‘Oh my!’ gasped Bryony, clutching her cheeks in wonder at what happened next. It was, she thought, the most awesome, the most spectacular, thing she had ever seen.
Suddenly an idea began to take shape in Bryony’s mind. Perhaps there were other ways of getting that star on her bedroom door…
Three
Bryony shook Abid’s sleeve excitedly. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Abid?’ she said.
‘I’m thinking there are an awful lot of white rabbits on that stage,’ replied Abid hoarsely, ‘and rabbit hair doesn’t half go for my tubes. I can feel a wheeze starting…’
He sneezed three times, to demonstrate his asthma.
‘I need to get out of here, Bryony. You know what I’m like with fur,’ he said as he hurried off.
But Bryony could not tear herself away. Ken Undrum bowed at the three people auditioning him, and received a very small and unenthusiastic ripple of applause in return. One of the auditioners was writing something down on a clipboard. None, Bryony thought, looked impressed by the Man of Mystery’s stupendous magic act.
The rabbits, meanwhile, were skipping slowly round the stage. A few nibbled at the curtain, and one particularly large one, its pink eyes gleaming with determination, gnawed at the base of the microphone. Ken watched them helplessly, finally deciding to leave them be.
‘I shall now saw a lady in half,’ he announced solemnly, wheeling a mirrored box into position and giving each of its sides a thwack with the blade of a saw. Bryony’s heart skipped a beat. The danger of it all thrilled her to the core.
‘My glamorous assistant is unfortunately indisposed,’ Ken went on apologetically. ‘So perhaps I could ask a member of the audience…’
He waved the saw seductively at the auditioning panel, who glared expressionlessly back at him. It was clear that nobody had the slightest intention of being sawn in half.
‘Pity,’ Ken said. ‘Never mind, I will pass on to my next trick. I call it “Bread-on-a-Thread”.’
He pushed a length of thread into his mouth and chewed. ‘Now,’ he said, in a muffled voice, ‘prepare to be astounded…’ and he began to pull the thread back out.
Bryony, leaning as far forward as she dared, could not believe her eyes. Incredibly, it was beaded with dollops of damp dough!
Unable to stop herself any longer, Bryony glided on to the stage, pirhouetted once round the mirrored box – carefully avoiding the rabbits – then curtsied first to Ken and then to the auditioners.
‘I’m Bryony Bell,’ she told everyone. ‘And you can saw me in half any day!’
Ken’s dark little eyes lit up and his face crinkled into a grateful smile as he opened the lid. Bryony prepared to clamber in but before she could, the man with the clipboard stood up and said wearily, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Undrum, but we can’t have a minor being sawn in half.’
‘Particularly a minor on roller skates,’ the woman added.
‘Perhaps,’ the first man went on, ‘if you were to re-audition when your glamorous assistant has recovered…?’
‘To be perfectly honest,’ the other man put in, ‘your act simply isn’t slick enough for our summer season. Good afternoon, Mr Undrum. Please ensure you have all your rabbits with you as you leave.’
Ken Undrum’s whole body seemed to sag. He began to fold up the little table. Bryony, regretfully, took her foot back out of the box and skated to his side.
‘Not slick enough,’ Ken repeated, giving the table a shake. ‘Not flipping slick enough!’ A shower of white hairs glistened in the spotlight then sank floorwards. Ken turned to Bryony. His face was criss-crossed with wrinkles, like a walnut, and his blackberry eyes gleamed bright with disappointment.
‘That phrase has dogged me all my life,’ he sighed as he picked up the table and three of the rabbits. ‘Dogged me,’ he repeated, struggling offstage.
Bryony secured two rabbits under each arm and followed Ken down the corridor. Another lump was beginning to form in her throat, as she remembered how bad she had felt the day before.
‘I thought you were magnificent, Mr Undrum,’ she said sincerely.
Ken opened a dressing-room door and motioned to Bryony to go in. The room was tiny, every inch filled with cases and bags and boxes. Each surface heaved with silk scarves and playing cards and skittles and tiny white balls, and on top of everything a pyramid of ten rabbit hutches perched precariously. It was an Aladdin’s Cave of magic, and Bryony was beside herself with admiration and wonder.
‘What did you just say?’ Ken asked, opening one of the hutches and gently placing two rabbits inside.
‘Simply magnificent,’ Bryony repeated. ‘However did you make all those rabbits come out of your hat?’
Ken smiled bashfully. ‘It’s all in the the way you wave the wand,’ he whispered, tapping the side of his nose.
‘Really?’ said Bryony.
Ken took a black-and-white wand out of his pocket and waved it. ‘Magical wrist action,’ he explained. ‘Only given to the chosen few.’
‘So you can’t learn to do magic?’ Bryony asked, suddenly deflated.
Ken thought about it. ‘Well, yes,’ he said, ‘You can. If you’ve got someone to teach you how…’ Then he took Bryony’s rabbits from her, locked them away, and headed back to get the rest. Bryony trailed behind him.
‘Will your glamorous assistant be better soon?’ she asked. As soon as she had, she wished she hadn’t.
‘There is no glamorous assistant,’ Ken told her, frowning. ‘Left me for a knife-thrower.
Gets paid double to stand on a big bull’s eye and get swords thrown at her five nights a week and twice on Saturdays.’ He sighed deeply. ‘I’m telling you, young lady – in this business, it’s dog eat dog.’
They lifted the box together and Bryony balanced the five remaining white rabbits on top. Rather precariously, Ken and she struggled to the dressing room, where Abid was waiting. At the sight of the rabbits he coughed and backed away.
‘This is Mr Undrum, Abid,’ said Bryony. ‘This is my friend Abid, Mr Undrum. He and I were just saying how much we’d love to have a magic act.’
She gave Abid a dig in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Weren’t we, Abid?’
‘No,’ said Abid, backing even further away as Bryony kicked the door open and the unmistakable scent of twenty rabbits and ten hutchfuls of soiled straw billowed out to meet him.
Bryony helped Ken put everything in place and, when the ten cages were filled, dusted herself down and said brightly, ‘That’s you, Mr Undrum. All ready for the road.’
Ken, however, did not move. He stood miserably, gazing around at the mass of equipment. Then he peered into the topmost hutch and stroked a quivering pink nose with his fingertip.
‘Oh, Snowflake, what am I going to do?’ he asked sorrowfully. ‘No money, no assistant, no lodgings and, worst of all for you, my lad, no lettuce!’
Bryony opened her mouth to speak, but she was so choked with sympathy for Ken’s plight that nothing came. She poked her head round the door. ‘Your house is enormous, Abid,’ she whispered pointedly.
Abid frowned and shook his head. ‘Don’t even go there, Bryony,’ he said firmly. ’There is no way I am taking home twenty rabbits.’
Bryony nodded. Of course it was impossible. She thought again about how she had felt the day before, when no one had wanted her in the Panto act. Then she thought about the house, filled to bursting-point with Bells. No, it was quite, quite out of the question to bring anyone else home.
Ken was going from hutch to hutch, shoulders hunched, his mop of red hair hiding his face as he spoke reassuringly to each rabbit in turn.
‘You know what the old song says, Lily my girl,’ he muttered fondly to the huge rabbit that had almost felled the microphone. ‘“There’s a rainbow round the corner…”’
Suddenly Bryony pictured Big Bob, admiring his newly planted vegetable patch. A few weeks from now it would be heaving with carrots and cabbages and lettuces. And wasn’t he always compl
aining that the grass grew faster than he could cut it?
She took a deep breath and, ignoring Abid, who was shaking his head so hard his cheeks shone red, she put her arm round Ken’s shoulders and said, ‘Don’t worry, Mr Undrum. You can move in with us. We’ve got a spare bedroom, and space in the potting shed for at least four hutches.’
And before Ken could say another word Bryony heaved a suitcase, a bundle of silk scarves, and a stack of tumblers into Abid’s arms and, picking up two of the rabbit hutches, steered him triumphantly out of the Empress Theatre.
Four
‘A lodger? Well, I must say, Bryony, you might have asked first.’
Clarissa poked her head back into the Music Studio, yelled, ‘Last chorus again, and watch that B flat!’, closed the door behind her and faced Bryony. You could have cut the air in the garden with a knife.
Bryony wheeled her Ice-Lite wheels back and forth on the path. If only her dad hadn’t been on back shift. It would have been so much easier to have asked him…
‘But, Mum,’ she pleaded, ‘we’ve got a spare bedroom. And I’ll look after him, I promise. And help take care of his rab—’
She stopped in the nick of time. Clarissa shot her a look, her Emerald Lustre eye-shadow flashing suspiciously.
‘He’s got nowhere to go, Mum,’ Bryony went on. ‘He just needs somewhere till his luck changes. Pleeeeeease…’
Clarissa sighed. ‘I don’t know, Bryony, really I don’t,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to discuss it with your father. In the meantime, you’d better bring him in. Can’t have him standing out in the street with his luggage.’ And she began to march down the garden path.
Bryony spun round to skate backwards, clutching her by the shoulders. ‘There’s one other thing, Mum,’ she said carefully. ‘Mr Undrum has a few … props. He’s a magician. He can do all sorts of brilliant magic. Oh, you and Dad are going to just love him!’
‘Props?’ Clarissa repeated. They had almost run out of path. In a moment, the true extent of Mr Undrum’s stage equipment would be revealed.
‘A few bits and pieces,’ Bryony went on casually. She turned round and noted with relief that the full horror of the scene was momentarily blocked by Abid’s large form.
‘Abid thinks he’s cool too,’ Bryony added, giving him a look, and Abid obediently nodded and muttered a rather muted, ‘Cool as anything, Mrs Bell.’
‘And he so needs our help…’ Bryony said, steering her mother round Abid and bracing herself. ‘Mum,’ she said steadily, ‘meet Mr Ken Undrum, Man of Mystery.’
Dubiously, Clarissa stretched out her hand to shake Mr Undrum’s. As she did, her eyes narrowed as she scanned from packing case to packing case, finally alighting on the ten rabbit hutches. She froze, mid-shake.
Mr Undrum, however, seemed unabashed. ‘Charmed to meet you, Mrs Bell,’ he said, with a winning smile. ‘It is not often that one stands in the presence of true greatness.’ He looked Clarissa up and down approvingly. ‘And, if I may make so bold, such exquisite beauty.’
Clarissa smoothed down her pink velour jumpsuit and fluttered her green eyelids. Then she looked back at the rabbit hutches. ‘These are your … props, Mr Undrum?’ she asked.
‘Do please call me Ken,’ Mr Undrum smiled. ‘You know, Mrs Bell, I was just saying to your charming daughter, how rare it is to find a star whom fame has not tarnished. And you, dear lady, have shown such generosity of spirit towards a fellow thespian…’ He sighed happily. ‘I thank you from the very depths of my soul!’
And he lifted Clarissa’s hand to his lips and gave it a tiny kiss.
Clarissa blushed. ‘Call me Clarissa,’ she said, glancing sheepishly at Bryony and Abid, ‘and please walk this way.’
Triumphantly, Bryony gave Abid’s sleeve a shake.
‘One Bell down,’ she thought as they heaved Ken’s paraphernalia through the front door. ‘Only six to go.’
* * *
By the time the little ’uns were called in to meet their new lodger, Ken’s cases and boxes and hutches had been squeezed into the spare bedroom. Eight of the more resilient rabbits had been rehoused in Big Bob’s potting shed on a shelf above his seed trays, and been left gazing longingly at the array of tiny vegetables sprouting tantalisingly beneath them.
Ken himself was looking magnificent in a deep-red, though distinctly threadbare, velvet jacket, and he had evidently doused himself in some very pungent aftershave, so when the little ’uns filed in, the atmosphere was overwhelmingly musky.
Bryony introduced each Bell in turn, and Ken kissed every hand – even Little Bob’s. Little Bob loved it, and bounced up and down gurgling ‘Bobway or bust!’ very wetly. Then everyone sat, surveying the unexpected addition to the household over their teacups.
‘I believe you are a magician?’ Clarissa said.
‘Indeed I am,’ Ken said, inclining his head modestly. ‘And perhaps, when we have finished our refreshments, the children would like to be astounded?’
Before you could say ‘abracadabra’ the Bells had polished off their tea and were sitting waiting, ‘astound me’ written all over their faces.
‘If you will excuse me,’ Ken said, ‘I shall make ready.’
As soon as he had gone, everyone spoke at once.
‘He looks ever so magical.’
‘Doesn’t half smell funny.’
‘Has he got a real wand?’
‘What’ll Dad say?’
At the last question Clarissa gave Bryony a worried look, and Bryony passed the look on to Abid. She had a sudden picture of the eight rabbits drooling down at the seedtrays in the potting shed. The seedtrays that were Big Bob’s pride and joy…
Then she gave herself a little shake. Dad would be fine. Dad was always fine.
It took Ken ages to prepare to astound the Bells, but eventually he swept in and everyone gasped at the sight of his black cloak with its red silk lining which, although rather frayed at the edges, gave him a very grand look.
‘Would you look at that, Abid,’ Bryony whispered admiringly. ‘Mystery seeps from his very pores…’ And she sat on the edge of the settee.
Ken raised his wand and did a few midair manouvres with it. Bryony watched, concentrating hard. It didn’t look that difficult to master. Not unlike, in a way, learning a new skating move. Then, all of a sudden, Ken did something no one expected.
‘Jeepers!’ he said. ‘Whad’ya think of this, kids?’
Bryony was suddenly puzzled. Wasn’t that an American accent?
Ken had dropped onto his knees and was picking up something small and dark. He placed it carefully on the palm of his hand, then showed it to everyone. Clarissa looked mortified.
‘What must you be thinking of us, Ken,’ she said apologetically. ‘A dead fly!’
‘Think nothing of it, dear lady,’ Ken said soothingly as he scanned round his spellbound audience. ‘This most fortuitous find,’ he breathed mysteriously, ‘gives me the opportunity to demonstrate my incredible transcendental powers.’
There was a sharp intake of breath.
‘Is that something to do with teeth?’ Melissa whispered to Clarissa, who blushed and explained that it had nothing whatsoever to do with anything so ordinary. ‘Powers of the mind,’ she whispered. ‘Everso impressive!’
‘In just one moment,’ Ken went on hypnotically, his red moustache trembling, ‘you will see that I have power over life and death!’
There was an almost tangible quiver of excitement from the settee as Ken clasped the dead fly in his left hand, drew his wand from his pocket, and began to mutter mysteriously.
Bryony leant forward, straining to make out the spell. She was dying to ask him something. Eventually it was too much for her and she jumped to her feet.
‘Please, Mr Undrum, may I wave the magic wand?’
For a moment Ken seemed about to pass her it, but then he shook his head apologetically. ‘Better not,’ he said. ‘One false flick, and who knows what might appear?’
Bryony sa
t back down. Her disappointment, however, was soon forgotten as Ken stretched out his palm, and – sure enough – there was the fly, right as rain, rubbing its front legs together.
As, to a tumultuous round of applause, the fly flew into the air, the kitchen door opened. It was Big Bob.
‘Dad!’ Bryony cried. ‘Meet Mr Undrum, Man of Mystery. He’s got transcendental powers, and he can bring things back to life!’
Big Bob took Ken’s outstretched hand and shook it less than enthusiastically.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, in a flat voice. Then, keeping hold of it, he turned and led the Man of Mystery over to the door.
‘Perhaps Mr Undrum can show me his transcendental powers in the potting shed,’ he said. ‘Is he any good at making geraniums reappear?’
Five
Next morning, Bryony dug out the Duty Rota from behind The Singing Bells publicity posters, and added Ken’s name. When she explained it to Ken, he told her he was more than happy to undertake all the duties and work his keep. It was, he said, the very least he could do in view of the Unfortunate Incident of Lily and the Geranium Cuttings.
So that Tuesday morning Bryony showed him the ropes, starting with the washing-up. As a nice froth built up in the sink, she bit the bullet.
‘Could you teach me to do magic, Mr Undrum?’ she asked. ‘So’s me and Abid could have a magic act?’
Ken smiled thoughtfully. Then he scooped up a handful of foam and clapped it between his hands gleefully, sending a shower of bubbles over them both.
‘You betcha!’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re bright as they come, Bryony. Let’s give it a go!’
‘Will you start by sawing-a-lady-in-half?’ Bryony asked, and to her delight Ken nodded.
‘Brilliant, Mr Undrum!’ she said, dusting the soapsuds off his sleeve and thinking again that Ken’s wardrobe was in dire need of a makeover. ‘I would so love to saw Abid in half!’
‘Hold your horses,’ laughed Ken. ‘Need to learn how it’s done first. You can do a lot of damage with a saw.’
Under the Spell of Bryony Bell Page 2
