The Fleetwood Gang and the Magic Concert

by Chris Timothy

  “I think I have had enough for now,” said a pale looking Mrs. Fleetwood, “I’d like to stop, I feel a bit queasy.”

  “Wait a minute Mum, have a look over the fence.”

  “I will not!”

  “Please Mum, it’s the new neighbour’s garden.”

  “No!”

  “Please, just a little peep.”

  “All right, just a peep then,” she said reluctantly.

  Suddenly the broom changed direction without being asked. It rose quickly to the top of the fence.

  “Stop!” squeaked Mrs. Fleetwood.

  Only her head was above the fence.

  “What can you see Mum?”

  “Nothing, it’s too dark. Forward broom.”

  The broom moved swiftly along the fence.

  “I can see some light in the house, there is somebody watching TV or something… and there‘s a cat on the deck.”

  The cat which was in fact a small dog saw two fluorescent stripes gliding along the fence. The small dog turned wild, growling and yapping away. The TV watcher left his seat and opened the door.

  “WHAT’S GOING ON OUT THERE?” shouted a man’s voice.

  “Oh dear!” whispered Mrs. Fleetwood. She flattened her body against the broom. The broom got scared and started shaking terribly. They bobbed down awkwardly, tearing off branches, grazed dangerously over the pond and crash landed into a tomato plant.

  James clasped his hands on his mouth.

  “WHAT’S ALL THAT RACKET?” yelled the voice over the fence.

  James ran towards his mother and helped her to settle back on her feet. Then he picked up the broom and they ducked for cover into the kitchen.

  “Oh dear!” complained Mrs. Fleetwood as she locked the door and shut the blinds, “Oh dear, oh dear!”

  “You have a bad scratch on your arm Mum, does it hurt?”

  “Not too bad,” she answered, “but look at the broom, it has lost half of its twigs.”

  James looked at the broom tenderly, “good broom, I’ll fix you tomorrow.”

  “I could do with something to drink,” said Mrs. Fleetwood, “perhaps a hot chocolate?”

  “Yeah, good idea.”

  They drank their hot chocolate quietly for a while.

  “It’s getting late,” said Mrs. Fleetwood, “you must be tired.”

  “A bit,” answered James, “anyway, tomorrow is Saturday and Maria and Richard are coming over.”

  “That’s right,” nodded Mrs. Fleetwood, “and Rosita is coming late afternoon for a cup of tea.”

  “I’m off to bed Mum.”

  “Me too, good night James, and thank you for your great help with the flying lesson,” she said as she gave him a wink.

  3 SOMETHING IN THE POND

  At two o’clock sharp Maria and Richard arrived at James’ place. Richard had brought some food for afternoon tea: two litres of orange juice, a fruit cake and a few muesli bars, just in case.

  “There you are!” called James happily.

  “Hi James, Hello Mrs. Fleetwood.”

  “Hi Maria, Hi Richard, how are you both?”

  “Good,” they said together.

  “And how is your father, Richard?” asked Mrs. Fleetwood.

  “Good.”

  “Is he back to work?”

  “Yes.”

  After that fascinating piece of conversation Mrs. Fleetwood decided to leave the children to themselves.

  “I‘ll be in the kitchen if you need me… hello! Did you hear me?”

  “Yeah we heard, see ya,” replied James.

  James opened his bedroom door. Maria and Richard dumped their bags on the top of the bed.

  “Let’s go in the garden,” suggested James.

  “What’s your new neighbour like?” asked Richard.

  “Dunno, I haven’t seen him yet,” answered James. He was leading them towards the pond.

  “Have you had a fight here?” asked Maria who saw the damaged veggie-garden. The tomato plant was wrecked and covered with twigs from the fence. Tomatoes were scattered around the place. It looks like a crime scene.

  “Hum, it’s a long story…” replied James a little embarrassed.

  “You can tell us, we can keep a secret,” assured Maria, “right Richard?”

  “Right,” agreed Richard who sat down near the pond and opened a fizzy drink.

  “It’s my mum…” started James, “with her broom…”

  “Hoooo! Your mum has got a witch broom,” said Maria, pursing her lips.

  “A WHAT?” asked Richard, his big blue eyes wide open.

  James turned a cross face towards him, “if you don’t believe me, I won’t tell you anything!”

  “Yeah, yeah, I believe you!”

  So James told the broom story to a delighted Maria and a suspicious Richard. He went through all the details he could think of. Suddenly Richard poured his fizzy drink in the pond.

  “What did you do that for?” asked Maria.

  But Richard was staring at the pond. He suddenly jumped to his feet.

  “I SAW SOMETHING!” he shouted.

  “What? What did you see?” asked James.

  “It’s gone now, I am sure I saw something black!”

  “Where? Show us.”

  Richard poured more of his drink in the water. Almost immediately a swimming black thing came to check the fizzy bubbles, and dived back in the bottom of the pond.

  “THERE IT IS!” he yelled pointing at it.

  “Yes! It’s a tadpole,” said James clapping, “here, another one!”

  “That’s so cool!” said Richard now flat on his tummy with his nose touching the water, “I wonder if we could catch one?”

  “What for?” asked a disgusted Maria.

  “To look at it,” said James.

  “We could put it with your goldfish,” proposed Richard.

  James frowned, thinking deeply. “I don’t know if they’d go together.”

  “Look, there are plenty,” said Richard.

  “I’ll get the fish-net and a jar,” said James jumping to his feet and running towards the kitchen.

  A moment later he was back with his gear.

  “Come and help us Maria,” said James.

  “No, I don’t like those slimy creatures,” she replied watching from a sensible distance.

  The boys got on with the operation noisily. After a failed few attempts…

  “I’VE GOT ONE! Golly! It’s a big fat one!”

  “Quick! Put it in the jar,” said Richard.

  “Look at that, a beauuuuuty!” said James turning the jar in circles.

  Maria could not see a thing. She was stretching her neck like an old turtle. At last curiosity got the best of her. She left her spot to have a closer look.

  The three of them were so busy studying the tadpole they didn’t hear Mrs. Fleetwood sneaking up behind them.

  ***

  “ AHA!” shouted Mrs. Fleetwood making the children jump, “ caught you up to mischief!”.

  “We are not!” said James indignantly, “we’re only fishing for tadpoles.”

  “Tadpoles? Tadpoles in my pond?”

  “Yes, look mum,” said James pushing the jar into Mrs. Fleetwood‘s hand, “you see, the pond is full of them.”

  “So, we must have frogs in the garden then,” said Mrs. Fleetwood thoughtfully, “how interesting.”

  “We could put it with the gold fish? Couldn’t we?” asked Richard.

  “Oh! I don’t know about that…”

  “You could turn it into another gold fish, couldn’t you Mum?”

  “I am only a beginner, James,” said Mrs. Fleetwood cautiously, “I can’t do such things… well… not yet.”

  “My mum always said to practice with small things,” said Maria, “a tadpole is small enough, isn’t it?”

  “Er…”

  “Go on, Mum!”

  “All right then, let’s have a little try, just for fun,” agreed Mrs. Fleetwood.


  The four of them gathered in the living room. James tipped the tadpole into the aquarium. The gold fish eyed the intruder with great disgust and dived into the weeds.

  “I need my book,” said Mrs. Fleetwood dashing away into the kitchen, she grabbed a leathery brown book with the title: BASIC TRANSFORMATION. Then she came back into the living room.

  “Let’s see,” she said turning pages until chapter nine, which was very advanced. She had only learnt up to chapter three.

  “Ah, there!” she said, “listen children: ‘how to turn a fly into a butterfly’, that’s what we need.”

  “Yes, that’s it.” agreed Maria leaning over her shoulder.

  “Read Mum,” pressed James.

  “Right.” Mrs. Fleetwood stood up, rolling her sleeves, “could someone hold the book for me, please?”

  Maria offered to be the book holder. The boys kept close to each other giggling. Excitement was building up in the room.

  Mrs. Fleetwood started to read slowly.

  “Concentrate on the subject you want to transform, wave your arms in large circles and pronounce the magical words: HOCUS POCUS – BE HOLD AND BE SURE – FEATHER INTO FUR – SKIN INTO SCALE – I ORDER YOU.”

  A terrible BANG came from the aquarium and thick blue smoke spread over it.

  Mrs. Fleetwood was pale, Maria trembling. They peered intensely through the cloud …

  “HEEEEE!” yelled Maria, dropping the book. She swooped behind the couch.

  “WHAT, WHAT?” shouted James clutching Richard’s arm.

  “OH, MY GOD!” screamed Mrs. Fleetwood, “WATCH OUT YOU TWO!”

  A huge tentacle appeared through the smoke.

  “DON’T STAND THERE!” shouted Mrs. Fleetwood again.

  The two boys jumped behind the couch with Maria.

  “It’s an octopus!” panicked Mrs. Fleetwood, “Ooooooh dear! What have I done?”

  She was hiding under the table with her book.

  The smoke was slowly vanishing. They could see a great big, greenish octopus filling the aquarium up completely, his long slimy tentacles dancing in the air.

  “Where did I go wrong?” asked Mrs. Fleetwood reopening her book and flicking through pages nervously.

  “DO SOMETHING, MUM!” shouted James, “it’s going to eat my gold fish!”

  The octopus emerged from the bowl.

  “Phone the police!” screamed Richard.

  “Absolutely not, I can handle it,” retorted Mrs. Fleetwood.

  At that very moment someone knocked at the front door.

  “Now what?” grumbled Mrs. Fleetwood.

  The octopus stretched itself out of the aquarium and slowly slid onto the dresser.

  “Oh my! The creature is moving” groaned Mrs. Fleetwood.

  The knocking was getting louder at the front door.

  The octopus on the dresser was breaking the china cups.

  “Children, I’m going out!” warned Mrs. Fleetwood, “keep hiding!”

  She went commando crawling through the living room, through the hall, till the front door.

  She opened it and saw a large silhouette blocking the sun, her face lightened up, “Rosita! Am I glad to see you!!”

  ***

  And there she was, Rosita Lopez.

  “Yes it’s me”, she thundered, “I’m coming for the cup of tea you promised me.” Her baritone voice echoed in the corridor making every wall tremble as if there was a small earthquake.

  Rosita Lopez, who was about five feet ten with big shoulders and a large bust, was a sport teacher. She had short purple hair and the tendency to dress either in tracksuit or knee-length shorts. On her feet, she wore a pair of size eleven white trainers.

  “Come in please – er… I’ve been quite er… occupied with the children,” said Mrs. Fleetwood looking embarrassed.

  “What’s going on here?” asked Rosita Lopez suspiciously.

  Lots of shouting and breaking noises were coming from the living room.

  “Are you having a party or something?”

  “Not exactly,” said Mrs. Fleetwood as they entered the battle field.

  The china was completely smashed and the octopus was now viciously attacking the begonia plant. The gold fish was floating upside down, which couldn’t possibly be a good sign. Richard and Maria, still behind the couch, were giving James instructions on how to face the octopus. James was crouching behind a chair and poking at the octopus with the broom. But the broom – not so crazy – was making every effort to get back into its cupboard.

  “I SEE,” roared Mrs. Lopez.

  “Please Rosita, could you do something?” begged Mrs. Fleetwood.

  “I GUESS I COULD,” she roared again. “Stand back everyone!”

  Rosita Lopez breathed in, swelling to the size of a small elephant. She extended her arms over her head with her hands wide open. Then she spoke slowly, solemnly and with great conviction.

  “OCTOPUS – HORIBILUS – DISAPPEAR – PRONTO”

  The next moment the octopus had vanished with a puff of blue smoke. It was suddenly very quiet in the room.

  Richard broke the silence first.“It was so cool Mrs. Lopez, how did you do that?”

  “Quiet Richard,” snapped Mrs. Lopez, “how did you manage to get yourself in such a mess, I do not believe Caroline did that alone.”

  Her big eyes rolled from one person to another. She was terrifying.

  “MARIA! Where are you?” she scolded.

  “Here Mum.” Maria slowly peeped out from her hiding place.

  “What have you got to say for yourself young lady,” asked Mrs. Lopez.

  “It’s me!” interrupted James jumping forward, “I asked my Mum to turn a tadpole into a goldfish, it’s not Maria’s fault.”

  “Actually,” said Mrs. Fleetwood, “it’s my fault, I should have known that spell was too elaborate for me.”

  “Lucky I came early, eh?” said Mrs. Lopez, “Caroline, you better be careful next time.”

  “Yes, I guess you’re right. Well I’d better get this mess cleaned up before somebody gets hurt.”

  “We’ll do it, don’t worry,” said Maria who had recovered her voice.

  “BROOM, COME BACK HERE!” shouted James.

  “Broom?” asked Mrs. Lopez frowning.

  The broom glided negligently across the room and posted itself beside James.

  “My goodness, how do you do that, Caroline?” exclaimed Mrs. Lopez.

  “Nothing to do with me,” said Mrs. Fleetwood with a hopeless sigh, “only James can do that.”

  “Wonderful my boy,” said Mrs. Lopez, “you must be a natural.”

  The Broom started sweeping energetically here and there while the children were bringing buckets and the dust-pan in. About twenty minutes later, things were more or less back to normal, apart from the dresser which was very bare. Mrs. Lopez revived the gold fish by poking it twice on the tail. She got a fair amount of applause.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow, Caroline?” asked Mrs. Lopez, pouring herself some tea.

  “We’re going to visit Grandma at the rest home,” answered James.

  “Is your name Caroline?” asked Mrs. Lopez.

  “I heard that your Mother is into witchcraft too,” ventured Maria very lady like.

  “Craft? What craft? What witch?” asked Mrs. Lopez looking offended, “it’s not a craft Maria, it’s a science which requires a great deal of commitment, patience and study and… what?”

  Every one was laughing; even Mrs. Fleetwood couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “Listen,” she said to her friend, “I don’t think my mother is a scientist, she is just a plain old witch to me.”

  “Yes, she is,” certified James, “and she’s funny.”

  “Right, then, I might just have to meet her,” said Mrs. Lopez looking a little intrigued.

  “Certainly. Do you want to come with us tomorrow?” proposed Mrs. Fleetwood, “We’re going for afternoon tea.”

  “Er
… only if she likes visitors… I don’t want to impose.”

  “Can I come too?” asked Maria, “pleeeeease!”

  Mrs. Lopez gave an inquiring look at her friend.

  “Yes of course, you too Richard,” said Mrs. Fleetwood, “but you must ask your Dad first”.

  The afternoon finished with everyone’s spirits as high as they could have been.

  ***

  4 GRANDMA FLEETWOOD

  It was a beautiful sunny day, full of bird’s songs. Summer was on its way. James and his mother had a lazy morning and a quick lunch. They were now waiting for their friends to arrive. Just after three the Lopez’s turned up, soon followed by Richard. His father dropped him at the front door. They decided to take Mrs. Lopez’s car.

  The trip to LADYBIRD Rest Home was hardly a ten minute drive. They parked the car in the visitor car park and made their way to the little gate opening into the rest home garden.

  Most of the elderly were outside enjoying the sunshine. Of course the visitors made a remarkable entrance. Three noisy kids and two women carrying flowers and cakes was a promising diversion.

  The garden was lovely with lots of flowers and green grass. There were wooden benches under big trees and small walkways to go from one bench to the next.

  “Where is Grandma? I can’t see her,” said James.

  “We’ll find her, just look around.”

  James was quite used to coming here, but not his two friends. It was like an aliens’ planet for them. Maria was walking very straight, saying hello to everyone with a lovely smile. As for Richard, he was simply starring. He had never seen so many old people in his life.

  “Over there!” said James pointing at a courtyard with a table and a few chairs.

  All shriveled up in a wheel chair, Grandma Fleetwood seemed to be dozing peacefully under a small tree. She had a big woolly shawl over her shoulders and she looked very old and frail.

  But if one had a close look at her, one would have noticed her half-open eyes and a mischievous little smile on her lips.

  James’ group was almost there. From the opposite side of the courtyard a burly middle aged nurse was approaching. She was carrying a tray loaded with cups and saucers.

  SUDDENLY a frog appeared from nowhere and jumped on the pile of saucers.

  “Hiiiiiii,” yelled the nurse, and dropped the tray. She was hysterical.

  All the noise attracted attention and a small crowd gathered around her.

  “What’s happened Marge?” asked another nurse.

  “A frog! A nasty, beasty frog jumped at me!”