by Elka Evalds
‘We’ve got a new pogo stick, Will!’ said Olive, her head bobbing up over the top of the fence.
‘So all three of us can bounce at once!’ said Annie. They were bobbing in time with the drums and fiddles in the morris dancers’ garden.
‘Sorry! Gotta run!’
He was off to The Knittery, for the first meeting of the Gang of Grans since they had been made an official Knitwork Knot.
Holly was at the till when Will arrived, putting skeins of extra-chunky purple yarn into a bag for an excited lady with brand-new knitting needles.
‘Thank you!’ Holly said with a smile. ‘Come back soon and let us know how you get on with the project!’
The door closed with a jingle of bells.
‘Quick!’ said Holly, her smile sliding off. ‘Turn that sign around for me, will you? It’s been heaving in here all day and I’m desperate to—’
‘Is that Will down there?’ called a voice from upstairs.
‘Yes, that’s me!’ said Will, turning the sign on the front door so it said CLOSED. He went up the winding stairs.
The grans were all sitting knitting round a table full of scarves and hats and shawls. People recovered from the Fitchet & Ferret jumpers more quickly when they put on some proper magical knitting, and donations had been sent from all over the Knitwork. With the help of Mr Fitchet’s ferrets, the grans had distributed them to nearly every sufferer in Knittington.
Jasper Fitchet was at the table too. The Rogue Knitter was finally working on his Harkening Jumper.
‘Did you notice,’ Hortense was asking, ‘that those security people were wearing Harkening Vests under their dark suits?’
‘I wonder if Her Majesty wears a Harkening Jumper?’ asked Matilda.
‘Her Majesty doesn’t need a Harkening Jumper,’ said Dorcas. ‘Her Majesty is a Harkening Jumper.’
‘I’ve heard she has Harkening Pants,’ said Ivy.
Jun-Yu gave her a Paddington Hard Stare. ‘Ivy,’ she said. ‘We do not speak of the Royal scanties.’
Holly came up the stairs. Instead of sitting at the table, she lay down on the rug with her arms above her head.
‘I’m knackered!’ she said.
‘Cream crackered!’ said Ivy.
‘I’m not sure the shop has ever had a busier day,’ said Jun-Yu. ‘I’m a bit fatigued myself.’
‘Clapped out and whacked,’ said Matilda.
‘Mullered and chin-strapped,’ said Hortense.
‘Wappered, daggered, and bathered out,’ said Dorcas.
Even Will had been running all over town, putting scarves and hats through letter boxes.
‘I hope you’ll allow me to make us all some tea!’ said Mr Fitchet, shooting up from his seat. ‘I’d be only too happy.’ He seemed to have a hard time saying he was sorry out loud, but he was always carrying boxes and opening doors and giving Dorcas lifts into the shop. He was still neatly dressed in tweeds and a tie, but there was something less stiff about his collar, and he was wearing the jumper Gran had made.
‘Now,’ said Jun-Yu, as soon as he’d gone down the stairs. ‘Are we all in agreement?’ She looked around the circle, and everyone nodded.
‘He’s an annoying little ferret,’ said Ivy, ‘but I guess he’s our annoying little ferret.’
‘Will and Holly? Are you all right with this?’
‘Oh, do we count now?’ asked Holly, sitting up and smiling her crooked smile.
‘You are now a junior member of the Knittington Knittery Knitting Knot,’ said Jun-Yu, ‘and so will you be, Will, as soon as you’ve finished your Harkening Jumper.’ They had decided to fast-track Will to the Harkening stage, because he knew so much about magic knitting already. ‘So you both have a vote.’
They were all in agreement.
When Jasper came rattling up the stairs with a tray of tea and cake, Jun-Yu told him to put the tray down. ‘Jasper. I’m pleased to tell you that you have been accepted as a probationary member of the Knittington Knittery Knitting Knot, contingent upon your completion of a Harkening Jumper, a Combat Cardigan, and twelve community service knitting projects, to be overseen by the aforementioned knot,’ she coughed, ‘which is to say, us.’
‘Furthermore,’ Jun-Yu continued, ‘we are appointing you official Keeper of the Kit – which is to say, the carding combs and – spindles – and presenting you with this hat of office.’
The hat was shaped like a bowler hat, except that – of course – it was knitted with multi-coloured stripes. Jun-Yu handed it to Jasper, who smiled so widely that Will wondered if his face would fold in on itself. The grans had figured that having a badge of office would make Jasper so happy he would stay loyal to the Knitwork ideals, and it looked like they were right. It wouldn’t hurt that the hat was laced through with an honesty stitch.
‘I – I – thank you – I don’t know what to say.’ He was beaming.
‘Don’t say anything,’ said Holly. ‘Just pour the tea.’
‘Now,’ said Jun-Yu, as they settled down with slices of raisin rum fruit cake (Jasper’s speciality), ‘shall I read this Knitwork email out, before it self-destructs?’
The grans all clapped their hands and stamped.
‘Firstly, we are congratulated on the acceptance of our own invented pattern, hereafter known as Dispelling Stitch, into the Knitwork Pattern Book. It is considered a Class A, or Highly Useful pattern.’
The grans all cheered, and Dorcas looked especially smug.
It had turned out that inventing their own pattern was one of the requirements to becoming a Knitwork Knot, or renewing membership after the loss of a leader. The grans were also planning to submit the Seven-League Slippers for a Knitwork award, as soon as they had reknitted them.
‘Secondly, we are highly commended for continuing Gertie’s research into the production of Magic Wool on the Isle of Man. We are requested to continue our experiments to see if we can reproduce this year’s results again next year.’
‘Oh! We could go to the Classic TT!’ said Ivy.
‘Ahem,’ said Jun-Yu. ‘Apparently, while they knew about how to gather the wool, they hadn’t known that the wool might become more powerful when children pick it. They speculate it’s because children make it into a game, and that the fun helps the wool.’
Here Holly chuckled and looked smug.
‘They’re also interested to note that our Manx wool was even better than Gertie’s! They think it has to do with the sheep running wild and eating native plants.’
‘Just like Cronk’s sister said!’ Now it was Will’s turn to look smug.
‘Finally, we are invited to send a representative to Scotland next year to help harvest Magic Fleece from the Knitwork’s ancient herds.’
And here everyone looked smug.
‘To the Knittington Knittery Knitting Knot!’ said Jasper.
They all raised their cups.
It was strange going back to school. Everyone had been somewhere, even if it was only camping in their nan’s back garden. Robyn and Isabelle, Annie and Olive, Clara and Marius, and Finn and Vivien had all been to Cornwall. Ben had been spelunking in Wales. Rafi and his brothers had all gone to India, and Henry and Jacob had been to Maine. Colin had gone to Ireland in a camper van, and Ruby had gone to circus school. Will wanted to tell them about the Isle of Man and being on a motorbike and what it felt like to wake up in the middle of the night with ferrets in his room. But all he could actually say was, ‘My gran died and I learnt to knit.’
‘You learnt to knit?’ said Colin.
‘Sailors knit,’ said Will. ‘And my grandad used to knit. So what? It’s fun.’
Colin started calling him Granny, but Will just laughed. Funny. Last year he probably would have called Colin something back, and they’d have spent the whole maths lesson shooting rubber bands at each other. But now he didn’t care. His gran had been amazing, after all. Almost a spy. Almost a witch – the good kind, of course.
Colin tried to get Rafi to laugh along, but Ra
fi just said, ‘Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!’ He shot Will a glance, and Will could tell he was remembering a certain skipping rope.
But it was fine to get back to being normal, really – just going to school and playing football in the road and trying to figure out how to make his bike go faster. Of course, ‘normal’ was better than it used to be, now.
Jasper Fitchet had turned his factory into a school for crafts and mechanics, and, thanks to an idea Mum had while wearing her patchwork jumper, she had a new job teaching there. There was a giant kitchen in the factory now, too. Ben’s dad hired it twice a week to use the huge mixers and colossal baking trays for his new cake business (Ben’s Bakes), and sometimes Will and Ben got to help. Will and Sophie would go the factory after school and play at the river, or run up and down the spiral staircases, or help in the café (where the cake was Ben’s dad’s, of course).
Dad was happier too. He’d managed to write two lectures and an article since Will had given him the green-bean hat. Dad swore by it and called it his Thinking Cap.
Even the ferrets were happier, now that they lived at the farm park.
But more than that, normal was better now that Will knew his little sister could tame giant dogs and escape from kidnappers; that charity shops might be full of magic mittens; that their babysitter had a magic skipping rope; that any old lady might turn out to be a motorbiking crusader against evil; and that he, himself, could save the day.
‘Never judge a book by its cover,’ said Matilda.
‘Don’t judge a chair by its chintz,’ said Dorcas.
‘You can’t measure the sea with a teacup,’ said Jun-Yu.
‘All that twitters is not a twit,’ said Ivy.
‘You just never know,’ said Hortense.
No, thought Will. You really don’t.
My Thanks To:
Chicken House, Pickled Ink, and the Bath Spa University MA program in Creative Writing For Young People.
All of the staff at the Corinium Museum, for their patience.
My writing group (the Bradies) for helping and hoping.
Lucy, for bringing the flowers, every time.
Lizzie, Athena, Beth and Christina, for being so certain.
The Barings, Byrnes and Brichoux; Cannocks, Kellums, and Keiners; Harrises, Hambrooks, and Llywds; Mac-Oois and Olsons; Pringle-Cadles and Pritchard-Cuomos; Ryder-Walkers and Shellenbergers; Linsey-Woolsey and the Textilians, and the New Brewery Crew, for their dear selves.
Jo and Finn, for knitting lessons.
EHE, for tending the wounded.
Lierre, for sharing.
The Knitwitch herself, for putting up with such terrible liberties.
And Tim, for taking me pillion.
TRY ANOTHER GREAT BOOK FROM CHICKEN HOUSE
THE GREAT CHOCOPLOT by CHRIS CALLAGHAN
It’s the end of chocolate – for good! A chocolate mystery . . . At least that’s what they’re saying on TV.
Jelly and her gran are gobsmacked – they love a Blocka Choca bar or two.
But then a trail of clues leads back to a posh chocolate shop in town owned by the distinctly bitter Garibaldi Chocolati.
Is it really the chocopocalypse, or a chocoplot to be cracked?
With an excellent cast of characters, laugh-out-loud moments, and witty and sharp observations, this is a great choice for fans of Dahl and Walliams.
GUARDIAN
Paperback, ISBN 978-1-910002-51-3, £6.99 • ebook, ISBN 978-1-910655-57-3, £6.99
Text © Elka Evalds 2019
Illustrations © Teemu Juhani 2019
First paperback edition published in Great Britain in 2019
This electronic edition published in 2019
Chicken House
2 Palmer Street
Frome, Somerset BA11 1DS
United Kingdom
www.chickenhousebooks.com
Elka Evalds has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, mechanical or otherwise, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express prior written permission of the publisher.
Produced in the UK by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
Cover and interior design by Helen Crawford-White
Cover and interior illustrations by Teemu Juhani
British Library Cataloguing in Publication data available.
PB ISBN 978-1-912626-19-9
eISBN 978-1-912626-65-6
