The Fleetwood Gang and the Magic Concert

by Chris Timothy

  “You promise?” asked James amazed.

  “YES.”

  “Grandma you’re the best.” Shouted James, hugging Grandma so hard she almost toppled over.

  Gladys settled the matter with another round of jelly beans, and then she started explaining to Grandma how to drive the scooter.

  By the time James and Richard left Lady Bird Rest Home it was almost dinner-time.

  ***

  6 THE POTION

  They pedaled as fast as they could on their way back home.

  “RICHARD,” yelled James over his shoulder, “PHONE MARIA’S MUM…”

  “WHAT?” yelled Richard who had problems keeping up.

  James slowed down a little.

  “Phone Maria’s mum and tell her that I will bring the conductor-stick tonight. Got it?”

  “Tonight!” gasped Richard, “how are you going to do that?”

  “I’ll find a way.”

  “Right then.”

  “BYE,” yelled James as he turned into Pollen Street.

  James caught up with his mother in the living-room, where she was having a quick snack before going to the orchestra rehearsal.

  “Hi Mum, Grandma sends her love.”

  “Good, how is she? How is her heart?”

  “Quite good.”

  Mrs. Fleetwood started to pack her music sheet in her bag.

  “Mum?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you keep your conductor-stick?” asked James in a casual sort of way.

  “In my bag. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “James, have you got all your things ready? You know that you are going at Maria’s place tonight.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “We’re leaving in five minutes; I’m dropping you off,” warned Mrs. Fleetwood who was almost ready.

  James dashed into his bedroom, grabbed several things, and off they went. Maria’s place was only a few minutes drive away. James decided to ‘borrow’ the conductor-stick during that moment. He was feeling a little guilty but it had to be done.

  When they arrived, Mrs. Lopez was standing at her front gate.

  “Hi Caroline,” she thundered as she came near the car.

  “I am in a rush Rosita, thank you for having James.”

  “Always a pleasure,” replied Mrs. Lopez.

  From the passenger seat James was making frantic gestures and funny faces. His mother could not see him, but Mrs. Lopez could. That was the idea.

  Mrs. Lopez understood.

  “Oh dear! You’ve got a flat tire Caroline!” she said suddenly.

  “What?” choked Mrs. Fleetwood in panic. She left the car and went to have a look.

  Meanwhile James got hold of his mother’s bag. He rummaged in it furiously until he found the stick. He could hear Mrs. Lopez apologizing.

  “Sorry Caroline, my mistake, I didn’t see properly, obviously.”

  “Oh good, I’m happy it’s not that, what a relief. I’ll be off then,” said Mrs. Fleetwood as she climbed back in her car.

  James left the car at the same moment clutching his bag and looking awfully nervous.

  “Bye Mum.”

  “Bye James, be good.”

  And the car disappeared around the corner.

  James came inside and collapsed on the sofa.

  “So? Where is the stick?” asked Maria over excited. “Richard phoned just before you arrived, he told us everything. It’s all so crazy!”

  “James!” boomed Mrs. Lopez, “I got a phone call from your Grandma, then from Richard, and frankly I need you to enlighten me.”

  James carefully extracted the conductor-stick from underneath his T-shirt and explained the story to a concerned looking Mrs. Lopez and a gaping Maria.

  “Right!” said Mrs. Lopez, “I’ll get over to Grandma now and we will start the job on the spot.”

  “Can we come with you?” asked Maria.

  “Course not, you stay with Dad.”

  “We could help a lot,” tried again Maria.

  “Nonsense, you stay with Dad. WHERE IS HE ANYWAY?” she barked suddenly.

  The telephone rang.

  “That must be him.”

  Mrs. Lopez jumped on the phone.

  “Hello? Yes… yes,” she closed her eyes, “yes… of course… see you soon then.”

  Mrs. Lopez hung up and heaved a massive sigh making the curtain fly. The two children were staring at her.

  “That was Richard’s Dad,” she said eventually, “He is bringing Richard over, while he goes to the rehearsal.”

  Richard arrived promptly but Mr. Lopez was obviously running very late.

  So Mrs. Lopez decided to go to Lady Bird Rest Home with the three kids.

  Mrs. Lopez loaded the car boot with a small suitcase and a wooden box containing a variety of spoons, bottles, herbs and a cauldron. The children climbed into the back seat and Mrs. Lopez jammed herself behind the steering wheel with a fair amount of grunting and complaining about small cars.

  ***

  When they arrived at Lady Bird Rest Home, Gladys was at the front gate pacing back and forth and nervously chewing jelly-beans.

  “There you are! My dear Mrs. Lopez we’re going to help you, it’s going to be a team effort, isn’t it children?”

  Enthusiastic cheers exploded from the back seat.

  “Right,” roared Mrs. Lopez, “Gladys, could you carry my suitcase, I’ll take the box. Follow me.”

  They arrived in the middle of a commotion near Grandma’s bedroom door. Olive and Grandma were having a bit of an argument with Marge the nurse who obviously didn’t want them to have a party in the bedroom.

  “It’s not a party,” said Grandma huffily, “it’s a secret meeting for…”

  “Aha, a secret meeting!” hissed Marge the nurse, “I knew it, I shall report it to the director.”

  She was ready to leave when suddenly Harrison materialized, and hooked his arm in through hers.

  “What do I see?” he said with his most charming voice. “My dear Marge all upset, I shall not tolerate it.”

  Marge the nurse was at a loss for words.

  “I really like your new hair style,” continued Harrison smoothly. “You must! I insist. You must come along with me to the lounge and tell me about your day.”

  “Ye…yes,” stuttered Marge the nurse.

  “We shall have a quiet glass of sherry of course,” finished Harrison as he whisked Marge the nurse away.

  The crowd in the corridor was pretty stunned.

  “Some people… really!” snarled Gladys with a nasty look at the nurse.

  “That Harrison, what a charmer!” said Olive dreamily.

  “All right, if there is no more interference, let’s get cracking,” snapped Mrs. Lopez. “We’ll need three dandelions and three snail shells. You get all that Olive.”

  “Righty-ho!” shouted Olive jogging away. She was a sporty kind of granny.

  “I’ll go too,” said Richard trotting behind her, “she’ll need my advice on snails.”

  “We better close the door,” said Grandma as James, Maria, Mrs. Lopez and herself stepped into the room.

  “I’ll stay outside and keep watch,” offered Gladys.

  James and Maria climbed onto the end of the bed.

  Mrs. Lopez opened her little suitcase while Grandma rummaged in her wardrobe.

  “Shall we get ready?” asked Grandma.

  “Absolutely,” answered Mrs. Lopez who was slipping on a black robe. Then she pulled a tall, pointed hat from the suitcase and put it on.

  She looked quite smart.

  “That’s my Mum!” grinned Maria.

  Meanwhile, Grandma had extracted a rather crumpled black robe from the wardrobe and was noisily putting it on. James had to help her to find the sleeves. Then she screwed onto her head a black hat as well. But not as good looking as Mrs. Lopez’s. The rim was quite dented and the top crooked. Nevertheless she was rather pleased with herself until she
saw Mrs. Lopez.

  “MY!” she gasped, “YOU do look elegant, and that robe is lovely,” she said gloating over the silky soft drape of the fabric.

  “I made it myself,” said Mrs. Lopez casually, “with the material I bought in Madrid last year. And I bought the hat over there too. Very fashionable, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed, indeed,” nodded Grandma with interest.

  “The robe is machine washable, of course,” went on Mrs. Lopez, “gentle cycle, short spin and…”

  “Mum!” said a small voice at the end of the bed.

  “Yes… right… ” muttered Mrs. Lopez.

  She took her cauldron from the wooden box, put it on the table and plugged it in.

  “It’s my brand new cauldron,” she explained to Grandma, “it’s electric you see, just like an electric frying-pan and non-stick of course.”

  “Modern technology, I don’t believe in it,” sighed Grandma as she filled half of the cauldron with water.

  “Children,” said Mrs. Lopez, “while we are preparing the mixture, could you place those candles around and switch off the lights, thank you.”

  It was kind of busy and strange in Grandma’s room. Mrs. Lopez was speaking much softer than usual. The children kept still and quiet and Grandma had her most dramatic face.

  There was a little tap at the door.

  “Come in,” said Grandma.

  It was Richard with the dandelions and three empty snail shells.

  Maria went pale.

  Grandma frowned. “It’s going to take ages to melt those monsters.”

  “Don’t you worry,” said Mrs. Lopez throwing them in the cauldron.

  Maria discreetly left the room holding her stomach. Richard took her place on the bed.

  “I don’t think your daughter is going to follow the tradition,” noticed Grandma.

  “Quite right, she is far too sensitive,” replied Mrs. Lopez as she dropped a handful of dry spiders into the boiling water.

  After ten minutes of adding ingredients into the cauldron the two women sniffed the mixture appreciatively. Then Grandma started stirring slowly while Mrs. Lopez sang strange words. A strong smell of rotten melon filled the room.

  “This is awful,” whispered James wiping his watery eyes.

  “I say it’s not thick enough!” remarked Mrs. Lopez, “give us some frog flavoured powder.”

  “Very well,” said Grandma sprinkling the powder over the cauldron.

  “Sounds like French cooking,” said Richard thoughtfully.

  The mixture in the cauldron was sort of yellowish-green with bubbles bursting at the surface.

  “Lovely, absolutely perfect,” beamed Mrs. Lopez, “let it simmer gently for five minutes.”

  “How about a few drops of cherry for the taste?” suggested Grandma.

  “Are you out of your mind, we’re not making a love potion,” said Mrs. Lopez crossly, “and anyway it’s not for drinking.”

  At the end of the bed James was a bit pale and breathing in his T-shirt. Richard didn’t seem to be affected by the smell. He was nibbling a biscuit and watching with interest.

  After another five minutes or so, of muttering and stirring, Mrs. Lopez announced that the potion was ready and ought to cool down before being transferred into a bottle. Then, the conductor-stick would be dipped in it and left to soak for seven days in a dark and gloomy place.

  Everyone agreed that Grandma’s wardrobe was certainly dark and gloomy enough.

  James opened the door. Gladys and Maria came to have a look at the bottle. Soon Harrison and Olive arrived.

  “Seven days in that bottle,” explained Mrs. Lopez, “not to be opened at all, understood?”

  “It’ll be ready for Saturday night’s concert,” said Olive.

  “Saturday night’s concert,” echoed Grandma.

  “I love concerts,” said Gladys.

  “Are you coming?” asked James.

  “Of course, we’re all coming,” answered Gladys.

  “Excellent work,” boomed Mrs. Lopez, “we’d better pack now.”

  Twenty minutes later Mrs. Lopez and the children climbed into the car and left Lady Bird Rest Home.

  “Oh what a night!” exclaimed Gladys as she waved goodbye at her friends.

  7 TROUBLES

  “Oh what a night!” moaned Mrs. Fleetwood the following day.

  “What Mum?”

  “The rehearsal was awful. The first cello was in her natural bad mood, half of the orchestra arrived late and to crown it all, I lost my stick.”

  “Misplaced,” corrected James.

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “You have misplaced your stick Mum, you’ll find it again,” said James positively.

  His mother sighed.

  Until concert night, things went smoothly for some people and bumpy for others.

  Mrs. Fleetwood bought herself a new conductor-stick.

  Gladys and Olive went shopping in town with Maria and her Mum. They bought flashy new outfits with matching shoes to wear at the concert.

  Meanwhile, James and Richard went to Lady Bird Rest Home every day to check on the stick and also on Grandma who was learning to drive the scooter. Harrison was her instructor. He was naturally gentle and patient but Grandma was a difficult student.

  She was complaining about everything: the weather, the stones, the grass, the nurses, etc…

  And one tiresome afternoon, after fifteen minutes arguing about how to reverse properly, Grandma climbed down off the scooter, tripped over her own feet, toppled over and fell flat on her bottom.

  James and Richard tried to help her to stand up but she was screaming that she had a broken leg.

  “Rubbish!” snapped Harrison who had finally lost his patience. “There is nothing wrong with your legs, and it’s all in your head!”

  “Is that so!” squealed Grandma.

  “Oh, oh!” said James in alarm.

  “All in my head!” rambled Grandma.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” apologized Harrison, hiding behind Richard.

  “Well, you did Harrison Smith! I may be old but I am not stupid. Good day to you.”

  She gathered her bits and pieces, lifted herself up and went away limping like a hunchback.

  “Honestly!” grumbled Richard, “you’d thought she had two broken legs.”

  “I’m sorry boys,” said Harrison looking embarrassed.

  “Don’t worry Harrison,” said James gently, “it’s not your fault. She’ll sulk for a few hours but she’ll come right.”

  That’s what they thought… but she didn’t come right. She sulked and sulked. Not for hours, but for days. She didn’t go in the dining room with her friends for lunch or dinner. NO! She stayed locked up in her room. No one could see her; no one could speak to her.

  James was feeling a little tense and so was Mrs. Lopez. They were both thinking about the conductor-stick which was probably fully and (let’s hope) successfully bewitched by now.

  Harrison bought Grandma some flowers and a bottle of sherry. She snubbed them. The bottle and the flowers were now sitting in the corridor in front of the bedroom door, along with a bag of jelly beans, a tray of strawberries, a fashion magazine, a pair of new slippers and a bottle of pink bubble bath.

  “SPOILT!” yelled Marge the nurse on Saturday morning after slipping on a squashed strawberry, “that’s what you are, SPOILT!”

  And quite frankly, Grandma’s friends were thinking the same thing.

  On that special Saturday, the concert was the same evening

  ***

  8 TO FLY OR NOT TO FLY

  The end of year concert takes lot of preparation and many hours of practice. James and his mother were reading the program.

  “It’s going to be a busy night,” said Mrs. Fleetwood, “there are lots of schools involved.”

  “I can’t see your orchestra,” said James scanning the program.

  “Right at the bottom.”

  “Got it. You play
William Tells’ Overture,” said James.

  Mrs. Fleetwood was bending over James’ shoulder.

  “Botany Primary School is presenting a play called: THERE IS A WITCH IN THE GARAGE, how interesting!”

  “Wow! Look at that… TAP dance and BREAK dance by St Thomas Intermediate School; that’s cool and… BALLET dancing with Rainbow Kindergarten!” laughed James.

  “What’s so funny about that?” asked his mother.

  “Nothing. Gladys and Olive are going to love it.”

  “Are they coming?” asked Mrs. Fleetwood surprised.

  “Sure. Harrison too.”

  “That’s really nice of them,” smiled Mrs. Fleetwood, “I’m very happy to have my supportive friends.”

  “Shall we go Mum?” asked James, “it’s almost six and the concert starts at seven;”

  “Yes, let’s go.”

  They both rushed into the car. James was so excited he could hardly stop talking.

  Mrs. Fleetwood turned the key to start the engine.

  The engine made a queer noise, but didn’t start.

  She turned the key again.

  Nothing.

  “What’s happening Mum?” asked James frowning.

  “I don’t know James, I’ll try again.”

  This time the car started but stopped abruptly with a minor explosion.

  Mrs. Fleetwood was getting nervous. She tried a few more times but nothing encouraging happened.

  “We are going to be late Mum,” moaned James.

  “Let’s get a taxi then.”

  They left the car and rushed back into the house.

  While Mrs. Fleetwood called for a taxi, James paced around the kitchen. His eyes lingered for a moment on Broom who was quietly sweeping a corner. James suddenly smiled devilishly – not unlike his Grandmother.

  “Mum, how long for a taxi?” he asked.

  “We‘ll have to wait thirty minutes,” replied Mrs. Fleetwood, “we are going to be late.”

  “No, we won’t” laughed James, “let’s take the broom.”

  “Please James, don’t be daft!”

  “We can ride double,” argued James, “Broom can do it!”

  As a matter of fact Broom had stopped sweeping the corner and was now listening.

  “James, it’s broad daylight!” said Mrs. Fleetwood weakly.

  “So… people will think we are part of the play THERE IS A WITCH IN THE GARAGE. Come on Mum!!”

  Mrs. Fleetwood faced James with a strange look in her eyes.

  “You’re right!” she said suddenly. And grabbing the broom, “we’re flying!”