Billy Buckle was feeling very sorry for himself.
“First,” he said miserably, “I’m shape-shifted into a donkey. Then I’m shrunk to the size of a doll. And people wonder why giants don’t visit the nonfairy world very often.”
“I don’t mind what size I am,” piped up Primrose. “As long as Daddy and I are together. I made you wake up, Daddy, didn’t I?”
“Yes, my angel, you did.”
“I only had to sing you my rosebush song and you were wide awake. Somewhere over the rosebush…” she sang.
“If only this shrinking spell could be broken so easily,” said Billy.
“I’m sure we can work something out,” said Buster. “I know it’s urgent. For all of us,” he added.
“You see, everything in my life is … well, big,” continued Billy. “My chair is as high as the first floor of this shop. My table is as high as the roof. My house is higher than the Ferris wheel. What am I to do?”
Emily had suggested, quite logically, that as the magic lamp had shrunk Billy and Primrose in the first place, it should now be able to unshrink them. But when the idea was put to the magic lamp, it had run off, saying there were sick keys to look after.
“I’ll go and have a word with the lamp,” said Fidget. “Don’t worry, Billy, my old mackerel. It will be all right.”
A little later Fidget came down the stairs, dragging the magic lamp by its spout.
“Noooo! Pleeeeease don’t make me,” it said, clinging to the banisters. “I have done enough magic for one day. This is a spell too far.”
Fidget let go, and the lamp turned around and skedaddled back up to its bedroom, slamming the door behind it.
“It’s no good,” said Fidget.
“Maybe if I tell it I’ll take it on the roller coaster, it’ll change its mind,” suggested Buster.
Emily sighed and stood up. “I think I know what this is about.”
“What?” said everyone together.
“The keys,” replied Emily, and went upstairs.
* * *
The magic lamp had turned its bedroom into a small hospital ward. There were seventeen little beds with seventeen laced-up boots tucked under them. Fifteen of the keys were propped up on pillows, drinking iron tea. They looked almost normal, though they didn’t have the buzz about them that they used to have. Cyril and Rory were still in a bad way: stretched out, their wings drooping, their metal all floppy. The lamp was sitting between them, bathing their brows with a tiny damp cloth.
Emily knelt down.
“Dear magic lamp,” she said. “You have been so brave and saved the day. What would we have done without you? The Bog-Eyed Loader might have changed us all into slugs if it hadn’t been for your magic. Who else but you could have turned him into a sardine?”
“I can’t do it,” it wept. “I’m under too much stress. What if my magic goes wrong? What if I shrink Billy Buckle and his daughter even smaller? Or make them disappear altogether?”
“This isn’t about magic,” said Emily. “It’s about the keys, isn’t it?”
“Rory and Cyril are still not well, and all my magic can’t make them better. I have failed them—failed, I tell you.”
“You haven’t failed them. You are their friend, and a very good friend. But you’re not the Keeper of the Keys. That’s a different thing entirely.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” said the lamp, sniffing.
“I am the Keeper of the Keys,” said Emily. “It’s my job to make them well.”
“Sweet mistress,” said the lamp, looking up at Emily, “if you can make them better, then I will try to turn Billy and Primrose Buckle into giants again.”
“I’ll do my best,” said Emily. “But I need to do this on my own.”
The lamp stood up and bowed.
“I quite understand, sweet mistress,” it said, and went to a chest of drawers and pulled out a hankie. It blew its spout very loudly, then tiptoed out of the room.
Emily sat for a long time, not knowing quite what to do. She thought back to the day Miss String had first opened the painted oak chest containing the golden keys, and how she, Emily, had unknotted their boot laces. Perhaps if she were to behave in the same way as she had back then, when she hadn’t known what being Keeper of the Keys meant, she might be able to restore Cyril and Rory and the others to their old selves.
It came to her all of a sudden that the best thing to do would be to tell them a story.
The story started, as all good fairy tales do, with “Once upon a time…”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Emily walked down the stairs to the shop followed by seventeen flying keys. The magic lamp shouted for joy when it saw them and punched the air with its little fist.
“You did it! Oh, sweet mistress, I knew you would.” It rushed up to Emily and flung its arms around her leg. “Thank you. You were right. Only the Keeper of the Keys had the power to make them better. I, of all lamps, should have known that. Cyril, Rory,” it called, running after them. “Come to me, my friends.”
For a moment the two keys rested like pigeons on its outstretched hands before they flew off again, whirling and dancing around the shop. Finally they landed on top of the curious cabinet.
It was one of those will-they-won’t-they moments. Edie and Morris held their breath. Would they be reunited with their other wings, or not? First Rory then Cyril dived into the locks. Each key turned, each opened a drawer, and before you could say fish paste, Edie Girdle the fortune-teller and Morris Flipwinkle the Wurlitzer player had their complete sets of wings.
Edie had forgotten how beautiful hers were.
“They’re just like the wings of a Silver-Studded Blue butterfly,” said Betty. “So stylish.”
“The trouble is,” said Edie, “they’re not really practical.”
“Give over,” said Betty. “I can see you at the tea dance next Wednesday doing a rumba. You’ll knock everyone for six.” Emily agreed. “I tell you, love,” added Betty, “if they belonged to me, I would be showing them off to all and sundry.”
“But everyone will know I am a fairy,” said Edie.
“Don’t be daft, love,” said Betty. “They’ll just think the wings are part of your fortune-telling costume. And as I always say, you see all sorts up here.”
“I’m not going to hide mine,” said Morris Flipwinkle. His were dragonfly wings—longer, slimmer, and shimmering with rainbow colors. “I don’t care who sees them. I can fly!”
He pirouetted up to the ceiling.
“Hold that tuna,” said Fidget. “Remember the Fairy Code.”
“Yes, of course,” said Morris, brought back down to the ground with a bump. “But Betty is right. No one will look twice at the wings.”
“Very true,” said Fidget.
“Excuse me, dude,” said Billy Buckle. “I don’t want to interrupt the happy party, but what about us?”
He had a good point. He and Primrose were still as small as small could be.
“I can do this—I’m sure of it,” said the magic lamp to Billy in a solemn voice. “I’ve been practicing. Look.”
“At what?” asked Billy.
The magic lamp ran out the door, returning with a fork that was about the size of Fidget. “This is one I resized earlier,” it said.
“I hope it works as well on giants as it does on cutlery,” said Billy.
“Oh, it will,” said the lamp. “I’ve got my mojo back.”
* * *
They waited until all the tourists had left the beach, the deck chairs were folded away, and the donkeys had been taken back to their stables. Only when the sun had almost set and the lights had begun to come on along the promenade did the party from Wings & Co. make its way to the beach.
If anyone had happened to look out that glorious evening, they would have seen a very strange sight. One large cat, three fairies, one little girl, one dog, one magic lamp, and two doll-size figures stood at the edge of the water, staring up at the sky
.
“I suppose this is it,” said Billy Buckle.
“I’ll keep my fish fingers crossed,” said Fidget.
“I just want to say thanks, my old mate, for having Primrose and for rescuing me,” said Billy.
“Good-bye,” said Primrose. She clung to Raggy with one hand and her dad with the other.
They all waited for what felt like a long time as the magic lamp found just the right spot to stand on.
“You can’t hurry these things,” it said.
It puffed itself up, let out a waft of orange smoke, and clicked its Moroccan-slippered heels together. For a moment it seemed that nothing was happening. Then with a whiz-whoosh, the two doll-size figures began to grow and grow and grow until Billy and Primrose were giants once more.
“You’ve done it, dude,” shouted Billy. “I thank your Moroccan slippers, magic lamp. Home, here we come!”
Giants have a very practical way of traveling. Unlike most of us, they don’t use buses, cars, trains, airplanes, ships, or even bicycles. Occasionally a beanstalk might be handy, but, on the whole, such things are very rare indeed. All Billy Buckle had to do was reach up into the darkening sky and pull down a purple ladder made of sunset clouds. With Primrose on his back, Billy started to climb. Higher and higher he climbed until all that could be seen of Billy were his red shoes disappearing into the night sky.
* * *
The following day, Edie Girdle phoned Betty to tell her that her new crystal ball had arrived from FairyNet. It felt good, she told Betty, to be back in business.
Morris Flipwinkle returned to the Starburst Ballroom. Mr. Trickett would have been lost without his number-one Wurlitzer player.
James Cardwell popped in to Wings & Co. for a cup of tea and to say good-bye before flying back to New Scotland Yard. He was rather pleased with himself. The Galaxy Diamond had been found, two criminals were arrested, and the newspapers were full of praise for the detective who had cracked the Bond Street robbery.
The magic lamp had that morning been collected by limousine and taken to the Starburst Ballroom to prepare for its starring appearance in The Me Moment. The presenter, Theo Callous, had made a full recovery, although he didn’t quite understand why he had such a hunger for lettuce. He insisted on there being a pot of pansies in his dressing room.
That left Fidget, Emily, Buster, Doughnut, and, of course, seventeen keys.
“Well,” said Emily as they all stood outside the shop to see the lamp off. “Everything seems to have turned out all right.” She waved at the departing limo.
“I think we need a reward,” said Buster, looking up at the roller coaster.
“Like what?” asked Emily.
“Like a holiday,” said Buster. “After all, we are by the seaside.”
“Spot on the fishcake,” said Fidget. “I’ll get my hat.”
Fin
Sally Gardner is an award-winning novelist from London. Before finding her true passion as a writer, Sally attended art school and worked as a theater designer. She is now the successful author of more than thirty books for children, including Operation Bunny and Three Pickled Herrings, the first two books in the Wings & Co. Fairy Detective Agency series.
sallygardner.net. Or sign up for email updates here.
David Roberts is a British artist who has illustrated many beautiful books for children, including Operation Bunny and Three Pickled Herrings. He holds a degree in fashion design from Manchester Metropolitan University and worked various jobs before becoming a children’s book illustrator.
davidrobertsillustration.com. Or sign up for email updates here.
Don’t miss Wings & Co.’s other cases
OPERATION BUNNY
THREE PICKLED HERRINGS
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Contents
Title page
Copyright notice
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
About the Author and Illustrator
Also by Sally Gardner and David Roberts
Copyright
Text copyright © 2013 by Sally Gardner
Illustrations copyright © 2013 by David Roberts
Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Publishers since 1866
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All rights reserved.
First published in the United States in 2015 by Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
Originally published in Great Britain in 2013 by Orion Children’s Books.
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to [email protected].
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Gardner, Sally.
The vanishing of Billy Buckle / Sally Gardner; illustrated by David Roberts.
pages cm.—(Wings & Co.; 3)
Summary: Nine-year-old Emily and her friends at the fairy detective agency, Wings & Co., face their most complicated case yet when a giant leaves his six-year-old, six-foot-tall daughter with them before disappearing, then a surprise visit to the seaside uncovers a murder and a stolen diamond.
ISBN 978-0-8050-9915-7 (hardback)—ISBN 978-1-62779-357-5 (e-book)
[1. Missing persons—Fiction. 2. Magic—Fiction. 3. Fairies—Fiction. 4. Cats—Fiction. 5. Giants—Fiction. 6. Foundlings—Fiction. 7. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.
PZ7.G179335Van 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2014035139
eISBN 9781627793575
First American hardcover edition 2015
eBook edition July 2015
The Vanishing of Billy Buckle Page 10
