Jody Richards and The Secret Potion (4 page)

“Watch out,” protested Wiffle. “All that stuff is going into my porridge.”
“It will do you good,” said Heatherbelle. “My fairy dust will put some extra sparkle into you.”

That was the cue for Wiffle’s parrot to join in the conversation. “Extra sparkle, extra sparkle,” the parrot, squawked.

Heatherbelle turned to look at Jody through blurry eyes that revealed she had stayed up far too late with her friends the previous night. “I’m afraid none of the other fairies have seen your brother,” she said, apologetically. “I gave them all the description you provided, but nobody could recall seeing an 11-year-old boy like him.”

Wiffle sighed. He told Jody: “That means your brother is not in this village – otherwise one of the fairies would know about it. So if he is in Tamila he will probably be across the water on the Island of Visions, which will make it more difficult for you to find him.”

“Why is that?” Jody asked, stepping over one of Wiffle’s cats and taking a seat at the breakfast table. “Is it far away?”

“No, not very far,” Wiffle replied, passing her some special juice mixed from local exotic fruits. “The problem is the Island of Visions has been given that name because visitors who go there see all sorts of visions – none of which are real. As a result it can take strangers ages to find any place they are seeking.

“Unfortunately, I cannot stay with you today because there is a Convention of Wizards I must attend. But I could drop you off on the Island on my way if you are prepared to look around there on your own. You could get the ferry back.”

“That would be wonderful,” Jody assured him, taking a sip of the special exotic fruit juice. It was better than anything she had ever tasted before in her life. She savoured the smooth liquor, and her face creased into a smile as she gulped it down.

“You seem to like our Zippy juice,” observed Heatherbelle. “It comes from the Island of Visions. They also make some delightful chocolates there.”

“I’ll have to try them,” enthused Jody, sipping some more Zippy juice.

“Just make sure you don’t go near any witches or goblins,” warned Wiffle. “They don’t like children and they can be very spiteful.”

Chapter Five

WIFFLE and Jody mounted Nesbeth as Heatherbelle fluttered overhead, bidding them goodbye.

“Here, take this,” said the fairy, dropping a small silver object into Jody’s hand.

“What is it?” asked a curious Jody.

“It’s a special silver whistle which Wiffle asked me to give you,” said the fairy. “I’ve got to stay here while he is away, but if you get into any trouble just blow that whistle. I’ll come to you and use my magic fairy dust to help you.”

“Thank you very much,” Jody replied, blowing the fairy a kiss, which almost swept her several feet in the air. “OOPS, sorry!”

Heatherbelle giggled and flew back to plant a kiss on Jody’s cheek. “Do be careful,” she warned. “Not only can you be fooled by the visions, but you could be tricked by the pixies and the goblins. And, remember, not all wizards are as nice as Wiffle.”

“I’ll be careful,” Jody promised.

It did not take Nesbeth long to fly Wiffle and Jody to the Island of Visions, where they landed on a hill just beyond the island’s narrow sandy beach.

The wizard pointed out a small jetty a few yards away where a ferry was moored. He explained that the ferry left once an hour to go back to the mainland. Wiffle also gave Jody directions to the shopping area, a golden nugget to buy herself food and drink – and some more advice.

She was to make sure that any shops she went into were the same inside as what they appeared to be on the outside – and if they were not she should leave.

Then Wiffle and Nesbeth took to the air and were gone.

Jody walked towards the centre of the island with the wise wizard’s words ringing in her ears: “Don’t take anything you see for granted – it may just be a vision. And don’t stay out after dark or you’ll get lost. One person you can trust is Milo, the Bag Man. He walks about carrying his belongings in carrier bags from which he produces some quite amazing things. Milo usually eats his lunch by the large water fountain on the far side of the island.

“But if you run into any trouble use the magic whistle to call Heatherbelle. She will hear it no matter how far away she is and she will fly to you immediately.”

Jody, having put the tiny whistle in her dress pocket together with the golden nugget, waved Wiffle goodbye. She then started walking briskly, eventually coming to a dusty road in which there were a sprinkling of dwellings, partly concealed by bright yellow bushes and pink trees.

As she walked on Jody felt increasingly thirsty and when she saw a café sign on the corner of a side-road she wandered towards it. The café had a bright blue frontage, with a large window revealing a few tables and chairs plus a line of stools on either side. Pale blue tablecloths and matching napkins made it appear inviting.

It looked just as nice inside as it did on the outside. So Jody opened the front door, causing a bell to ring, and walked in.

The pixie behind the counter was dressed from head to toe in green, including a hat with a bobble at the top. As he greeted her, Jody took the golden nugget from her pocket.

“Have you come in for our golden nugget special?” the pixie asked, seeing the girl produce her coin.

“What is that exactly?” said Jody doubtfully.

“It’s a bottle of Zap juice and a bag of Zingers. It’s great value for money and the cheapest thing we sell,” he assured her.

Jody didn’t know what Zap juice and Zingers were, but the juice was surely like the Zippy juice she had enjoyed at breakfast and Zingers sounded good. Besides, they were the only things in the café that a golden nugget would buy. “Oh, yes please,” she answered.

The pixie took her golden nugget and told her to wait. He disappeared and suddenly so did the café! Instead, Jody found herself standing outside a petrol station.

She looked in disbelief at the forecourt on which there was only a single petrol pump. On it was hanging a sign which read ‘Garage closed until petrol delivery at 2 pm.’ Where the café counter had been was now a pay kiosk, but there was no trace of the pixie or anyone else.

On the ground next to Jody was a bag labelled ‘Zingers’ and a bottle marked ‘Zap juice’. She picked up the ‘Zap juice’ and read the label, which said ‘Add it to your petrol to make your car zap up the miles.’

“Oh, no,” she cried. “It’s some sort of special fuel. I can’t drink this.”

But then her face lit up. ‘At least I have the bag of Zingers,’ she thought. ‘Perhaps there will be some cookies inside it.’

Jody opened up the bag, only to find it contained six sachets. She read the wording on the sachets: ‘Zingers – the special acid drops that put a zing under your car bonnet and burn away any rust’.

“These are no good either,” fumed the frustrated girl.

Jody left the bottle of Zap juice on the garage forecourt, but stuffed the sachets of Zingers into one of her dress pockets as she trudged away. Her stomach was empty and so was her purse.

She was soon in the middle of the village centre, which consisted of a maze of winding streets and narrow passageways. These contained a mass of quaint little shops ranging from shoe repairers to grocery stores.

The streets were cluttered with people, pixies and a few goblins of all shapes and ages. Most of the people were shoppers who only succeeded in getting in the way of the pixies as they scurried to reach their destinations.

Jody passed several brightly coloured shops, including a large ice cream and soft drinks parlour with a charming wood-carved front. She peered in the large window to see countless containers of delicious-looking ice cream of all flavours from butterscotch and toffee to peach and lemon.

The sight made Jody’s mouth water, but she knew she could not have any. Yet surely this would be a good place to ask for a drink of water.

Plucking up her courage, she pushed open the door on which was a picture of a giant ice cream and bottle of pop. Jody went up to the person behind the counter, another green-clad pixie, and said: “I’m sorry to trouble you – I wonder if I could just have a glass of water, please.”

But the stern-faced pixie, who was less than four foot tall with pointed ears and eyebrows that also arched upwards, told her: “You are not old enough to be inside a tavern, young lady. You are much too young to be in a place like this.”

Jody protested: “It’s not a tavern – this is a pop and ice cream parlour.”

Yet when she turned round she realised to her horror that the shop was another vision and she was, indeed, inside a smoky, poorly lit bar!

The pixie, who she had thought was selling ice cream and pop, was, in fact, perched on a stool behind a bar counter on which were four pumps to enable him to pull pints of beer for his customers.

Grimy shelves at the back of the bar were full of different shaped bottles of various spirits. The largest and most colourful had an orange label identifying it as a special brew of Tamila whisky.

Jody looked around her and saw that the large window was no longer there – instead there was a smaller version containing frosted glass that let in little light.

“You’d better go,” the pixie told her. “This is exclusively for adults. There are a couple of goblins in the other bar – and they hate children. If they see you in here when they are trying to enjoy a quiet drink there will be trouble.”

Jody tried to make a hurried exit, but had lost her bearings in the dimly-lit saloon and, what she assumed to be the way out, took her through two doors into a kitchen where two pixies were working.

One of them, who appeared to be in charge, looked up and asked her: “Have you come to help us with the washing-up?”

“No,” she stammered. “I am looking for my brother and came in for a glass of water.”

The pixie, who wore a bright red shirt and gaudy skin-tight leggings with red and yellow hoops, said: “I’ll give you a glass of water and tell you whatever I know about your brother if you do some washing-up.”

“Have you seen my brother?” Jody asked hopefully. “He’s got blond, wavy hair and big blue eyes like mine. But he is a year older than me.”

“I might have done,” said the pixie. “I might well have done. So have we got a deal?”

“All right, I’ll do some washing-up for you if you tell me what you know” Jody agreed.

Only after she had spoken did she look across to the long metal sink where she saw almost a hundred dirty beer glasses, mugs and plates. “Oh, no,” she sighed. “What have I let myself in for?”

After receiving a glass of water she was given the task of washing all the glasses and mugs – and then the plates as well. By the time she had finished her fingers were red and sore.

“OK,” Jody said to the pixie in the red shirt. “I’ve done the washing-up. Now can you please tell me where my brother is?”

“Tell me again what he looks like,” said the mischievous little imp.

Jody repeated James’s description.

“Haven’t seen him,” replied the pixie, bursting into roars of laughter. The other pixie who was working in the kitchen, cooking on a large, greasy oven, joined in the merriment.

“You naughty, pixie,” Jody cried. “You tricked me into doing all that work and you’ve told me nothing.”

“I didn’t trick you,” he insisted. “I said I’d tell you what I know about your brother. Unfortunately, I don’t know anything.”

Jody felt her face go bright red with embarrassment and anger. She just wanted to get out of the horrid tavern as soon as possible, and marched through the nearest door.

But it led down a passageway and when she got to the end of it she found herself peering into a small private room, with thick wooden beams protruding from a low ceiling and plastered walls that were so old they were flaking.

The only occupants in the room were two strange looking goblins.

Wiffle’s warning immediately came into Jody’s head.

“Goblins don’t like children and they can be very spiteful.”

This pair certainly looked spiteful!

Chapter Six

THE goblins, who sat huddled round a plain wooden table, both had large pointed ears, short legs and knobbly hands. One of them was an ugly, squint-eyed fellow with a mop of untidy hair poking out from a wide-brimmed hat. He was dressed in a short, grey tunic and black boots that only came just above his ankles.

The other goblin was plumper, with big rosy cheeks, and was completely bald. He also wore a grey tunic, but his black boots were much longer.

“So,” the plump goblin named Bodger was saying, putting down the mug of beer from which he had been drinking. “You say our master is about to discover the secret of everlasting life.”

“That’s right,” replied his ugly companion called Enoch. “I heard him talking to his brother on the telephone. He told him he had found the formula to make a secret potion that will keep them both alive forever. He has been collecting all the ingredients and has simply to mix them together in the correct portions. Do you realise, Bodger, how valuable that formula would be?”