Then Hamish Bigmore came to stay at Thomas and Pete’s house.
This wasn’t at all a good thing, at least not for Thomas and Pete. But they had no choice. Hamish Bigmore’s mother and father had to go away for a few days, and Thomas and Pete’s mum had offered to look after Hamish until they came back. She never asked Thomas and Pete what they thought about the idea until it was too late.
Hamish Bigmore behaved even worse than they had expected. He found all their favourite books and games, which they had tried to hide from him, and spoilt them or left them lying about the house where they got trodden on and broken. He pulled the stuffing out of Wim’s favourite teddy bear, bounced up and down so hard on the garden climbing-frame that it bent, and talked for hours and hours after the light had been put out at night, so that Thomas and Pete couldn’t get to sleep. ‘It’s awful,’ said Thomas. ‘I wish that something really nasty would happen to him.’
And it did.
Hamish Bigmore was behaving just as badly at school as at Thomas and Pete’s house. The business of the ruler turning into a snake had frightened him for a few days, but no longer than that, and now he was up to his old tricks again, doing anything rather than listen to Mr Majeika and behave properly.
On the Wednesday morning before Hamish Bigmore’s mother and father were due to come home, Mr Majeika was giving Class Three a nature-study lesson, with the tadpoles in the glass tank that sat by his desk. Hamish Bigmore was being ruder than ever.
‘Does anyone know how long tadpoles take to turn into frogs?’ Mr Majeika asked Class Three.
‘Haven’t the slightest idea,’ said Hamish Bigmore.
‘Please,’ said Melanie, holding up her hand, ‘I don’t think it’s very long. Only a few weeks.’
‘You should know,’ sneered Hamish Bigmore. ‘You look just like a tadpole yourself.’
Melanie began to cry.
‘Be quiet, Hamish Bigmore,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Melanie is quite right. It all happens very quickly. The tadpoles grow arms and legs, and very soon –’
‘I shouldn’t think they’ll grow at all if they see you staring in at them through the glass,’ said Hamish Bigmore to Mr Majeika. ‘Your face would frighten them to death!’
‘Hamish Bigmore, I have had enough of you,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Will you stop behaving like this?’
‘No, I won’t!’ said Hamish Bigmore.
Mr Majeika pointed a finger at him.
And Hamish Bigmore vanished.
There was complete silence. Class Three stared at the empty space where Hamish Bigmore had been sitting.
Then Pandora Green pointed at the glass tank, and began to shout: ‘Look! Look! A frog! A frog! One of the tadpoles has turned into a frog!’
Mr Majeika looked closely at the tank. Then he put his head in his hands. He seemed very upset.
‘No, Pandora,’ he said. ‘It isn’t one of the tadpoles. It’s Hamish Bigmore.’
For a moment, Class Three were struck dumb. Then everyone burst out laughing. ‘Hooray! Hooray! Hamish Bigmore has been turned into a frog! Good old Mr Magic!’
‘It looks like Hamish Bigmore, doesn’t it?’ Pete said to Thomas. Certainly the frog’s expression looked very much like Hamish’s face. And it was splashing noisily around the tank and carrying on the silly sort of way that Hamish did.
Mr Majeika looked very worried. ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ he kept saying.
‘Didn’t you mean to do it?’ asked Jody.
Mr Majeika shook his head. ‘Certainly not. I quite forgot myself. It was a complete mistake.’
‘Well,’ said Thomas, ‘you can turn him back again, can’t you?’
Mr Majeika shook his head again. ‘I’m not at all sure that I can,’ he said.
Thomas and Pete looked at him in astonishment.
‘You see,’ he went on, ‘it was an old spell, something I learnt years and years ago and thought I’d forgotten. I don’t know what were the exact words I used. And, as I am sure you understand, it’s not possible to undo a spell unless you know exactly what the words were.’
‘So Hamish Bigmore may have to stay a frog?’ said Pete. ‘That’s the best thing I’ve heard for ages!’
Mr Majeika shook his head. ‘For you, maybe, but not for him. I’ll have to try and do something.’ And he began to mutter a whole series of strange-sounding words under his breath.
All kinds of things began to happen. The room went dark, and the floor seemed to rock. Green smoke came out of an empty jar on Mr Majeika’s desk. He tried some more words, and this time there was a small thunderstorm in the sky outside. But nothing happened to the frog.
‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Mr Majeika, ‘what am I going to do?’
4. The Frog’s Princess
Thomas and Pete thought for a moment. Then Thomas said: ‘Don’t worry about it yet, Mr Magic. Hamish Bigmore’s parents are away, and he’s staying with us. You’ve got two days to find the right spell before they come back and expect to find him.’
‘Two days,’ repeated Mr Majeika. ‘In that case there is a chance. We shall simply have to see what happens at midnight.’
‘Midnight?’ asked Jody.
‘My friend,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘surely you know that in fairy stories everything returns to its proper shape when the clock strikes twelve?’
‘Cinderella’s coach,’ said Jody.
‘Exactly,’ answered Mr Majeika. ‘But one can’t be certain of it. There’s only a chance. I’ll stay here tonight, and see what happens.’
And with that, Class Three went home.
Thomas and Pete felt that really they should have taken Hamish Bigmore home with them, even if he was a frog. After all, he was supposed to be staying with them.
‘But,’ said Pete, ‘it’s not easy carrying frogs. He might escape, and jump into a river or something, and we’d never see him again.’
‘And a very good thing too,’ said Thomas.
‘You can’t say that,’ remarked Pete. ‘He may be only Hamish Bigmore to you and me, but to his mum and dad he’s darling little Hamie, or something like that. And just think what it would be like to be mother and father to a frog. Going to the shops, and the library, and that sort of thing, and people saying: “Oh, Mrs Bigmore, what a sweet little frog you’re carrying in that jar.” And Hamish’s mum having to say: “Oh, Mrs Smith, that’s not just a frog, that’s our son Hamish.”’
When Thomas and Pete’s mum saw them at the school gates the first thing she said was ‘Where’s Hamish?’, and they had quite a time persuading her that Hamish wouldn’t be coming home with them that afternoon, or staying the night, but was visiting friends, and was being perfectly well taken care of.
‘Who are these friends?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘What’s their name?’
‘Tadpoles,’ said Pete, without thinking.
‘Idiot,’ whispered Thomas, kicking him. ‘We don’t know their name,’ he told his mum. ‘But Mr Majeika, our new teacher, arranged it, so it must be all right.’
‘Oh, did he?’ said their mum. ‘Well, he might have told me. But I suppose I shouldn’t fuss.’ And she took them home.
When they got back to school the next morning, Hamish Bigmore was still a frog.
‘Nothing happened at all,’ said Mr Majeika gloomily.
He tried to make Class Three get on with their ordinary work, but it wasn’t much use. Nobody had their minds on anything but Hamish Bigmore, swimming up and down in his tank.
Everyone kept making suggestions to Mr Majeika.
‘Mr Magic, couldn’t you just get a magic wand and wave it over him?’
‘Couldn’t you say “Abracadabra” and see if that works?’
‘Couldn’t you find another wizard and ask him what to do?’
‘My friends,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘it’s no use. There’s nothing else to try. Last night, while I was here alone, I made use of every possible means I know, and I can do nothing. And as to finding another wizard, that would be very hard indeed. Ther
e are so very few still working, and we don’t know each other’s names. It might take me years to find another one, and even then he might not have the answer.’
Class Three went home rather gloomily that day. They had all begun to feel sorry for Hamish Bigmore. ‘He’s staying with his friends again,’ Thomas and Pete told their mother.
The next day was Friday. Hamish Bigmore’s parents were due to come home that evening.
Half-way through morning school, Jody suddenly put up her hand and said: ‘Mr Magic?’
‘Yes, Jody?’
‘Mr Magic, I’ve got an idea. You said that things sometimes happen like they do in fairy stories. I mean, like Cinderella’s coach turning back into a pumpkin.’
‘Yes, sometimes,’ said Mr Majeika, ‘but as you’ve seen with Hamish, not always.’
‘Well,’ said Jody, ‘there is something that I wondered about. You see, in fairy stories people are often turned into frogs. And they always get turned back again in the end, don’t they? And I’ve been trying to remember how.’
Jody paused. ‘Go on,’ said Mr Majeika.
‘Well,’ said Jody, ‘I did remember. Frogs turn back into princes when they get kissed by a princess.’
Mr Majeika’s eyes lit up. ‘Goodness!’ he said. ‘You’re absolutely right! Why didn’t I think of that? We must try it at once!’
‘Try what, Mr Magic?’ asked Pandora Green.
‘Why, have Hamish Bigmore kissed by a princess. And then I do believe there’s a very good chance he will change back.’
‘But please, Mr Magic,’ said Thomas, ‘how are you going to manage it? I mean, there’s not so very many princesses around these days. Not as many as in fairy stories.’
‘There’s some at Buckingham Palace,’ said Pandora.
‘But they don’t go around kissing frogs,’ said Thomas.
‘You bet they don’t,’ said Pete. ‘You see pictures of them in the newspapers doing all sorts of things, opening new hospitals, and naming ships, and that sort of thing. But not kissing frogs.’
‘Are you sure, my young friend?’ said Mr Majeika gloomily.
‘Quite sure,’ said Thomas. ‘Unless they do it when nobody’s looking. I mean, it’s not the sort of thing they’d get much fun out of, is it? Frog-kissing, I mean.’
‘I bet,’ said Pete, ‘that a real live princess wouldn’t do it if you paid her a thousand pounds.’
‘Just imagine,’ said Thomas, ‘going to Buckingham Palace, and ringing the doorbell, and saying: “Please, have you got any princesses in today, and would they mind kissing a frog for us?” They’d probably fetch the police.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘I’m afraid you’re right.’
Nobody spoke for a long time. Then Mr Majeika said gloomily: ‘It seems that Hamish Bigmore will have to remain a frog. I wonder what his parents will say.’
‘Please,’ said Jody, ‘I’ve got an idea again. It may be silly, but it might work. What I think is this. If we can’t get a real princess, we might pretend to have one. Make a kind of play, I mean. Dress up somebody like a princess. Do you think that’s silly?’ She looked hopefully at Mr Majeika.
‘Not at all,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘We’ve nothing to lose by trying it!’
Which was how Class Three came to spend a good deal of the morning trying to make the room look like a royal palace in a fairy story. They found the school caretaker and persuaded him to lend them some old blue curtains that were used for the play at the end of term. And Mrs Honey who taught the nursery class agreed to give them a box of dressing-up clothes that the little children used. In this were several crowns and robes and other things that could be made to look royal.
Then there was a dreadful argument about who was to play the princess.
Jody said she ought to, because it had all been her idea. Pandora Green said she should, because she looked pretty, and princesses always look pretty. Mr Majeika tried to settle it by saying that Melanie should do it, as she was the only girl in the class who hadn’t asked to. But Melanie, who hated the idea of kissing a frog, started to cry. So in the end Mr Majeika said that Jody should do it after all, and the other girls could be sort-of-princesses too, only Jody would play the chief one.
Then they got ready. A kind of throne had been made out of Mr Majeika’s chair, with one of the blue curtains draped over it.
Jody wore another of the curtains as a cloak, and one of the crowns, and a lot of coloured beads from the dressing-up box. And all the other girls stood round her.
Mr Majeika turned out the classroom lights and drew the curtains. Then he said he thought they ought to have some music, just to make things seem more like a fairy story. So Thomas got out his recorder, and played ‘God Save the Queen’ and ‘Good King Wenceslas’, which were the only tunes he knew. They didn’t seem quite right for the occasion, but Mr Majeika said they would have to do. Then he told Jody to start being the princess, and say the sort of things that princesses might say in fairy stories.
Jody thought for a moment. Then she said in a high voice: ‘O my courtiers, I have heard that in this kingdom there is a poor prince who has been enchanted into a frog by some wicked magician.’ She turned to Mr Majeika and whispered: ‘You’re not wicked, really, Mr Magic, but that’s what happens in fairy stories, isn’t it?’
‘Of course,’ said Mr Majeika. ‘Please continue. You are doing splendidly.’
‘O my courtiers,’ went on Jody, ‘I do request that one of you shall speedily bring me this frog. For I have seen it written that should a princess of the blood royal kiss this poor frog with her own lips, he will regain his proper shape.’ She paused. ‘Well, go on, somebody,’ she hissed. ‘Fetch me the frog!’
It was Mr Majeika himself who stepped up to the tank, put in his hands, and drew out Hamish Bigmore. So he did not see the door opening and Mr Potter coming into the room.
‘Ah, Mr Majeika,’ said Mr Potter, ‘I just wanted to ask you if you could look after school dinner again today, because –’ He stopped, staring at the extraordinary scene.
Mr Majeika was kneeling on one knee in front of Jody, holding out the frog. ‘Go on,’ he whispered, ‘I feel the magic working.’
‘O frog,’ said Jody in her high voice, ‘O frog, I command you, turn back into a prince!’ And she kissed the frog.
‘Now, really,’ said Mr Potter, ‘I’m not at all in favour of nature-study being mixed up with story-times. And school curtains should not be used for this sort of thing. While as to that frog, its proper place is a pond. I’ll allow tadpoles in school, but not frogs. They jump out of the tanks and get all over the place. Now, if you’ll just hand that one over … Where is it?’
‘Here I am,’ said Hamish Bigmore. He had appeared out of nowhere, and the frog was gone.
Mr Potter sat down very suddenly in the nearest chair. ‘I don’t feel very well,’ he said.
‘Ah,’ said Hamish Bigmore, ‘you should try being a frog for a few days. Does you no end of good. Makes you feel really healthy, I can tell you. All that swimming about, why, I’ve never felt better in my life. And being kissed by princesses, too. Not that my princess was a real one.’ He turned to Mr Majeika. ‘You really should have taken me to Buckingham Palace,’ he said. ‘I’m sure the Queen herself would have done it, to oblige me.’
Mr Potter got to his feet and left the room, muttering something about needing to go and see a doctor because he was imagining things.
‘And now,’ said Hamish Bigmore to Class Three, ‘I’m going to tell you all about the life and habits of the frog.’ Which he did, at great length.
‘Oh dear,’ said Pete to Thomas. ‘He’s worse than ever.’
5. The Disappearing Bottle
It was about three weeks after this that several of Class Three went to see a film about Superman.
‘The best bit,’ said Jody to Pete and Thomas, ‘was when he flew right over those tall buildings. I’d love to be able to fly like that. Do you think people ever can?’
‘I shouldn’t have thought so,’ said Pete. ‘But you could ask Mr Magic. I’m sure he’d know.’
So, when Class Three were beginning their next lesson, Jody did ask him: ‘Mr Magic, can you really fly, like Superman?’
Mr Majeika smiled at her over his glasses. ‘If you mean me, then certainly not! I’m too old for such things. But someone a bit younger could manage it, with a little help.’
‘Do you mean a little magic?’ asked Jody. Mr Majeika nodded.
‘Rubbish!’ shouted Hamish Bigmore. ‘You couldn’t make anyone fly, Mr Magic. No one could. It’s scientifically impossible.’ Since the business of the frog, Hamish Bigmore had been behaving worse than ever. Obviously he thought Mr Majeika wouldn’t dare to do anything else to him.
Mr Majeika sighed wearily. ‘It is not rubbish, Hamish Bigmore, but I don’t intend to waste time showing you.’
‘Oh do, please do,’ said Jody, and soon there was a chorus of: ‘Yes, do, Mr Magic! Couldn’t you, just once?’
‘Of course he can’t,’ sneered Hamish Bigmore.
‘Very well then,’ snapped Mr Majeika, ‘just to prove Hamish Bigmore wrong, I will. But it will have to wait until tomorrow, when I can bring the potion.’
Everyone fell silent, wondering what ‘the potion’ was.
When the next day came, Mr Majeika seemed at first to have forgotten all about his promise, for he said nothing about it. At last Jody asked him: ‘Did you bring the flying potion, Mr Magic?’
Mr Majeika frowned. ‘Well, yes, I did. But really I think the whole idea is a mistake. I’d much rather we forgot all about it. These things have a way of getting out of hand …’
‘There you are!’ jeered Hamish Bigmore. ‘I told you he couldn’t do it.’
‘Oh, really, Hamish Bigmore, you’re enough to try the patience of a witch’s broomstick,’ grumbled Mr Majeika. ‘I suppose I’ll have to do it just to keep you quiet.’
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