7

‘What the fez is going on?’ shouted President Pickle loudly, pumped up like a medieval cannon ready to blast.

Henry sidled past the four, squirming to the front, standing on all their toes accidentally-on-purpose as he went past. ‘I’m so sorry to interrupt your council meeting, President Pickle,’ he whined in his prissy voice, blatantly enjoying all the attention. ‘It’s just that I caught these little people snooping on your meeting and thought you’d like to know.’

‘We weren’t snooping!’ protested Sophie. ‘We were just … lost,’ but even as she said it she knew how unlikely it sounded. It was one thing to get lost trying to find your way out, quite another to get lost via a theatre, a spiral staircase and a two-way cupboard.

The others looked at her, grateful that she had at least tried to put up some form of defence.

Zack took a deep breath. He’d been subjected to humiliation in front of Council before. But this time they were all quite simply done for. Spying on Council was one of the worst crimes a member – let alone a junior member – could commit! But he had led them on this unofficial tour, so it was he who must take the flak.

He stepped forward and paused before speaking. ‘I’m sorry, Council, but – once again – this is all my fault. It was me who led them down here … Please don’t take it out on them.’

Cynthia moved swiftly round the table, looking very disappointed. ‘How many times do you have to be told, Zack Harrison? What was the point of giving you a cooling-off period, just to land right back here?’ Her eyes moved from one child to the next, searching for an explanation, before finally returning to Zack.

President Pickle shook his head, looking first at the intruders, then at the seated council members, before finally fixing Ernest with a self-satisfied glare. ‘Do you see what happens when we let children in, Ernest?’ he said gravely. ‘All kinds of nonsense.’ He bowed solemnly, clearly expecting some kind of applause (though only receiving a single, dull clap from Steve – and possibly a trump from Bill), before sitting back down.

Ernest coolly looked away from President Pickle, turning to face the four, winking at Jonny, instantly putting them all at ease. He turned back to look at Henry. ‘Do you mind me asking what you were doing down here as well?’ he asked pointedly. ‘Eavesdropping on the eavesdroppers?’

‘Oh. Erm, I was just … erm …’ Henry began to flounder as everyone looked to him for an answer.

‘Foolish boy,’ said Ernest, cutting him off.

It was a good question, thought Zack – what was Henry doing down here?

‘I’m sure that Henry was just doing the right thing – weren’t you, lad?’ President Pickle said, keen to gloss over this technicality and pull focus back on to the others.

Henry nodded his head wildly, overplaying his innocence, looking like an expensive malfunctioning toy.

Ernest turned back to Jonny and his friends. ‘Perhaps you were all just trying to get into the library …’ he suggested meaningfully. ‘Surely we shouldn’t punish our youngsters for wanting to learn from the great magicians of the past.’ He looked around at Council and saw nods of approval.

Nice move, Ernest!

‘Please do not speak on behalf of the guilty,’ interrupted President Pickle, thwacking his gavel once again, causing all those present – including himself – to jump violently.

Cynthia sighed. Oh, how she wished she’d never bought the dreaded thing for him in the first place, now permanently attached to President Pickle’s arm. ‘I’m just going to take the car out of the garage, sweetheart.’ BANG! ‘Do you mind preparing a charcuterie board for elevenses?’ BANG! ‘I may need to go to the toilet again.’ BANG! ‘Night-night!’ BANG! …

President Pickle gave the four a patronizing look. ‘Yes, of course they should study the Greats of magic … But access to the library is only granted once they’re of age.’

Ernest rolled his eyes and shook his head.

‘Anyway, we haven’t got all day,’ the president said hurriedly. ‘We must determine a suitable punishment!’ he added with relish.

The youngsters looked at each other uneasily. Had their time at the Magic Circle already come to an end? Like a magician who – after a great build-up – produces only a bunch of feathers and the remains of a dove as the finale to a flamboyant routine.

‘Gosh, we haven’t had to administer a punishment to a group in quite a while!’ said President Pickle, clearly enjoying himself. He brought out a large tome entitled Magic Circle Constitution, slamming it down dramatically.

‘No!’ protested Zack, half to himself, half to the room. ‘This is all my doing. Why can’t you just punish me?’

‘Zack, it was my idea to head down the stairs, mate,’ said Jonny, unwilling to let his friend take sole responsibility.

But the president wasn’t listening; his nose now buried in the yellowed, well-thumbed pages of this, his go-to bible.

‘Is it true?’ said Sophie, her voice suddenly ringing out around a chamber that hadn’t heard a young female voice in … well, ever.

‘Silence in the council chamber!’ shouted President Pickle, his face still buried in the constitution.

‘But is it true that the society is on the verge of collapse?’ Sophie persisted.

Cynthia willed her to shut up, worried that she was only going to make matters worse. But there was no stopping this one, it seemed; she suddenly felt a rush of admiration.

‘Well, I don’t know how much you heard from your cubby hole back there,’ replied President Pickle, looking down his nose at her like he was facing a target. ‘But I can assure you that you are positively mistaken. The society and its members are absolutely fine, thank you very much. Which is more than I can say for you lot! Now then …’

President Pickle flicked to the centre of the tome, running his finger down the edge, licking his forefingers theatrically. ‘Hmm …’ he mumbled, enjoying the weight of his position, re-digesting these rules and sub-clauses one by one, reminding himself why he agreed with them so much. ‘Right, OK, so I’m afraaaaid …’ he said eventually, raising his eyes to look at the four. ‘That …’ He paused, playing up the suspense like a game-show host – ‘the constitution states – providing Council is in agreement – that the punishment for eavesdropping on a council meeting is … immediate and permanent exclusion from the club. Sorry.’

They all looked at each other, aghast. ‘Permanent?’ whispered Sophie.

‘What?’ shouted Zack. ‘Why can’t you just exclude me?’ His face started to flush. This was just like the last time. Why did this man have to be so unfair?

‘I am excluding you,’ answered the president, turning to face him. ‘Plus these three other scallywags as well! Providing Council are in agreement, which I suspect they are. One rotten apple and all that.’

‘But Zack’s not rotten!’ countered Jonny.

Alex nodded weakly. He hadn’t enjoyed their descent into the depths of the Magic Circle, nor their short stay inside the two-way cupboard with its spidery contents, but this was the most fun he had ever got up to in his entire life. And there was something older-brotherly about Zack. He was worth standing up for.

‘Well, that’s just the way it is, sadly.’ President Pickle closed the tome with a dull thud, dust shooting out all around him. ‘Let’s put it to a vote, shall we?’

Cynthia moved back over to her place at the head of the table as Council stood (for, in accordance with rule 8.9, clause 1.1, all members must stand when voting). She frowned at Zack disappointedly, her look a blatant mix of: I tried, I failed, I did warn you.

Zack couldn’t believe it. First the (false) accusation of theft and now the prospect of bringing down his friends with him! How could he have been so irresponsible?

Almost like she could read his mind, Sophie grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. ‘We all agreed to follow you, Zack,’ she told him. ‘We’re all in this together.’

Whether this was another of her confidence tricks or just kindness, Zack didn’t know, but whatever it was, it seemed to cool his hot head. He looked at Jonny and Alex, who met his gaze with a reassuring nod. The mood was clear: if Zack went down, they were all happy to go down with him.

Was this even a place they wanted to be a part of anyway? thought Sophie defiantly.

‘OK,’ said President Pickle. ‘All those in favour of the immediate and permanent expulsion of these four minors, please raise your hands.’

Jonny took full advantage of his lofty position to get a bird’s-eye view of the vote as about half the hands in the room went up. Zack, Alex and Sophie bobbed and strained to see the outcome of the vote. It was clearly not unanimous: some hands hadn’t been raised … Perhaps they were in with a chance!

‘Right, that’s six members in favour, including me.’ President Pickle scratched the result on to a pad of paper, clearly unimpressed that Council weren’t united on this. ‘And all those against?’

Jonny watched as four hands rose into the air: Ernest’s first, then Steve’s and Jane’s – 好! – and lastly, tentatively, Cynthia’s.

Her husband gave her a pitying look, the kind he gave her when she forgot to give him extra gravy with his Tuesday evening meal of braised beef and dumplings.

‘But only four against, I’m afraid, with no abstentions. So … motion carried,’ said President Pickle, faking a glum face. ‘Right, well, Council have clearly spoken.’ He pompously picked up his gavel.

As he did so, Ernest coughed pointedly, both to get the attention of the president and to clear his throat (there was no point in wasting a good cough at his age!). ‘Excuse me, Edmund, but I don’t believe Bill has cast his vote yet.’

Everyone looked at Bill, who was still deep in REM sleep (and currently dreaming about a kangaroo named Florence Featherstone who made shoes for a living with tools she kept in her pouch).

What is Granddad up to? wondered Jonny.

‘In the interest of abiding by the rules,’ Ernest continued, ‘shouldn’t we include his vote as well? I would hate to see these four young magical minds dismissed purely on a technicality.’

‘Well, it’s not going to change the result as we’ve already won by two votes, but for the sake of formality … BILL!’ President Pickle shook the old man forcefully, causing him to wake with a start and mutter the name ‘Florence!’

‘Which way are you voting, Bill? For or against?’

Sophie studied the old man; he looked like a cross between a skeleton and a pine cone. If only she could get into his eye line, she could compel him to vote against the motion. Though President Pickle was right (for once!): they were still outvoted.

Bill looked around the room, completely uninterested, not even noticing the youngsters who’d just appeared. Oh, why couldn’t he go back to his dream? Florence had almost completed her second pair of Cuban heels – it was exciting stuff! Not like this drivel …

‘For. Or against?’ pressed President Pickle, trying to give Bill a not-so-subtle clue.

‘Erm … against!’ said Bill loudly, like he’d properly thought about what was at stake here, but in fact just repeating the last word that had come out of the president’s mouth.

‘Well, no matter – either way, that settles it!’ said President Pickle, slapping Bill on the back so hard that his false teeth moved an inch forward, making him look like a porcelain donkey.

‘He’s not your gavel, Edmund!’ said Cynthia, shoving some paperwork hard into her husband’s ribs while Bill adjusted his teeth back into the recesses of his mouth, slobbering.

‘Oh, you’re all right, aren’t you, Bill? You don’t mind?’ said President Pickle jovially.

But Bill was already fast asleep again, this time dreaming about a giant owl who lived on a vineyard.

‘And so, as a formality, shouldn’t we all now vote again?’ pushed Ernest.

Zack, Jonny, Sophie and Alex looked at Ernest, worried that perhaps the man had finally lost it.

Just let it go, Granddad, thought Jonny. We’ve still lost by one vote. This is just dragging things out, surely.

‘Well, if you must, Ernest,’ said President Pickle. ‘Let’s do it the other way round, though, shall we? End on a high! All those against?’

Jonny watched as the same four defiant hands rose – at least this confirmed who their friends were, he thought.

Pickle lifted up Bill’s cataleptic arm while he snoozed, his head lolling. ‘And so, with Bill, that makes a total of … five against the motion.’ He scrawled another note on his pad. ‘And all those for the motion, please raise your hand.’

He raised his own hand and quickly totted up the numbers, noting them down on his pad. All of a sudden he froze. ‘Five?’ he whispered. ‘Five?!’ He went around the room again, shaking his head in desperation. ‘I don’t understand!’

The accused stared at each other in excitement. What had just happened?

Jonny looked around the room, trying to see if there was someone he’d missed. No – everyone could be accounted for; no one had abstained.

‘And so I believe, Mr President – though do correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Ernest graciously, ‘that we must have miscounted last time. And so, as there is no majority, the motion is not carried and our four youngsters are free to go – perhaps with a warning from Council? Or at least don’t get caught next time!’ he added, turning to his grandson with a mischievous glint in his eye.

‘But how can this be?’ said President Pickle, evidently devastated and completely flummoxed, for even though he was the president of the Magic Circle, the last time he’d successfully worked out a trick was when seventy-five-year-old Crazy Colin’s magical cabinet had accidentally caught fire during a gala show, revealing its hidden compartment (along with its slowly roasting contents: Colin’s assistant/great-granddaughter).

‘Right, you lot,’ Cynthia said, keen for the youngsters to leave while they could. ‘Out!’ She grabbed Henry by the arm too, leading him towards the door.

The others followed obediently, not wishing to outstay their welcome. As they left, they glanced at Ernest, Sophie mouthing a quick ‘Thank you!’, Zack and Jonny giving him a sly thumbs up.*

President Pickle caught Alex by the arm as he passed the table. ‘Don’t forget – I don’t know what you think you overheard, but you’re mistaken. Don’t go spreading any silly rumours now, will you?’

Alex scurried out of the door, glad to be leaving this oppressive place – and thankfully not back through the way they came.

The council members looked at President Pickle as he slowly picked up his gavel and turned to dozing, dreaming, oblivious Bill.