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  That same afternoon, at the Drabville Baths (a dome-shaped building made up almost entirely of mosaic tiles in various shades of blue and green) Ernest broke the news to his best friend. The response he received from her was certainly less dispassionate.

  ‘Why do you say something like this now?’ Milli said, clenching her fists and rolling her eyes dramatically.

  ‘What’s wrong with now?’ Ernest looked around furtively to check whether there was something else going on that he’d somehow missed.

  ‘The last thing we need right now is for you to go all funny.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think any humour will be immediately apparent,’ Ernest said, trying to sound appeasing.

  ‘Sonneteers can still play, right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Milli was sufficiently heartened by this to share an announcement of her own. ‘I’ve decided something too,’ she said, her eyes shining.

  ‘Really?’ said Ernest, in a tone that meant: this should be good.

  ‘I’ve decided not to grow up,’ Milli told him.

  ‘How interesting. And when did you come to this decision?’

  ‘Just this morning. I’m afraid you shall have to go on without me.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Ernest, trying his best to twist his amusement into a sympathetic smile.

  ‘You think I’m joking!’

  ‘Don’t be a twit, Milli—you can’t arrest your own growth. It’s a biological impossibility.’

  ‘I think I can, if I concentrate really hard.’

  ‘No, you can’t. It’s nothing to do with concentration. I assume you’ll continue your consumption of food and water during this period of non-development?’

  ‘Of course. I don’t plan to die of starvation.’

  ‘Then you’ll continue to grow,’ Ernest said plainly.

  ‘I could give up healthy foods like dairy, lean meat and leafy vegetables,’ Milli suggested.

  ‘That won’t stop you growing; it just means you’ll grow with bad skin and poor eyesight. Why would you want to stay a child forever anyway?’

  Milli paused a moment before offering a reply. ‘Well, what attraction can you see in growing up?’

  Ernest, who was sitting with his legs dangling over the pool’s edge, pensively rubbed his chin with his hand. ‘You have a point there,’ he said.

  Milli had been making similarly ridiculous pronouncements at home. At first, the other Klompets had raised their eyebrows in amusement but it had now got to the point where her family felt as though they had to walk on eggshells around her.

  ‘Why does our house have to have such ugly windows?’ Milli demanded one day.

  Sensing trouble, her parents exchanged cautionary glances and tried to defuse the mounting tension.

  ‘Ugly is such a relative term,’ said Mr Klompet, trying to sound light-hearted.

  ‘How does potato pizza for dinner sound?’ asked Milli’s mother, trying to change the subject.

  But Milli wouldn’t be sidetracked.

  ‘I need my room to have casement windows. It’s not fair that it doesn’t. Can’t they be changed?’

  ‘Not without incurring considerable expense,’ said Rosie, quickly running out of patience.

  ‘Why, Capricious Daughter, this urgent need for casement windows?’ Milli’s father was foolish enough to ask.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? I need windows that open outwards so Peter Pan can visit. He’s probably been trying for months but he can’t squeeze in!’

  (For any of you unfamiliar with the story of Peter Pan, it is about a boy who lives in a magical place called Neverland where you never grow up. He visits a girl called Wendy Darling by climbing through her nursery window.)

  ‘Well then, I promise to give the installation of casement windows some quite serious consideration,’ Mr Klompet said.

  Milli’s fractious mood continued. ‘Don’t you think this family needs a holiday after everything that’s happened?’ she said.

  ‘Now that isn’t such a bad idea,’ Rosie replied, ‘if Dorkus could be talked round. Where should we go, do you think?’

  ‘Wherever the Fountain of Youth is most likely to be located, of course. Somewhere in Europe, I imagine, but we need to find out and go straightaway. There isn’t a minute to lose.’

  By now you may be raising your own eyebrows in disapproval and thinking, BRING BACK CORPORAL PUNISHMENT!, but Milli was not being difficult for the sake of it. In fact, in her own mind she could not see that she was being anything but reasonable. As often happens with children who are left to their own devices and end up relying mainly on the workings of their imagination for company, Milli continued to believe unequivocally that anything was possible.

  Both the Klompets and the Perriclofs concluded that their children’s odd behaviour was the result of trauma and their current lack of popularity, and tried to be understanding. Milli and Ernest were encouraged to take Stench for long walks or given small errands to run to keep them from brooding.

  It was on one of these walks with Stench that they found something interesting happening right under their noses. Change was something towards which Drabville had recently developed a reactionary attitude, but Milli and Ernest wandered into one part of town where change seemed to be taking place relatively unobstructed. This change had to do with construction, and although Milli and Ernest were the first to stumble upon it, any family taking a Sunday morning stroll through Poxxley Gardens could not have missed it. The old ruin, Hog House, which had once served as the town mayor’s private residence, appeared to be undergoing extensive renovation.

  Hog House was, of course, the site of the children’s incarceration by the mad Mr and Mrs Mayor. Their adventures there now seemed so long ago. They both shuddered at the memory of what had gone on behind those doors.

  But despite their unease, Milli and Ernest had not outgrown the lure of detective work and were intrigued. They observed the work in silence for some time before deciding there was something not quite right about it.

  ‘How strange that someone should want to rebuild on this site,’ Milli said. ‘No one’s been near it since we left and some people even say it’s haunted.’

  ‘Haunted or not, it was bound to happen,’ Ernest said, trying to sound practical. ‘The real question is, what are they building?’

  Stench, excited by the possibility of new smells, strained on his leash, but when they got closer the children saw that wire fencing had been erected around the building site, both as a safety precaution and to keep inquisitive intruders out.

  The mystery surrounding the new building was fuelled in subsequent days by the mumbled answers children received whenever they quizzed their parents about what was happening at the big old place behind the park. Their parents wouldn’t give an immediate reply; and when they did it was far from satisfactory, with responses along the lines of community centre or residential development. There were serious inconsistencies in the range of explanations given. But as building sites are generally not that exciting to children unless they are permitted to fossick amongst the rubble, the matter was gradually dropped and the construction carried on in the background, given no more than a cursory glance by those who happened to be walking by.

  Milli and Ernest, of course, did not lose interest. Hog House remained, in their minds a place of mystery and adventure. They tried on several occasions to get a closer look but were prevented by barricades and workmen in yellow safety helmets jumping out at them. They had to confine their investigation to keeping a close eye on the flurry of activity—scaffolding being erected, barricades shifted to allow access to bobcats and trucks, workmen pushing wheelbarrows filled with all manner of building materials. But if they lingered too long they were promptly told to ‘Skedaddle’. Although the building itself was too far away for them to make out any detail, one thing they did notice each time they were drawn to the site was the rapidity of progress. As for the workers, they didn’t recognise a single face amongs
t them. Obviously they had all been brought in from other villages specially for the project. That, too, was very interesting.

  One afternoon, when the children’s interest was finally starting to wane, Stench broke free of their hold and crashed through an opening in the fence, eager to chase down something that had caught his eye. Fortunately, the workmen were at a safe distance packing up for the day, so the children were able to scramble through after Stench. When they finally retrieved the panting dog, they found the object that had drawn his attention was a silver bell, no bigger than a thumbnail, glittering in the afternoon sun. It was an incongruous object to find amidst building rubble and plaster dust. Milli bent to retrieve it, but the bell slipped continually from her fingers and could not be grasped. They made a hasty retreat when Stench began to bark in mounting frustration.

  ‘What do you make of that?’ Milli asked.

  Ernest shook his head. ‘Must be a relic from Hog House.’

  ‘Wherever it’s from, that’s no ordinary bell,’ said Milli. ‘Should we report it?’

  Ernest rolled his eyes at her. ‘And risk mass hysteria, not to mention losing the freedom we’ve only just started to enjoy? I don’t think so.’

  When Milli and Ernest and the children of Drabville returned from the Conjurors’ Realm, they did not return alone. With them came two freckled twins with limbs the width of matchsticks and a weather-beaten old woman wearing a hairnet and lugging a suitcase stuffed full of cooking utensils. The arrival of Finn and Fennel and Nonna Luna in Drabville generated considerable interest amongst the townsfolk. Who were these elastic acrobatic twins who wore far-away expressions and insisted on sewing sequins on their school uniforms so as to feel more at home? Who was this old woman as gnarled as an ancient tree whose dishes could persuade even the most lethargic of men to mow the lawn? Could these visitors be trusted if they came from a world once overseen by Lord Aldor? But it did not take long for the good nature of the new arrivals to become obvious and all suspicion vanished. After all, how could Drabville not welcome with open arms individuals who had been so pivotal in their children’s escape?

  Finn and Fennel’s assimilation into Drabville wasn’t without some early mishaps. Due to their upbringing the twins were a little short on social graces. They tended to laugh too loudly and point at anything that delighted them. At first, they walked around Drabville in a state of wonder, especially struck each time a citizen performed an act of courtesy or kindness. They were amazed to see the fit willingly give up their seats on buses for the elderly or infirm or to hear one person begging the pardon of another they had accidentally knocked against. They would duck instinctively if someone tried to shake their hand, and anything free—like sugar cubes on café tables—was a source of great excitement. It took some time before they could be dissuaded from pocketing sugar cubes when they thought the staff weren’t looking. The townsfolk, however, were patient, understanding that these children had grown up accustomed to cruelty and indifference.

  Initially the twins had stayed with the Klompets but then a lady with impeccable credentials offered to adopt them. She was none other than teacher and librarian Miss Linear, who was positively ecstatic about the prospect of offering the twins a home. Miss Linear had never got around to having children of her own. This was ascribed to the well-known fact that she had not as yet found a member of the opposite sex whose company she could tolerate long enough to share a cup of tea with let alone contemplate the idea of breeding with. Milli suspected Miss Linear’s lack of a partner might have something to do with the revolting mustard-coloured cardigan she wore every day of the year, coupled with woollen stockings and brown brogues as unflattering as bricks. But Miss Linear made no such connection, proclaiming that she had yet to meet a man whose company she preferred to that of her cat, Pocket.

  After only a month of living with Miss Linear, Finn and Fennel had filled out, and their eyes had lost their haunted look and gained a new lustre. The twins wore with pride the matching vests Miss Linear knitted them, and pounced on the printed word like hungry wolves. They started by reading bus tickets and the jokes on the backs of cereal boxes, but quickly progressed to books and became voracious and critical readers. It was Finn’s personal mission to read every title in the town library’s historical fiction collection, whilst Fennel loved nothing more than a good romance in which the hero rode a black stallion and the heroine always wore white. Neither, however, could bear to read books in the fantasy genre.

  Nonna Luna was a hit from the start. By selling some Lampo family heirlooms originally intended for her grandson, she was able to set up a nice little business she called The Pasta Train. Before long she had a massive following amongst the mothers of Drabville. Not only did her food develop a reputation for quality and generous portions, but Nonna made her pasta in full view of her customers. It wasn’t a bad way to spend your lunch break, standing outside Nonna’s front window, watching her skilled hands knead and work the dough, then cut it into various shapes and sizes before hanging it up to dry. Spectators often broke into spontaneous applause and invariably bought something for dinner. Sauces, too, were available in little tubs and needed only gentle heating once you got home. Some type of dish from The Pasta Train appeared on Drabville dinner tables at least once a week after Nonna’s arrival, and suddenly mothers found they had more time for important matters like visits to the hairdresser or those golf lessons they’d been forever putting off.

  The other thing Nonna introduced to Drabville was real coffee. Up until then Drabville coffee had been a bitter brew, made by pouring hot water over brown granules that bore a remarkable resemblance to rat poison. But now the townsfolk could choose between a velvety smooth cappuccino or an espresso guaranteed to recharge one’s batteries just in time for that morning board meeting. In the more cosmopolitan Drabville it wasn’t long before people started saying ‘Ciao’ instead of their usual ‘Cheerio for now’.

  Nonna Luna refused to dwell on past experiences; she had drawn a curtain across them. If Milli or Ernest ever attempted to engage her in conversation about their time at Battalion Minor, or Queen Fidelis and her Kingdom of Mirth, she would immediately put up a hand in warning and offer them a pastry to change the subject. Finn and Fennel were so grateful to finally be part of a caring home that they too had little interest in recalling the past. But Milli and Ernest had no intention of forgetting and often privately shared their recollections. They could not look at a patch of wild mushrooms growing in the woods, or a cluster of daisies by the roadside, without being transported back to Mirth and reliving the magic they had experienced there. In fact, for Milli and Ernest there wasn’t much that did not trigger memories of the Conjurors’ Realm.

  The normally reserved Ernest made a huge admission to Milli one afternoon. ‘Sometimes I actually miss the Realm,’ he said with a degree of surprise.

  ‘Me too,’ agreed Milli, not the least bit surprised. ‘Things have changed too much around here,’ she complained. ‘Nobody seems to have fun any more.’

  ‘Perhaps it’s time we stopped thinking about fun,’ Ernest suggested without much conviction. ‘After all, we start senior school next week and there’ll be plenty of study to keep us occupied.’

  ‘Thanks, Ernest, for those words of comfort.’

  ‘What I mean is, the concept of fun can be redefined as you get older. It doesn’t mean you stop having it.’

  Milli gave him a ferocious frown. ‘Anything that has to be redefined doesn’t sound much like fun to me.’

  We can hardly blame Milli for feeling this way. Who could welcome a return to routine after visiting a world filled with such wonders as convicts imprisoned in cobblestones, giants, hags, shiny citadels made of precious stones, and shopkeeper pixies that like to play practical jokes on their customers? I am not saying that Milli did not relish the security of home; merely that being home and safe did not necessarily obliterate the thrills of their past experiences. Even Ernest gave himself away once by unthinkingly aski
ng whether Admiral’s Beard was on the menu at the local pub, and on more than one occasion Milli found herself asking her mother if she might have three soots instead of pennies to spend at the corner store.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Birds of a Feather

  Soon there really wasn’t the time to reminisce about the past, or speculate about Hog House or slippery silver bells. When Mrs Klompet had discovered that the children were snooping around the building site, she emphatically forbade them to visit again. Not wanting to cause further trouble Milli and Ernest listened. Besides there were other things for them to worry about.

  Milli and Ernest started as juniors at St Erudite’s Academy and their new school presented them with such a host of requirements and expectations that survival soon became their prime objective. No sooner did they feel that they had things under control than another challenge was thrown at them. Never in their entire lives had they had to manage their time so carefully, but now it was a necessity if they were to complete what was required of them and not fall behind. Suddenly every half-hour had to be accounted for, and leisure became something you had to block out time for along with everything else. Needless to say, Ernest fared better than Milli in this regard.

  St Erudite’s Academy was no ordinary school; it was the oldest and most well-regarded secondary school in the region. It had been carefully selected by Milli’s and Ernest’s parents as it offered a wide range of academic studies and was the only school that still taught Latin. It had an unrivalled music department with numerous orchestras and ensembles, as well as lush sports ovals, tennis courts and a newly built pool and gymnasium, and a veritable smorgasbord of co-curricular activities. In addition it boasted an impressive array of luminaries amongst its alumni. Ernest had been granted a full scholarship and was very conscious of living up to the expectations associated with this position. He regularly reminded Milli that she should feel privileged to have been accepted to St Erudite’s, as many were on waiting lists and had been since birth. Milli rolled her eyes but didn’t argue the point.