The Secret Child by Aj Ponder

Author:Aj Ponder [Ponder, Aj]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780463610930
Goodreads: 43162058
Publisher: AJ Ponder
Published: 2018-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

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The Birthday Party

Light pushed its way through the shutters and fought a torrid, losing battle with the dust in the old wizard’s attic. Outside was brilliant sunshine. Inside, the small beams barely illuminated Mr Goodfellow Senior and his son, Jonathan, on this, the old wizard’s 150th birthday.

Mr Goodfellow Senior looked pretty good for his age. His hair had long since turned white, his wizard’s cloak had seen better days, but piercing eyes flashed over his beak-like nose, and his old bones moved around the cluttered attic with the spryness of a much younger man. He chortled as he poured saltpetre and other dangerous chemicals into little cylinders.

Jonathan looked suspiciously at the half-filled squib in his hand. Making fireworks wasn’t his idea of fun. It was not something ordinary people did, and Jonathan worked very hard at being ordinary. He also tried his best to be a dutiful son—he’d missed several excellent money-making opportunities to be here today—but did his father appreciate it? No. His father had begun one of his endless rants about magic …

“The problem with any endeavour is that you must begin at the beginning, and sometimes the beginning isn’t as exciting as the middle or the end. That is the way of things. It takes time to learn to read, it takes time to learn an instrument and it takes time to become—”

“A charlatan,” Jonathan burst in, sick of the smell of sulphur and phosphorous, and tired of the expectation that would throw away a growing business to follow in his father’s footsteps as a demented butcher with delusions of wizardry. Most of all, he was sick and tired of this one-sided conversation.

“How dare you!” Mr Goodfellow Senior roared. “I am a wizard of the—”

“By the seven gods, Capro!” Jonathan roared back, his fist thumping the table, scattering potions and flasks and little piles of powder. “There is no such thing as magic.”

As if to deny his words, a firecracker rocketed upward, streaming pink and blue sparks before ricocheting off the ceiling and exploding in a shower of butterflies. Jonathan ducked for cover as they swirled around the room, their rainbow wings turning to ash wherever they landed.

Mr Goodfellow Senior glared, his eyes burning fiercely between strands of white hair, his mouth opening and shutting in pure outrage.

It took a while for Jonathan to realise it wasn’t the blasphemy, his careless fist, or even the explosion that had made his old man so angry. Jonathan had uttered a forbidden word: Capro.

“Don’t ever call me that again, young whippersnapper. Don’t ever call me by my first name. It ain’t right. I’ve told you and told you. But do I ever get your respect? No! All talent and no patience. Forget it. Just go. It’s not like I haven’t had enough birthdays. No need to make a big fuss over this one.”

Jonathan attempted to straighten his tunic and wipe the soot from his face. “Um. Sorry.”

“Why won’t you just toe the line and take up the family business?” Mr Goodfellow Senior asked.

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