The Magical Peppers and the Island of Invention. Sian Pattenden

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СКАЧАТЬ a sweet you will ruin your teeth. You don’t sit down in a stranger’s home until you are asked. Hmm… I can also tell that you do a good job looking after your twin brother and your beloved uncle.”

      “Tabitha, don’t start yet – I haven’t even spoken to the tea leaves,” said Twinkle, who was still messing about with the teapot and the spoon.

      “Twinkle, you know that if I am inspired I like to do my personality readings as quickly as possible,” replied Tabitha, breathing in deeply, jewellery still clinking. “I can see that Esmé Pepper is a logical person and good at problem solving. I would even go so far as to say that she has a talent for it, and in the future she would make a great scientist or indeed a super sleuth.”

      Esmé was taken aback – and secretly impressed. Tabitha gave her a big, not-so-toothy grin.

      “I’m ready now,” said Twinkle Table as she concentrated hard on pouring the remnants inside the teapot into the cup in front of her. She swirled the cup in a clockwise direction and peered in. Esmé watched as Twinkle closed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. “I see a long, happy life ahead of you. I also see a small notebook and a sharpened pencil that you carry with you at all times.”

      Esmé flushed again – this was true.

      Twinkle went silent and, teacup still in hand, her head dropped to one side and her mouth fell open. She made a small gurgling sound.

      Esmé stared at Twinkle, fascinated. She had never seen anything like this before – was there something wrong?

      “Is Twinkle all right?” Esmé asked Tabitha.

      “She’s fine,” came Tabitha’s reply. “Just a swoon. It’s part of the reading, part of the fun.”

      Twinkle started murmuring. “Ah, I see a vision. An illumination, a fire in a fish tank. Yes, that’s it – flames, rising high, engorging everything in their wake. Trouble, Esmé, trouble. You must be on guard at all times.”

      Twinkle abruptly opened her eyes. “There was also something about ‘Thai summer rolls’, but I couldn’t make sense of that.”

      Esmé was startled, but as if nothing had happened, Twinkle put the teacup down on the table and shook Esmé’s hand.

      “Thank you,” said Twinkle, eyes shining bright. “That was a very intense reading.”

      “Now that’s enough of the mystical stuff,” remarked Tabitha. “Let’s get on with fixing those theatre lights.”

      “We’d better phone Keith,” said Twinkle, slipping into the back to make the call.

      “Keith is our fix-it man,” explained Tabitha. “He’s very talented. He can fix or make just about anything – lights, fuses, entire air-conditioning systems that also emit the smell of patchouli oil. He built us this caravan out of two hundred empty cola cans, half a canoe and some cement.”

      “Keith’s on his way to the theatre,” said Twinkle, replacing the receiver. “Let’s head over and meet him there.”

      They all left the caravan into the sunshine outside and the three of them walked arm in arm up the pier, passing posters for Potty’s show along the way.

      “Our last magic show,” said Tabitha, with a broad sigh.

      “Why ‘last’?” asked Esmé.

      “Well, the truth is, we may not be in charge of the Sea Spray Theatre much longer,” Twinkle told Esmé. “A local businessman named Mr Portobello is interested in buying it from us. We are relying on him to make a good offer.”

      “You’re selling the theatre?”

      “Yes,” said Twinkle. Esmé noticed she was wearing tiny satin shoes with pointed toes. “We’ve been running the theatre for thirty years – but it’s a sideline, really, to our more spiritual calling.”

      “If Mr Portobello offers us a healthy sum,” said Tabitha brightly, “then we can not only concentrate on the psychic readings but there’s a lovely bungalow on Tide Street that we would very much like to move into – more space, more light, more resonance. The spirits are getting sick of the caravan, there’s not enough room for them. They keep bumping into each other.”

      Esmé smiled. She had never met anyone who believed in spirits before, apart from Monty’s dabbling in what he called ‘vibrations’. She was beginning to like the Table sisters very much.

      “We tried to sell the Sea Spray last year but Mr Portobello made us such a low offer we had to pull out of the deal,” confided Twinkle. “It was after the famous magician Gary Meringue had been due to perform. People were queuing all the way along the pier to get a ticket…”

      “Only he dropped out at the last minute,” revealed Tabitha. “He simply disappeared. Whatever happened we will probably never know. We tried the spirits but they couldn’t tell us either.”

      Esmé and the Table sisters arrived at the theatre, walking through the front door in turn. “This is why we need Potty to wow the audience and wow Mr Portobello,” Tabitha confirmed as she stopped to examine the spider plant. “The soil is a bit dry,” she said, then turned to Esmé. “The offer we get rests on Potty’s success.”

      “We will do our very best,” said Esmé. “I’m sure that Potty will perform the show of a lifetime. If he can just manage to avoid getting caught up in his fishing net and his props exploding.”

      “He must,” said Tabitha, with a serious look.

      Esmé and the Table sisters entered the auditorium.

      On stage Uncle Potty stood on a ladder with Monty on his shoulders, arms outstretched. The ladder wobbled first left, then right. It wobbled forward, then back.

      “Oooph!” said Monty.

      “What are you two doing?” Esmé called out. “Be careful! You’ll fall.”

      “We thought we’d have a look at the light fitting,” shouted Potty, now extending a long leg outward to balance them both on the wobbling ladder.

      “Please, come down now,” urged Esmé. “There won’t be a show if you’re both in hospital.”

      “Woooooargh!”

      Potty and Monty wobbled on the ladder for the last time and fell in a heap on the floor.

      “Oooofph!” exclaimed Monty. Esmé helped Potty up.

      “Are you all right?” she asked.

      Potty rubbed his shin. “I think so. My new cape is slightly padded, so it softened the fall.”

      “I’m fine too,” replied Monty who was sitting in a heap on the floor with the seaweed-strewn rubber ring still round his waist.

      “Oh, dear,” said Twinkle, gazing with concern at the magician and his assistant on whom all their hopes were riding.

      “Hm,” said Tabitha, looking first at them and then at the lights. “I hope Keith can fix this.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ