by David Elvar
‘Like some! Well, of course I’d like some! If there’s enough for two, that is.’
Sophie smiled to herself. This was going to go even better than she’d hoped.
‘Well, actually,’ she said, ‘this is a new recipe I’m trying. And since you’re such an expert on food, I thought perhaps you might like to have all of it and let me know what you think.’
‘But of course!’ Uncle Nesbit said eagerly. ‘When will it be ready?’
‘Just about…’ The pinger pinged right on cue. ‘…now!’
She wrapped the oven gloves round her hands, opened the microwave and lifted the container out, then she set it on the table and took a good long look at the cooked mixture. The top had taken on the lovely golden hue of a nicely baked pie. It looked good. In fact, it looked so good that she was tempted to try a piece, herself. But of course, she didn’t dare.
Beside her, Uncle Nesbit sank his large bulk onto an unsuspecting chair.
‘I have to say it looks, well, interesting,’ he said as he picked up his knife and fork.
‘Yes, I was just thinking the same thing,’ said Sophie. ‘Well, get stuck in, let me know what you think.’
Uncle Nesbit got stuck in. He sank his knife into it and cut a large slice. Then he sank his fork into the large slice and lifted it. How he managed it, Sophie would never know, but the whole of this large slice disappeared into his mouth in one go. Must be practice, she thought, impressed. Uncle Nesbit sat there chewing…and chewing…and chewing. Finally, he swallowed, and as he swallowed, he looked positively delighted.
‘I have to say, Sophie,’ he said, ‘it’s delicious.’
‘Really?’ she said. ‘I’m glad. Have some more.’
Uncle Nesbit had some more. This time, the slice was even larger than the first, and as he sat there chewing, the delight was creeping across his face even before he swallowed.
‘It really is quite excellent,’ he said. ‘Are you sure you won’t try some?’
‘Er…no, thank you,’ said Sophie. ‘Mum will be cooking supper soon and she won’t thank me for ruining my appetite.’
‘Ah, well, that’s not something I have to worry about,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ll finish it up, then.’
‘You do that,’ said Sophie.
And he did. He cut another slice. And another. And another. The slices disappeared into his mouth in quick succession, the sounds of busy eating only interrupted by a loud burp after his fifth slice. Soon, the container was empty. Uncle Nesbit put down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘what’s for supper?’
Sophie didn’t answer. She just stood there waiting for something to happen. But nothing was happening.
‘Are you feeling all right?’ she said.
‘Never better,’ said Uncle Nesbit. ‘Why?’
This was wrong, she knew this was wrong.
‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right?’ she said.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘now you come to mention it, I am feeling a little peckish. I hope your mum’s got something good lined up for supper.’
‘I expect she has,’ Sophie said glumly. Her spell hadn’t worked. Her best spell yet and it hadn’t worked. What could have gone wrong?
‘Perhaps it’s stew,’ said Uncle Nesbit. ‘I’m rather fond of stew.’
Sophie didn’t answer. She was looking at him, waiting for something to happen, almost willing something to happen.
‘Or maybe it’s fish and chips. I’m rather fond of fish and chips, too.’
Sophie still didn’t answer. She was still looking at him, only this time, she wasn’t waiting for something to happen. Something was happening.
‘Uncle Nesbit,’ she said quietly.
‘What?’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me, supper’s a surprise. Oh, I do like surprises, especially when they’re food surprises.’
‘Uncle Nesbit,’ she said again. ‘You’re growing.’
‘Well, of course I’m growing,’ he said, patting his ample stomach. ‘It’s what comes of having a healthy appetite. Oh, I do hope it’s stew. I love stew.’
‘No,’ said Sophie, ‘I mean you’re really growing.’
Uncle Nesbit looked down at himself.
‘Well, I never!’ he exclaimed, as well he might, for his ample stomach was now twice its usual ample size. ‘Oh well, the more of me there is to feed, the more I’ll have to eat.’
‘Er…Uncle Nesbit,’ said Sophie, ‘you’re still growing!’
He looked down at himself again.
‘Why, so I am,’ he said. ‘Oh well, it means I’ll just have to eat all day, every day. How wonderful.’
‘Actually,’ said Sophie as his stomach lifted the table off the floor, ‘you don’t seem to be stopping growing.’
He looked down at himself one last time.
‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Yes…hmm…I see what you mean.’
His arms were bulging, his legs were bulging and his face was bulging. He looked like a balloon being slowly blown up.
‘Er…what’s happening?’ he said.
‘I don’t know,’ Sophie said truthfully. ‘But I think you’d better get yourself outside before you’re too big to get through the door.’
‘Why?’ he said. ‘I can think of worse places to be trapped than in the kitchen.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ said Sophie, ‘but if you’ve grown so much that we can’t get to the fridge, who’s going to feed you?’
‘Hmm, good point,’ he said. ‘Okay but you’ll have to help me.’
Sophie helped him. The only way she could do it was to put him on his side and roll him out. Which she did. Easily. He felt strangely light as a feather, and it wasn’t long before they were both outside in the back garden.
‘There,’ she said as she stopped pushing. ‘Done.’
‘Thank you,’ said Uncle Nesbit. ‘You know, I hope this isn’t going to delay supper.’
Sophie didn’t answer. Something was happening again, something more.
‘Uncle Nesbit,’ she said quietly, ‘you’re rising.’
He looked down at himself.
‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘Yes…hmm…I see what you mean. Er…what’s happening?’
‘I don’t know,’ Sophie said truthfully, ‘but I think I’d better do something before you float away.’
‘Yes, I think perhaps you’d better,’ said Uncle Nesbit. ‘I wouldn’t want to miss supper, not if it’s stew.’
That would be a tragedy, Sophie thought dryly. But what do I do?
TEN
There was really only one thing she could do. She had to tie him to something. But what? She glanced round and saw the garden hose lying on the grass. She grabbed it, wrapped it round Uncle Nesbit’s ankle and tied it into a knot. Then she wrapped the other end round the garden tap and tied a knot there, too. She was just in time. Uncle Nesbit was now at about her eye level and rising.
‘Are you all right up there?’ she asked.
‘Never better,’ he said. ‘Still feeling a bit peckish, though.’
‘I’ll see if I can find you something to eat.’
She went back into the kitchen to make him a sandwich. She didn’t get the chance. Just at that very moment, both her mum and dad arrived home from work.
‘Where’s Uncle Nesbit?’ her mum asked.
Sophie glanced uneasily towards the window. ‘Um…he’s outside,’ she said.
‘Really?’ said her dad. ‘What’s he doing there?’
‘Oh, he’s just hanging around,’ said Sophie.
‘Really?’ said her mum, looking out the window. ‘I can’t see him anywhere.’
Sophie sighed. It was no good, she would have to tell them what had happened. ‘Er…look up,’ she said.
They looked up. And as they looked up, they gaped in pure astonishment. For Uncle Nesbit was now high in the air and still rising.
‘How did he get up there?’ said her mum.
‘And how are we goin
g to get him back down again?’ said her dad.
‘It’s one of my spells,’ said Sophie quietly. ‘I didn’t plan it to make him do that, it just sort of turned out that way.’
‘You and your spells!’ cried her mum. ‘They’ll be the end of us all!’
‘Never mind that now,’ said her dad. ‘We’ve got to do something.’
They rushed out into the garden. Uncle Nesbit was now so high that the garden hose was stretched taut, but at least he’d stopped rising.
‘Are you all right up there, Nesbit?’ her dad called out.
‘Of course I am,’ he called back. ‘Any chance of some supper?’
‘Supper!’ said her mum. ‘Don’t you think we should be getting you down?’
‘Well,’ said Uncle Nesbit reasonably, ‘if I eat, I’ll get heavier, and if I get heavier, I’ll sink.’
Sophie’s mum and dad looked at each other.
‘Clever,’ said her mum.
‘Convenient,’ said her dad.
They went off to find supper. Sophie went with them.
‘We’ll start him off with the sooper-dooper-maxi-mega-sized chicken and mushroom pie we bought yesterday,’ said her mum.
‘Followed by the extra-extra-extra-deep-dish apple crumble we bought the day before,’ said her dad.
‘That should keep him going for about ten minutes,’ said her mum. ‘But I’ve just thought of something. How are we going to get all this food up to him?’
‘I know of a way,’ said Sophie. ‘He’s about the same height as my bedroom window. We can hand it out to him from there.’
‘That’s a wonderful idea, darling,’ said her dad. ‘Come on, then, let’s get this cooked and up to him.’
‘No time for that,’ said her mum. ‘We’ll just give it to him as it is. It’s all pre-cooked, it really only needed heating.’
So, between them, they heaved a sooper-dooper-maxi-mega-sized chicken and mushroom pie and an extra-extra-extra-deep-dish apple crumble up the stairs to Sophie’s bedroom. There, they threw open the windows and grabbed the garden hose to pull Uncle Nesbit in close.
‘Ah, supper!’ he said brightly, and he almost grabbed the knife and fork from Sophie’s hand.
Held up by Sophie’s spell and held down by the garden hose, he started supper. He worked his way steadily and quickly through the sooper-dooper-maxi-mega-sized chicken and mushroom pie. And as he ate, something strange happened. It was Sophie who noticed it. The garden hose seemed to be stretching, like Uncle Nesbit was trying to rise again. And the strange thing was, the more he ate, the more the hose seemed to be stretching. All at once, she understood what was happening.
‘Er…dad,’ she said quietly. ‘The hose is stretching.’
‘Is it? That’s wonderful, darling,’ her dad said absently.
Sophie sighed and tried her mum.
‘Er…mum,’ she said. ‘Uncle Nesbit’s getting lighter as he eats, not heavier.’
‘Is he? That’s nice, dear,’ her mum said absently.
‘No, no!’ she shouted. ‘You don’t understand! If he eats any more, he’ll get so light, we won’t be able to hold him!’
Finally, they understood.
‘Don’t eat any more, Nesbit!’ yelled her dad.
‘You’ll float away!’ yelled her mum.
Uncle Nesbit glanced at them both in turn.
‘Are you serious?’ he said with his mouth full.
‘YES!’ they screamed together.
‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll just finish this pudding then I’ll stop.’
He scooped another spoonful of apple crumble into his mouth…chewed…swallowed…and it happened. The garden hose gave one last stretch and snapped. Suddenly, Uncle Nesbit was floating free.
‘Goodbye,’ he waved as he drifted away. ‘I don’t know where I’m going but any chance of a few snacks for the journey?’
But they didn’t have any snacks for the journey, and even if they did, there was now no way of getting them to him. So they just stood and watched, together, as he floated into the distance and disappeared over the horizon.
‘Perhaps it’s for the best,’ said her mum.
‘We couldn’t keep on feeding him,’ said her dad.
They never saw him again. This was one spell that didn’t wear off quickly. In fact, it didn’t wear off at all. When last they heard, he’d managed to get a job as a weather balloon. Now he can eat and work at the same time. Because if he doesn’t eat, he doesn’t float high into the sky. And if he doesn’t float high into the sky, he can’t do his job. They say he’s very happy in his work.
As for Sophie, well, things changed a little after that spell. Because while her parents were glad to see the back of Uncle Nesbit, they weren’t entirely certain that casting a spell was the best way to go about getting rid of him.
‘After all,’ said her mum. ‘What if your spell had gone wrong and you’d made him stay?’
‘I mean, let’s face it,’ said her dad, ‘you’re still pretty new at this witchery thing, aren’t you?’
Sophie took a moment to think. She probably did need a bit more practice, find out which spell did what and things like that, and she promised her mum and dad that she wouldn’t make any more spells until she really knew what she was doing. Unless, she added, her horrible teacher tried making the class do the 98¾ times table again. And unless, of course, Uncle Nesbit decided to visit them again.
She was a very sensible witch…
~oOo~
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