Miss Terry Charm, Merry Kris Mouse & The Silver Egg

by Jon Jacks

  ‘And the goose doesn’t lay silver eggs?’ Kris says.

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘And what’s the Queen intending to use this silver egg for?’ I ask as I manage to ladle about ten per-cent of the tealeaves into the pot.

  ‘She wants it as a centrepiece in her aquarium.’

  ‘Wouldn’t one of those little bridges or ship wrecks look nicer?’ I say.

  ‘It would hardly be much of a challenge for a prince, would it? Bring back a toy bridge and win the heart of a princess?’

  ‘I suppose no – arrggghh!’

  The prince-nez balanced on my nose have finally turned into a frog!

  *

  Chapter 6

  Thankfully, when the prince-nez had finally transformed into the frog, the Princess had presumed I was just showing off my magical skills.

  ‘Oh, that’s wonderful, wonderful!’ she’d trilled happily, even giving me a round of applause.

  Even Kris had clapped. Though very, very slowly.

  ‘A slow handclap for a very slow spell,’ he says once the Princess has finally left.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think it was slow at all,’ the frog sniffs as I carefully place it in a bucket of shallow water.

  ‘Of course it was slow!’ Kris insists. ‘It must have been a half hour, at least!’

  ‘Half an hour? No no,’ the frog declares adamantly, ‘I’ve been stuck as those awful spectacles now for what feels like at least a few years!’

  ‘Er, what do you mean?’ I ask the frog unsurely. ‘You were a pair of spectacles; now you’re a frog.’

  ‘What? Oh no no! It was that old woman, wasn’t it? Hooked nose, bit green looking.’

  ‘You can talk,’ Kris says.

  ‘Of course I can talk,’ the frog says, misunderstanding Kris’s meaning. ‘But I haven’t been able to ever since that woman turned me into a pair of spectacles. Just because she lost hers in the pond where I was living!’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ I say. ‘You’re saying you were a frog. But my gran turned you into a pair of spectacles?’

  ‘Course that’s what I’m saying! But her spell’s worn off at last, thank goodness! And if it was your gran, young lady, I hope you’re not thinking of taking after her!’

  Drat!

  So I still haven’t got a spell right!

  So no; it doesn’t look like I’m ever going to take after my gran, does it?

  *

  Chapter 7

  ‘Well, it’s our first task as the Queendom’s Witch Minder General,’ I say to Kris with a heavy mix of both pride and worry. ‘And I’ve absolutely no idea why the Princess seems to think I can persuade the goose to lay a silver egg.’

  ‘Well I don’t think you’re going to have any chance at all as long as you go around calling her the goose.’

  ‘Hmn, so what’s her name? Are you suggesting I write and post a nice letter to her? Dear Miss Gemma-or-whatever-your-name-is Goose, Could you please see your way clear to laying a nice silver egg for me?’

  ‘I think the Princess could have done that! I think she’s expecting you – you being a witch and everything – to use a bit of magic, yes? To help the goose lay a silver as opposed to a golden egg.’

  ‘Oh sure; that comes up in every book of spells, that does.’

  ‘Okay, little Miss Sara Casam.’

  ‘Oh Kris, Kris; do you really think I’m going to be as bad as her? As bad as Sara?’

  ‘Wellll – Sara can do a few spells–’

  ‘Oh thank you very much, Mr Tell-It–Like-It-Is-Even-If-It-Upsets-Your-Friends!’

  ‘I was going to say – but you at least have the magic dungarees to help you!’

  ‘Oh yes yes; of course! Quick Kris, see what help they can give us!’

  With a broad, happy smile, Kris reaches deeply into the large front pocket running across the top of his dungarees.

  ‘Hold on, there’s something else in here,’ he says, reaching in with his other hand.

  ‘Two things? This sounds promising!’

  When he withdraws his hands, he’s holding a candle and a normal hen’s egg.

  ‘A candle and an egg?’ I say disappointedly. ‘What the heck’re we supposed to do with those?’

  Oh great!

  I’m doomed, aren’t I?

  *

  Chapter 8

  ‘This really is all a bit much, you know, dragging me out at all hours!’

  ‘All hours? It’s midday, Henry!’

  That’s the problem with talking animals; they never hold back from letting you know how unfair both life and you are to them.

  Fortunately, not every animal can speak.

  Unfortunately, when it comes to complaining, mules are the most stubborn of all!

  ‘Well you could at least have brought my straw hat. It keeps the sun out of my eyes!’

  ‘Last time, you complained that it made your head itch!’

  As per usual, the fastest pace Henry makes out he can achieve ‘comfortably’ is a leisurely stroll, slower than I could walk.

  ‘Oh, my aching feet,’ he mumbles again for the hundredth time. ‘When’re you going to get me some new shoes, eh?’

  At least, by traveling this way Kris can sit comfortably behind me, his back to mine as he reads his paper and delicately balances his ever present cup and saucer of tea.

  (In this instance, his magic dungarees do magically provide him with everything he needs, including his favourite biscuits whenever he’s feeling hungry.)

  ‘You know,’ Kris says, ignoring and speaking over Henry’s continuous grumbling, ‘I don’t really think the dungarees provided an egg and a candle so that we can present them as a gift to this Mary Goose, as you suppose. I mean, wouldn’t a goose have all the eggs she needs?’

  ‘Okay, so what else do you suggest, professor KnowItAll?’

  ‘Well, thinking about it a little more deeply for a start, rather than just rushing off to find her.’

  ‘Finding her was the easy bit, remember?’

  We’d looked her up in Southern Belle Directory, where it turned out she had a business entry:

  ‘Golden eggs laid to order. Reasonable prices quoted (well, I find them reasonable anyway). Contact Mary Goose, Green Tree Farm, Foxsville.’

  ‘She could have been from the north,’ says Kris. ‘Or worse still, lived in a land far far away.’

  ‘We were lucky, just like we were lucky she only lives a stubborn mule’s ride away. We could do with a bit of luck.’

  ‘Hey, I heard that,’ complains Henry.

  ‘You were supposed to, you cranky old– look out!’

  I rein Henry to a halt just in time as a large cart sharply pulls across the road in front of us.

  It’s hurtling along at such a terrific rate that, for a moment, I fear the turn it’s making is too sharp and the cart is going to tip over.

  It actually leans over on two wheels, almost spilling what looks like its large load of coal. But it rights itself just in time, and heads off without slowing down the side road leading off to Foxsville.

  ‘Blimey, don’t bother using new-fangled things like indicators, eh?’ I yell after it, if for no other reason than to calm myself down.

  ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t run our goose down, eh?’ Kris says. ‘Or we really will be on a wild goose chase, won’t we?’

  *

  Chapter 9

  At the pace Henry’s managing, it takes a good hour before we get to a point where we can see Mary’s house in the distance.

  As we slowly draw closer, we’re all surprised to see that the cart that almost ran into us is parked just outside the gate.

  ‘You don’t think she’s taken up driving do you?’ Kris asks, peering around me from behind my back.

  He points to the cart’s firefly indicators, both of which are partially hidden beneath the filthy tarpaulin covering its load.

  ‘If you’re still insisting on giving her the candle as a gift,’ he adds drily, �
��perhaps you should suggest she splits it in two and replaces those indicators she couldn’t be bothered using.’

  Anyone hearing Kris talk like this would be bound to wonder why we refer to him as merry Kris mouse.

  Well, the way he has it, he would normally be a happy-go-lucky soul. But he’s got just a little weary of always having to point out the blindingly obvious to me.

  Me, I call him merry because there are times when I could merrily strangle him.

  Truth is, Kris is just a little bit touchy about his size.

  Not because he’s small, mind. See, although he’s only the size of a human toddler, that’s obviously massive by mouse standards, isn’t it?

  So what really gets on his nerves, see, is the amount of times he has to put up with a group of passing mice shouting out supposedly funny comments. Like, ‘Oi, are you a man or a mouse?’ or ‘Hey, look, it’s not a mouse; it’s a house!’

  ‘Cor, smells a bit funny around here!’ Henry complains as we stroll past the cart.

  He’s right. I think it’s the cart’s load.

  For a brief moment, I could have sworn the load moved slightly.

  It even seems to be quietly rumbling, almost like it’s asleep and snoring.

  ‘You’re not leaving me here by this awful smell are you?’ Henry complains again as Kris and I jump down off his back.

  ‘Look, if it bothers you that much, go for a wander across the fields,’ I suggest, pointing off towards a grassy hillside. ‘But don’t go too far.’

  ‘Hmn, I bet it’s much greener on the other side as well,’ he says miserably.

  *

  Chapter 10

  The house’s garden is amazingly pretty, with a wide variety of small bushes and trees surrounded by brightly coloured border plants. Arches of climbing roses and clematis curl over the winding pathways, so that every turn you make is a new view, a fresh surprise.

  But nothing could have been more surprising than the view we’re presented with when we finally step out onto the large lawn lying directly in front of the house.

  A table is set out for tea.

  And seated at it, delicately helping themselves to cake and pleasantly engaged in a titteringly light conversation, is both Mary Goose and Sara Casam.

  *

  Chapter 11

  ‘Oh, well look what the cat – or rather the mouse – brought in.’

  Sara says it with a bright smile, yet somehow manages to ensure every word is dripping with venom.

  ‘Would you like some cake? Or some tea?’ Mary offers politely as she stands to greet us.

  ‘Oh, that really would be very nice,’ Kris says, quickly making his way to the table.

  ‘We’ve got a wonderful choice,’ Mary says enthusiastically, ‘all conjured up by the delightful Sara here!’

  ‘Conjured up?’

  I can’t help blurting it out.

  I’m envious that Sara’s managed a piece of simple magic that I’d struggle to get anywhere close to achieving.

  ‘Oh, just a figure of speech, of course!’ Mary trills as she cuts away two slices of cake. ‘She brought them, as part of her gift to me!’

  ‘Gift?’

  I’m bewildered.

  What’s Sara brought a gift for?

  And why would it be right now?

  Has she somehow heard of the Princess’s problem?

  Is she hoping to provide the Princess with the silver egg she’s after?

  She’s smiling benignly at me.

  Demurely taking a sip of her tea.

  She looks oh-so innocent, doesn’t she?

  ‘Oh yes, yes; such a wonderful gift too!’ Mary answers as she pours two cups of tea.

  ‘Ah, well, talking of gifts,’ I say, determined to make the most of this opportunity, ‘I’ve brought a gift for you too!’

  ‘Another gift?’ Mary sighs happily. ‘My my, what a day this is turning out to be!’

  I realise a candle and an egg hardly match up to the fabulously delicious cakes Sara has brought. But the magic dungarees must have offered them up to me for some reason.

  Who knows? Perhaps Mary has just run out of candles, and she’s worried she might trip on the stairs on her way to bed? Or maybe the egg’s a perfect present, because there’s absolutely nothing in her larder – well, nothing in her larder apart from all these cakes, of course.

  Kris gives me a warning groan as I rummage around in my shoulder bag.

  I ignore it.

  ‘Ta da!’ I exclaim as I produce and proudly hold up the egg and the candle.

  ‘A candle?’ Sara says.

  I can tell that she’s struggling to hold back her laughter.

  ‘An egg?’ Mary says with a confused frown.

  Kris glances my way, pulling a ‘Like what did I tell you?’ face.

  With a wave of her wing, Mary indicates that I should follow her over to a large, neatly paved area lying in front of the house’s broad, wooden porch.

  ‘My dear, thank you so much for the thought,’ she says, moving towards what looks like a long, oak cabinet sheltered beneath the overhanging porch roof, ‘but why would I need an egg, when I have all these?’

  She pulls down on a lever set into the side of the cabinet. A set of counterbalanced weights drop into place, dragging aside a series of doors to reveal the glass fronted display cabinet lying behind them.

  Inside, an array of proudly displayed golden eggs glisten like miniature stars in the sunlight.

  ‘Isn’t it absolutely delightful?’ Mary exclaims excitedly. ‘All my hard work, given the prominence and recognition it deserves!’

  ‘As I said to Mary, I thought they would look so much better displayed in the sunlight, rather than hidden away indoors.’

  Sara has move alongside us. She bends slightly to point inside the cabinet.

  ‘See the fireflies? They’re miniature searchlights, to make Mary’s gorgeous eggs glow even in the dark.’

  ‘Oh, fireflies – how would we manage without them, eh?’

  I’m trying so hard to keep the jealously out of my voice.

  How much magic has Sara used to get this massive cabinet from the cart to the porch? How did she lift it over the garden?

  ‘But isn’t it all an absolute gift to any passing thief?’ I add, trying to sound as innocent and as concerned as I can be.

  ‘Oh no no; Sara thought of that, didn’t you Sara dear?’ Mary says.

  ‘It’s made of the same magic wood that was used to make Pinocchio,’ Sara explains with a triumphant grin. ‘Go on; try and pinch one! I dare you!’

  I realise that Sara won’t let this one go until I do as she asks. So I reach out towards the glass.

  ‘Oi, what do you think you’re doing?’ the wood screams irately. ‘I’ll have the law on you, so I will, if you don’t back off right now!’

  Mary ecstatically claps her wings.

  ‘Oh isn’t it wonderful, isn’t it wonderful?’

  Sara coughs politely.

  ‘Er, and now, if you don’t mind, Mary? As I have to be off soon?’

  Mary tenderly touches Sara on her shoulder.

  ‘Oh yes yes, of course; your egg!’

  ‘An egg?’ I gulp nervously.

  Mary turns towards me.

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid you must excuse me; I’ve promised the delightful Sara here an egg in return for her fabulous gifts!’

  She turns towards the door leading into the house.

  ‘A silver egg?’ I ask anxiously. ‘Will it be a silver egg?’

  Mary briefly looks over her shoulder curiously.

  ‘Silver? Oh no no! But how odd you should ask that! I had to explain to Sara here, just before you arrived, that it has to be a golden egg – but gold’s worth so much more than silver, of course!’

  With a satisfied smile, she heads indoors.

  ‘Hmn, goose got your tongue, eh Terry?’ Sara sniggers with a highly-satisfied grin.

  *

  Chapter 12

  ‘H
ow did you hear about the egg?’ I snap at Sara angrily.

  ‘Oh, there are plenty of rumours flying round – that’s the spoken rumours I mean, of course. I must admit, I’d hoped to be the one who provided the Princess with her silver egg, but obviously it’s not going to be. Still, you’ll have failed too; so there goes your chance of showing her you’re ready to be the Queendom’s Witch Minder General.’

  ‘Oh?’ I say, trying to sound as confident as I can. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve considered using magic, Sara? You know, like the magic I’m going to use to conjure up a silver egg?’

  Sure, it’s sheer bluster, of course.

  But I can hardy admit, or even hint, that I can’t do magic, can I?

  ‘Well that is odd.’

  Sara places a finger against her lips like she’s thinking deeply about this.

  ‘See, according to the most awful Gossip – that’s not the spoken gossip, dear, but that awful creature who lives out by the Black Hills – your power is – how shall we say? – well, non-existent, actually!’

  ‘That’s a dirty lie!’ I snap.

  Sara smirks.

  She points over my shoulder.

  ‘No Terry dear – that’s a dirty Lye!’

  I whirl around on my heels.

  Oh oh; she’s right too.

  Towering over me, glaring down angrily at me, is the filthiest Lye I’ve ever seen.

  *

  Chapter 13

  ‘Well, bye dear,’ Sara trills, gaily tripping past me. ‘I’ll let you and your little mouse friend take care – or should that be taken care of? – by my friend the Lye.’

  She ducks beneath the arched, massive legs of the huge creature as an anxious looking Kris joins me.

  ‘Oh dear,’ he says. ‘It doesn’t look good, does it?’

  No, it doesn’t look good at all.

  The Lye is so massive, he’s managed to stride completely over the flower garden without damaging it.

  ‘I bet this is how Sara got the cabinet here!’ I say with a satisfied sniff to Kris. ‘Not by magic after all. Then he just went back to sleep on the cart!’

  ‘Oh, that’s so satisfying to know that, Terry, just before he pounds us to a pulp!’