Mr Gum and the Power Crystals (11 page)

And now it all came flooding back and Polly knew who she was and what it was she had to do.

‘Listen!' she yelled down to her friends. ‘Like the curse does say,

‘
When next the windmill's sails do turn,
Lamonic Bibber will burn and burn!'

‘So we gots to stop the sails turnin'!' she
pleaded. ‘It's our only hope!'

‘Never you worry, little miss!' shouted Friday, producing a really long rope from under his hat. ‘How can we fail? We've got a really long rope!'

He tossed it up into the sky and how right he was. It wasn't just a really long rope, it was a
really
long rope and it easily made it to the windmill, no problem. Polly caught the end of it and without hesitating she jumped from the window on to the heavy wooden sail beyond.

Lawdy Miss Clawdy, that sail was a slip-slidey old monster! The rain lashed and the wind blew like a xylophone and Nicholas de Twinklecakes kept gobbing bad weather towards Polly and I don't think it was an accident either. He was trying to knock her off, that's what I think. And all the while the sails were turning, faster and faster until Polly was quite certain she'd fall, just like that unlucky egg in the children's nursery rhyme,
Yolk Boy, Yolk Boy, That
Wall's Not Safe!

But somehow Polly didn't fall. No, somehow she clung on, and soon she had the rope fastened tightly to the sail.

‘Quick, Mrs L!' cried Polly, and down on the ground Mrs Lovely threw her end of the rope to the animals. Instantly they grabbed it up between their teeth, all three of them – Jake, Barcelona Jim and Friday O'Leary.

‘Now PULL!' Mrs Lovely commanded the
mighty beasts. ‘PULL, I say!'

And pull they did, like no beasts have ever pulled before or since. With all their might they
pulled, the sweat running down their faces, the muscles on their necks standing out with the strain.

But even as they struggled, the sails made their first complete turn and Polly saw a lick of flame spring up in the distance, a lick of flame as tall as a hotel. The power crystals were doing their terrible work and Lamonic Bibber was about to burn.

‘For the Forces of Good – PULL HARDER!' commanded Mrs Lovely and Polly together.

‘
WOOF!
' barked Jake, digging his paws deeper still into the muddy ground.

‘
HEE-HAW!
' brayed Barcelona Jim, grimacing as he tugged on the rope.

‘
NEIGH!
' bellowed Friday, tossing back his head wildly. ‘
NEEEEIIIIIGGGGHH!
'

‘You've nearly done it!' shouted Polly. ‘The sails are a-slowin'! Keep pullin', keep pullin'!'

‘But how much longer can they pull?' cried Mrs Lovely anxiously. For the brave beasts were almost at the end of their strength.

‘Hang on!' shouted Polly suddenly. ‘Try tyin'
the rope to that enormous castle over there! That oughts to hold it!'

It's true, there was a massive castle next door to the windmill, I forgot to mention it before. And a pyramid.

Panting and heaving, inch by hairy inch, the tiring beasts dragged that rope towards the castle. And Mrs Lovely ran over and with her nimble little hands she tied the end of the rope to the castle's door.

And then and only then, the windmill's sails

came

to

a

complete

stop.

And so it was done. In the wind and the rain and the howling of the storm, the sails of the windmill stood still once more. With the last of her strength Polly slid down the rope and crawled over to where the great beasts lay in an exhausted heap, their sides moving rapidly in and out as they recovered from their ordeal. Mrs Lovely sat beside the poor things, patting and stroking and making soothing noises all the while.

‘There, there, boy,' she said, popping a sugar lump into Friday's quivering mouth. ‘There,
there, it's all right now.'

‘Mrs – Lovely,' gasped Polly. ‘Mrs – Lovely, is – it – really – over?'

‘Yes,' came a voice just then. ‘The terror is truly at an end.'

And standing at the window of the windmill, gazing out peacefully over them all was none other than that wondrous boy, the Spirit of the Rainbow.

‘Friends,' he beamed. ‘You have all worked hard together to save the day and the Forces of
Good are very proud of you. But now your work is done. It is my turn to shine.'

Without another word, the honest lad removed the power crystals from the Control Panel. At once the flames in the distance disappeared and Lamonic Bibber was safe and sound.

‘We don't need this any longer,' said the boy, cutting the rope from the windmill's sail with his special Rainbow Scissors. ‘It's time to make the world glow with happy colours once more.'

And then the Spirit of the Rainbow did a very strange thing. He took the power crystals and put them back into the Control Panel,
I'm not even kidding, he really really did.

‘Spirit of the Rainbow, DON'T!' cried Polly in horror. ‘You're gonna make it all start up 'gain!'

‘Yes, child,' nodded the boy, though he was no older than she. ‘But look! I have put the pink crystal in the white slot – and the white crystal in the pink slot. You see, Nicholas de Twinklecakes designed the power crystals to do evil.'

‘IT'S TRUE,'
admitted Nicholas from up in the sky.
‘SORRY ABOUT THAT, EVERYONE.'

‘But by reversing the crystals,' continued the boy, ‘they will now do
good
deeds instead. From this day forth the windmill will be on our side, and it will make delicious loaves of bread for all!'

‘A wop bop-a-lu bop, a wop bam boom!' shouted everyone happily.

And from where she sat, Polly saw something that
everybody else had missed. It was Nicholas de Twinklecakes again. He was still made out of clouds, but he was no longer an evil madman. No, he was a handsome young man indeed, with the merriest smile Polly had ever seen.

On either side of him stood his wife and son. They too were made out of clouds, with happy bluebirds perching on their eyebrows and smiles so dazzling that Polly had to put on sunglasses just to look at them.

‘Thank you, Polly,' said Nicholas de Twinklecakes in a gentle voice like a soft summer breeze. ‘You and your pals are the best.'

‘Hoorah,' said his wife and son. ‘Hoorah hoorah hoorah.'

‘Now come on,' said Nicholas, turning towards his beautiful dead family of ghosts. ‘Let's go to Heaven and play table tennis forever and ever and ever, or even longer if possible.'

And as the reunited de Twinklecakes drifted
away to that magical place, the rain stopped falling and the storm clouds disappeared. And the moon rose peacefully in the evening sky, humming a jazzy melody on its silvery breath. It was going to be a beautiful night.

But Alan Taylor isn't here to see it,
remembered Polly all of a sudden. And though the battle was won, her heart was filled with sorrow.

‘A
shes to ashes,' said Friday. ‘Crumbs to crumbs.'

The heroes stood beneath a starry sky in the Old Meadow yonder, down by the Lamonic River where the water rushes grow. They were burying their good friend, Alan Taylor.

Well, actually they were burying a small drawing of him done by Polly especially for the occasion. It was all they had to remember him by.

Gently Friday laid the drawing in a hole in the ground and together, Jake and Barcelona Jim covered it over with earth.

‘'Tis a sad night,' said Old Granny, who had come down to the meadow when she heard the news. ‘Aye, 'tis a sad, sad night,' she said again, weeping into her handkerchief and having a crafty sip of sherry at the same time.

‘Very true,' said Friday, gazing off into the distance. ‘But life is life and death is death and Alan Taylor will never be forgotten. THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE! He was the best biscuit I ever knew. For a start, he was the only one who
could talk and run around and ride a little toy bicycle.'

‘He done taught me so much 'bout the natural world,' sniffed Polly. ‘He knew all the names of all the creatures, no matter how great nor snail.'

‘And though he himself was small, he was a true giant among men,' nodded Friday, ‘and I hereby award him the highest title possible – the title of Captain Excellent. Thank you, Captain
Excellent, wherever you are!'

‘Yes, thank you, Captain Excellent!' echoed the others. And for a long while everyone sat there in silence, remembering their friend.

‘But come,' said the Spirit of the Rainbow at last, as dawn was breaking over the horizon. ‘Today is a new day and just as the sun rises, so too do delicious loaves of bread. Let us feast together.'

Wearily the others followed the lad over to
the windmill. They watched unenthusiastically as he started up the machinery. No one really felt like breakfast but presently an early morning breeze caught the windmill's sails. And soon enough, a fresh loaf of bread appeared on the conveyor belt, the first loaf of bread the windmill had made since Nicholas de Twinklecakes' time. Only it wasn't a loaf of bread at all, it was a different kind of baked good altogether. In fact –