Phyllis Wong and the Waking of the Wizard by Geoffrey McSkimming

Author:Geoffrey McSkimming
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allen & Unwin
Published: 2015-04-21T04:00:00+00:00

Shedding more light

They came straight home, after a brisk walk back to Winterbourne Stoke and the crumbling farmhouse. It was too cold to stay any longer at Stonehenge; after the eclipse’s moon ray had gone, the snow had started falling heavily. Plus Clement had become fed up with being mistaken for a girl (the final straw had been when a little girl sitting with her mum had invited Clement to come and play dollies with her).

So, after a speedy Transit—where the buffeting wind seemed less bothersome than the cold they had just been in—they arrived back in Phyllis’s basement of magic.

‘Man,’ said Clement, now devoid of his long hair, which he’d stuffed into his backpack (making a mental note never to wear that particular wig again). ‘I’m starving.’

‘Me too.’ Phyllis’s tummy was settling from the Transiting and she could feel a rumbling emptiness down there. ‘C’mon, let’s go upstairs and raid the pantry. I’m famished.’

‘Excellent idea,’ said Clement.

‘And if Mrs Zepple’s there, just shield your eyes for a while. Don’t look directly at her. Your eyes are glowing green.’

‘Cool.’ He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

‘C’mon, Clemeleon Dude.’

The kitchen in Phyllis’s apartment was warm and they found Mrs Zepple sitting at the table, shelling peas. ‘Ah, there you are, lassie,’ she greeted Phyllis. ‘Hello, Clement.’

‘Arf!’ barked Daisy, scampering over to Mrs Zepple’s ankles.

‘And to you, you wee pup.’

‘Hi, Mrs Zepple,’ said Phyllis and Clement together. Clement pulled out a chair and sat at the table, dumping his backpack on the floor, while Phyllis took off her coat and went to the pantry.

‘What is it ye’re bein’ after?’ asked the housekeeper. ‘Och, let me guess: something chocolatey?’

‘You can read my mind, Mrs Z.,’ Phyllis said as she looked through the shelves.

‘It’s not a hard thing tae do when you’re hungry.’ Mrs Zepple shuddered slightly. ‘I’m mighty glad I cannae read minds,’ she added. ‘That sort of ability gives me the willies.’

‘We’re famished,’ Clement said, rummaging in his backpack and keeping his face down so Mrs Zepple couldn’t see his eyes. ‘I could eat a horse!’

‘Well, you’ll not be finding any such cuisine in my scullery, Clement. Phyllis, there are some chocolate cookies in the jar on the third shelf up. The ones you like, with the Belgian chocolate and shortbread and pieces of ginger inside.’

‘Yummo,’ Clement said.

‘Would you like me tae fix you both a sandwich?’ asked Mrs Zepple.

‘That’d be swell,’ said Phyllis, taking the jar off the shelf and bringing it over to Clem.

‘Turkey with cranberry sauce on rye?’

Clement smiled so wide his glasses moved up his nose. ‘Oh, can I move in with you, Mrs Zepple?’ he asked.

Mrs Zepple went to the fridge. ‘Och, ye’ve got your own family tae mind you,’ she said, laughing. She put a jug of lemonade and two glasses on the table, then went to the bench and started the sandwiches.

Phyllis and Clement dived into the chocolate cookies while Daisy sat by Mrs Zepple’s feet, hoping for a cascade of crumbs or, better yet, crusts.

‘Not too many of those,’ Mrs Zepple said over her shoulder.

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