The Peppers and the International Magic Guys. Sian Pattenden

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ in itself was not a huge issue. The real issue was that Esmé had been subjected to non-stop magic for the last few days and she was beginning to feel overawed. As Uncle Potty stood mopping in the kitchen, Esmé thought back to the cause of the current trouble: Dr Pompkins.

      On the morning that he arrived, exactly four days ago, Uncle Potty gave Monty a book called Dr Pompkins – Totality Magic, as a source of magical inspiration for his new assistant. As soon as he opened the musty pages of the book, Monty was enraptured.Sitting in the armchair in the living room, he immediately insisted on trying Pompkins out on Esmé. The first thing that he wanted to try, Monty explained, was “a highly simple card trick, in all totality”.

      “Pick a card, any card,” he said, producing a deck that he splayed into an irregular fan shape with his fingers.

      Esmé chose the Jack of Hearts, memorised it and put it back into the deck carefully.

      “And now, my magic shuffle!” said Monty.

      Monty had read something about shuffling the cards in a certain way, which actually meant not shuffling them at all. For a few seconds Monty shifted the cards from one hand to the other, without actually changing the order. He kept a watch on Esmé’s card all the way through.

      However, eagle-eyed Esmé noticed what he was doing – or rather, what he was not doing.

      “Are you shuffling properly?” she asked.

      “Just keep thinking of your card, Esmé,” Monty replied. “Do not forget.”

      Monty fixed his twin sister with what was supposed to be a hypnotic expression, but which looked closer to someone trying to contain a burp. “Magic is supposed to make people ‘suspend their disbelief – to believe things they wouldn’t ordinarily believe’. I read that in Dr Pompkins,” he said.

      “I do believe,” replied Esmé. “I believe that you are not shuffling properly on purpose.”

      Monty picked – a card from the middle of the deck – it was the Jack of Hearts.

      “See!” said Monty. “I just need to take some time to get the technique right, the sleight of hand.”

      “Yes, maybe that’s all it needs,” said Esmé, who didn’t want to dampen her brother’s enthusiasm.

      Montague Pepper picked up Dr Pompkins’ book and silently started on a new chapter. Esmé carried on with her summer homework assignment, the one which was based around beluga whales and the fact that a scientist in Japan had discovered they could understand five basic words, which included “bucket” and “goggles”. Esmé decided to draw a large picture of a beluga whale, which she did carefully – adding arrows that pointed to parts of the animal, for instance its huge brain, a fin and the bit where she thought the ears might be.

      After twenty minutes, Monty set the book down.

      “I am now going to perform mind magic on you, Esmé,” he said with great seriousness.

      “You are in the right frame of mind,” he continued. “You have been so absorbed in your work that your brain is emitting what Dr Pompkins calls ‘mega waves’.”

      Although Esmé thought that “mega waves” sounded utterly ridiculous, she did think that “mind magic” was interesting. She had seen a certain Derek Brown perform this sort of routine on TV and she had been fascinated by how he made ordinary people believe in all kinds of nonsense – from ghosts and spirits to making them think that they could rob a bank or steal a race horse. Esmé liked the idea of hypnosis, but only on other people. Would Monty make her fall into a trance – only to find he was not able to wake her up again? And would he also send himself into a reverie? Esmé could not remember Monty doing anything even vaguely hypnotic before, apart from a very odd dance on Christmas Day last year after he’d eaten a large bowl full of profiteroles.

      And if Esmé remembered rightly, Monty had been sick fifteen minutes later.

      “Look into my eyes,” Monty suddenly commanded. “Go on, really concentrate.”

      Esmé did what she was told. Maybe this time she would suspend her disbelief. She looked into Monty’s left eye, then his right, then back to the left again.

      “My eyes are wiggling,” she said. “Is that normal?”

      The longer Esmé stared, the more her eyes wiggled, and the more she thought about her eyes wiggling the less hypnotised she felt.

      Now Monty spoke in a low, long voice: “Your mega waves are definitely vibrating. I want you to draw whatever comes into your mind.” He handed Esmé a blank sheet of A4 paper.

      “When you’ve finished, fold the paper once,” Monty said, taking his own sheet of paper. “And I, the great Montague Pepper, will draw the exact same thing using my own mega waves that are connecting with yours, miaow.”

      “Draw anything?” asked Esmé. “Anything, miaow,” he replied.

      Esmé was not sure she’d heard right. “Anything, miaow?” she repeated.

      “Use your, um, miaow imagination,” said Monty quickly, under his breath, to drive the point home.

      Esmé raised an eyebrow at her brother. Feeling mischievous, she thought it would be funny to draw a small sausage dog. She did so and folded the paper up twice.

      “Once, not twice,” Monty said, sighing. “Oh, well. Now let us show the powers for enjoined mega waves and open our pictures! 1 – 2 – 3!”

      Dramatically, they each opened their drawings.

      “A cat!” exclaimed Monty proudly of his picture, before realising that Esmé was holding up a picture of a dog – and what’s more, a sausage dog.

      Monty looked devastated.

      “You didn’t draw a cat,” he said.

      “Er, no,” said Esmé. “You kept saying miaow so I thought…”

      “…that you’d do the opposite.”

      “Sorry, Monty,” Esmé said, realising that her brother was upset. “I’ll try harder next time.”

      Four days of magic and chaos later and Esmé was standing in the devastated kitchen, wondering just what to do. Some of the plastic floor tiles looked like they were curling up at the edges under all that water, not helped by Uncle Potty’s low quality mopping. Uncle Potty heard Esmé sigh again and reached into one of his many waistcoat pockets and brought out a bunch of silk flowers.

      “To cheer you up,” he said. Esmé tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth were not having any of it.

      Uncle Potty reached into another pocket with some difficulty and found a sweetie tube that contained a selection of nuts and bolts. He put it back and then found a five-pound note from another pocket. His waistcoat certainly had a lot of potential.

      “Here, Esmé. I know I can’t replace everything, but you could at least СКАЧАТЬ