Glubbslyme by Jacqueline Wilson Page B

was in dried white patches of Ariel ointment, but that couldn’t be helped.
    She set off for the park, Glubbslyme’s shopping bag in one hand, the large umbrella in the other. They were quite heavy and it was a very hot day. Halfway along the road they met Mrs Baker, her shopping basket clinking with big bottles of beer.
    ‘Hello Rebecca’ she said, puffing and blowing. ‘Was it you who poured the beer into our buckets?’
    Rebecca nodded.
    ‘I thought it was! You clever girl, it’s working wonderfully. I’ve just been down to the supermarket to buy some more. I felt so silly at the checkout – I do hope the girl didn’t think I wanted to drink all this beer. It was so kind of you to help us out – especially when my husband was a bit tetchy with you.’
    ‘I just thought it might help,’ said Rebecca, going red. She didn’t want Mrs Baker to be so grateful, it made her feel worse.
    ‘Are you just off to the shops yourself, dear? You are a good girl. But I don’t know why you’ve got that great big umbrella. The weather forecast said it’s going to be hot and sunny all day. It’s not going to rain.’
    ‘Well, I thought it looked a bit cloudy,’ said Rebecca.
    ‘Nonsense!’ said Mrs Baker. ‘Here, give me the umbrella and I’ll pop it in your porch for you. It’s silly to lug it all the way to the shops and back for nothing.’
    ‘I think I’d like to keep it, just to be on the safe side,’ said Rebecca.
    ‘Really!’ said Mrs Baker, peering up at the bright blue sky. ‘There’s not a cloud in sight. It couldn’t possibly rain.’
    She set off down the road, shaking her head at Rebecca’s stupidity. It was too great a temptation. Rebecca put her head inside the shopping bag and whispered. The blue sky darkened. The sun disappeared. There was a sudden hissing sound. Rain. Drenching torrents. Mrs Baker shrieked and ran for cover.

It rained and rained. The wind blew hard and the sky was almost black. Rebecca was getting very wet. Her dress was soaking and the Ariel ointment was beginning to bubble.
    ‘I think that’s enough rain for now, Glubbslyme,’ she whispered into the shopping bag.
    Glubbslyme sighed.
    ‘I summon forth a squally tempest but before it has scarce begun you wish it stopped. The Magical Arts are not worked like your newfangled taps, child.’
    ‘But I’m getting soaked,’ said Rebecca.
    She had often been soaked in the short time she had known Glubbslyme. Perhaps she should prepare herself and dress up in waterproof apron and wellington boots each morning. Then she grinned and grasped the umbrella.
    ‘I am an idiot,’ she said, and she opened it up and held it over her head.
    Glubbslyme peered out of the shopping bag in alarm.
    ‘It will become aerial. Put it down at once. We cannot fly in a tempest!’
    They had no option. Rebecca didn’t have a chance to collapse the umbrella. The wind whistled and whirled, and the umbrella bobbed and danced, shook and shivered, and then suddenly shot up into the air. Rebecca shot up with it – and Glubbslyme in the shopping bag. They bounced along about three feet above the pavement, very nearly banged into a lamppost, and then soared upwards in a gust of wind. A woman looked out of the window of her flat and screamed silently behind the glass when she saw Rebecca shooting past. Rebecca was too shocked to scream herself. It was too wet and windy to draw breath in any case. She concentrated on clinging to the umbrella and the shopping bag, her knuckles whitening. She tried looking down and it was a big mistake. Glubbslyme didn’t sound too happy about it either. He had retreated right into the shopping bag and was croaking piteously.
    ‘Magic us down again, Glubbslyme,’ Rebecca shouted. She tried to draw enough breath for seven Glubbslymes but it was a wasted effort. Glubbslyme wasn’t in a fit condition for magic.
    The rain increased until it was a thick grey blur and Rebecca couldn’t see a thing. She did scream then, but