Eddy Stone and the Mean Genie's Curse Read online

  “There,” said Wizard Witterwort. “One bigger house. All sorted.”

  “Sorted?” said Eddy. “They won’t even be able to open the front door. They’ll need to fetch ladders to get up the stairs. When she said she wanted a bigger house she meant more rooms. Normal-sized rooms. Not this.”

  He was interrupted by the honking of a car horn, and an angry voice shouting, “Oi! You can’t park that house there. Get it shifted.”

  “That’s not what she wished,” said the Wizard. “Bigger means bigger. Oh, it’s always like this. I try to do what people want but it turns out wrong.”

  “I can see why getting a wish from you is a curse now,” said Eddy. “It’s just like my mum and dad and me. We all got what we asked for. But not what we wanted. Can you just put it all right?”

  “No,” said the Wizard. “Those are the rules of the Genie’s curse. I can’t do any magic except to perform one wish per person. And no one can wish something back again once it’s done.”

  “But things can’t stay like this,” said Eddy. “It’s a disaster. My dad’s a sofa, my mum’s lost half her life, and goodness knows what else has happened all round the town.”

  “Nothing I can do, I’m afraid,” said Wizard Witterwort. “But I have got a message. Mad Monty used to tell me the same thing every night. She said that if anyone ever let me out, they must find the secret room at Tidemark Manor. That was their only chance to get things back to normal.”

  “Why?” said Eddy. “What’s in there?”

  “That,” said the Wizard, “is something she never told me.”

  Eddy didn’t leave the house straight away.

  He found an empty vase to keep Wizard Witterwort snug.

  He checked that his mum was sleeping comfortably.

  He turned the TV on quietly for his dad to watch. His dad always liked a snack while he was in front of the telly, so Eddy slipped a couple of digestive biscuits down the back of his seat cushions.

  And then he squeezed his bike out through the narrow gap between the front door and the giant house opposite, and set off for Tidemark Manor.

  As he cycled up the street, all around him people who knew nothing of the Wizard and the curse were finding that their wishes were suddenly coming true. And that you really should be careful what you wish for.

  Gary Sprott was sitting in bed playing an army game on his console. He wished he had a real tank. He imagined the look on his classmates’ faces as he drove it into school. Right into school. CRUNCH! How brilliant would that be? He was astonished to find that he suddenly did have a tank, and that he was sitting in it in his bedroom. He wasn’t in his bedroom for long, though.

  The three-hundred-year-old floorboards of his family’s cottage had never been designed to hold up anything as heavy as this great lump of metal, and they certainly weren’t going to start now. With a CREAK and a CRASH, Gary Sprott suddenly found himself sitting in his tank in the living room. And, seconds later, in the cellar.

  Sophie Milldew was in the middle of getting her kids’ breakfast ready and stopping the dog from eating her toast and loading the washing machine and hunting for her house keys when the phone rang. She wished she had an extra pair of arms. Showing remarkable self-control in the circumstances, she only screamed for the next three hours. And then went upstairs to cut extra armholes in some of her tops.

  Dylan Plimpsoll was scanning the internet for tips on how to get a girlfriend. He was keen on a pretty assistant who worked at the corner shop, but she never seemed to notice him. A website said that girls often liked boys who made them laugh. That was something that Dylan wasn’t very good at. His jokes always fell flat. He wished that people laughed at the things he said.

  He went to the corner shop to buy some milk. He said, “Good morning,” to the pretty girl. She giggled. He commented on the weather. She chuckled. Feeling more confident than ever before, he asked what her name was. She chortled as she told him. It was going so well, Dylan thought. Just like the website said. He gathered his courage and asked her out for a date. And then the pretty girl threw back her head and laughed out loud. She laughed and laughed and laughed, and was still laughing when Dylan Plimpsoll turned tail and ran, red-faced, out of the shop.

  Round the corner, little six-year-old Gregor Samsa was thrilled when he woke up and found he had changed in his bed into a giant beetle.

  Eddy cycled up to the iron gates at the end of the long gravel drive that led up to Tidemark Manor. He got off his bike to push the gates open.

  “Oi! Mate!” A voice interrupted his thoughts.

  He looked around. There was no sign of anyone.

  “Mate!” There it was again.

  “Oi! Cloth ears!”

  “Down here, mate!”

  He looked down. A small group of rabbits were gathered round a bush just to his right.

  “Got any carrots?”

  “Or lettuce, mate?”

  Talking rabbits. Who on earth had wished for them?

  “Sorry, no,” he said, shoving the gates open.

  “What about parsley?”

  “Yeah, we like parsley, mate.”

  “I haven’t got anything,” said Eddy. “But I passed a big patch of dandelions just back there.”

  “Dandelions? Thanks, mate.”

  “You’re a mate, mate.”

  The rabbits hopped away. Eddy wheeled his bike through the gate, and closed it behind him. Then he set off up the drive towards Tidemark Manor.

  No one in town knew who had bought the house. He wondered who the new owners would turn out to be – and what they would say when he asked to poke around and hunt for the secret room.

  Tidemark Manor had a long history. Its oldest parts had been standing for hundreds of years – though some of them were now leaning alarmingly and looked like they might decide to have a good lie-down at any moment. It wasn’t quite a stately home – it was too jumbled and crumbling for that. But it was certainly grand. The entrance porch where Eddy was now standing, its eight thick classical columns each two storeys tall, was as big as most people’s houses.

  Someone had hung a label marked “Pull!” on a piece of string that dangled down by the massive front door.

  Eddy pulled.

  He heard a whirring noise above his head. He looked up and saw that an electric fan sitting on a windowsill had started to blow air into the fat end of a metal funnel. The funnel’s thin end was connected by a stretch of hosepipe to a curved brass horn that suddenly let out a loud HONK! like a startled goose.

  The window opened, and a voice yelled “Hang on!” as a hand reached out and turned the fan off. The HONK faded to silence.

  “Coming!” the voice added, as the window rattled shut again.

  After a few seconds Eddy heard footsteps from inside the house.

  The front door opened.

  It was a girl. A girl about his age, wearing a blue boiler suit and a smear of thick, dark oil across one cheek.

  “Excuse the mess. We haven’t moved in properly yet. Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. My name’s Eddy – Eddy Stone – and…”

  “Hen,” said the girl.

  “Where?” said Eddy turning to look behind him.

  “No,” said the girl. “That’s my name. Hen. At least, that’s what I like people to call me. My proper name is Henrietta, but I don’t use that.”

  “I think it’s a nice name,” said Eddy. “Maybe a bit old-fashioned. Is that why you don’t use it?”

  “No,” said Hen. “I don’t use it because my surname is Crumb. My parents thought they had a sense of humour. Unfortunately for me. Every time I introduce myself as Henrietta Crumb someone says something stupid like ‘Who ate the rest of the loaf?’ as if it’s a big joke. If I had a coin for every time someone had laughed at my name, I’d be almost as rich as my dad.”

  “And I suppose he must be very rich if he has bought this place.”

  “Rolling in it,” said Hen. “Have you heard of Crumb’s C
runchy Snacks?”

  “Who hasn’t?” said Eddy. “The most fun you can have with a potato, as it says on the packets.”

  “Well that’s us,” said Hen.

  “Really?” said Eddy. “I’m a big fan of your Cheeze’n’Beanzy Bakes.”

  “I think they’re stupid. When I grow up I’m going to be an engineer and make something useful.”

  “Did you make this?” said Eddy, pointing at the “Pull!” sign.

  “Yes,” said Hen. “When we started to move in a couple of days ago I found that the old doorbell wasn’t working. Like a lot of things in this place. So I rigged up that device from a few bits that came in our first load of packing cases.”

  “It’s very clever,” said Eddy.

  “Not really,” said Hen. “I need to work out a modification so it switches itself off again. Then it might be quite clever.”

  “Well, I think it’s clever now,” said Eddy.

  “Thank you,” said Hen. “If there’s something you want to talk about, I’m afraid my mum and dad aren’t here right now. They’ve gone away to meet the architect to discuss what they want to do with this place. It’s just me and my brother at home.”

  “No problem,” said Eddy. “I’m happy just to talk to you. In my experience, grown-ups don’t always listen when you want to tell them something a bit out of the ordinary. And what I want to say is – well – pretty weird.”

  “Stop,” said Hen. “I’ve got a full portion of weird going on here already. I don’t think I could handle any more.”

  “What do you mean?” said Eddy.

  “Come in,” said Hen, “and I’ll show you.”

  “Listen to me, Babes – I cannot go around dressed like this.”

  Eddy stared at the figure who was speaking. She was standing by a pile of packing cases in one of the many downstairs rooms at Tidemark Manor. She was about his height, and wearing a plain white coat that went down to her knees. Her face, all big lips and eyes and a tiny turned-up nose, was strangely smooth and had a distinctly orange tint. She reminded Eddy of a doll – but one that had grown five times taller and come to life.

  “It’s my mum’s old doll,” said Hen. “She has grown five times taller and come to life.”

  “I’ve got a name, Babes,” said the doll.

  “So have I,” said Hen, “and it’s not Babes.”

  “I’m Modern Model Mitzee,” the doll said to Eddy. “Two ees.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” said Eddy. “I’m Eddy.”

  “Is this your boyfriend?” Mitzee said to Hen. And then added quietly, “You could do a lot better, Babes. You just need to smarten yourself up.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” said Hen. “And I don’t want to smarten myself up.”

  “I can see why you find this weird,” said Eddy.

  “And upsetting,” said Hen. “Partly because it breaks every rule of science that I know, and partly –” she whispered into Eddy’s ear – “because she’s not very nice. And she’s got really old-fashioned ideas.”

  “But I do want to smarten myself up!” The doll let out a yelp of complaint, and stamped her foot. “Thirty-six different outfits you can buy for me. I can be anything – tennis pro, show jumper, movie star. So why am I standing here in this horrible scratchy thing?”

  “Because I wanted you to look like a scientist,” said Hen, “and you can’t buy an outfit for that, so I had to lend you my white coat.”

  “Scientist?” said Mitzee. “Not if it means dressing like this, Babes. I haven’t even got proper shoes. Look.”

  Eddy looked. It was true.

  She was wearing blue plastic bags fastened round her ankles with elastic.

  “They use them in laboratories,” said Hen.

  “So they don’t bring in dirt.”

  “Where’s the glamour?” said Mitzee. “Where’s the colour?”

  “Let me guess,” Eddy said to Hen. “You made a wish and – POOF! – she came to life.”

  “How did you know that?” said Hen.

  “Because people’s wishes are coming true all over town,” said Eddy. “But they aren’t turning out like people expect.”

  “Mine didn’t,” said Hen. “I was feeling lonely. Moving home and leaving all my friends. Mum going away. I just wished I had someone to talk to. This isn’t exactly what I wanted.”

  “It’s not what I wanted either,” said Mitzee. “No offence, Babes, but listening to you moaning on is really boring. Can’t you talk about something interesting? Like me?”

  “I’m trying to put this right,” said Eddy.

  “I can talk about myself for hours,” said Mitzee.

  “Put it right how?” said Hen.

  “I’m really fascinating. I’ve got thirty-six outfits. And a pink beach buggy.”

  “I don’t know yet,” said Eddy. “But I think it starts here.”

  “And a pony!” said Mitzee. “Called Flash!” Then she stamped both feet and stomped out of the room.

  “She’s even worse than my brother,” said Hen with a sigh. “But, where here? And while you are at it, why here? And I’d like a sensible, scientific explanation.”

  “Sorry,” said Eddy. “The explanation isn’t sensible or scientific. I bought some old stuff from this house in the sale yesterday. It turned out that it included a wizard called Witterwort with no body and a curse. He has to give everyone in town a wish. But his spells do unexpected things.”

  “You’re right,” said Hen. “About it not being sensible or scientific. But then neither is a walking, talking living doll. Go on.”

  “Who is this?” said a voice behind them.

  Eddy turned. The boy standing in the doorway was a head taller than him.

  “Eddy, meet my older brother,” said Hen. “Crispy.”

  “Crispy?” said Eddy.

  “It’s Christopher,” said the boy. “I hate it when she calls me that.”

  “Which is exactly why I do it, brother dear.” Hen smiled. “First name Christopher, second name Philip. Get it? Chris P. Crumb. I told you my parents thought they had a sense of humour.”

  “Ouch,” said Eddy.

  “You were explaining?” said Hen.

  “The Wizard gave me a message from the lady who used to live here,” said Eddy. “There’s a secret room. I don’t know what’s in it, but I think it’s the way to put things right. Will you help me find it?”

  “Normally,” said Hen, “if anyone told me a story about wizards and spells, I would think they were bonkers. But what happened to Mitzee is bonkers too. So, maybe what you have told me could just be true. So yes, I’ll help you.”

  “Great,” said Eddy.

  “It could be difficult,” said Chris P. “You see, the thing about secret rooms is that they are hidden and no one knows where they are.”

  “Thanks,” said Hen. “Very helpful. I’ll try to remember that.”

  “Any time,” said Chris P.

  “Have you seen anything odd around the place?” said Eddy. “Anything that might be a clue?”

  “We haven’t even looked round properly yet,” said Hen. “There are so many rooms here. And miles of corridors.”

  “There’s only one thing for it,” said Eddy. “We’ll have to explore it all. Tap on all the walls to find out if any are hollow, lift all the carpets to look for trapdoors, check all the cupboards for false backs, and…”

  “That will take for ever,” said Hen. “I’ve got a better idea. A scientific idea. Come on.”

  “This,” said Hen, “is how we can find the location of the secret room.”

  She spread a long roll of paper out on the floor. “It’s a plan of the inside of the house. The estate agent gave it to us.”

  “It’s no good looking for the secret room on there,” said Chris P. “Because if it’s on there it’s not secret, so if it says there’s a secret room it means there isn’t one. And I have to stop thinking about that now. It’s making my head hurt.”

  “Tha
nk you,” said Hen, “for sharing your brain with us. But I think you had better have it back now.”

  “No probs,” said Chris P.

  “The secret room won’t be on this plan,” said Hen, “because it’s hidden away, and the estate agent won’t have seen it when he was looking round and taking measurements on the inside. That’s the point. If we check the outside of the house and find a bit sticking out somewhere that isn’t on this drawing of the inside of the house, then that extra bit must be where the secret room is hidden.”

  “That sounds like it should work,” said Eddy. “Let’s go.”

  They started at the front of the Manor. Chris P took a bag from his pocket.

  “I brought some snacks,” he said. “Try one.”

  “Thanks,” said Eddy. He pulled out a potato puff and popped it in his mouth. It tasted strangely sweet.

  “It’s a new flavour I’ve come up with. Ham and jam. What do you think? Does it need more jam?”

  “Possibly,” Eddy said. “Or better still – none.”

  “You don’t like it?” said Chris P. “Well who asked you anyway?”

  “You did,” said Hen. “Ignore him, Eddy. He’s always trying to come up with new flavours to impress Dad. But never mind that now, we’ve got a job to do.”

  The front of the Manor was exactly as the plan showed. But things got more interesting round at the side. Over the centuries, different owners had added new rooms to the building, so this part was a hotchpotch of different-coloured stones and bricks.

  Chris P peered at the plan.

  “It says that room there is a scullery,” he said. “Why would they have a room just for storing skulls? Hey – do you think they’re still in there, all white and bony and grinning?”