a coin in the slot of the drink vending machine. Her hand hovered by a button then fell back by her side.

'Come on, Nina. Make up your mind,' Finn urged her.

'There are too many to choose from,' Nina protested. 'I want to make sure I get the very best flavour.'

'It's only a fizzy drink, for heavens' sake,' her brother said, sighing in exasperation as Nina touched first one button, then another. 'You know Mum will complain if we're not back in the carpark at three o'clock and that only gives us ten minutes.'

'It doesn't take ten minutes to get to the carpark,' Nina answered indignantly. 'You only want to hurry so you can spend five minutes gazing at Sophie Banister in the sports shop.'

Finn went pink and shuffled his feet. 'No it's not,' he said insincerely. 'Anyway, I do have to go to the sports shop as it happens. I need a new tennis ball.'

'What happened to the last dozen?' Nina inquired innocently. 'You can't have lost them all since Wednesday. You're not that bad a player and you've only played one game since then. And if it comes to that, you can buy tennis balls at the supermarket on the way home.'

'I haven't lost them,' Finn muttered. 'But they aren't any good. I need better quality ones that bounce more. The supermarket doesn't sell that sort. Now grab your drink and come on. Otherwise you can buy one at the supermarket.'

'You know Mum hardly ever lets me buy fizzy drink,' Nina objected. 'Oh I can't decide. I'll close my eyes and take what I get, and if it turns out to be horrible it will be all your fault.'

She closed her eyes and pushed a button at random. There was a clunk and a violent yellow coloured bottle tumbled into the dispenser in front of her.

'Ooh, yuck. That looks awful.'

'Serves you right for taking so long,' Finn sniffed.' I'm off to the sports shop. See you back at the car.'

With that he turned and darted though the crowded shopping mall, leaving Nina clutching her bottle of yellow fizzy drink.

Thinking dark thoughts about impatient older brothers, Nina made her way past the shops. It was summer sale time, and racks of inviting T-shirts and sundresses hung outside all the clothing stores. Nina resolutely ignored them.

'I don't need anything new,' she told herself. 'And anyway, the gear that's left will only be the stuff everyone else rejected earlier in the summer.'

This heroic attitude carried her past the first six shops but in the seventh a vivid pink top caught her eye and she wasted several minutes holding it against herself as she tried to see her reflection in the store window. She had almost decided it was worth trying on when she saw the price tag.

'Ninety five dollars!' Nina gave a horrified gasp and hastily thrust the top back on the rack. She fought her way though the crowd of shoppers, all of whom seemed to be going in the opposite direction, and arrived breathlessly in the carpark to find her mother and Finn already waiting in the car.

'I did say three o'clock, Nina,' her mother said reproachfully, as she turned the key in the ignition.

'Sorry,' said Nina. 'It was so crowded it was hard to get through and Finn raced on ahead of me.'

Finn glared at her, knowing full well Nina was trying to get him into trouble. He was not supposed to leave his sister on her own in the shopping mall. Both Finn and Nina thought this was a stupid rule, but as their father explained when they complained to him about it, 'your mother is nervous since that young girl was abducted last year.'

'But that wasn't even in our town,' Nina had protested.

'It doesn't hurt to be careful,' her father had answered. 'There are some odd types about, you know. Besides, you and Finn always get on well together.'

Nina had to concede this was true. But lately Finn had become interested in girls, Sophie Banister in particular, and he wasn't keen on his kid sister tagging along with him.

'What's in that bottle? Did you buy it, Nina?' her mother asked in horror.

Nina sighed. 'No, I stole it,' she wanted to reply, but fixed a smile on her face and said, 'I was thirsty, Mum and anyway it's mainly fruit juice.'

'It looks full of sugar. It won't do your teeth any good at all.'

'Do you want me to throw it away?' Nina asked politely, as the car pulled in by the supermarket. She knew this would irritate her mother who hated any form of waste.

'Don't be so silly. You'd better drink it now you've bought it. But you'll have to stay outside. You can't come inside with food or drink.'

Nina made a face. The fizzy drink looked even more unappealing in the bright sunlight. She reluctantly turned the cap as her mother directed Finn to collect a trolley and bustled into the supermarket heading for the produce aisle. The cap was surprisingly stiff to turn. Nina gritted her teeth and made a final effort. There was a sharp crack of sound as the cap came off in her hand, and a wisp of vapour trickled out of the neck of the bottle. As Nina began to lift it to her lips, the vapour suddenly billowed into an evil smelling cloud of yellow gas. Nina dropped the bottle with a squawk of alarm.

'It's a bomb,' she wailed, looking around wildly for help.

'No it's not,' came a bored voice from within the cloud.

Nina peered through the smoke, coughing a little. A teenage boy stood in front of her with his arms crossed. He was skinny, with a sharp pointed chin and a long nose framed by a mop of untidy hair the colour of dirty string. He wore faded jeans that were tattered along the hem above chunky black boots. His mud-coloured T-shirt had some sort of writing on the front, which Nina couldn't quite read. A frayed canvas bag hung from one bony shoulder and the boy hitched this up as he looked down at Nina.

'Where did you come from?' Nina stammered.

'The bottle of course,' the boy answered calmly.

Nina stared, openmouthed, then came to her senses. 'Don't be silly,' she said. 'I'm not that stupid. Did you see the smoke stuff that came out of my bottle? I thought it was a bomb.'

She began to chatter nervously, feeling uncomfortable under the boy's rather mocking gaze.

'I told you, it isn't a bomb. I won't bore you with the technical side of it, seeing you are a girl, but it's what usually happens when you open a bottle and release a genie.'

Nina seethed. 'What do you mean, seeing I'm a girl? Girls have brains just as good as boys' any day of the week. And I don't believe you, anyway. You've just come from behind one of those cars and you're trying to wind me up.'

'Suit yourself,' the boy shrugged. 'Whatever you believe doesn't change the facts. Whether you want them or not, I have to honour my contract.' He yawned. 'I must inform you that you are entitled to three wishes.' He took a pack of chewing gum from his hip pocket and popped a piece into his mouth.

Nina took a step backwards. Maybe her Mum was right. There were some very odd people about and if she wasn't careful she might be abducted. She made up her mind quickly and ran for the supermarket entrance. Glancing back over her shoulder she sighed with relief to find no sign of the weird boy following her. As her heart-rate returned to normal she walked down past the cabbages and lettuces and turned into the next aisle. There was no sign of her mother and Finn, and she realised that the shelves beside her were full of wine and beer.

'You do like bottles, don't you?' said a voice behind her ear.

Nina shrieked and turned around. The strange boy was there beside her, leaning with folded arms against a sign offering Chardonnay on special. He tapped one foot.

'So what's the first one?' he asked, raising one eyebrow.

'First what?' asked Nina, looking around to see if anyone could help her escape this madman.

The aisle was surprisingly deserted. Over the thumping of her heart, Nina could hear shoppers talking and the tinny music from the speakers singing of happy days at the beach. She considered screaming for help but after all, the boy wasn't exactly touching her. And what would she say if the supermarket manager came running up? 'Excuse me, but this guy is weird.' There was no law against someone being weird and she'd only look like a total prat for complaining.

'First what?' she asked the boy again.

'First wish, of course. Like I said, you get three.'

'Am I supposed to believe that?'

'Why not?'

'Because you don't look like a genie,' Nina blurted out.

'What's a genie supposed to look like then?' the boy asked mockingly, as he fixed her with his green piercing eyes.

'Well, you know,' Nina stammered in confusion. 'Big.'

'Oh, so I'm not big enough? Well, I dare say I'll grow in time but at the moment this is the size I am so you'll have to put up with it. Anything else?'

'Yes. You should be wearing a turban.'

'Why?'

Nina opened her mouth and shut it again. She couldn't actually think of a good answer for this. 'Because the genies in books always wear them,' she managed eventually.

'Oh, stories!' the boy flapped a hand dismissively. 'The same sort of stories where rabbits talk and wear little blue jackets. And tiny fairies sprinkle magic dust and horses fly. Rubbish, in other words.'

'Er, yes. I suppose so.' Nina began to walk down the aisle, noticing with dismay that the boy easily kept pace beside her.

'So what else, apart from turbans and being big?' he asked pointedly.

'Um, you should be dark skinned,' said Nina desperately. 'I thought all genies came from the East and people there have dark skins, don't they?'

'Not all of them,' the boy said reasonably. 'Some of us are quite pale. It's all that marrying of fair young princesses by our dark handsome princes. It does tend to influence the skin colour of their progeny. Mind you,' he added fairly, 'you could have ended up with old Ali Hashban. He's big and dark skinned and he does tend to favour a turban. He's very bad tempered, though. He scares people rather, and bullies them into wishing too quickly so they ask for silly things. No, you're better off with me, believe it or not.' He cocked his head to one side and thought for a moment as he followed Nina past shelves stacked with potato crisps and corn chips. ' Last I heard, old Ali was working out of a brass lamp somewhere in Egypt so you probably wouldn't have summoned him in the first place.'

Nina gave him an uncertain look as they turned the corner into the biscuit aisle. There was still no sign of Finn or her mother but an old lady stood beside a trolley trying to decide which of two varieties of shortbread to purchase. Nina's heart sank. The boy was obviously going to stick to her until she humored him.

'Okay, I believe you,' she said in resignation. 'You are a genie and you can grant me three wishes. For my first wish I'll have a chocolate cake please.'

'Nothing easier.' The boy reached past the old lady and took a wrapped chocolate sponge cake from the top shelf. 'Here you are.'

'Oh gosh. How impressive. What a spectacular thing to do,' Nina said sarcastically. 'I could have done that myself!'

The boy shrugged. He seemed to do that a lot. 'You asked for it. I merely answered your wish,' he remarked.

Nina spun on her heel in frustration and stalked to the checkout. She was relieved to see her mother loading her groceries onto one of the counters.

'What have you got there, Nina. A chocolate cake! What's got into you today? You know I don't buy cakes when I can make them myself.'

'I thought it might be nice for tea,' Nina said in embarrassment as the checkout girl stared at her.

'Oh go on, Mum. You know you've been too busy to do much baking lately,' Finn interrupted.

Nina put the cake on the counter and her mother grimly reached for more money from her purse. Nina felt guilty about this but was relieved that at last the weird boy appeared to have vanished.

They carried the bags of groceries to the car and loaded them in the boot. Nina climbed into the back seat then gave a horrified gasp as the weird boy stepped in beside her. He slung his bag on the floor between his feet and winked at Nina.

'What are you doing here? Get out before Mum sees you,' she hissed.

The boy grinned at her. 'I told you, I'm a genie. I still owe you two wishes and until then you're stuck with me. You'd better get used to it.'

'I could wish for you to go away,' Nina threatened.

'You could – but it would still leave one wish so I'd have to come back. Bit of a waste, really. Still, that's up to you.'

Nina wondered if she was going insane. It had to be either her or the boy and she had a horrible feeling it was her. She glared at the boy as her mother settled herself in the driving seat. She noticed the boy as she glanced in her rearview mirror and turned to Nina with a questioning look.

'Who is this, Nina?' she asked.

'Oh, I'm a friend of Nina's. She invited me to stay for a while,' the boy said carelessly. She stared at him in shock as her brother leaned over the seat.

'Okay, cool. I'm Finn. What's your name?'

'Gene,' said the weird boy, with a wink at Nina.

Nina's mother looked taken aback, but good manners triumphed over her feelings of outrage as she fixed a smile on her face. 'Hello, Gene. Nice to meet you. Nina didn't tell me she was inviting a friend home. Will you be staying long?' she asked politely.

'Depends,' shrugged Gene. 'I've got a couple of things to do then I'll move on.'

'I see,' said Nina's mother, not seeing at all, and determined to have a stern word with her daughter at the first opportunity.

It was fortunate that it was a brief trip home, as Nina strove to keep her anger under control. On their arrival, Finn took Gene and showed him the spare room while Nina helped her mother put away the groceries.

'Who is he?' her mother demanded, as soon as Gene was out of hearing. 'What on earth possessed you to ask him here? I know we allow you and Finn to to have friends to stay but you must ask me first.'

'He's an exchange student,' Nina invented desperately. 'He wasn't happy in the place he went to so I said he could come here for a while. Just until he finds another host family,' she added quickly.

'I hope that's soon,' her mother said grimly. 'He doesn't look any too clean and he's wearing an earring.'

It's probably the custom where he comes from,' Nina mumbled.

'And where is that?'

'Oh, I'm not sure of the name. It's some foreign place out East. Most of them wear turbans,' she added helpfully.

'Well let's hope he doesn't have strange eating habits,' said her mother. 'I'm not up to cooking foreign dishes.'

'Oh I'll eat anything,' Gene said cheerfully, overhearing this last remark as he entered the kitchen. 'Is there anything I can do for you Nina?'

'Not at the moment,' Nina blurted out as she escaped to her bedroom

She sat on her bed and thought hard. 'If he really is a genie then it would be fantastic,' she reasoned. 'I'd get three wishes – no, two if you count the chocolate cake, although that was such a cheat. What could I wish for that would be really worthwhile?'

Nina grabbed a pen and started making a list in the back of her social studies book, which was the first paper she could find within reach.

'My first wish would be to be to fly. I'd love to have wings so I wouldn't have to walk to school and I could take off into the air whenever I wanted to. I could ask to be changed into a fairy with all sorts of magic powers. That would be really cool. Hmm.' Nina thought about this and giggled as she imagined her friends' faces as she fluttered past them each morning. 'On second thoughts,' she sighed, 'they'd probably stick me in a circus or something or think I was an angel which would definitely be too hard to live up to.' Nina put a firm line through wings.

'The next best thing would be to be beautiful. I'll be really specific. I want long blonde hair like Michelle Appleton and my eyes need to be bigger; the colour is okay. I'm happy to stay blue. But I want my lashes to be longer and to not have freckles.' She tossed her brown hair back and looked critically at herself in the mirror. 'My nose needs to be a better shape and I'll have perfect teeth as well so I'll never need to have braces.'

Nina smiled, as she thought how good her life would be if she could be devastatingly beautiful. She had a slight qualm when she thought of the shock this would be to her family but decided they would quickly get used to it. 'They'll be glad for me,' she assured herself. 'Now for the second wish. I'll have heaps of clothes and shoes, a castle to live in, a private plane, and a flash car.' She paused and drew a line though the list. 'Money! If I had untold millions I could buy all that stuff. That way I'd end up with what I wanted. A scruffy boy with an earring isn't going to choose any decent clothes for me to wear.'

She thought a little longer. 'Yes, money is definitely the sensible option. Most people would wish for the wings, which unfortunately would be a bit difficult to live with. I'll definitely have the money. Let me see – two or three million dollars should cover it but I could ask for ten then I'd never need any more. Right. I'll tell Gene.'

Nina skipped out to the kitchen full of confidence but there was no sign of Gene.

'He went outside with Finn,' her mother told her crossly. 'Now help me peel the carrots. I need to get the dinner prepared quickly as your father and I have to go out to a meeting at seven o'clock. I really don't know what your guest will think of us deserting him on his first night here, but you didn't give me any warning.'

'It will be fine. Mum. He won't mind.' He'd better not, she added darkly, under her breath. 'We'll probably just watch TV anyway.'

Her mother still looked annoyed so Nina peeled the carrots in silence, reflecting that once that had untold wealth they could hire servants to do the cooking and that would be bound to cheer her mother up. 'I wonder how Gene will organise the money,' she thought. 'I mean, I can't suddenly show up with ten million dollars. Maybe he can work it so I win it in a lottery or something. I guess I'll have to buy a ticket in something.'

Nina determined to ask Gene about the money as soon as she got him alone, but this proved surprisingly difficult. Gene and Finn were suddenly best buddies. After dinner Nina trailed after Finn and Gene to the park down the road where they hit tennis balls back and forth to each other while she watched in frustration. She eventually stalked home to watch TV until they finally showed up at which time Finn condescendingly informed her that it was her bedtime.

'I'll tell Mum if you don't go now,' he said virtuously.

Nina glared at him but decided she would talk to Gene the next morning. It would be the weekend after all, so there were two whole days to work on her remaining two wishes.

Saturday morning was fine and sunny. Nina was hanging the washing on the line, which was one of her weekend chores, when Gene appeared beside her. He watched as she pegged out a tablecloth.

'Where do you come from, really?' Nina asked.

'I told you. The bottle.'

'No, I mean before that. And how did you get in the bottle anyway?'

Gene sighed. 'There are two ways you get to be a genie. Usually it's the family profession,' he told her. 'In my country we do what our father and grandfathers do. If all your family are camel drivers or rug sellers, then that's what you do.'

'Are all your family genies, then?' Nina said incredulously.

Gene looked uncomfortable. 'Well, no, actually,' he mumbled. 'That's the other way you get to be a genie. If you do something to upset one of the Ancient Ones you can get put under a curse and have to be a genie until someone breaks it. That's the curse, not the bottle. If the bottle breaks I simply get stuck in another one.'

'What did you do to get cursed,' Nina asked in awed tones.

'I took a flying carpet that didn't belong to me,' Gene said casually. 'I only borrowed it,' he added hastily, as he saw Nina's mouth open wide in astonishment. 'I'm not a thief, whatever some people may have thought,' he added bitterly.

'How did you get in the bottle? And how did the bottle get over here?' Nina asked curiously.

Gene rolled his eyes. 'Females! You're all so inquisitive. All these questions.'

'I want to know.'

'Oh, all right. First getting into the bottle. It's just a formula they use.'

'Who are they?'

'The Ancient Ones. It's very complicated and I'm not going to explain it to you, but one of them recited some words and that transported me into the bottle.'

'You mean magic,' breathed Nina.

'No, a formula. I told you. Anyway, I stay in the bottle – and it can be any sort of bottle anywhere in the world – until someone opens it. Then I grant three wishes and get put back into the bottle and it all begins again.'

Nina digested this. It all sounded horribly organised. She said at last, 'How long does this curse last?'

'Forever,' Gene grunted.

'But you must be able to stop it, surely?' Nina cried. 'Can't you apologise to the owner of the carpet?'

Gene grimaced. 'I've already done that,' he retorted fiercely. 'It didn't make any difference. The only way out is if someone grants me my freedom and that's not very likely to happen. Most people ask for the same things.'

'What sort of things?' Nina wanted to know.

'Oh, being rich, usually. And guys usually ask next for a large castle. That's easy. There are heaps of abandoned castles due to plague or war or even climate. No one is keen to live in the wilds of Scotland, for example. Then they invariably wish for a beautiful young woman to adore them, preferably a princess. That leads to all sorts of trouble.'

Nina was intrigued. 'How do you mean?'

'Think about it. What self-respecting princess is going to be thrilled to be abducted from her happy life and given to some man she has never met before, all because he had the luck to pick the right bottle? Fortunately, getting them there is all we have to do. It's up to the guy to keep them and they usually find they have bitten off more than they can chew.'

'Why?'

Gene grinned. 'Princesses are used to fairly flash lifestyles. They complain if things aren't done exactly as they want it, instantly. The poor sucker with the bottle usually hasn't had the foresight to ask for servants to run the huge castle he has wished for. So that takes care of all his money, unless he uses his last wish, and he's stuck in a remote castle with a sulky young lady who resents him. Not the sort of life I'd choose!'

'What about girls. What do they wish for?'

'Oh, females all want to look beautiful,' Gene said in disgust.

Nina blushed. 'What's wrong with that?' she asked defensively.

'Nothing, if that's what's important to you, I guess. But being beautiful doesn't improve your ability to do anything. You'd be better to wish for more intelligence.'

'Can you grant that?'

Gene thought for a minute. 'Yes,' he said at last. 'At least, I could but you wouldn't enjoy it.'

'Why not?'

'Because to gain in wisdom you need age and experience and you probably wouldn't want to go from twelve to ninety five years old in less than a minute.'

Nina digested this. Her instincts had been right. Wishes were tricky things. In all the stories she had read, wishes were wasted. People wished for silly things then had to waste a wish to fix up the first one.

'If I wished to be rich with, say, ten million dollars, could you do that?'

'Sure, easy.' Gene sounded bored.

'And could you do it so no-one would be suspicious of how I got that much money?'

Absolutely.'

'Right.' Nina pegged up the last tea towel and turned to Gene. 'I am going to make my second wish. I wish for ten million dollars and I want it so that no one is suspicious about it.'

'You're sure?' asked Gene, his green eyes glinting.

Nina took a deep breath. 'Yes,' she said firmly.

Gene waved his hand and muttered something in a strange language. Nina looked at him expectantly. 'Well?' she demanded. 'Where is it?'

'The money?' Gene slanted an eyebrow.

'Of course, the money,' yelled Nina, losing her temper.

'In your bedroom,' said Gene, hiding a smile.

Nina pushed past him and raced to her room. She burst though the door and stopped dead in her tracks. The bed was covered in neat piles of notes, all stacked and secured with rubber bands. 'All right,' she breathed. Gleefully she grabbed the first pile and started riffling though it. They were hundred dollar notes! A grin spread across her face and she ran next door into her brother's room.

'Finn, look what I've got,' she shouted.

'Don't bother knocking. Come right in,' grumbled her brother. He looked up from his desk where he was wrestling with a math's assignment.

'Look,' screamed Nina. 'I'm rich! I'm rich!' she pulled off the rubber band and threw the notes into the air.

'For goodness sake, Nina. Get this mess out of here,' Finn complained. 'Go away and let me finish my homework.'

'But I'm rich,' cried Nina.

Finn picked up one of the notes and looked at it. 'Yeah, right Nina. You're rich. Big deal. It's only Monopoly money. Now go away.'

'What?' shrieked Nina. 'What do you mean, Monopoly money?'

She picked up one of the notes and looked at it closely. Sure enough, it was printed clearly; Monopoly.

'That beast,' she fumed. 'He tricked me. Where is he?'

Nina stormed around the house looking in each room in turn. She finally ran Gene to earth in the back yard. He was leaning against the potting shed and watching a flock of pigeons circling overhead.

'You tricked me,' yelled Nina furiously.

'No I didn't,' Gene told her. 'You asked for a hundred million dollars. You got it. You didn't want anyone to be suspicious of how you got it. Well, they weren't. So you got your wish.'

'But I wanted real money,' wailed Nina.

'You should have said so then, Gene said mockingly. 'Now, if you'd specified gold coins, then I would have done that.'

'I could hardly spend gold coins in the shops here,' Nina objected. 'And I bet you'd have made sure they were chocolate ones wrapped in gold paper like you get at parties.'

Gene had the grace to look embarrassed at this as he scuffed the toe of his boot on the path. 'Only one wish to go, then you can be rid of me,' he said encouragingly. 'Go on, what's it to be. Do you want to look like a movie star or be the next Miss Universe? Surprise me.'

'I don't think I want either of those,' lied Nina.

'What else, then?' Gene asked casually. 'I'll bet you have a list.'

Nina thought guiltily about her social studies book. 'What if I ask for another three wishes?' she said in sudden inspiration.

Gene shook his head. 'Nope.'

'Why not?'

'It's against the rules.'

'What are the rules?' Nina wanted to know.

'Oh, there are lots of them.' Gene held up a skinny hand and ticked them off on his fingers as he spoke. 'One; no more than three wishes per person. Two; genies can have no control over which bottle they are put into or where it is sent. Three; a genie has to obey wishes exactly. It allows for a bit of creativity there, especially on the third wish.'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, if you wished to be a fast runner for instance, I could turn you into a racehorse. The Ancient Ones like a bit of humour. The trick is to do exactly what the person wishes for but not to use too much energy in the process. Every wish we fulfil uses energy, which is drained from somewhere else. The Ancient Ones don't like huge drains as it upsets the weather patterns. So to keep things going smoothly we have to use as little as possible.'

'Are those all the rules?'

Gene shook his head. 'There are lots more, but you wouldn't be interested in them.'

'Who makes the rules?' Nina asked.

'The Ancient Ones, and no, I can't change them.'

'What would happen if you broke one of these precious rules?'

Gene went pale. 'Don't even joke about it,' he said fervently.

'Is it that bad?'

Gene made no reply to this and Nina looked at him thoughtfully. 'What's it really like being in a bottle. Do you shrink down really small and have you got a bed and stuff like that inside it?'

Gene gave a hollow laugh. 'No doubt that's another of your fairy stories. It's nothing like that. What happens is that my body sort of dissolves into a vapour.'

'Does it hurt?' interrupted Nina.

Gene shuddered. 'Yes, but at least it's quick,' he replied. 'Then all that is left is my mind, the bit that thinks. All you can do is think about things and it goes on and on. This time it took three months before you chose me.'

'It sounds horrible,' Nina said frankly. 'What would you do if you weren't a genie?'

Gene's eyes sparkled and for a moment he looked like Finn when he had won a tennis tournament. 'I'd be an engineer,' he said passionately. 'Our country is very dry and I would divert rivers and build dams and bring in water to turn the desert into a vast green oasis. There would be water for animals to drink and grass for them to graze and ground to grow crops so that no one would ever go hungry.'

'Can't you make a wish yourself for that to happen?' Nina asked him.

'We can't make wishes for ourselves,' Gene answered sadly. 'And as I said, people who end up with one of our bottles invariably ask for stuff for themselves. It is human nature, after all.'

Nina digested this silently. She suddenly realised how selfish her wishes were. 'I don't need to live in a castle and we are never hungry or so short of money that we can't wear decent clothes. Dad has a perfectly good car and I'm not exactly ugly. Maybe I could use my last wish to do something to improve the world.'

Nina thought about this over the next few hours. She asked her parents for their ideas.

'Mum, what would you do if you could make a wish to improve the world?'

'Stop wars,' her mother answered promptly.

'What about you, Dad?'

'Eh? What's that?' her father dragged his gaze from the television screen.

'If you could make a wish to improve the world, what would you wish for?'

'Lowering the interest rate permanently would be a good start,' her father frowned. 'Now hush. The cricket is coming on next.'

Nina scowled in frustration and went to look for Gene. She found him sprawled on the grass at the end of the garden.

'It's nice here,' he sighed. 'The sun's not too hot and it is so calm and peaceful.'

'You'll get eaten by sandflies,' Nina said practically.

'Don't care,' Gene sighed. 'Anything is better than being stuck in a bottle.'

'Bad luck. But listen, can I wish for world peace?'

Gene made a face. 'You can wish for it but I can't grant it. Wishes have to be personal. They have to be relevant to the person doing the wishing. That's another rule.'

'But world peace would be relevant to me,' argued Nina.

Gene shook his head. 'Sorry, but that argument's been tried and rejected before. You'll have to think of something else.'

'But you wanted me to wish for your freedom,' Nina pointed out. 'That wouldn't be relevant to me.'

Gene hunched his shoulders and turned away.

'Well?' demanded Nina. 'It wouldn't, would it?'

'I guess not,' Gene mumbled. 'Only if you fell in love with me and wanted me to marry you.'

Nina gazed at him open mouthed then started to giggle. 'That's the silliest thing I ever heard,' she spluttered. 'Marry you? I'd rather kiss a frog. Besides, I'm too young to think about marriage.'

'I don't want to marry you either,' Gene said wretchedly. 'But you asked me a question and I had to answer it.'

Nina gazed at him. 'Do you mean to say that you have to answer every question I ask you?'

Gene nodded. 'It's part of the curse,' he confirmed.

Nina was delighted. 'Great. That means I can ask you the consequences of every wish I want,' she said in satisfaction.

Gene glanced at her and gave a wry smile. 'It didn't take you too long to work that out.'

'Right,' said Nina briskly. 'What would you do if I wanted to be always happy?'

'Turn you into a goldfish,' Gene answered promptly. 'They only have an attention span of around three seconds so it is hard for them to be anything but happy.'

Nina gulped. 'Okay,' she said, mentally crossing that one off her list. 'What about a famous singer?'

'A canary,' came the reply.

'A movie star?'

'A trained dog.'

Nina stamped her foot. 'That's not fair. You always make it so I'd be worse off than I am now.'

'No rule against that,' Gene said smugly.

'Having three wishes is a total waste of time, then. It doesn't matter what I wish for if you're always looking for a way to spoil it.'

Gene shrugged. 'That's...'

'Yeah, yeah, I know. That's the rules. Well I'm sick of all your rules. I wish you really were an exchange student so I didn't have all this hassle,' Nina shrieked.

Gene looked at her, a wide grin splitting his face. He muttered a strange word and raised his arms above his head. A clap of thunder sounded suddenly and in the following hush Nina heard the sound of a phone ringing in the house.

'No, no,' she said frantically. 'I take it back. I didn't mean it.'

'Too late,' said Gene in satisfaction. He folded his arms and began to laugh.

'What's so funny,' Nina asked crossly. 'And why are you still here?'

'I don't have to answer your questions any more,' Gene smiled. 'But I will because, believe it or not, you lifted the curse and gave me my freedom.'

'What?' said Nina stupidly.

'I'm still here because I'm free. I'm really and truly an exchange student which means I get to stay here and go to school and study to be an engineer.'

They were interrupted by Finn who raced out of the house and clapped Gene on the back. 'That was the school phoning Mum and Dad. They have approved you staying with us for the year so now you don't have to look for anywhere else to stay. And Mum says to come in for morning tea. She's making a chocolate cake to celebrate. I've got to go. I've nearly finished my homework then we'll go down to the park and I'll teach you some more tennis shots.'

Gene whooped and punched the air in delight. Nina looked at him and a reluctant grin slowly appeared on her face. 'I guess it will be an interesting year,' she conceded. 'But it's a pity in a way. I was hoping to use a wish for something spectacular. Now life will just be ordinary again.'

'Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that,' Gene remarked. 'I still have that flying carpet in my bag.' He winked at Nina. 'Come on, let's go and try some of that chocolate cake.'
The Third Lamp-post on the Left

'It's far too hot to sleep,' complained Judy. She punched her pillow and turned it over, sighing in relief as she felt the cool cotton against her cheek. She shut her eyes and determinedly counted to one hundred, but found she was still wide awake. Not only that, but the pillow felt hot again. Grumbling in annoyance, she threw off her sheet and climbed out of bed. 'I'll open the window a bit wider,' Judy thought. 'That might let some cool air in.'

She pushed at the window, which squeaked noisily.

'Can't you sleep either?' came her brother's voice.

Judy stuck her head out the window and saw Ross leaning out from his bedroom next door.

'No I can't. It's too hot,' whispered Judy. 'Don't make so much noise or Mum and Dad will come up.'

'They're so busy sorting out all those dumb old photo albums that Grandma left us, they won't even hear us,' Ross pointed out.

'They are pretty boring,' Judy agreed. 'Mum was trying to show me some of those really old brown photos after tea, but they all look the same to me. There are heaps of old fashioned people dressed in their best clothes and staring straight at the camera. They all look grim and uninteresting.'

'Yeah, I know. Deadly. Look at the sky, though. It's almost worth being awake to see it.'

Judy looked up. It was a clear summer night and the dark sky was ablaze with myriads of stars. A waning moon hung like a sickle above the trees behind the Besson's house across the street.

'Wow,' breathed Judy. 'I never realised there were so many stars before.'

'Maybe we should count them instead of sheep,' Ross suggested.

'Hey, look! A shooting star!'

'Quick make a wish.'

'I wish we could have an adventure,' Judy wished silently, at the same time as Ross wished for 'something really exciting to happen.'

The children watched in awe as a blaze of light burst across the sky. The star sped down closer and closer to them.

'It's going to land in our front yard,' shrieked Judy in excitement.

'No it won't. They burn out in the atmosphere before they get here. Hey, you may be right. It is coming down awfully close to us.'

The star grew brighter and brighter and the children threw up their arms in front of their faces as the light filled the sky. Around the town, others watched the star fall as well. William Leopold was driving home when it streaked past him, causing him to swerve and narrowly miss a parked car. He swore and drove more slowly. Old Miss Carpenter paused to make a wish as she glanced at the blinding flash. Mrs Myrtle waved in acknowledgment and the star flashed her a greeting as it tumbled past.

'Not in my backyard, thank you,' she said briskly. The star swerved a little and came to land across the road.

Judy and Ross tried to see where the star had landed but their eyes were still dazzled by the glare.

'I think it landed down the road,' Ross called excitedly. 'It stopped on that lamp-post.'

'What lamp-post? Ow, my eyes are seeing bright spots when I blink,' complained Judy.

'That one. See! The third lamp-post on the left,' Ross insisted. 'See how bright it's burning.'

Judy looked where he was pointing. The lamp-post certainly seemed to be brighter than the others but as she watched, it flickered and the glow died down.

'It looks like all the others,' she said doubtfully.

'It didn't a few minutes ago. We should go and have a look.'

'It's dark outside,' Judy objected.

'I don't care. Shall we go?'

Judy rolled her eyes but agreed to go, knowing that Ross was capable of racing off by himself if she wouldn't go with him. 'And goodness knows what sort of trouble he'd get into then,' she thought. 'We'd better be quiet. Mum and Dad would go berserk if they thought we were going outside at night,' she told her brother, as they hastily dressed.

Pukeko Street was quiet and deserted as they crept out their gate. The hum of passing cars along Victoria Street could be heard in the distance and closer to hand was the thumping beat of Johnny Mason's stereo. There was no sign of any of the other children who lived in the street as Ross and Judy ran up to the lamp-post. The light shone brightly with a fuzzy glow around the edge.

'It's almost too bright to look at,' Judy murmured.

Ross blinked then opened his eyes wide in astonishment. 'Look, there's a fifty dollar note,' he squeaked.

'Where?'

'There, on the footpath. Someone must have dropped it.'

Ross ran forward and bent over to pick up the note.

'You'll have to hand it in to the Police,' warned Judy.

'I know that,' Ross replied impatiently. 'But there might be a reward for finding it and if no-one claims it I'll get to keep it.'

He pounced on the note but a sudden gust of wind swept it around the lamp-post.

'Judy, help me,' he called.

The children ran after the note as it fluttered in a circle around the lamp-post. Around it went, once, twice, three times. As Ross and Judy passed the lamp-post for the third time there was a blinding flash. The children shrieked in fear, as the ground appeared to heave beneath their feet. Judy felt her stomach drop as if she was in a fast elevator while Ross staggered against her. There was a brief feeling of being turned inside out, then the light faded and the children found themselves lying on a hard grey surface. It was bitterly cold, so cold that Judy thought her bones would freeze. As she was thinking she would ice up completely, a blast of warm air washed across her and within seconds the air was a comfortable temperature.

'Where are we?' croaked Ross, looking around in bewilderment. 'Are we dreaming?'

Judy opened her mouth but was too surprised to speak. Pukeko Street had gone. Instead of the comforting sight of the houses they walked past every day, there was nothing to be seen at all. Around them everywhere they looked was a blank greyness. The floor seemed to be grey plastic and it was hard to see far for the grey mist around them. Judy clutched at her brother's hand and gripped it firmly.

'I don't think it's a dream,' she muttered. She gulped and tried to look calm and in control as Ross turned to her with a look of enquiry on his face. Judy was used to being the one in charge. Years of being the responsible older sister meant that Ross turned to her for help whenever he had a problem, but here was a situation where she felt like whimpering like a baby herself. As they cautiously climbed to their feet, there was a sudden lurch and the children found themselves floating a short distance above the ground.

'This is great,' beamed Ross, flailing his arms and propelling himself along through the air. 'It's like flying.'

Judy was trying to swallow down a scream of terror and didn't trust herself to speak. A few minutes later the children began to feel heavy and they sank down to the floor again.

'Bother, I was enjoying that,' said Ross dreamily. 'I wonder where we are though. Do you suppose we're in space somewhere?'

'Don't be silly,' said Judy automatically. 'We wouldn't be able to breathe in space.' She cast a panicky look around her and was intrigued to see the grey mist rapidly evaporating. The greyness cleared a little and the children looked around in surprise at their surroundings. Beneath their feet was a large grey plastic pad about the size of a small house. A dome soared above their heads with a milky opalescent light shining through it. On three sides of them were what appeared to be blank grey walls. Ross tried to touch one of these but his fingers tingled unpleasantly as he reached out to it.

'I think it might be electric,' he said hesitantly.

'Don't touch it, then,' snapped Judy, who was feeling more and more terrified by their situation. She had tried pinching herself and found that it hurt so she knew it wasn't a dream.

The fourth wall seemed to be the front of a house, but a very strange house. The doors and windows were odd shapes and sizes and set at peculiar angles. Judy and Ross cautiously approached the door and walked inside. They stood in a small hallway with two more of the odd shaped doors leading off it.

'This one's a bathroom,' Ross announced as he explored the nearest doorway. 'It's a bit weird but everything seems to work okay.' He held his hands under a projecting knob and a stream of warm water flowed over them into a narrow trough beneath.

'There are beds in this one.' Judy sat down on one of the two mattresses which lay on the floor, then yelled in surprise as a hidden motor started up with a gentle purr and she found herself floating ten centimetres above the mattress on a current of warm air. 'This is actually quite comfortable,' she said when she got her breath back. The light above them flickered and grew dimmer as Ross stumbled into the bedroom.

'Let me try.' He lay on the second mattress, which obligingly elevated him on a cushion of air as well.

'Maybe we'll wake up in the morning and find it was a dream,' Judy suggested as she yawned and closed her eyes.

'I'll bet it's not,' Ross started to say, but found his eyes closing too and was soon asleep.

When she woke the next morning Judy had a moment of panic. 'Where are we? What is this place?' She looked across at Ross who was still sleeping peacefully, and noticed that the light above in the dome was shining again. 'Maybe it's the sun,' she thought doubtfully, although it didn't seem to be the right colour somehow for sunlight.

Judy went into the bathroom then stepped out onto the grey yard. Something had changed from the night before. There were now three large cylinders in the middle of the yard. One was taller and rounder than the other two and after studying them for a few minutes Judy decided they might be chairs and a table. 'Although they are a bit peculiar, like the rest of this place,' she muttered. 'I want to go home,' Judy gasped. She went back to the bedroom and threw herself down on the mattress with a bump as Ross yawned and sat up.

'You'll never guess the dream I had, Judy – oh! It's real.'

'Sure is. And before you ask, I still don't know where we are,' Judy replied crossly.

Ross looked at her frowning face and wisely decided not to ask any more questions.

The children wandered around the enclosure morosely. Ross wrinkled his forehead when he saw the cylinders and tried to touch the walls again but the electric current, if that's what it was, prevented him getting close to them.

'I'm hungry,' he said after a while.

'So am I. Starving, in fact. I hope whoever put us here is going to feed us,' his sister replied.

Ross looked alarmed. 'Do you think there are people out there somewhere holding us prisoner?' he asked in horror. 'Maybe we've been kidnapped and held for ransom.'

'Mum and Dad aren't rich enough for that,' scoffed Judy. 'Who'd want to kidnap us?'

'Maybe they've mistaken us for someone else. We'll have to tell them. Hey, let us out. Help! Help!' Ross began shouting, although instead of echoing, his voice was deadened and muffled by the whole cotton wool feel of the place. Judy was going to tell him to stop when she realised that it probably made her brother feel better.

Ross stopped shouting at last. 'I don't think anyone can hear us,' he said angrily, thumping his fist on the large cylinder as he stamped past it. There was a chiming sound and the cylinder began to glow. Ross and Judy stepped away from it and watched as the top appeared to open and flip over, revealing a large round bowl containing a brown soupy substance.

'What did I do?' whispered Ross.

'I think you ordered breakfast,' Judy replied, a little hysterically. She sat on one of the smaller cylinders and after a moment Ross joined her. They looked dubiously at the soup.

'It might be poisonous,' Ross warned, as Judy poked her finger into the bowl.

'I don't think so,' said Judy, sniffing her finger. She licked it tentatively. 'It tastes like porridge,' she said in relief.

'I don't like porridge much,' said Ross gloomily, but I'm so hungry I'd eat anything. Are there any spoons?' he looked around hopefully. The children tried calling for spoons and thumping the cylinders but nothing happened.

'We'll have to use our hands,' said Judy reluctantly.

The next ten minutes were extremely messy as the children endeavored to eat a bowl of porridge by dipping their hands into the bowl and scooping the porridge up to their mouths.

'This is so disgusting,' spluttered Judy.

'It's not as bad as I thought it would be,' Ross replied.

'Oh, it tastes okay, it's just disgusting to have to eat like this. It must be someone's idea of a joke.'

When they had cleaned the bowl, there was another chime. The children leapt off the seats and watched as the middle of the large cylinder opened and the food bowl disappeared. The surface closed over again until it was difficult to tell it had ever been open.

'Cool,' said Ross. 'What a great way of clearing up rubbish.'

Judy insisted they wash in the bathroom and tried unsuccessfully to dry her hands on her somewhat stained T-shirt. 'We need towels,' she said crossly. 'This place is most peculiar.'

Her temper didn't improve after the meal. It was increasingly boring walking or sitting on the hard floor. They discussed where they might be, with their theories getting wilder and more improbable. Judy was plumping for the isolation ward of a large hospital but had to admit she couldn't think what disease they might have been quarantined for. Ross firmly believed they were on a spaceship and no amount of argument would sway him from this.

'You've been watching too much television,' Judy said rudely.

'Well, you can't prove that we're not,' Ross answered defiantly.

Judy had to admit defeat at this and they were about to have a huge screaming argument when there was another chime and the wall opposite the house gradually cleared from grey to a clear window. The children rushed over to look out and immediately wished they hadn't, as they bounced back from an invisible barrier.

'I think it's a force field,' Ross faltered. 'Like on Star Trek.'

'There's no such thing,' said Judy firmly, although she wasn't very confident about this. All they could see through the window was another grey wall a lot further away, although it was hard to judge distance when everything was so featureless. The children flopped down on the floor and played a weary game of I Spy.

'There's nothing to see except grey,' complained Ross. He heaved a sigh then looked up hopefully as a chime sounded. 'Maybe it's more food coming.'

'There's nothing there,' said Judy, glancing at the largest cylinder. She glanced across at the window then screamed in terror. Outside the clear wall, peering in at her was a most peculiar creature. It had more eyes than she could count, each set on the end of a large waving tentacle. Its grey body was covered in large warty growths, overlapping like scales and larger tentacles covered in black bristly hair waved around in the air. 'It's a monster!'

Ross took one look then yelped and ran for the safety of the bedroom, with Judy hard on his heels. They came to an abrupt stop when they found the door was closed. No matter how hard they pounded with their fists, the smooth grey barrier would not open.

The children stood with their backs against the wall. Judy clutched Ross and clung to him. Ross took another look at the creature and closed his eyes.

'Keep still and it might go away,' he moaned.

Judy did as he suggested then after a few minutes she risked another look. 'It's still there,' she croaked.

'It can't get in, can it?' whimpered Ross.

'I don't think so,' Judy gulped. 'Maybe that force field stuff works both ways. I hope so anyway.' She stood up. 'Go away. Go on, clear off,' she screamed. She stamped her foot and waved her arms at the creature while Ross cowered behind her. The creature responded by waving its tentacles excitedly back at them.

'It doesn't seem to be scared of us,' Ross whispered. 'If anything, it wants to look at us. Why don't we pretend to be asleep then it might go away.'

Judy couldn't think of a better idea so they lay huddled together with their heads in their hands. After what seemed like an eternity, Ross asked Judy to see if the monster was still there.

'Why don't you look?' shuddered Judy.

'I'm too scared. Anyway, you're the oldest.'

'Oh, all right.' Judy took a deep breath and lifted her head. 'There are more of them, now,' she hissed, feeling faint with shock.

'There can't be,' protested Ross, and peeped out himself before subsiding with a moan. On the other side of the window wall was a whole group of monsters. Eyes atop tentacles waved in all directions, swivelling to follow Judy and Ross as they stood and tried the door once again.

'It's still shut,' wailed Judy.

'What are we going to do,' whimpered Ross, trying hard not to cry.

Judy looked at him helplessly. 'We can't do anything,' she stuttered. 'We will have to pretend they are not there.'

'I don't think I can,' said Ross in a small voice.

Judy clutched him and held him close as they turned their backs to the window. Judy was convinced she could feel the eyes behind her boring into her back while Ross decided that he had seen enough adventure for one lifetime. 'I want to go home,' he sniffed.

'This isn't too bad, if we sit like this,' Judy comforted him. She spoke too soon. With a chime, the pad they were sitting on began to turn and after a minute they found themselves facing the monsters once again.

'Oh, oh, I can't bear it,' shrieked Judy.

Ross began to cry in earnest. 'I want to go home,' he spluttered.

The creatures didn't do anything but stare and wave their tentacles and after a while Judy decided she could put up with it if she thought very hard about something else. She shut her eyes and began counting. When she reached eight thousand, nine hundred and forty six, she opened her eyes again to see the creatures still watching. 'I'll stare back at them,' she thought. Soon she began to giggle a little light-headedly. 'Look Ross,' she whispered. 'That one at the side looks like old Mr Leopold. He has black whiskers like that.'

Ross looked where she was pointing and managed a watery smile. 'That one looks like Mrs Gardener, my teacher,' he said, entering into the spirit of the game. 'She waves her hands like that when she gets excited.'

By making fun of the creatures, Judy and Ross found it easier to cope with their situation, and eventually, with a chime, the window misted over again. The children heaved a sigh of relief.

'Do you suppose they are still out there?' Ross asked.

'No,' said Judy firmly. 'They will have gone.' She repressed a shudder, telling herself she had to believe this or she would go mad.

The children padded around restlessly, searching to see if there was any way out that they may have overlooked. Their efforts were unsuccessful but they were relieved to see that the door to the house had slid silently open again.

'This is boring,' grumbled Ross, some time later. 'Even homework would be better than this.'

Judy had to agree. 'I'd willingly tidy my room or mow the lawns,' she nodded.

'I'd cut the grass with nail scissors if it would get me out of here!'

Judy giggled at this and Ross grinned at her. 'This can't last forever. There must be some sort of mistake or maybe we're on one of those TV programmes with a hidden camera.'

Judy looked up. 'I can't see any camera,' she said.

'Well you wouldn't, if they were hidden,' Ross pointed out.

The light began to flicker and dim. 'It can't be bedtime already,' said Ross unbelievably.

'We really have no choice,' said Judy wryly.

Disconsolately the children slumped on to the beds, which obligingly lifted them on a cushion of air. They felt overwhelmingly sleepy suddenly.

'Do you suppose there is something in the air of these beds that makes us feel tired?' Judy asked, fighting to keep her eyes open, but Ross was already asleep and there was no answer.

The next day, at least the children assumed it was a day, they woke up to find a large purple framework taking up most of the yard. After a meal of porridge, which obligingly appeared on the cylinder for them. Ross and Judy walked around to see what it was.

'It's only a lot of rungs like a ladder, on the outside.'

'There seems to be a path or band of something inside it and what's that shiny thing?'

Ross tipped his head back and pointed out a large dangling object.

'It's a bit like one of those crystals people hang in their windows,' Judy said, studying it with a frown. I wonder what it's for?'

'Who cares. At least it is something to do,' Ross called as he began climbing the framework. 'I'm going to see if I can grab the crystal.'

Judy thought this might be dangerous and hastily climbed after her brother. To their dismay, the window wall went clear again and the monsters were back watching them.

'They can't get in,' Judy told herself though gritted teeth.

The creatures waved their tentacles excitedly as Ross and Judy climbed inside the framework.

'It is a path. I told you,' said Ross, as he began to walk along it.'

Judy climbed over to join him and they walked side by side for a few minutes.

'We're not getting any closer to that crystal thing,' Ross complained.

'Don't go so fast,' Judy puffed. 'I'm trying to keep up with you but it's getting hard.'

'I thought you were the one making it go fast,' Ross panted. The children tried to stop but the path refused to let them. On and on it carried them, faster and faster until they were running in order to stay on their feet and not get crushed against the end of the framework. This frantically excited the creatures outside and the entire window became crowded with their waving tentacles.

'I feel like a mouse on a treadmill,' Judy wailed. 'How can we stop it?'

'Hold my hand and I'll try to grab one of the rails at the side,' Ross told her breathlessly. 'I'll swing up onto it but you'll have to hold onto my belt or you'll get tipped off.'

Judy grabbed her brother's belt and held on grimly. Ross lunged for the side and managed to grab hold of a rail. Working his way along it against the pull of the pathway, he gave a final heave and swung himself up above it. Judy jumped at the same time and they hung from their hands feeling shaky and out of breath. Judy copied Ross as he swung his feet back and forth and they managed at last to climb over the rail and down to the yard again.

'That was awful,' spluttered Judy. 'I'm not touching that again.'

'Oh, it wasn't too bad,' confessed Ross. Once the panic had worn off he had quite enjoyed doing something challenging.

The children played an energetic game of catch after that, using one of Judy's sneakers which they tossed over and though the climbing apparatus. Finally they flopped onto the ground and closed their eyes in exhaustion. Gradually the creatures drifted away and the window misted over.

This was to be the pattern for the next few weeks. Every day after the same boring porridge for a meal, the children would find some strange object laid out for them to play with. There were metal balls that made a clanking sound when they were rolled along, soft bags which felt squidgy to the touch but were easy to throw and catch and once a whole series of long curved tubes that led round and round a bit like a maze.

One dreadful day, the wall on the left of them cleared and the children saw what looked like a giant insect peering at them.

'It looks like some sort of praying mantis,' Ross gasped.

'It looks dangerous,' quavered Judy.

'I'm going to get a closer look.

Ross rather unwisely went closer to the wall and the huge insect lunged towards him. It stopped with a hiss as it met the invisible barrier but the children decided not to provoke it in case the worst happened and it broke though. They spent the day huddled in the far corner away from it, to the evident amusement of the monsters who lined the window. The next day the wall was misted up again and Judy hoped it would stay that way.

One morning, she woke up with a start. The air was hissing down from the bed as usual but there was a third bed in the room. 'Ross, I can hear someone outside,' Judy exclaimed as a muttered voice said 'bother.'

Ross looked at her wide-eyed as the voice spoke again.

'Same as before,' it sighed.

They raced for the doorway, Ross narrowly beating Judy to the gap. Venturing out into the yard they stopped in surprise. A boy of around the same age as Ross stood beside the large cylinder, regarding the bowl of porridge in disgust. He was very oddly dressed. A brown tweedy jacket with a white collar and brass buttons was belted over knee length shorts, which were buckled at the knees. Beneath this, dark stockings covered his legs, while he had well worn brown boots upon his feet. The whole outfit looked most uncomfortable. Ross glanced at the jeans and T-shirt he and Judy wore then frowned at the boy in front of him.

'You think they could do something else for a change,' the boy remarked, as Ross and Judy stared at him in surprise.

'Who are you? Where did you come from? Do you know where we are?' Ross asked eagerly.

'My name is Edward,' the boy answered calmly. 'I guess I came here the same way you did. Let's have some food first, before we talk. It doesn't stay around for long.'

'It's always porridge,' Ross pointed out.

'Yeah they seem to do that with the new ones. After a while you get different stuff. Look, I'll show you.'

Edward tipped the uneaten porridge upside down over the cylinder where it lay in glistening grey lumps. A chime sounded and the cylinder opened and appeared to swallow the bowl. Judy gasped and Edward grinned at her. 'They'll send something better now,' he said.

He was right. A few minutes later, another chime announced the arrival of a feast from within the cylinder. There was fresh crusty bread, jam with dark berries in it and hunks of a mild salty cheese. There were even three perfect golden peaches.

'That's more like it,' said Edward casually. 'Help yourselves.'

Ross and Judy needed no further invitation and fell on the food with cries of delight. By the time it was all gone, they were sticky with jam and peach juice and covered in crumbs.

'I feel so grubby,' complained Judy. 'I wish there was somewhere to wash properly. 'Even my clothes are filthy and disgusting.'

'But there is somewhere to wash,' said Edward in amazement. 'Oh, I forgot. You obviously haven't been here very long. Come and I'll show you.'

He led the way into the bathroom and pointed to the corner. 'Stand there,' he instructed Judy.

She did as she was told and yelped in fright as a large plastic dome dropped over her. The next minute water came bubbling up from the floor beneath her feet.

'Help! My clothes are getting wet,' she called.

Edward regarded her calmly. 'Don't panic. It's a bit scary the first time but you soon get used to it. You won't drown.'

The dome muffled his words and Judy looked in horror at the water that was swirling over her knees and getting higher. As the water rose rapidly, she closed her eyes, convinced the end was near. It lapped around her chin then with a sudden whooshing sound it swirled around her. Judy felt as if she was in a giant washing machine and coughed and spluttered as water splashed over her face.

'Close your eyes and hold your breath,' yelled Edward.

Judy took a deep breath as a gushing cascade of water drenched her head. She gasped as the water gurgled away in a rush and a current of warm air buffeted her about. A few minutes later the dome raised up and she staggered into the middle of the bathroom.

'You looked so funny,' laughed Ross. 'You should have seen the expression on your face.'

'Your turn now,' said Judy grimly, as Ross, still laughing, stepped into the corner.

'It has even cleaned and dried my clothes,' Judy said in amazement as they watched the washing process begin again on Ross.

When Ross was dry and clean they flopped down onto the grey floor of the yard.

'Now tell us where we are,' demanded Ross.

'I've no idea,' shrugged Edward. 'I've been here for years. At least, I suppose it's been years. It feels like forever. I tried to pick up a five-pound note and found myself here in the zoo.'

'Zoo?' Two faces turned to him in horror.

'That's what I think it is. Those monster creatures have heaps of us inside these cages, although you're the first people I've seen for ages. Mostly there are crazy animals and things like that. Sometimes they put one of them in with me to see what will happen but after the first couple tried to eat me they gave up on that.'

'What do you mean, zoo?' Judy asked anxiously.

'Well the monsters come and view us once a day so I guessed that we're sort of animals on display.'

'We tried to pick up a fifty dollar note,' Ross said gloomily.

'It was probably bait,' Edward told him. 'I don't know how they catch the other things though. Your walls are blanked off but sometimes they go clear and you can see what's next to you. There was a tiger once,' he said regretfully, 'but it kept ripping stuff up with its claws and they got rid of it.'

'We had an insect,' shuddered Judy.

'Yeah, it had really big mandibles and looked as if it would have eaten us if it could,' Ross added.

'Haven't you tried to escape from this place?' asked Judy in horror.

'Don't know how,' said Edward sadly. 'The only thing I've learned is not to be interesting. If you shout or wave they get excited and more of them come to watch. It's the same if you play with any of the stuff they bring you. The best thing is to be totally boring, then some days they never even bother coming to see you. They never look at me much, any more. I used get fed up and do handstands and stuff but not now.'

'Why do you suppose they put us together?' Judy asked.

'To observe us, of course,' Edward told her. 'They'll be hoping we have a fight. I'll bet there will be dozens of them watching today. You just wait and see.'

'It's starting now,' Ross said, pointing. 'Look.'

'Ugh,' said Judy feelingly.

The misty window cleared to reveal row after row of tentacled eyes waving around.

'I think I'm going to be sick,' moaned Judy.

'Don't,' advised Edward. 'They'd like that. Curl upon the ground and try to think about something else and they'll eventually go away.'

Judy and Ross stretched out beside Edward. 'Can they hear us if we talk?' Ross wanted to know.

Edward shrugged. 'Probably,' he said. 'Safer to be quiet.'

The children all fell silent. Judy counted numbers in her head then when that became too dull she started adding and multiplying them. 'I'm going to be fantastic at Maths when we get out of here,' she thought.

Ross mentally designed a spectacular motorbike that would cruise over water as well as land and even fly if the need arose. Edward sighed softly and wondered how long it would be before these strangely dressed children disappeared and he was alone again.

When the window had misted over again, Judy turned to Edward. 'How did you get in here with us. There must be a door or something.'

'I don't know,' he replied hesitantly. 'They did it while I was asleep. I think they float things through the air. Sometimes the air goes light and bouncy and that's when a new animal comes. Things sort of ripple. I don't know what it is though.'

'I reckon it's a spaceship,' said Ross and explained his theory to a fascinated Edward. The reason for his strange clothes soon became apparent as he told them that the last year he remembered was 1896.

'But that's over one hundred years ago,' Ross blurted out. 'Surely you haven't been here that long?'

Edward shrugged. 'I don't know how long it's been. I keep hoping that if I'm boring enough they will eventually send me home again.'

Ross and Judy exchanged appalled looks.

'His parents and family will have died years ago,' Judy thought. This brought a lump to her throat as she thought of her own family who must be searching for them everywhere.

'And even I don't know where we are,' she wailed.

Day followed boring day. The food alternated with porridge, bread and cheese and the occasional nuts or piece of fruit. The children were intrigued to find clean sets of clothes laid out for them from time to time. These ranged from old-fashioned outfits such as Edward wore, to clothes much like their own. Edward was very pleased with this and immediately started wearing jeans and T shirts, remarking on how much more comfortable they were than his own clothes.

On some days, interesting shaped blocks or balls were lying in the room when they woke up.

'Ignore them,' Edward advised. 'If you play with them they get excited and watch you for longer.'

Ross and Judy reluctantly did as he said although Ross remarked that he was so bored that even the sight of the monsters would be interesting. After many hours sitting trying not to move too much as the monsters peered in at them, the children were not as fearful as they had been at first. They eventually decided it wouldn't matter if they spoke very quietly to each other and Ross asked Edward what life was like in his time. Edward on the other hand, was fascinated by what he thought of as the future. He was inclined to be skeptical of some of the things Ross described, like microwaves and computers and wanted to know how they worked.

'I don't know,' admitted Ross, as he assured a disbelieving Edward that men had landed and actually walked on the moon. 'And we have little phones you can hold in your hand and send messages and even photos to each other.'

'Do you have one?'

'Well no, I haven't actually got one but heaps of people do. Oh and we can e-mail things as well.'

Edward looked totally bewildered by this and Ross entered into a long and very confusing description of how the Internet worked. Judy had to suppress a giggle at Edward's face as she assured him that Ross wasn't making it all up.

'I know it sounds fantastic but things have progressed a lot in the last hundred years or so.'

'Isn't anything the same?' asked Edward gloomily.

'Heaps of things are the same, Judy reassured him.

'Like what?'

'Oh, like books to read and growing vegetables in the garden and going for picnics and rowing boats on the river and all sorts of stuff.'

Edward looked relieved to hear this.

'I don't have a mobile phone but I do have a digital watch,' Ross broke in.

'What's that?'

'Look.' Ross took off his watch and showed Edward how it told the time in numbers instead of clockwork. 'It doesn't seem to work in here though,' he said honestly. 'It's still stuck on eight forty-five. But you can have it if you like.'

'Thanks.' Edward's face lit up as he solemnly strapped the watch to his wrist.

Judy used what the children referred to as 'viewing time' each day, to try and work out how they had been captured. 'It must be something to do with the shooting star,' she reasoned. 'It was when we chased the money round the lamp-post where the star landed that we were captured.'

She told the boys about this but was disappointed by their reaction.

'So?' said Ross. 'That doesn't help anything.'

'I don't remember any shooting star but I did chase the money around a tree,' Edward added.

Judy was excited. 'Don't you see, that was what caused it. We ran around three times. Now, if we ran around three times in the other direction, we might reverse it and go home again.'

'There's no lamp-post here,' Ross pointed out.

'Or tree,' put in Edward.

'No, but if we ran round that table thing and wished it might work,' Judy said persuasively.

The boys exchanged exasperated looks but agreed to join her. Ross was secretly hoping it would work but didn't want to get his hopes up.

'All join hands,' encouraged Judy. 'That way we will keep together.' Edward sighed and held her hand while grasping Ross with the other. 'Now wish,' said Judy sternly as the three children ran around the cylinder. Three times around they ran then stopped and looked at each other.

'It didn't work,' gulped Ross.

'Maybe it's the wrong time of day,' said Judy tentatively.

'Or maybe it won't work at all,' said Edward glumly.

Judy flopped down with her back to them and tried not to cry.

'I still think it was worth a try,' she muttered.

'I think you might be on the right track though,' Edward said thoughtfully.

'How do you mean?'

'We know the table opens up when the food is finished. So what about waiting until it opens and then climbing down the hole.

Judy was doubtful. 'Do you think there would be room?'

'I don't see why not,' Edward shrugged. 'It's a fairly big surface. It's much bigger than any I've seen before. We'd have to be quick, though.'

'Maybe if we stood on the chairs we could dive down head first. We could grab the ankles of the person in front and keep together.'

Judy was horrified at the thought of this. 'It sounds awfully dangerous. We don't know where we'll end up.'

'It can't be worse than this,' Ross said. He sounded so desperate that Judy swallowed and agreed to the idea.

'We only get food once a day in the morning, so we'll try it then,' she said with a gulp, deciding that it was better to get it over with.

The next day the children waited for the chime to signal the meal was coming. As the inevitable bowl of porridge appeared, Edward dived for the hole.

'Grab my feet,' he called to Ross. 'Hurry. There's a big tunnel that falls down here. Oh!'

Ross leapt forward and held one of Edward's boots as he slipped down the hole. Judy gripped Ross firmly around the waist and took a deep breath as they dived into the hole after Edward. What followed was like a ride though a water pipe only without the water. The tunnel twisted and turned with sickening drops. There was no light and the children felt ill as they were tossed and turned through the darkness. Suddenly a sharper twist made Ross lose his grip on Edward. He gave a despairing yell as with a blinding flash, the children hit the ground with a bump. Ross and Judy looked around, feeling dazed and disorientated.

'We're back,' croaked Judy in relief.

'Back where?' Ross shook his head to clear his ringing ears.

'Home. Look. It's Pukeko Street and there's the lamp-post.'

'We did it. Edward isn't here though.'

Judy looked downcast. 'I hope he ended up somewhere safely. I'd hate to think he was still in that horrible zoo.'

'He didn't belong here, really though.' Ross consoled her. 'We would never have been able to explain him to anyone.'

'Come on,' Judy said, leaping to her feet. 'Let's go home. Mum and Dad will be worried frantic about us. We've been gone for weeks.'

The children ran eagerly back along the footpath to their house at number eight.

'There's a light on,' said Judy in relief.

'It's dark though. I wonder what time it is?'

They burst in through the door and into the living room where Judy gave her surprised mother a hug.

'We're back,' she shouted.

'Have you been looking for us?' asked Ross.

'What are you talking about?' asked Mrs Matthews, with a puzzled look. You were told to go to bed five minutes ago. Why should I be looking for you?'

The two children stared at her.

'But we've been on a spaceship and we've been gone for weeks,' Ross told her.

Mrs Matthews sighed. 'That's a lovely game, Ross but play it in the morning. It really is bedtime now.'

'Time must be different where we were,' Judy whispered to her brother. 'It doesn't seem to have changed here at all.'

She glanced at the album her mother was holding and gave a yelp. 'Who is this?' she asked, pointing to a faded sepia photograph.

'Be careful, Judy. Some of these photos are very old. That is, let me see, that would be your Great Grandfather as a child. He was quite famous, actually. He wrote science fiction stories when he was an adult, although they would probably seem very out of date today.'

'What? Let me see.'

Ross came to peer over Judy's shoulder. Smiling back from the photograph was Edward as they had last seen him. 'He did get back,' Ross beamed. 'See!'

Judy looked where he was pointing. There on Great Grandfather Edward's wrist could be seen the faint outline of a digital watch. She grinned at her brother.

'That makes three of us,' she laughed as they ran back to their bedrooms.
Practise Makes Perfect

'Charlotte! Put that book down at once and do your piano practise. This is the third time I've told you. Now do it.'

Charlotte scowled at the sound of her mother's voice and reluctantly left the enticing depths of _The Princess of Zanzibar_.

'It's not fair. I wish I was a princess,' she grumbled. 'I'll bet princesses don't have to practice the piano every day. If I was a princess I would snap my fingers and a musician, no, even better than that, a whole orchestra would play for me.'

She smiled dreamily at the vision of herself seated in the royal box of an enormous theatre while red-faced musicians struggled to impress her. Then with a grimace, she stamped to the piano and stumbled through a few pieces as quickly as she could, before returning to her bedroom to read the rest of the book.

'I wish I really was a princess,' Charlotte sighed the next day, as she dawdled unwillingly to her weekly piano lesson. Lost in a dream of ball gowns and handsome princes, Charlotte wandered along the footpath and only came back to earth with a bump as she came to the pedestrian crossing. The road was clear, so she changed her music case to her other hand and skipped across the road. Her steps slowed as she approached Pukeko Street. The sun was shining and she looked enviously at children busy in their front yards. At Number Six, several young girls were happily playing at tea parties with all their dolls lined up in ranks on a tartan rug, while across the road at number Seven, three boys were training a dog to jump through a hoop. Charlotte watched for a few minutes, giggling to herself as the dog jumped everywhere except through the hoop. It jumped up and enthusiastically licked the boys' faces and jumped joyfully over assorted buckets and bikes. But it would not jump through the hoop. Charlotte laughed as one of the boys eventually climbed through the hoop himself, dragging the reluctant dog behind him by the collar. Then she realised she was going to be late for her lesson, and hurried on.

'Miss Carpenter is not going to be very pleased with me,' she scowled, thinking of all the excuses she had made not to do her piano practice for the past week. 'I was supposed to have learnt that Temple March by today.' Charlotte kicked moodily at a stone on the path in front of her. 'I don't care,' she muttered. 'Miss Carpenter can tell me off as much as she likes. I'm going to make Mum let me stop at the end of the year. Who wants to play the stupid piano anyway?'

Charlotte conveniently forgot the nagging she had done to be allowed lessons in the first place. At that time it had seemed easy. All she wanted was a few lessons to show her the ropes, then a magnificent career as a concert pianist would have unfolded before her. Her parents had pointed out that it wasn't as simple as that.

'You'll have to practice, Charlotte,' her mother had warned her. 'We are not spending a huge amount of money on a piano, and then lessons, if you are going to change your mind after a few weeks.'

'I won't,' Charlotte had assured her earnestly, guiltily aware that her track record for sticking at things was hardly a good one.

There had been swimming lessons, which she had only gone to once after she discovered she was grouped with the younger children who could barely swim. Now even though Charlotte knew she wasn't a good swimmer, she was not good at facing reality. The same thing had happened with the tennis lessons, when she suffered the ignominious defeat at the hands of a cheeky six-year-old friend of her younger brother Jeremy.

Charlotte had given up Brownies when she decided the uniforms weren't flattering enough, and dancing classes when she found that she was expected to attend lessons in a black leotard instead of the frilly pink tutu she was happily expecting. So when she begged for piano lessons her parents had initially refused. They were no match for Charlotte's nagging. Years of practice had honed her skills until she wore away her parents' objections like water on a stone.

'You will have to promise to keep up the lessons for at least a year,' her father had said sternly.

'I promise,' beamed Charlotte, with dreams of impressing her friends and family with her musical talent. 'I could even be the next Andrew Lloyd Webber and write famous musicals and play the piano for them,' she thought.

These illusions were rapidly shattered with the reality of her first lesson. Miss Carpenter smiled gently as Charlotte confided her musical ambitions then started her on short pieces of music, which looked suspiciously like baby tunes to Charlotte.

'Can't I have something better than this?' she asked indignantly, as Miss Carpenter opened the page at Mary had a Little Lamb. 'I would rather play Moonlight Sonata.'

Miss Carpenter raised an eyebrow. 'There will be plenty of time for that,' she said reprovingly. 'Maybe in a few years time, if you progress well.'

A few years! Charlotte was appalled. She had no intention of anything taking her that long. Didn't Miss Carpenter realise that she was dealing with a musical genius here?

Unwillingly, Charlotte forced her stiff and clumsy fingers to follow the notes and after a few weeks had managed to pound out a few recognisable nursery rhymes. That was when Miss Carpenter introduced her to the joys of practicing scales.

'This is boring,' spluttered Charlotte. 'Why do I have to do this?'

'All musicians practice scales to keep their fingers supple,' Miss Carpenter pointed out. 'Even concert pianists. They still practice scales for hours every day.'

She sighed as she saw the mutinous look on Charlotte's face. 'I have a really good piece of music I am sure you will enjoy,' she said encouragingly. 'It is called Temple March. Mrs Myrtle down the road gave it to me, and I think it is very old. Maybe it was one of her mother's, as I know Mrs Myrtle doesn't play at all. But anyway, I think you will like it. Here, I'll play if for you.'

Miss Carpenter took a battered sheet of music out of a large stack on her bookcase, and launched into a brisk happy tune. Charlotte tapped her feet to the rhythm.

'That's more like it,' she said eagerly. 'I'll play that one.'

'You'll need to do a lot of practice,' her teacher remarked.

'I will,' Charlotte promised.' I'll practice every day and I'll be playing it as well as you by next week.'

Miss Carpenter hid a smile, and politely helped Charlotte to tuck the music into her case.

To her dismay, Charlotte had found the Temple March to be much more difficult than she had expected and she had managed no more than the first line.

Now, as she trailed despondently down the footpath, a boy accompanied by a large dog came racing down the street towards her. Charlotte swerved to avoid them and found herself dodging around a lamp-post as the dog yapped in delight at this newly discovered game. Round the lamp-post went Charlotte and round behind her spun the dog. Her music case flung out in the air as she ran and the catch sprang open. Sheets of music cascaded and tumbled over the footpath. With a yell the boy chased his dog down the street, while Charlotte thumped the lamp-post in annoyance.

'Bother, bother, bother. Now I'll be late for my music lesson. I wish I wasn't going to it. I wish I was somewhere else,' she cried, picking up the Temple March music sheet and shaking it angrily.

There was a flash of light and the ground began to shake beneath her feet.

'Oh no, it must be an earthquake,' Charlotte wailed.

But as the earth shook, there was a sound like thunder and a brilliant explosion of light. Charlotte closed her eyes and staggered back. When she dared to open them again she gasped in fright. Instead of the gateway to Miss Carpenter's house, she was standing in front of another set of gates. These were not small and wooden with chipped white paint and the musty smell of overhanging lavender bushes. These gates were of shining brass, towering above her in intricate whirls and loops of design and firmly bolted shut.

Charlotte looked around in bewilderment. The familiar houses of Pukeko Street had vanished and so had the footpath. Beneath her feet was a dusty road that stretched back as far as she could see to a town in the far distance. There were straggling trees dotted around and vast stretches of rather wispy grass where a few goats grazed. Charlotte blinked and put out her hand to feel the gates. They were cold, solid and obviously real.

'It isn't a dream then,' reasoned Charlotte. 'I wonder if I have got my wish,' she squeaked excitedly. Maybe I'm a princess.'

She looked down at herself, half expecting to see a sequined satin ballgown and glass slippers. All she saw was the same scruffy sandals, faded jeans and soft pink T-shirt that she had put on that morning. Charlotte was disappointed, but decided to make the best of things. As an avid reader of adventure books, she knew that magic didn't always turn out how you expected it to. There was a large brass bell hanging from a tall stone wall beside the gates, which were too high for Charlotte to see over. After a brief moment of indecision, she reached out and struck the bell with the wooden mallet conveniently hung beside it. The bell gave an enormous clang and Charlotte looked around guiltily to see if anyone was going to tell her off. But apart from the goats there was no sign of life. As the ringing sound faded, a small hatch opened at one side of the gates. A large man with flaming red hair under a metal cap poked his head out.

'Who goes there?' he demanded.

Charlotte took a deep breath. 'I am the Princess Charlotte of Herberton. Let me in at once,' she commanded.

To her amazement the head disappeared and with a loud creaking sound the gates were flung open.

'Please enter, my lady,' boomed the guard.

Charlotte assumed he must be a guard as he was wearing a quantity of leather and chain mail while a businesslike short sword and dagger were strapped to his hips.

'I will call slaves to escort you to the king,' the guard went on.

'Fine,' said Charlotte, trying to keep her knees from knocking together in fear as she walked in through the gates. Inside, lush grass stretched out under magnificent trees surrounding gardens of brightly coloured flowers. Fountains sparkled in the hot sunshine and peacocks spread their shimmering tails in an eye-catching display. Charlotte looked up and gasped in astonishment. An enormous stone palace sprawled for what seemed miles, with towering domes and arched windows and all of it richly decorated in a rainbow of colours.

'Where is your retinue, my lady?' asked the guard, looking puzzled and not a little suspicious.

Charlotte thought quickly. 'They met with an accident,' she said. 'Or rather, bandits. Yes, that was it. My carriage was attacked by bandits and I was forced to flee alone.'

The guard's eyes opened wide. 'Bandits? Where? The king will be displeased to hear of this. I will gather a platoon at once and go to dispose of them.'

'No, no, don't do that. They are all dead,' said Charlotte hastily. 'My retinue fought bravely and killed all the bandits but as they were mortally wounded they all died as well.'

She looked at the guard to see how he would handle this. The guard was taken aback.

'All dead?' he queried.

'All of them,' stated Charlotte firmly. 'And a sudden storm came up and washed their bodies away,' she added inventively, in case the guard was contemplating going in search of this scene of carnage.

The guard looked a little uncertain. 'There was a storm last night,' he mused, looking at Charlotte critically. "It rained a lot too.'

'And I walked so far in the sun that I dried out,' put in Charlotte promptly.

The guard shook his head in amazement. 'Wait here and I will arrange a suitable conveyance,' he instructed.

A few shouts brought more guards hurrying from a squat building close to the gate. After a whispered consultation two of the guards were dispatched to another building close by. They returned quickly escorting four dark young men dressed in turbans and loincloths. They were carrying the handles of a large ornately decorated box, which they put on the ground beside Charlotte.

'If your highness will board the litter, we will have her conveyed to the king's presence,' boomed the red headed guard.

Charlotte climbed in through the small door and sank onto soft plush cushions of purple and gold. 'Yes, this is more like it,' she sighed, reclining against the cushions as two of the guards lifted the litter and began to walk towards the palace.

Charlotte clutched at the sides, where someone had thoughtfully installed golden handles, as the whole litter lurched and swayed. Feeling rather seasick, she held on grimly, wondering what would happen next. 'This is obviously some sort of amazing dream so the king will be young and handsome. He'll probably fall in love with me and want to marry me.'

These pleasant illusions were rather rudely dispelled when she was finally escorted into the king's reception chamber. A walk across what felt like acres of polished floor, and through thousands of arched doorways, led to a large marble room where the king, several advisors and at least three wives sat on cushioned benches. The king was old enough to be Charlotte's father and while not exactly ugly, it was obvious that a liking for wine and rich food had not done his figure any good over the years.

'The Princess Charlotte of Herberton,' warbled a serving man, gesturing to Charlotte. Charlotte stood, feeling very young and extremely scruffy, as the royal party regarded her. The king bowed his head slightly and Charlotte did her best to drop a clumsy curtsey. One of the queens whispered to another behind her hand and all three of them looked at Charlotte disapprovingly.

'Herberton, Herberton. I am not familiar with this land. Is it beyond the Misty Mountains and past the Wasteland?' asked the king, frowning at Charlotte.

'Yes, a long way away,' stammered Charlotte. 'Sire,' she added hastily.

'Maybe that explains her strange costume, my lord,' said one of the queens nastily. She smoothed a fold of her richly embroidered skirts as she spoke, and gave Charlotte a contemptuous look.

'I was attacked by bandits,' exclaimed Charlotte, feeling uncomfortably aware of the stain on her T-shirt where she had spilled tomato sauce. 'I only escaped by throwing off my royal robes and dressing as a peasant.'

The queen arched one eyebrow in delicate disbelief while the king yawned.

'You are welcome to stay in Our royal household,' he said in a bored voice. Turning to his advisors he motioned towards Charlotte. 'Conduct her to suitable accommodation and see she is dressed according to her rank.' He turned away and began a conversation with one of the queens while the others whispered together and regarded Charlotte disdainfully.

Charlotte followed the advisor, who was an earnest young man with jet-black hair tied back under a small skullcap. They walked down echoing corridors past wall embrasures containing lanterns, statues or large stone vases of flowers.

'Does the king have a son?' Charlotte ventured at last.

'Indeed he does,' came the respectful answer. 'Dinsala is a sturdy young man with all the talent of his father, the king.'

Charlotte perked up. This was better. Maybe this Prince Dinsala would fall in love with her. 'How old is he?' she asked eagerly.

'Prince Dinsala has recently celebrated his third birthday,' the advisor told her.

Charlotte was a little daunted by this but decided to enjoy her adventure anyway.

The advisor stopped at an archway barred by a black iron gate. 'This is the women's quarters,' he explained, as he tugged on the rope of a bell hanging from the wall. The door opened quickly and two young women in plain robes stood goggling at Charlotte.

'This is the Princess Charlotte of Herberton. She has met with a mishap on her way here,' the advisor said importantly. 'You are to dress her and give her a suitable room. Did you hear me Layla?' he demanded, as one of the serving girls was overcome with giggles.

'Of course,' Layla spluttered. 'Follow us, your highness.'

The next hour was exactly as Charlotte had imagined a princess's life to be. She was escorted to an exotic bathhouse, which was extensively decorated with colourful painted tiles and slabs of pink and white marble. There she was washed in an enormous stone bath of warm, lightly scented water, before being massaged and her finger and toenails painted. The serving girls giggled over the jeans and T-shirt which they whisked away to be washed. Layla took charge, rather bossily, of half a dozen serving girls and Charlotte found herself dressed in delicate silver sandals, long gauzy skirts in a pale turquoise with a silky shawl thrown over her shoulders. Layla was disappointed that Charlotte's ears were not pierced for the ornate silver earrings she brought out, but contented herself with placing golden chains around Charlotte's neck and inserting jeweled combs into her hair. Finally a light filmy veil was fixed to the combs and Layla clapped her hands imperiously. A young serving girls bowed low before Charlotte, holding out a carved hand mirror. Charlotte looked at her reflection and was thrilled by her new appearance. The veil made her brown eyes appear darker and more mysterious when she pulled it across her face and her normally somewhat unruly brown hair was neatly braided in an attractive knot on top of her head.

'That's great,' she said enthusiastically, and the serving girls smiled at each other in pleasure.

'I will show you your quarters, your highness,' Layla said respectfully, and led the way to a large room which held a velvet covered divan heaped with pillows. A carved wooden chest held a brass tray with glass bowls of exotic looking sweetmeats while yet another serving girl hurried in with a large jug of juice and a goblet to drink from. Charlotte reclined on the divan and sipped the juice.

'Mm, peach,' she sighed in pleasure. She tasted the contents of each of the bowls and found them to be sweet and sticky confections of fruit, nuts and honey. Charlotte ate until she was full then felt a little sick after so much sweet food. She admired herself in a large mirror she found hanging beside a curtained alcove. Behind the curtain a narrow door opened into a small bathroom where Charlotte used the water provided in a large porcelain basin decorated with flowers to wash her sticky fingers.

After an hour spent exploring her apartment, Charlotte was yawning with boredom. The excitement of being treated as a princess was rapidly fading when there was no one around to impress. 'There must be people around somewhere,' she muttered and ventured out into the corridor. She wandered along, admiring the paintings hung about the walls and recoiling from the occasional statue which loomed unexpectedly from an alcove. As these mainly seemed to be strange shaped animals or ill formed men or women with far too many arms, this was hardly surprising. Charlotte reached a lobby where two corridors crossed and hesitated, wondering which way to go. A voice shrieked suddenly and Charlotte hurried in that direction. She could hear a murmur of voices and peering from a large window as she saw that it overlooked a small private courtyard where several girls of around her own age were tossing a ball to each other amid a great deal of chatter.

'Oh good. I must be able to get down there if I keep going,' thought Charlotte and continued down the corridor. A shallow flight of stone steps led down to the courtyard and Charlotte walked down them carefully so she didn't trip on her floating skirts. She stepped out into the courtyard and there was a moment of complete silence as all the girls stopped what they were doing to stare at her. The next moment Charlotte was surrounded by a group of girls who all talked at once.

'You're new.'

'Where do you come from?'

'What's your name?'

'Are you staying here for long?'

'Do you have any brothers?'

'What room are you in? I'll bet you're in the Crimson Bower. That's where they usually put visiting princesses.'

Laughing, she tried to answer all the questions. 'But what are your names?' Charlotte asked when she had a chance to break into the chatter.

'I'm Moonstone,' a small plump girl said bossily. 'These are my sisters. That's Topaz and Lapis.'

'And I'm Beryl and that's Garnet.'

'You all have the names of jewels. Are you all princesses?' Charlotte asked.

'Of course,' Beryl explained. 'The king is our father but we all have different mothers. Are you going to stay long?'

'Um, I'm not sure,' confessed Charlotte.

At this point a gong sounded and the princesses shrieked and scattered in all directions.

'Where are you going?' Charlotte asked in bewilderment.

'It's lesson time. We've been taking a break. You can come with us if you like,' suggested Topaz. 'They usually make the visiting princes and princesses join in so they can learn about our customs and ceremonies and stuff like that.'

'Only we don't get to see the princes, of course,' Beryl giggled. 'Only at formal meals or if we go to the Temple.'

Charlotte tagged along with Topaz and Beryl, curious to see what the lessons would be like. 'How many wives does the king have?' she asked.

'Too many,' Beryl sniffed. 'They don't have anything to do except poke their noses into everything that goes on and they are always telling tales on us. Especially Queen Endota. She's really horrible.'

'Is she thin with a pointed nose?'

'You've met her then,' grinned Beryl. 'Well watch out for her. She's pure poison. And don't say anything in front of Amber because that's her mother.'

'Moonstone's mother is nearly as bad,' Topaz added wryly. 'She is only a minor wife but she's really ambitious.'

Charlotte was becoming a little bewildered by all these princesses and queens but exclaimed in pleasure as the girls entered a wide room. A beautifully painted ceiling decorated in rich flowers and vines soared above them while rich tapestries hung on the walls. Her pleasure was somewhat dimmed when she found she was expected to sit silently on a stone bench, which felt harder and harder as the minutes passed. A pompous man with a dark beard gave a dull talk in a dry boring voice. It was all about the history of the country of Sarscabel and it was extremely hard to follow. There were far too many battles for Charlotte to work out what it was about and most of the participants had remarkably similar names, which added to the confusion. Her head was spinning and she had quite a headache when the man finally droned to a halt. He bowed deeply to the girls as they filed out the door in a dignified line.

'Dancing lessons now, thank goodness,' sighed Beryl in relief.

Charlotte perked up. This sounded perfect. She imagined herself drifting around a ballroom in the arms of an adoring prince. Her illusions were shattered when they walked into a bare room where a tall, stern looking woman directed them to stand in a line.

'We will deal with your posture before beginning,' she snapped. 'Stand up straight. Remember, eyes lowered and shoulders level.'

She walked along the line of girls, poking and prodding them as she commented on their stance.

'Head up,' she barked at Charlotte. 'Tuck your bottom in and straighten your back. We'll have no slovenly posture in my class. Lower your eyes and hold your head up, child. Now all of you, walk.'

Charlotte gulped and held herself as upright as she could. The other girls had obviously had years of practice at this and made Charlotte feel as if she had two left feet as they moved in their line to the opposite corner of the room. To her shame, Charlotte was singled out and told to practice her posture. Moonstone jeered as she handed Charlotte a flat piece of wood that she told Charlotte to balance on her head.

'You have to be able to walk around the room without it falling off. We all learned to do it as babies.'

Charlotte glared at her but was forced to endure the embarrassment of practicing walking while the other girls went on to learn an intricate gliding dance. A mournful drumbeat accompanied this and the whole thing looked very tedious.

When her walking passed inspection, Charlotte was allowed to join the princesses for the last part of the lesson. This consisted of learning a sinuous movement of the hips with the accompaniment of a snake-like arm movement. It looked very easy when their instructor demonstrated it but was harder than it appeared.

'My hips are put together the wrong way,' Charlotte complained to Garnet. Garnet giggled and performed a swaying step that looked a lot more graceful than anything Charlotte could achieve.

With a clap the instructor attracted their attention and dismissed them.

'Isn't she marvelous?' enthused Beryl, as the girls adjusted their shawls and veils. I know she can seem really tough but she is such a perfectionist it is wonderful having her as a teacher.'

'Um, wonderful,' agreed Charlotte without enthusiasm.

'It's important to do well, you know,' Garnet told her seriously. 'You wouldn't want to look bad on Feast Day.'

'What Feast Day?'

'Don't you have them where you come from? We have them once or twice a year to celebrate important occasions. The next one is in a week's time. It's to celebrate Opal, she's one of our elder sisters, getting engaged to Prince Casper. We will all have to perform a dance or musical item to entertain the king.'

'We have to perform well,' added Beryl, 'or our father gets angry and we lose our privileges and can't go to the Temple or into the main palace gardens for ages.'

Charlotte digested this in silence. It sounded horribly like hard work to her and not at all what she thought princesses should do. She sighed to herself in relief at the thought that they wouldn't expect a visitor to do anything.

That night, Charlotte was escorted to the Great Hall for the evening meal. This first involved another change of costume into a dress even more ornate than her daytime one. The Great Hall was filled with rows of tables and there appeared to Charlotte's bewildered gaze to be hundreds of people there. The king and the rest of the royal family were set slightly apart on a raised dais at one end of the room and Charlotte was ushered to a table directly in front of this. She felt very self-conscious and viewed the vast array of food in dismay. There did not seem to be any knives or forks and the steaming bowls held a variety of things she had never seen before.

Everyone stood until the king sat down then an old man began quavering a long sing-song speech praising the king. This went on for what Charlotte felt was far too long, although she noticed that the princesses all sat quietly without moving. Charlotte had an urge to scratch her nose or cough and was thankful when the king held up a languid hand and the eulogy ceased. Everyone fell upon the food with enthusiasm. Charlotte watched to see how they used their fingers to take handfuls of food from the communal platters, then dipped their fingers in small bowls of water and wiped them on soft cloths by each plate. Her first choices were very hot and spicy and she gulped a large mouthful of what she thought was cool water to wash them down. Unfortunately this turned out to be some sort of sour wine and it was all Charlotte could do not to spit it out. As one of the serving men hurried by, Charlotte called to him.

'Could I please have some water to drink?' she asked.

The man bowed and disappeared to the kitchen, reappearing with a large jug of cool water. Fortunately, fruit and jellies followed the spiced meat and vegetable dishes and by the time the meal ended Charlotte had managed to find a number of things she could eat. Garnet and Beryl had told her that normally they ate in their quarters but had to attend a formal meal once every week or so.

'It's good practice for Feast Day,' Beryl had said.

After the meal there were more long boring speeches from various men then a small group of musicians played a selection of strange tunes while jugglers and acrobats entertained the royal table. Charlotte was trying not to yawn but felt extremely sleepy. She was relieved when at last she was conducted back to her bedchamber by one of the serving women.

When she woke the next morning, Charlotte was surprised to find herself in the palace. She had been convinced she would wake up in her own bed and find it was all a dream. The day followed much the same pattern as the previous one. After a light breakfast there was long process of bathing and dressing followed by lessons with the princesses. There was more history, a lecture on herbs and their properties and the memorising of a chanted list of the correct greetings to give visiting dignitaries according to rank. Just before lunch, the girls went to the solarium for their embroidery class. Charlotte was horrified to be given a piece of linen and threads and expected to sew a design. The teacher was a plump motherly woman and she looked kindly at Charlotte as she stammered that she had never done any sewing before.

'Oh, it's easy when you get the knack of it. I'll help you by showing you some easy stitches and you can copy them,' she beamed at Charlotte.

Charlotte sat there with her needle and thread, miserably aware that her efforts were not even as good as Lapis who was only seven years old.

The girls had a break for lunch with an hour to play. They went to the courtyard where Charlotte chalked out a square on the paving stones and taught them to play Kingball. The princesses were delighted to learn a new game and Charlotte was delighted to be doing something she was actually good at for a change. The gong sounded far too quickly and Topaz led the way to the music room. Charlotte's heart sank. The music master was tall and forbidding with a resplendent black moustache and piercing black eyes.

'Do you play the flute?' he demanded, pouncing on Charlotte as she entered.

'No,' stammered Charlotte. 'But I do play the piano a bit.'

She instantly regretted this as the music master gave an exclamation of joy. But his face fell as he informed Charlotte that there was no piano at the palace.

'I have seen one of these soft-loud instruments when I travelled to the court of France,' he told her excitedly. 'Alas, the king has not thought fit to order one for his daughters so far.'

'What a pity,' said Charlotte, feeling enormously relieved by this. She was allowed to go and explore the gardens while the other girls were set hard at work practicing their flutes. She could hear the notes following her as she wandered around winding paths past cascading waterfalls and tranquil pools afloat with waterlilies.

Day followed day, and Charlotte gradually realised that the life of a princess was just as full of rules and expectations as that of any normal person. At last the night of Feast Day arrived. It was a muggy night with no breeze to relieve the heat. The clouds were billowing dark and grey and Lapis had quavered that she thought there might be a storm.

'Storms won't hurt you, silly,' Moonstone had said scornfully.

But the storm hadn't come and some of the queens could be seen dabbing their foreheads with wisps of lace while most of the men had bright red faces above their heavy, jewel encrusted robes. Charlotte felt that she was wearing at least three times too many layers of clothing but when she had suggested leaving off two of the petticoats. Layla had been shocked.

'It would not be proper, your highness,' she said primly.

The princesses trooped into the Great Hall, which was already crowded with people. The king entered last, flanked by his queens and the ceremony commenced with a blast of bugles. Dozens of serving men and women brought course after course of food until Charlotte lost count. She picked at anything that took her fancy and noticed that most others did the same. The meal went on for hours, relieved only by men making long boring speeches which appeared to be about politics or preventing war. The Master of Ceremonies, who was a large man with distinguished silver hair bound up in a brilliant crimson turban, then announced that the entertainment would begin. He introduced each act as various musicians and acrobats performed in front of the tables and the crowd applauded their efforts. One young man dressed as a jester put on a display where he swallowed a long flaming sword, which caused gasps from most of the women present. A group of snake charmers were next and Charlotte found herself swaying in sympathy with the cobras as the music droned repetitively. After the dessert course had been consumed, the king clapped his hands and announced that he wished to be entertained by the young princesses. A drumbeat sounded and Charlotte watched in admiration as the girls walked out in a line and performed the dance they had learned for the king. A handsome young man, who Charlotte assumed was Prince Casper, clapped and cheered loudly and Charlotte had to admit that the princesses had looked perfectly splendid.

Charlotte was beginning to yawn and was thinking longingly of bed when the king clapped his hands again and the Master of Ceremonies stepped forward. Charlotte sat up with a start as her name was mentioned.

'As a gesture of respect to the visiting Princess Charlotte of Herberton, King Balthazar has graciously arranged for the delivery of a piano,' announced the Master of Ceremonies with a smile.

The crowd applauded enthusiastically and Charlotte felt sick as a large ornately decorated piano was wheeled into the Great Hall by four strong young men. A seat was placed before it and an expectant hush fell over the crowd. The Master of Ceremonies beckoned to Charlotte, who stood up and tottered to the piano on trembling legs. Taking a deep breath she looked up and immediately wished she hadn't. What felt like hundreds of pairs of eyes were fixed on her. Looking down at the keyboard, she clenched her hands tightly then opened her fingers and placed them on the keys. There was a horrible clash of notes and she hastily moved her fingers. Her mind had gone a complete blank and she couldn't remember how to play the Temple March. In fact, she couldn't remember how to play anything. Charlotte felt faint. Closing her eyes she muttered through clenched teeth, 'I wish I'd done more practice. I wish I wasn't here.'

Charlotte banged her hands down on the piano keys as the storm outside suddenly broke with a flash of lightning. The room was lit with a vivid light and Charlotte felt the piano begin to shake under her hands. She shut her eyes and clutched at the lid for support. She felt a whirling sensation then opened her eyes to find herself standing beside the lamp-post in Pukeko Street. Gone were the flowing skirts and jewels and Charlotte was relieved to find herself in T-shirt and jeans again.

'Sorry about that. I'll help you pick it all up,' came a cheerful voice. Charlotte turned her dazed face to see a friendly boy stooping to collect her scattered pieces of music. His dog was tied with a length of rope to the lamp-post and he grinned at her as he handed her the last piece. 'Temple March. Wow, that looks hard. Can you really play that?' he asked.

Charlotte smiled at him 'not yet,' she admitted. 'In fact I need heaps of practice. But I certainly intend to learn to play it. You never know when something like that will come in handy.'

With that she turned and walked through the gate of number Seventeen, in time for her music lesson with old Miss Carpenter.

Under a Cloud

'Now listen carefully, girls,' Miss Borage instructed, as she called her class to attention.

There was a collective sigh as the pupils put down their pens and tried to assume an alert and interested pose. This was more about avoiding trouble than from any overwhelming desire to learn. Miss Borage was apt to be very severe with anyone who wasn't listening attentively, and it usually resulted in the unfortunate girl having her homework assignments doubled for that week.

'We are going to study weather,' Miss Borage stated.

Holly rolled her eyes at her friend Caitlin. 'Boring,' she breathed.

'Did you say something, Holly?' Miss Borage demanded.

'No, Miss Borage,' Holly muttered.

'Just as well. Now as I was saying, we are going to study weather.'

'I wish we were going outside,' Holly whispered. 'I could spend the whole day outside in this weather.'

It was a fine summer day and the sun was blazing down from a blue, cloudless sky. Unfortunately for Holly, Miss Borage had very good hearing.

'Sorry to disappoint you, Holly, but I have no intention of letting you go outside. We don't need to go outside to study the weather. You all know what sun and rain feel like by now, I expect.' Miss Borage allowed a small smile to cross her face as the girls dutifully laughed at her rare attempt at humour. 'Now,' she went on, 'we are going to study how to affect the weather. One of the principal duties of Weather Controllers is to change the weather for specific purposes or events and it is important that you all know how to do this. I know that not all of you are destined to become Weather Witches, in fact, some of you will be lucky to become Witches at all.' Here she paused to frown at Holly, who hastily smothered a yawn and tried to look intelligent.

'How do we change the weather, Miss Borage,' Cherry asked from the front row, as Holly rolled her eyes and glanced longingly through the window.

'By diligently following the formula,' Miss Borage said reprovingly. 'Good gracious, you girls are impatient today. If you sit still and listen I will explain it to you. Before we begin to change the weather, first you need to learn how weather patterns are created.'

For the next half hour, Miss Borage gave a tedious lecture on isobars, pressure systems and the importance of barometers. Caitlin listened attentively but found it hard to concentrate as Holly, beside her, wriggled on her chair and sighed with boredom. Caitlin poked Holly in the ribs and she gave a guilty start as she saw Miss Borage glaring at her.

'Do you agree with me, Holly?'

'Oh yes, Miss Borage,' Holly answered quickly, with no idea of what she had agreed to.

'Good. I'd hate to think you weren't interested in what we do here. Unlike your mother.'

Holly groaned inwardly. She had suffered the daily anguish of having her mother attend the same school for the last six months. What was worse, she had been in the same class. Mrs Beggs had always been keen on magic but thankfully she had found she had no talent for it, despite her enthusiasm. So this term she had gone to try classes in yoga and floral art at the local polytechnic instead, much to Holly's relief.

'Now remember what I said,' Miss Borage said sternly. 'It is very difficult to create weather so what we do to change it is to move it around from somewhere else. If we wish for rain here than we borrow some rain clouds from an area where it is raining. Then, and this is important, we send them back when we have finished with them. And do try to use a different area each time otherwise you risk causing a drought.'

Miss Borage strode around the room, waving her arms to emphasise her words. 'Today we are going to form clouds.' She paused to frown at two girls in the front row who were whispering to each other. Cherry and Tamara subsided into silence as their teacher continued. 'Because there are no clouds outside at the moment, as Holly well knows, we will borrow them from the other side of the country.'

Miss Borage pulled down a large map of the country at the front of the room and tapped an area on it.

I want you all to visualise a cloud. Decide how big it will be and what shape. When you have it firmly fixed in your mind, put your hand up and I will give you a pinch of magic mixture Number 7 to use.'

The class brightened. The girls all enjoyed the practical magic lessons, even though they sometimes had very unexpected results. There was silence in the classroom as the girls concentrated, then one by one hands were raised. Miss Borage walked around the room carrying a small jar and put a pinch of dry sparkling mixture onto each outstretched palm. As she did so, there was a tiny popping sound and a small cloud formed above the pupil's head. There were exclamations of delight from around the room as small white fluffy clouds bobbed gently against the ceiling.

'Now keep concentrating, girls,' said Miss Borage briskly. 'Remember, these are your creations. You must control then. Keep them above you at all times and don't let them bump into others. Use your hand to control the direction.'

'Mine's gone, Miss Borage,' wailed Cherry. 'Caitlin has a really big one and mine bumped into it and it's all joined up with it.'

'You shouldn't have had such a silly little thing in the first place,' Caitlin muttered, trying to untangle the clouds by waving her hand through the air.

Miss Borage sighed and reached into her desk drawer for a small wooden wand. She tapped this on her desk and the cloud immediately broke into two, with the smaller part scuttling back to hover above Cherry.

'Now, is that everyone?' Miss Borage began to put the lid back on her jar.

'Don't forget me,' cried Holly. She had been so fascinated by watching the others that she had not concentrated at all. As Miss Borage approached her desk, Holly thought CLOUD and shot out her hand.

'Oh dear, the jar is almost finished,' Miss Borage frowned. 'There is only a scrape in the bottom. ' She up-ended the jar and tipped the last of the powder into Holly's hand. As she did so, Cherry giggled and leapt across in front of her.

'Sorry, my cloud is getting away,' she explained.

'Be careful,' Miss Borage said sharply, as some of the powder drifted down onto Holly's desk.

'Sorry,' Cherry said quickly, as she flapped her hand to move her cloud away.

Holly watched her own cloud appear above her. Moving her hand in a circle, she made the cloud spiral gently up to the ceiling and down again. All around the room the girls were gracefully motioning with their hands as the clouds dipped and swayed.

'This is fantastic fun,' Caitlin grinned at her best friend.

'Sure is,' Holly replied. 'I wonder how long we can keep them. Maybe we can take them home with us.'

Her face fell as Miss Borage announced, 'time is up. Everyone please file past me and I'll tap your hand with my wand. You have all done very well and tomorrow we'll go on to try rainbows. For tonight's homework I want you to write me an essay on the importance of weather control.'

There were groans as the girls lined up before the teacher's desk. As she tapped their hands, the clouds slowly dissolved into the air. Holly was last of all. She was enjoying making her cloud sail up and down and hastily scrambled into line with an expression of regret as her beautiful billowing white cloud began to disintegrate.

At the end of the lesson, Holly and Caitlin ran for the gate to catch a ride on the school broomstick, where Miss Sedgely the driver waited.

'I'm roasting. I don't know why the teachers don't stop this heat if they can all control the weather,' Holly complained. 'We should have rain on school days and keep the fine weather for weekends and holidays.'

'Miss Borage says it takes too much power,' Caitlin reminded her. 'Magic is for important things, not just because we don't want to go to school on hot days. Farmers need sunshine for their crops as well.'

She climbed quickly onto the last seat on the broomstick as it hovered by the kerb. Miss Sedgely gave the command to fly and the broomstick rose smoothly into the air, carrying the thirteen riders to their homes. Holly and Caitlin were last off and were feeling very hot and bothered by the time they got to Caitlin's house.

'I'm glad I'm staying at your place, tonight,' Holly told Caitlin. 'That way we can do our essays together and get them out of the way and have a whole evening to do whatever we want.'

'We could go down to the swimming hole at the river,' Caitlin suggested.

'Sounds good to me,' nodded Holly.

The girls kicked off their shoes and began their homework, fortified with a large wedge of fruitcake and an apple each. As Holly opened her book, she gave an exclamation of surprise.

'What is it?' Caitlin asked.

'It's some of the magic mixture. It must have spilt on my book when I opened my desk.'

'Better put it in the bin,' Caitlin advised. 'Or wrap it in a bit of paper and give it back to Miss Borage tomorrow. It's fairly powerful stuff.'

Holly's eyes sparkled. 'I have an even better idea. Let's make a cloud each and race them.'

Caitlin looked rather dubiously at her friend but Holly was very persuasive.

'I'll go first,' she said. 'I hardly had much of a go in class this afternoon.'

'Don't forget to get it from somewhere different,' Caitlin reminded her.

'Yeah, yeah. Where's your map book? I can't think of anywhere.'

Caitlin reached down a small atlas from her shelf and passed it across.

'Hey, I know. I'll get it from Australia,' Holly said brightly. That way no-one will ever notice.'

She concentrated with a frown then poured the mixture onto her hand. With a pop, a small cloud appeared above her head.

'Now you have a turn,' she smiled.

Caitlin sighed and thought up a tiny cloud of her own.

'Great. Now let's have a race,' Holly said.

The next hour was enormous fun and Caitlin quickly forgot her misgivings as she made her cloud skip and dance around the room.

Caitlin found she could make hers do spirals before diving down to circle the bed, while Holly made her cloud into the shapes of weird animals by wriggling her fingers.

'I hope no one finds out about this,' Caitlin said at last. 'Miss Borage would go berserk if she thought we were misusing magic.'

'It's perfectly harmless,' Holly said indignantly. 'It's not as if we are hurting anyone or anything.'

'Well, no,' I suppose so.' Caitlin was not convinced. 'But how do we get rid of them?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, Miss Borage got rid of the ones at school with her wand but we're not up to that sort of magic yet.'

'Oh.' Holly stood for a moment thinking. 'I know,' she said after a while. 'Let's join them up and let them join the other clouds. That way they'll disappear like Cherry's one did.'

'Okay.' Caitlin moved her hand and her cloud bumped against Holly's cloud. They merged together to form one large cloud over Holly.

'Now I'll take it outside and get rid of it,' Holly said with a regretful sigh. 'There's no one about. I guess all the other kids are down at the swimming hole or doing their homework.'

Holly ran outside and the cloud followed her to soar and fly across the sky.

'That worked so far, but there aren't any other clouds in the sky,' Caitlin pointed out.

Holly looked around. Caitlin was right. The sky was still, blue and cloudless.

'They must come back sometime. There are nearly always clouds in the sky. Let's leave it until later and I'm sure it won't be a problem.'

'We have to finish our homework, anyway,' Caitlin reminded her.

Holly made a face as she flicked her fingers to send her cloud sailing across the treetops. She followed her friend to her bedroom where they began busily writing their essay.

'How do you spell Isobar?' asked Holly. 'Bother, my hair must have got really hot and sweaty outside. I can feel it dripping down my back.'

'Shh,' said Caitlin. 'I'm in the middle of a drought over here.' She wrote industriously while Holly wrinkled her nose and chewed the end of her pen. She wrote a few more sentences and stopped in disgust.

'Is your roof leaking, Caitlin? I can feel dripping.'

'Of course not,' said Caitlin automatically. 'Anyway it's not raining.' She glanced at her friend and gave a cry of surprise. 'No wonder you're getting wet. Your cloud is all grey.'

'What? Where?'

Holly looked up and gave a start. A large grey cloud hovered above her head where it showered fine raindrops down on her head.

'How did that get here? I thought I left it outside. And why has it gone grey?'

'It must be a rain cloud,' Caitlin said reasonably.

'Well it can jolly well go and rain somewhere else,' Holly said indignantly.

'You'd better have an umbrella while we think of what to do,' Caitlin said soothingly. She went to the laundry and returned with a large green umbrella, which she put up and handed to Holly. 'Here, try this.'

'Thanks,' muttered Holly ungraciously. 'Now how on earth am I going to get rid of it?'

The girls looked at each other blankly.

'You could try going outside again,' Caitlin suggested. 'Give your hand a really good shake this time and see if it will stay there.'

Holly walked to the front door, rain dripping off the umbrella around her on all sides. She stood in the middle of the front yard and shook her hand vigorously. 'Is it going?' she called hopefully.

Caitlin frowned. 'It's difficult to tell. It has sort of disappeared, I think. It's gone up really high.'

'Good. I'm coming in then.'

Holly ran inside and shook the umbrella out in the doorway.

'Now we must finish our homework. It's nearly dinnertime,' Caitlin said firmly.

The girls settled down with their books but after a few minutes Holly gave a yelp. 'It's back,' she said in disgust, glancing up at the grey cloud dripping dankly above her. 'So what do I do now?'

'Maybe we could dry it out,' Caitlin told her helpfully. 'I could aim Mum's hairdryer at it and that might get rid of the rain. It wouldn't be so bad if it was dry.'

'That's brilliant. It doesn't seem to move very easily now.' Holly waved her hand and the cloud surged slowly and soggily before settling back over her head. Caitlin dashed to the bathroom and returned with her mother's hairdryer. 'You'll have to stand over here by the bed. The cord won't reach very far.'

Caitlin switched on the dryer and aimed the hot air at the cloud. The cloud ruffled and billowed but continued to release a fine mist of rain.

'Oh bother, my bed is getting wet.'

'So am I!'

'I'll get the umbrella again. Here, you have a go.'

Caitlin ran off for the umbrella while Holly aimed the hairdryer over her head at the cloud. The cloud responded with a burst of raindrops and Holly thankfully took the umbrella as Caitlin returned.

'I hope this works,' Holly muttered anxiously, as Caitlin waved the dryer again.

'What on earth is all the crashing and banging in here?'

Caitlin's mother came to the doorway and gasped in astonishment at the sight. 'Good heavens. What is going on?'

'It's our homework, Mum. We're doing weather,' Caitlin explained. 'Only Holly's cloud won't go away and it's raining on her.'

'I can see that,' said Mrs Ashby in dismay, as she regarded the damp patch on her daughter's bedroom carpet. 'Maybe I should phone Miss Borage and see if she can come around and stop it.'

'Don't do that,' begged Holly.

'She really hates being called up out of school hours, Caitlin added hastily. 'She'd only be mean to us and it's not really Holly's fault, she never meant to get a rain cloud.'

'Anyway, it must go soon,' Holly said apologetically. 'It has to run out of rain eventually.'

She hoped this was true but the cloud looked as if it was capable of raining persistently for weeks.

'I hope you're right. You can't spend the night under an umbrella,' Mrs Ashby sniffed. 'But I was coming to tell you that dinner is ready.'

'Oh good. I'm starved. We'll try again later,' Caitlin beamed and turned off the hair dryer.

Holly discovered that a large umbrella would not fit through a doorway. Mrs Ashby came to her rescue at last and received a shower of rain on her head for her pains. Muttering to herself, Mrs Ashby disappeared into the kitchen while the girls took their seats at the table.

'What's up with the umbrella?' Caitlin's brother Scott wanted to know.

'Holly's under a cloud,' Caitlin explained.

'Cool. Is it a curse? Can you set it on someone else? I know a few people who could use a curse like that.'

'It's not a curse,' said his sister crossly.

'That's enough talk about cursing,' Mrs Ashby said firmly. 'Now Holly, I'm afraid that umbrella is dripping everywhere. I hope you don't mind but I think you'd better eat in the kitchen where it's easier to mop the floor. But do try not to drip all over the food, dear.'

A subdued Holly sat mournfully in the middle of the kitchen floor feeling like an outcast. Caitlin's family called out to her encouragingly from time to time and Mrs Ashby offered her second helpings of each course as she sidled past to get to the fridge or the bench. Caitlin's cat, Marmalade, took one look at this new kitchen fixture and spat his annoyance before stalking off with ruffled fur to a dry spot on the living room couch.

After dinner, Holly was excused helping with the dishes and stood miserably in the laundry to be out of the way.

'Can't you catch the cloud in a bag or something?' Scott suggested.

Caitlin looked at him in admiration. 'What a great idea. But it's a bit high to reach. It's right up by the ceiling'

'I could stand on a chair and do it if you like,' Scott said helpfully.

Caitlin viewed him with suspicion. 'You're not usually this nice to my friends. What's up?'

Scott gave a shamefaced grin. 'I thought if I had it in a box I could take it and let it out in class on Monday. It would freak everyone out at my school and I'd love to see everyone's faces.'

'I don't know if it will work,' Holly called out. 'But if you can get it off me you are welcome to it.'

'Great.' Scott took a chair from the kitchen and called to Holly. 'Come and stand in the hallway where it can't float away too far. Caitlin, you pass me that box once I'm up.'

Caitlin picked up an empty carton and handed it to Scott, who balanced rather precariously at the top of the ladder. 'Closer, closer,' he called out as Holly walked towards him. He gave a sudden shout and threw the box over the cloud. Unfortunately, as he did so, Holly took a step too close to the chair and the sharp prongs of the umbrella poked Scott in the back. He bellowed in pain and promptly fell off the chair with a crash, tipping the box full of wet cloud over his sister. Caitlin squealed in surprise as the cold rain showered over her and the cloud surged up the ceiling again where it rained harder than ever.

Mrs Ashby gasped as she surveyed the commotion. Scott was lying on the floor complaining that Holly could have broken his leg, while Holly was trying to help him up without letting go of the umbrella.

'That does it. I am definitely calling Miss Borage,' Mrs Ashby said firmly, as she marched to the phone.

'It almost worked,' Caitlin said sadly.

'Yeah, almost crippled me for life,' snarled Scott as he limped away to put the chair back.

'Sorry,' whispered Holly wretchedly, retreating to the bathroom to stand and drip in the bath.

'Bad news, I'm afraid,' Caitlin's mother told them as she put her head around the door. 'There is only an answerphone at The Rowans so it looks as if you will have to wait until school tomorrow.'

'But what are we going to do about Holly? She can't sleep in the bath,' Caitlin wailed.

Mrs Ashby thought for a moment. 'You can both sleep in Scott's tent,' she said finally. 'We'll put it up outside. That way you will be dry inside and a bit of rain on the grass won't matter. Thank goodness the weather is warm.'

She called to her son to help and in a short time, despite a lot of grumbling, the tent was set up on the back lawn. Holly and Caitlin were quite excited at the adventure of sleeping outside and fell asleep eventually to the sound of persistent rain pattering on the roof of the tent.

In the morning, Holly was dismayed to see the cloud was still there. It was still grey and still rained on her wherever she went. The girls felt a little silly dressed in raincoats as they waited for the school broomstick, but at least they were dry. Miss Sedgely gave a sniff of disapproval when she saw the cloud.

'You girls had better go straight to Miss Borage,' she told them, as the other girls giggled at the sight.

'Yes, Miss Sedgely,' Holly gulped.

As they arrived at the school, it seemed as if every pupil was at the gate. Holly walked wetly through the crowd, which hastily parted to make way for her. She splashed her way to the staffroom door and knocked in trepidation. Miss Borage opened the door and tutted in annoyance.

'You silly girl. What have you done?'

'Um, I made a cloud, Miss Borage,' Holly answered in a small voice.

'Yes. I can see that. Where did you get it from?'

'Australia.'

'Hmm, I see. Well now it is here there is no sense in wasting it. You can spend the day standing in the middle of the school vegetable garden. It can do with a good watering. And tonight you can write me an essay on why we shouldn't meddle with the weather. Look on the bright side,' Miss Borage went on, as she saw the look of horror on Holly's face. 'You were the one wanting to spend the day outside instead of doing lessons, as I recall. Well, you have your wish.'

Occasional Table

'It's Mum's birthday next week,' Brett said gloomily, swinging his foot and kicking at a tuft of grass.

'I know,' Minna frowned.

'What can I get her? Do you have any ideas? I suppose you've already got her present.' Brett looked despondently at his sister as she sat on the garden seat beside him.

Minna shook her head glumly. 'I was going to give her a plant,' she said. 'But that was when she was in her gardening phase. It makes me cross because I've been growing it for two weeks.'

'Where?' A flicker of interest crossed Brett's face.

'Down behind the shed in the Matthews' garden next door. I figured it would be safe there. Well it has been but that's no use now. It's a pity her birthday wasn't last month.'

Brett gave her a sympathetic look. 'I know what you mean,' he said.

Mrs Pringle, their mother, was blissfully unaware of the difficulties she was causing her son and daughter. She was a devoted mother to her children, or rather, she had been until the home improvement bug hit her. They had recently moved into their new house at Number 10 Pukeko St, accompanied by a quantity of boxes of fabric and half-made patchwork quilts. Mrs Pringle had taken one look at their new home and immediately lost interest in patchwork. She decided her next project would be to landscape and redesign the garden. The children, along with her patient husband, had helped cart barrow loads of dirt from one part of the front yard to the other.

'Shifting holes,' Mr Pringle called it, and tried to encourage the children when their energy flagged. 'Think how nice it will look when it's finished,' he had told them. 'And look on the bright side. At least we don't have to spend the weekends mowing the grass. They say a change is as good as a holiday. It is wonderful exercise.'

'I can think of better ways of exercising,' Brett moaned.

'See this plant? I must have carried it to at least five places before Mum planted it,' Minna complained, gesturing at a small lavender bush in disgust.

Mrs Pringle let their complaints wash over her head. She filled the house with gardening books, most of which were on loan from the Herberton Library. A few of these were well overdue as Brett found out when he had to part with the best part of his pocket money to pay the fines.

'It's not fair. I only went in to get a book on motorbikes and Mrs Midler made me pay all Mum's fines before I could take it out.'

'Cheer up, it won't last forever,' his father had told him.

He was right. Mrs Pringle's crazes never lasted long. That was the trouble. Not only did Mrs Pringle immerse herself completely in whatever hobby she was involved in, but these would suddenly change without warning. Minna vividly remembered the shame of inviting a group of her friends home for a sleepover when her mother was baking wonderful cakes as part of a cake-decorating hobby. But to her horror she found that not only were the cupboards empty, but her mother had greeted them draped only in a small towel, explaining that she had decided to become a naturist and give up wearing clothes.

'At least the garden looks good,' Brett remarked.

'It ought to. We all worked hard enough,' Minna replied. 'But we must think of something for a present for Mum.'

They sat there thinking, much to the disgust of the neighbours' cat, which was hoping for some food. It curled around Minna's feet, purring, until she picked it up and stroked it.

'It's a shame Mum is allergic to cat hair or we could have got her a kitten,' she sighed.

'Hey there,' a voice hailed them from over the fence. 'What are you two doing outside? It's going to rain any minute now.'

'Oh hi Judy,' Minna waved to her friend. 'We're staying outside because Mum's rearranging all the furniture.'

'By herself?' Judy raised her eyebrows and climbed over the fence. 'Ow. I nearly sat on a nail. Why? You only moved in a few weeks ago.'

Minna sighed. 'You don't know our mother. She's over her gardening hobby and now it's Feng Shui.'

'Fung what?' her bewildered friend asked, as she sat down beside her. 'It sounds like some sort of Chinese cooking.'

'I wish! It is Chinese but it's all about harmony with nature. You have to have all the furniture arranged a certain way to get the right vibrations, apparently.'

Judy giggled. 'Surely she doesn't believe that?'

Minna shrugged. 'Who knows? It's giving her a great excuse to move everything round again. I tripped over three things when I got out of bed this morning.'

'That's nothing,' Judy said. 'My room is so messy I trip over stuff all the time.'

'Well my room isn't,' said Minna crossly. 'And anyway, my bed is now in the dining room. We're eating in the laundry. It's evidently got a better energy flow.'

Judy laughed. 'Your life is so exciting,' she said. 'My mother would never do anything like that.'

'Well your food probably doesn't all taste of soap powder, either,' Minna pointed out.

'So where has the washing machine gone?' Judy asked in fascination.

As she spoke there was a loud crash and the sound of breaking glass.

'Outside on the front terrace by the sound of it,' Brett said, rolling his eyes. 'We'd better go and lend a hand, I suppose.' He climbed reluctantly out of the swing.

'I'll come as long as I don't have to do any more painting,' Minna told him. She turned to Judy and made a face. 'Mum made us paint the ceiling in the living room bright red. She says it's so we can meditate better. Dad's going to go out of his tree when he sees it.'

Judy gave a shout of laughter. 'I'd love to see it but it's time for my piano lesson. I'll walk to school with you tomorrow and you can tell me all about it then.'

She waved and climbed back over the fence as Minna and Brett reluctantly moved towards the house.

Brett and Minna spent the next week living in what felt like a furniture removal van, until their father finally put his foot down.

'Enough is enough,' he stated. 'I didn't complain when you moved our bed into the kitchen and I have learned to watch the television in Brett's bedroom, but when you moved my armchair into the garden shed you went too far. A man needs to read his newspaper in peace and comfort. There is no light out there and, what's more, it's full of spiders.'

'Yes, dear,' Mrs Pringle said happily. 'I've almost got everything where I want it. All I need now is an occasional table there in the hallway and the house is perfect.'

'Just as well,' muttered her husband, turning the television channel to the news.

'Hey I was watching that cartoon,' Brett protested, but gave up when his father glared at him. 'All this fuss and the furniture is back almost exactly the way it was in the first place,' he muttered resentfully.

'At least we know what to get Mum for her birthday,' Minna told him.

'What's that?'

'An occasional table. You heard her. She wants one.'

'What's an occasional table?' Brett asked.

'I'm not really sure but if anyone's got one, old Mr Bingham will have,' his sister said. 'We'll go there tomorrow after school on our bikes.'

The next day they parked their bikes outside the local junk shop. Mr Bingham sold an enormous range of things, from old enamel plates for camping to new beds and mattresses. Minna and Brett had accompanied their mother to the shop several times in the past week and loved poking around to see what they could find. Boxes of china ornaments and old well loved teddy bears jostled for room among piles of chairs and rusty lawnmowers. They spent a happy half-hour looking around until Mr Bingham creaked his way over to them and fixed them with his twinkling eyes.

'Can I help you?' he asked.

'We need an occasional table,' Brett said hopefully.

'But it can't be too expensive as we don't have very much money,' Minna added hastily.

Mr Bingham gave her a look of reproach. 'If a thing is worth having it is worth paying for,' he said gently.

'We're going to pay for it,' Minna replied rather indignantly. 'It's just that we can't pay very much.'

'Do you have an occasional table?' Brett asked

Mr Bingham thought for a minute than gave a chuckle. 'As it happens I do. But whether you would want it or not, well that's the question.'

The children stared at him blankly.

'We do want it,' Minna said firmly. Mr Bingham was rather inclined to ramble on and lose track of what he was doing. Mr Pringle had once expressed surprise that he even made a living from his shop.

'Most of the stuff is junk and he practically gives it away,' he said. 'The rest of it he charges the earth for so that no-one would buy it and it's not much better.'

'I think it's an exciting shop,' Mrs Pringle had said defensively, thinking guiltily of the purchases she had made there lately. 'You never know what you'll find there.'

Minna tried not to look too impatient as Mr Bingham slowly made his way to the back of the shop. He was muttering under his breath, 'table, table, where are you?'

'It sounds as if he is calling a dog,' Brett whispered.

Minna gave a gurgle of laughter as Mr Bingham suddenly pounced on something in the shadows and turned around.

'There,' he said proudly. 'One occasional table.'

Minna and Brett looked at it silently. The table was small and made of dark wood. It had an oval top that looked rather battered. The four legs finished in what looked a little like carved wooden claws.

'How much is it?' Minna asked doubtfully.

'Two dollars,' Mr Bingham said, creasing his wrinkled face in a smile.

Brett nudged Minna. 'Tell him we'll take it,' he hissed. 'We've got six dollars and that means we can buy ice creams on the way home.'

'I don't know,' Minna said doubtfully.' It looks a bit old.'

'Old!Old!' Mr Bingham drew himself up. 'This is an antique,' he said in outrage. 'All it needs is a little polish and it will come up like new.'

'Oh, all right,' Minna said in resignation. 'We need to have something by tomorrow and this will do.' She took a coin from her pocket and handed it to Mr Bingham. He reached out and placed the table in Brett's arms and ushered the children to the door.

'Be sure to hold onto it,' he said as he shut the door after them.

'How are we going to get this home?' spluttered Minna indignantly as they stepped onto the footpath.

'It's okay, I'll tie it to the back of my bike,' Brett assured her. 'I'm sure Mr Bingham will give me some string if I ask him.' He ran back into the shop and returned a few minutes later with a ball of string in his hand.

'He charged me four dollars for the string,' he said in disbelief. 'That's twice as much as the table cost.'

'It's okay. I think the table is actually worth quite a bit,' his sister reassured him. 'It looks like something you see on those antique shows where the announcer tells people it is worth thousands of dollars when they only paid a few cents for it.'

'I don't care,' Brett said. 'Let's get it home and hide it in my cupboard until tomorrow. You can write a card from both of us. Your writing is much neater than mine is.'

Minna agreed without complaint and the table was duly tucked away between a pair of soccer boots and a half-constructed model boat.

Early the next morning Minna was woken by a hand shaking her.

'Who is it?' she croaked.

'It's me. Brett.'

'What do you want? It's the middle of the night,' Minna said indignantly, trying to pull the blankets over her head as her brother dragged on them.

'It's morning, well, nearly morning. You have to come to my room. There's something in the wardrobe.'

'I know. The table for Mum's birthday present.'

'No, you don't understand. It's not that. There's something banging and creaking in there.'

'You're too old to believe in monsters in the bedroom,' protested Minna. She opened her eyes properly and saw Brett standing beside her bed. His hair was sticking up in tufts and he was so pale the freckles were standing out on his face. 'Oh all right, I'll come and take a look,' she said and yawned as she reached for her dressing gown.

Brett opened his bedroom door and stood back to let Minna go in first. She walked into the room and turned to her brother.

'There's no noise at all.'

'Well there isn't now but there was before. It sounded really horrible, ' Brett quavered.

'You were probably dreaming,' Minna told him soothingly. 'See, it's quite safe. There is nothing in here except... oh!'

Minna opened the wardrobe door and stopped in surprise, her mouth hanging open. In the wardrobe where they had put the table was a huge wooden chest of drawers. It had large brass handles and stood on short wooden feet shaped a little like claws. 'Where did that come from?' she asked in amazement.

'I don't know. All I heard was a creaking noise,' Brett shrugged.

'Mum must have moved it when you were asleep.'

'Moved it from where? It doesn't look like anything we've ever had.'

'Maybe Dad bought it for her birthday,' Minna suggested.

'I doubt it. He hates going to furniture shops and anyway, he said last week that we had too much furniture.'

'We'll ask him at breakfast. So now you know it isn't a monster, only a piece of furniture. I don't know where the occasional table went. Maybe we'll find out in the morning. Now go back to sleep,' Minna said firmly as she headed back to her own room.

At breakfast time Mrs Pringle was beaming with pleasure she showed the children the new earrings her husband had given her.

'Where are your presents?' Mr Pringle asked his children.

'Um, we got one present between us,' Brett said, wiping his mother's kiss from his cheek when she wasn't looking.

'It's a bit big. We put it in Brett's cupboard,' Minna explained.

'I'll see it after breakfast,' their mother said happily. 'Who would like another pancake? I'm making them as a special birthday treat.'

After consuming a huge stack of pancakes between them and washing the breakfast dishes, they all trooped into Brett's room.

'Happy birthday, Mum,' the children chorused, as Brett opened the wardrobe door. 'Oh, an occasional table. Just what I wanted. How clever of you,' Mrs Pringle smiled. 'I will go and put it in the hallway right now.'

Minna and Brett looked at each other in astonishment then back at the wardrobe where the table was standing, just as it had the night before.

'Maybe it was a dream,' Brett wondered.

'A bit of an odd dream if we both had it.' Minna wrinkled her nose. 'And look, your boat is squashed, so it must have happened. It has turned out okay so that's the main thing.'

It is weird though,' Brett muttered.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, apart from Brett falling from a tree and grazing his knee. This was a regular event so no one got very excited about it. Mr Pringle took the family out to the local Pizza Parlour to celebrate his wife's birthday.

'That way you don't have to cook a meal, my love,' he said happily.

'Yes, and pizza is Dad's favourite,' Brett said tactlessly, choking on his lemonade as Minna kicked him on the leg.

'Ow, mind my sore knee,' he complained.

'Don't fight, you two. Let's keep this a happy day for your mother,' Mr Pringle warned.

'I have had such a lovely day today that I don't think anything could spoil it,' Mrs Pringle said happily.

She was still chatting as her husband unlocked the front door. She stepped into the hallway and shrieked. 'Oh Geoffrey, you shouldn't have!'

'Shouldn't have what?' her husband asked, then gasped as he saw his wife pointing to a large piano where the occasional table had been.

'I've always wanted a piano,' Mrs Pringle trilled. 'Now Brett and Minna will be able to go to Miss Carpenter for lessons. It is so thoughtful of you. And very extravagant, when you have already given me the earrings.'

'But I didn't,' gulped Mr Pringle, staggering slightly in shock.

Minna nudged Brett. 'Look at the feet,' she hissed.

Brett looked at his feet. 'They're clean,' he started to say, then saw what Minna was looking at. The piano had carved wooden feet, a little like claws.

'It's the table,' he blurted out. 'That must be why they call it an occasional table. It's only a table occasionally, when it feels like it.'

'Whatever are you talking about?' Mrs Pringle demanded, then put a hand to her head as Minna and Brett both tried to explain it together.

Mr Pringle shook his head. 'It is hard to believe that a table turned into a piano,' he said. 'But I really can't see any other rational explanation.'

'I am just as happy with a piano,' Mrs Pringle pointed out. 'Not that I didn't like the table,' she added reassuringly.

'It might not stay a piano,' Brett warned her. 'After all, it was a chest of drawers first.'

'Why don't we leave it where it is and see what it changes into overnight,' his father suggested sensibly.

'What an exciting present. Such fun,' Mrs Pringle said gaily as they all made their way to bed.

The next day a tea trolley stood in the hallway.

Later on, a creaking sound at lunchtime had the whole family rushing into the hallway to see a small writing desk with clawed feet standing there innocently.

No matter how hard they tried over the next few weeks, no one in the family could catch the table in the act of changing. They became quite used to seeing different pieces of furniture in their hallway each day, from a dark and dingy church pew to a tall and rather majestic dresser. Mrs Pringle did complain when she put a favourite vase filled with chrysanthemums onto the table one day only to find it lying broken in a heap of petals next to a tall spindly coat rack by bedtime. No one else had cared very much for the vase so her complaints were not regarded as important. Mr Pringle absentmindedly put his reading glasses down on it during its appearance as an old fashioned washstand, and was rather disconcerted to find them the next day inside the drawer of a decidedly ornate china cabinet.

One morning Minna glanced at the hallway as she came out of her bedroom to go to breakfast.

'Have you noticed it has gone?' She asked her brother as he stepped out of his room.

'What's gone?' Brett rubbed his hands through his hair and yawned.

'The table. I was wondering what it was going to be today but it is not there.'

'Maybe it's something really small,' Brett suggested.

'Don't be stupid. It would have to be incredibly small not to be seen. Like about the size of a grain of sand.'

'Or a stone.'

'Stones aren't small.'

'Some stones are. And don't call me stupid!'

'Maybe it is invisible.'

'Now you are the stupid one.'

The children bickered half heartedly as they walked into the kitchen.

'There are two tables in here,' Brett said in astonishment

'I can see that,' said Minna pushing him to one side. 'What is one doing on top of the other? They both look the same.'

'No they don't. The top one has feet like claws. It's the occasional table. There isn't enough room for them both side by side. Brett shook his head silently as he crossed to the pantry to grab the cornflakes. 'Maybe it was hungry,' he sniggered.

Minna ignored him and made her breakfast in silence.

'We can still use the normal table,' their mother said brightly. 'Just think of the other one as a sort of roof. '

They ate their breakfast warily. As Mrs Pringle said, it would be unfortunate if the occasional table decided to become something large and heavy while the toast and coffee were actually underneath it.

'Not to mention our heads,' her husband grunted.

'It is strange that it doesn't ever change while we are looking at it,' Minna mused. 'I think it's shy.'

'I think it's insane but I haven't time to argue about it. I'm late for work as it is.' Mr Pringle grabbed his coat and slammed out of the house.

Mrs Pringle spent the day edging nervously around the stack of tables, but that night a loud creak and a crash resulted in the front doorway being blocked by a polished corner shelf unit. Mr Pringle muttered darkly as he shifted this.

'Why doesn't it change into something small? Brett, give me a hand with the other end.'

'Look on the bright side,' his wife said. 'At least the kitchen is back to normal.'

Mr Pringle's complaints grew louder over the next few days as the table ventured outside away from the house.

'I'm the only man in town who comes home to a wooden chair lurking inside his front gate,' he grumbled.

'I think it's hilarious,' Brett spluttered. 'It's getting quite adventurous.'

'You wouldn't find it such a laugh if you had to spend your evenings carting furniture back to the house,' Mr Pringle said bitterly.

Brett definitely didn't find it amusing the day he came out of his classroom at the end of school to find the table sitting patiently by the door.

'It must have followed me somehow,' he wailed in anguish to his sister, as he staggered home under the weight.

'Could be worse. At least it's not the piano,' Minna told him.

'That's not funny. I'm dying of embarrassment here. Everyone is staring at me. No one in their right mind carries a table home from school.'

'Maybe it was a sudden impulse it had and it won't happen again,' Minna told him.

But it did happen again. Every day for a week Brett found the table outside his classroom.

The next week it became a small chest of drawers, a toybox and a Welsh dresser. Brett had to phone his father to bring the car with a hired trailer from the service station to transport the furniture home.

'You'll have to stay home from school,' Mr Pringle said at last. He was hot and harassed at how much work he was missing, not to mention his annoyance at shifting the furniture and the cost of hiring the trailer. Some of his friends and colleagues were beginning to ask awkward questions.

'Why me?' groaned Brett.

'It seems to like you,' his father pointed out. 'I'll phone the school and tell them you have caught a contagious disease. Minna can bring your work home for you so you don't fall behind.'

Much to Brett's disgust, he proceeded to do this.

'I've had enough of this,' Brett muttered rebelliously one afternoon. 'Why don't we take it back to the shop?' He kicked the occasional table, which was currently being a small three-legged milking stool.

'I already tried that a few weeks ago,' his mother said. 'Old Mr Bingham wouldn't take it back. He said it was more trouble than it was worth and he was glad to be rid of it. Apparently he bought it from an old woman who lived in a blue caravan at Chelmsford.'

'Just my luck to be stuck at home with a table. The old woman must have been a witch,' Brett wailed. 'Maybe we can ask Mrs Myrtle to take the spell off it.'

'I've already tried that, too,' his mother told him. 'She said that only the person who put the spell on in the first place can take it off.'

'We will all go out to Chelmsford tomorrow and see if we can find her,' Mr Pringle decided.

The next day they loaded the occasional table, which had decided to be a sewing cabinet, into the back of the car and drove to Chelmsford.

'Keep an eye out for a blue caravan,' Mr Pringle instructed.

He drove slowly around the street, slowing down at every park and rest area. They saw caravans in all sorts of colours and sizes but no blue ones. The children looked wistfully as they passed an ice cream van and their father took pity on them and stopped. He regretted that decision as they walked back to the car to find that the table had changed to a tall bookcase. The children had to squash into a corner of the back seat and tempers were fraying rapidly.

At last Mr Pringle turned the car around.

'I give up. We're not going to find it so we might as well go home.'

Brett groaned in disappointment and glared resentfully at the bookshelf.

'No wait, look over there,' Mrs Pringle called excitedly. 'Behind that house. Isn't that a blue caravan?'

Mr Pringle stopped the car with a jolt and they piled out in relief and marched up the driveway and around the side of the house. They passed a few drooping shrubs and a neglected vegetable patch where half a dozen cabbages grew among the weeds. A dilapidated wire netting fence held a few bedraggled hens and a rooster, while a moth-eaten cat black slunk away beneath the hedge.

It was indeed a blue caravan, although it was none too clean and had seen better days. A plume of smoke came from a crooked metal chimney at one end, and a windchime jangled loudly as Mr Pringle knocked smartly on the door. They stood silently but nothing happened. Mr Pringle was about to knock again when the door opened.

'What do you want?'

An old woman wrapped in a tattered black shawl stood glaring at them.

'She does look like a witch,' Minna breathed.

'See if you can spot her broomstick,' Brett whispered back.

The old woman had straggly white hair pulled back from her face and tied in an untidy knot on top of her head. Piercing dark eyes sat above a large hooked nose and Brett was almost sure she had a wart on the end of her chin. Tattered pink slippers with dirty scuffmarks at the toes poked out from under a shapeless black dress. The old woman sniffed as she regarded them. 'Well, what is it you want? I haven't got all day.'

'Er, we were hoping you could help us, madam,' Mr Pringle said politely. 'We bought an occasional table from Mr Bingham and he said he purchased it from you. Unfortunately it is proving to be rather a nuisance. It tends to change into other things such as pianos and dressers and now it is following my son to school each day.'

The old woman gave a bark of laughter. 'Moving around is it?' she cackled. 'That doesn't surprise me at all.'

'Um, would you be able to do anything to stop it?' Mrs Pringle asked nervously.

'Me? Well I could I suppose, but that would be a pity. Better to give it what it wants.'

'What does it want?' Brett blurted out. He was trying to see past the old woman into the caravan behind her, but all he could glimpse was an ordinary looking bench seat covered in books.

'That's for me to know and you to wonder about,' the old woman snapped as she shut the door in their faces.

'She's mad,' Mr Pringle said in disgust.

'Sh, dear. Be careful, she might hear you.' Mrs Pringle pulled at his arm. 'Come on, we might as well go back to the car.'

'Do you think she was a witch, Mum?' Minna asked.

'I wouldn't be at all surprised,' Mrs Pringle answered as she bustled her family to the car.

'She said it was looking for something. We will have to experiment and find out what that is,' Minna said thoughtfully.

'We could chop it up for firewood,' Mr Pringle suggested.

A horrified gasp from his wife was accompanied by loud protests from the children.

'We can't chop it up. It's practically alive,' Brett said indignantly.

'We could always sell it then, I suppose,' Mr Pringle ventured.

'It would probably keep coming back, like a homing pigeon,' Mrs Pringle sighed. 'Besides, I've grown quite fond of it.'

Minna and Brett spent the car trip back to the house making a list of all the things the table might be looking for.

'Maybe it wants to be useful,' Minna said. 'We could keep books on it.'

'It didn't think much of the vase,' Brett reminded her. 'Maybe it's hungry. We could try a bunch of bananas.'

'I don't want bananas in my hallway, thank you,' Mrs Pringle said. 'It's much more likely to be something appropriate. I'll try a little furniture polish and a nice crocheted mat.'

The occasional table rejected the mat by turning into a carved wooden screen, although it certainly looked better with the polish.

Over the next month the Pringle's tried all manner of things from boxes of matches, Mr Pringle's idea, to silver trays provided by Mrs Pringle. At Brett's suggestion they took it in turns each night to put something on whatever piece of furniture stood in the hallway. The table continued to follow Brett if he was away from the house for more than a few hours, although no one ever saw it actually moving.

One night, when it was Brett's turn, he stood looking at a large dressing table, complete with mirrors.

'What are you going to put on it?' Minna asked.

'I've run out of ideas,' her brother admitted.

'Why not close your eyes and grab the first things you see?' Minna suggested. 'It can't be worse than the things we've tried so far.'

Brett sighed and closed his eyes. Turning around twice, he stumbled forward, bumping into his mother who was coming in the front door with the groceries.

'Mind out, Brett. You nearly made me drop the eggs,' she exclaimed.

Brett opened his eyes. 'Eggs! That will do. Thanks Mum.'

Taking two eggs from the carton, he placed them carefully into one of the small dressing table drawers. 'There. Maybe that will keep you at home,' he said without hope.

To everyone's surprise, the occasional table did just that. Admittedly it turned into a small filing cabinet, with a drawer which remained firmly shut despite everyone's best attempts to open it. It sat in the hallway, unmoving, for three weeks.

'It's brooding,' Mr Pringle said. ' It's thinking up some new diabolical way of annoying us. It's probably going to spit rotten eggs at us as we go past.'

'Don't be silly,' his wife laughed nervously. 'It's only a piece of furniture. You know it's bad for your blood pressure to get so upset.'

Mr Pringle gave the filing cabinet a dark look as he stamped past.

Another week went by and one morning Brett and Minna were woken by the sound of their mother laughing. 'Children, come and look at this!'

They ran into the hallway and saw the occasional table standing in its usual place.

'So it's back to being a table,' Brett said. 'What's funny about that?'

'Look closer,' said his mother, pointing to the table.

Minna and Brett looked, then joined in the laughter. Under the table two smaller tables were neatly stacked.

'It's had babies,' Minna exclaimed. 'That is so cute.'

'That was the eggs I gave it. The table hatched them,' Brett cried.

'Oh no,' groaned Mr Pringle, clutching his head. 'Now there will be three of the wretched things roaming the streets. We'll have to move to another town. I can't stand the strain!'

But for whatever reason, the occasional table never wandered again. In fact it didn't even change from a table, much to Brett's secret sorrow, and neither did the little tables.

'It used to be fun,' he said sadly to Minna one day as they walked home from school.

'Maybe the little tables have to grow up first,' his sister consoled him. 'But you didn't like it when it followed you to school,' she pointed out.

'Yes, well I know. But at least it wasn't boring. Life isn't very exciting anymore.'

'I wouldn't bet on that,' his sister said with an anguished moan. 'When we left this morning, Mum was talking about wildlife preservation. I have a horrible feeling she has taken up a new hobby.'

'That can't be too bad,' her brother remarked. 'I quite like wildlife myself.'

I don't,' said Minna firmly.

That was a pity, as it was bound to be a problem when she got home and discovered the alligator her mother had installed in their bathtub!

