Fennymore and the Brumella by Kirsten Reinhardt

from the carrier.
    Fennymore didn’t know what to say to Fizzy. It was all very well for her.
    Even Monbijou seemed to think that this Beardy was his father. But he was so different. And even if he was Fennymore’s father, and even if the effects of the potion wore off in a week or two – who was to say that he would be the same as before?
    Monbijou leapt over a particularly large pothole, and two long arms crept around Fennymore from behind. Beardy leant his head against Fennymore and his beard prickled his son’s back slightly through his shirt. Fennymore got a warm feeling in his tummy.
    They rode on over fields and meadows, through rain and sunshine, past countless big and little rainbows that were lodged in trees and grasses. When the sun was high in the sky they came to the haystack where Fizzy and Fennymore had rested on the outward journey. They reached the little stone wall early in the afternoon. Just as on the day they had left, it had only stopped raining and everything was sparkling in the sunshine. Behind the wall stood The Bronx against the blue sky.
    â€˜We’re here!’ cried Fizzy and jumped down from the handlebars in one leap.
    When everyone had dismounted, Beardy stood there astonished, with his mouth open. He blinked at the sky and looked back in the direction from which they had come, over the fields and out into the wide blue yonder. Then he noticed the little stone wall and took a deep breath.
    â€˜Ah!’ he said again. ‘Gah.’
    They climbed over the wall, stepped through the garden gate and at last they were outside The Bronx.
    â€˜Home!’ said Fennymore, looking at Beardy. Would he recognise it?
    Beardy was looking around him with interest. Fennymore followed his gaze. The front door was wide open.

CHAPTER 14
    In which Hubert makes himself important and an utterly uninvited guest appears
    Somebody had been kicking up a storm in The Bronx. The pots of herbs that were normally on the window sill lay shattered on the floor. Somebody had lifted the carpet and thrown it back down carelessly on the floor. Even the big sofa was upside down, its four wooden legs sticking helplessly in the air. A corner of the multicoloured comfy blanket was sticking out from under it.
    Fizzy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked around. Fennymore gulped. Somebody had been looking for something. But for what? He didn’t own anything valuable, apart, perhaps, from the silver cutlery he had used on Sundays when Aunt Elsie came to lunch, but that was lying untouched on the table. Although one of the two gold-rimmed china plates lay in pieces on the floor.
    He looked at Beardy, who was standing in the doorway looking sort of lost. If only Dad were back to normal! thought Fennymore. If indeed Beardy was his father.
    Beardy gazed with interest at the untidy room but gave no sign that he recognised it. He giggled softly.
    â€˜Hey,’ said Fizzy quietly, looking at Fennymore. ‘It looks just like your great-aunt’s place. When we moved in, everything was in a mess, just like this. The furniture had been thrown around and even the nightdresses with all the flowers on had been yanked out of the drawers.’
    Suddenly the air shimmered and Hubert materialised. Fizzy stopped talking and gave him a puzzled look. The silvery grey gentleman gave a little cough and, as everyone stared at him, he patted down his silvery grey coat with an elegant gesture. Then he tossed a few wisps of hay aside with the toe of his silvery grey shoe and looked around him.
    â€˜Now I know why I live such a Spartan life,’ he said. ‘All that tidying up is a terrible nuisance. Ah, I see that Fenibald has become acclimatised. How is he?’
    But Fennymore didn’t answer. It had all become too much for him. Apparently it had looked just like this at Aunt Elsie’s also? The last time he’d been there, everything had been the way it had always been. What could all this