A Present From Aunt Agatha

by Lynne Roberts

  Chapter 9. Howzat

  Ryan left the pen safely in his bedroom cupboard for the next few days. He and Andy agreed they had experienced enough excitement for a while and decided to wait until the weekend before using it again.

  ‘ Anyway,’ Ryan pointed out, ‘we have to get someone else to use it. We’ve had our turns. I suppose I could ask one of the other boys from school.’

  ‘Nah, let’s keep it to ourselves. We don’t want to have everyone in on it. Why don’t you ask your sister, Tracey?’ suggested Andy.

  Ryan was dubious.

  ‘She doesn’t do me any favours if she can possibly help it.’

  ‘Well, do something for her first,’ said Andy. ‘That way, when you ask her, she’ll feel she has to help you.’

  Tracey was astonished to find her younger brother so helpful that week. Ryan did her turn at washing up, ‘I know you’ve got homework to do,’ and offered to clean her hockey boots for her. He carried her school bag to the bus stop and allowed her to choose the TV programmes they watched.

  ‘You’re definitely sickening for something,’ Tracey told him. ‘Unless you want something,’ she added suspiciously.

  ‘No no, I’m just trying to be helpful. It’s for Scouts,’ invented Ryan. ‘They told us to be kind to older family members.’

  ‘But you don’t belong to Scouts.’

  ‘No, but I thought I might join and so that’s why I’m practicing.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Tracey wasn’t convinced. ‘How about making me some popcorn then.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Ryan with a smile, then gritted his teeth and muttered about sisters as he set up the popcorn machine.

  Their parents were amazed.

  ‘The house has never been so peaceful before. What’s got into those two?’ Mr Hughes asked his wife.

  She shrugged.

  ‘I have no idea, but let’s enjoy it while we can. It can’t last forever.’

  Andy phoned Ryan on Friday evening

  ‘I can’t come over tomorrow,’ he said in disgust. ‘We have to go and visit friends of my parents. They’ve got the most ghastly children you’ve ever seen. All they do is whine and tell tales. I said I didn’t want to go,’ he continued bitterly, ‘but would they listen? Oh no. Not them. We all have to go. It's a family outing apparently.’

  ‘Never mind.’ Ryan was sympathetic. ‘Come over first thing Sunday and we’ll do it then. Not too early,’ he amended. ‘Tracey's going out on Saturday night and she won’t be too pleased if we interrupt her Sunday morning lie in. Come over just before lunch.’

  ‘That won’t give us much time,’ objected Andy.

  ‘But if we ask to have super powers we should be able to keep them forever.’

  ‘We don’t know how long the spells work,’ Andy pointed out. ‘So far we’ve had to stop them all.’

  ‘All except the musical notes and the food,’ Ryan reminded him. ‘I thought I saw the notes in the music room at school last week but it turned out to be a couple of ants. The gherkins were still twitching a bit when I checked them this morning, though,’

  ‘Okay, Sunday it is. See you then.’

  Andy was as good as his word and arrived at Ryan’s before lunch on Sunday morning. He regaled Ryan with stories of the activities of the badly behaved children he had visited the previous day until Ryan collapsed laughing, saying,

  ‘They couldn’t have been that bad.’

  ‘They were,’ Andy assured him. ‘Their parents don’t believe in telling them off. They reason with them. I thumped one of them eventually,’ he said with pride. ‘Dad yelled at me, but on the way home he said he didn’t blame me as he’d been itching to do it himself.’

  Ryan’s mother was in the kitchen baking while his father was watching cricket on the TV. Occasional shouts of ‘howzat?’ came from the living room as Ryan and Andy knocked respectfully on Tracey's door. There was no response from Tracey. Ryan knocked louder.

  ‘Tracey,’ he called. ‘Tracey, wake up. I need to ask you something.’ He knocked again. ‘Why won’t she answer,’ he said in frustration. He hammered on the door. ‘Tracey!’ he screamed.

  ‘Just open it and go in,’ advised Andy. ‘That’s what I do with Joanne.’

  ‘She’ll probably kill me,’ said Ryan with a shudder, but opened the door as he spoke and peeped inside.

  ‘She’s not there,’ he cried in outrage. The room was tidy and the bed was made.

  ‘Perhaps she’s already up,’ suggested Andy.

  ‘Seems unlikely. She’s never been up this early on a Sunday before. I’ll go and ask Mum where she is.’

  He rushed into the kitchen and returned with a large handful of chocolate chip biscuits. He thrust two of them at Andy.

  ‘She didn’t come home last night,’ he said through a mouthful of biscuit crumbs. ‘She stayed at her friend Amber's place. What a pain after all I did for her last week. I even took a spider out of the bath for her.’

  ‘What about asking your mum?’ said Andy. ‘Hey these are excellent biscuits.’

  ‘Won’t work. She already used it, remember? The food that came alive.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry, I forget. What about your dad then?’

  ‘Okay, it’s worth a try. I’ll go and ask him now. Why don’t you wait here, otherwise he’ll go all polite and ask how you’re getting on at school and stuff.’

  ‘I’ll wait in the kitchen,’ said Andy hastily. ‘What else is your mum baking?’

  ‘Don’t know but grab whatever you can.’

  Ryan raced off to the living room.

  ‘Dad,’ he said tentatively.

  ‘Concentrate. Don’t let them get a six. What are you thinking of?’ roared his father, intent on the cricket game.

  Ryan waited for a few minutes.

  ‘Dad,’ he said again.

  ‘Should have been out. That was LBW if I ever saw one. I know this is a tough side to beat but I certainly hope they improve. What do you want?’ asked Mr Hughes, abruptly turning his attention to his son.

  ‘Can you write something for me?’ asked Ryan.

  ‘Don’t tell me they don’t even teach you to write at that school of yours? I’m not surprised. You seem to spend more time going on trips to art galleries and amusement parks than you do learning.’

  ‘That was our social studies project, Dad. I told you,’ said Ryan in exasperation. Then forcing a smile he said, ‘please Dad, will you write something for me?’

  ‘Why can’t you write it yourself?’ said his father glancing back at the TV screen. ‘Catch it, you fool. How could anyone miss that?’

  ‘Please Dad. It’s, it’s for a handwriting sample. For science.’

  ‘Oh all right. What is it you want me to write?’

  Ryan sighed in relief.

  ‘Put, Andy and Ryan have superpowers,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, yes! A wicket! And not before time. That will make them sit up and take notice. Oh, give it here.’ Mr Hughes scribbled hurriedly. ‘Here you are. Great! A googly! Now go for that catch!’

  ‘Thanks Dad.’ Ryan beamed and ran into the kitchen where Andy was chatting to Mrs Hughes and sampling a large slice of fruit cake.

  ‘Come on quick. We have to go.’

  ‘Bye, Mrs Hughes. Thanks for the cake,’ called Andy, and followed Ryan out the back door.

  ‘Well?’ he asked breathlessly. ‘Did he do it?’

  ‘Yep,’ said Ryan smugly. ‘We should now have superpowers.’

  ‘Let’s test it by lifting up the house,’ said Andy.

  ‘Nah, that’s too obvious. We don’t want anyone to know about it. What say we go down to the park and practice pulling up trees and things?’

  ‘If we have superpowers we should be able to run really fast.’

  ‘Let’s try it.’

  The boys raced down the street.

  ‘It’s not working,’ puffed Andy.’ I’m not going any faster than usual.’

  ‘Nor am I,’ said Ryan regretfully.
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br />   ‘I’m going to test my strength.’

  Andy strode to a lamppost and gave it a shake. Nothing happened.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ he said in annoyance.

  ‘It should have worked,’ said Ryan. ‘I don’t understand it.’

  ‘What did your father write? Have a look and see,’ said Andy.