Extolziby Gruff and the 39th College by Sean Black

Author:Sean Black [Black, Sean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: David Walliams, Roald Dahl, J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter, Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson, Demon Dentist, Oxford University
Publisher: SBD
Published: 2013-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

17 - BARNABY MAGELLAN

Barnaby Magellan had never met a mirror he hadn’t fallen in love with. His twenty-million-pound townhouse overlooking London’s Regent’s Park was filled with them. Although he was an entrepreneur, inventor and fully qualified surgeon, he often told people that his profession was that of cat-flap installer on submarines. They never dared ask him if he was joking because Barnaby Magellan was one of the most frightening people in the world when he chose to be. He didn’t look frightening. On the contrary, he was always well dressed and generally considered handsome. Up close, though, it was different. He spoke softly, and his expression suggested that if you were brave or foolish enough to cross him or make him angry in any way he would make you very, very sorry indeed, not just for a few minutes or hours or days but for all of eternity (which is even longer than double maths).

He was a tall man with a shock of white hair, a pencil-thin moustache that turned up at the ends, so that it looked like a musical note, a broad face, piercing blue eyes, and a square chin with a big dimple in the middle. His teeth were perfectly even and white like an American’s or a very old person’s. When he was out in public (he had his own table at the Ivy, a most exclusive establishment), he drank ice-cold champagne. In private, however, he liked nothing more than a nice, tall glass of orphans’ tears freshly squeezed where possible.

Right now as he sat in the rear of his black Range Rover, his driver swerving to try to hit drunken students clutching kebabs who staggered off the pavement into the road, he stared intently at the small screen built into the seat in front of him. He could see Talura, who shed the most delicious tears of all, talking to the boy. They were alone now. Talura and the boy were walking to their rooms. They were talking, Talura with her ridiculous American twang and the boy with his guttural accent. Oh, how he hated Americans, with their sunny optimism and their ridiculous notion of everyone being equal. Ugh. He shuddered at the very idea. Not that he was a fan of English people either, or the Welsh, with their confusing road signs, or the Irish, always fighting among themselves. But most of all, he hated the Scots. He hated them with the intensity of a Daily Mail reader living abroad. They were the pits, thought Barnaby, as he studied the boy’s gormless face. This one would be an exception, though. Barnaby would see to that.

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