When Bryony and Angelina came home from school, the events of the day had made them unusually quiet.
Clarissa, who was busy handing out mince pies to everyone, gave them a curious look. ‘You two all right?’ she asked, and they nodded.
‘Hunky-dory,’ said Angelina.
‘Never been better,’ said Bryony.
Clarissa opened her mouth, then closed it rather impatiently. ‘Won’t waste my breath asking what’s going on,’ she said, opening the kitchen door and peering out at the blizzard that was raging. ‘I’m sure all will be revealed in the fullness of time, and now I must feed your father before the potting shed’s completely cut off from civilisation.’
Then, cradling Big Bob’s mince pie lovingly to her breast, Clarissa set off.
‘I’m going to give Melody and Melissa some extra practice while I’m out,’ she called back to Bryony and Angelina. ‘Be darlings and do the chips, will you?’
Bryony tipped a load of potatoes into the sink. Angelina fetched a knife and a chopping board and waited patiently as Bryony began to peel. ‘It’s so utterly romantic, isn’t it,’ she said at last.
‘Never seen anything more romantic,’ Bryony agreed happily, handing Angelina a potato to chop.
‘But shouldn’t we tell Mr Undrum?’ Angelina asked.
Bryony shook her head. ‘Not till the day of the Nativity play,’ she said decisively. ‘If Mrs Quigg’s got her heart set on meeting under a star with their song playing in the background, that’s what Mrs Quigg’s going to get.’
Angelina’s face lit up. ‘You’re right,’ she nodded. ‘And I bet Trish’ll love the surprise element.’
‘What a TV moment!’ Bryony agreed. ‘And another thing,’ she added as she plunged her scraper into the water with renewed vigour, ‘Mr Undrum’s always springing surprises on people. This time, he’ll get the surprise of his life!’ She handed some potatoes to Angelina.
‘There’s one thing that puzzles me, Bryony,’ Angelina said. ‘Why did Mr Undrum hypnotise Cornelia so she couldn’t remember the song?’
‘So she’d be spared the misery of thinking about her lost love,’ Bryony explained solemnly. ‘Poor Mr Undrum really thought she’d be better off with Nigel the banker, but he knew that secretly she’d always hanker after him.’
‘I see…’ said Angelina, thoughtfully quartering one of the potatoes. ‘Mr Undrum knew that every time he heard the song he’d be dead upset, and he wanted to spare Cornelia the same pain.’
Bryony faced her sister squarely. ‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘Mr Undrum meant well.’
She put down her potato scraper and braced herself. ‘You know, Angelina,’ she said, ‘you really have misjudged Mr Undrum. Hypnotism isn’t just about making people eat onions and gluing their hands together.’
Angelina frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well,’ said Bryony carefully, ‘hypnosis can help people. Have you noticed that Abid’s asthma’s gone?’
‘Really?’ said Angelina. ‘Mr Undrum hypnotised it away?’
‘You bet,’ said Bryony. ‘Five minutes with the old crystal pendulum, and now Abid’s utterly wheeze-free.
‘And another thing,’ she added, crossing her fingers as she did, ‘hypnotism can cure phobias.’
‘Phobias?’ Angelina said, baffled. ‘What’s phobias?’
‘Really big fears,’ Bryony told her, reaching into her pocket and taking out a piece of string threaded with a glass bead.
‘Not as flashy as Mr Undrum’s,’ she said apologetically, ‘but it does the trick.’ And she began to swing the bead back and forth.
‘A phobia…’ Angelina repeated thoughtfully. ‘But we don’t know anyone who’s got one of them, do we?’
There was a howl of wind as the door opened. Big Bob tumbled inside, pulled off his coat and shook snow all over Bryony, Angelina, and the pieces of potato.
‘Chips – capital!’ he smiled, rubbing his hands together. ‘Your mum’s digging the youngest Broadway Belles out of the music studio, girls, so I’ll just go and have a nice hot bath.’
‘Hang on,’ said Bryony, grabbing him firmly by the strap of his dungarees. ‘This will only take a moment, but it will change your life forever.’
Then she led him to the table, sat him down, and swung the glass bead back and forth in front of his nose. Angelina looked on anxiously.
‘Follow the crystal,’ Bryony intoned.
Obligingly, Big Bob obeyed.
‘Now,’ said Bryony, ‘I want you to picture yourself on board a big aeroplane…’
Angelina gave a little gasp, but Big Bob’s face was a picture of calm. ‘Right you are, lass,’ he said happily.
‘You’re flying all the way to the States,’ Bryony continued, ‘cruising at an altitude of 20,000 feet. But are you nervous?’
Big Bob, totally transfixed by Bryony’s bead, continued to move his head from side to side. ‘Not remotely,’ he said at last.
‘Are your palms clammy?’
‘Not a bit of it,’ Big Bob replied promptly. ‘In fact,’ he added, ‘I’m rather enjoying it…’
‘So you’re not frightened?’ Bryony asked, beginning to reduce the bead’s momentum.
The sideways movements of Big Bob’s head slowed too and finally came to rest. After a short consideration, he laughed. ‘Frightened of flying?’ he said. ‘Moi?’
‘I am going to count to three and snap my fingers,’ Bryony went on, staring hard into Big Bob’s eyes, ‘and when I do you will be wide awake; and you will never be afraid of flying again. One … two … three!’
At the final number, Big Bob leapt out of his seat. Then he grabbed the rhinestone-studded Stetson from the stuffed bear’s head, put it on, slapped his thigh and yelled, ‘Yee-hah!’ just as the door opened and a very bemused Clarissa led the Broadway Belles in and began to remove her cloak.
‘Clarissa, my angel,’ Big Bob said ecstatically, sweeping her up, snow and all, and dancing round the kitchen with her in his arms. ‘Come fly with me!’
Bryony lay in bed that night, going over everything that had happened. Her Viper 3000s hung in their usual place over the wardrobe doorknob, and as she pictured the white, feathery skating dress inside and imagined how even more wonderful it was going to look when Abid’s mum had unpicked the silver star and embroidered on a gold-sequined shooting one, she felt ripples of excitement zing up and down her back. This was going to be the very best Christmas ever!
She looked at the Vipers again. There was, she thought, just one little problem. Compared to all the other problems she’d had lately, it was fairly minor. But still – it was a problem.
Her train of thought was broken by a soft knock at the door. Angelina tiptoed in and perched on the bed.
‘Can’t sleep either?’ Bryony grinned.
‘Written the second verse of the Big Number,’ Angelina answered, pushing a piece of paper under her nose.
Excitedly, Bryony read. ‘Wow, Angelina!’ she said. ‘This is just great. We’ll have it written in no time!’ She looked admiringly at her sister. ‘Maybe you could sing it?’
‘And maybe you could let me see how you’d skate it?’ Angelina answered.
But Bryony did not move. Instead, she traced her finger solemnly round the pink flowers on her duvet cover. ‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘It’s just…’ She swung her legs off the bed, went over to the wardrobe, and unhooked the Vipers. Then she sat back down and stroked their white composite uppers. ‘It’s these,’ she said at last. ‘They nip.’
‘But you’ll be able to do the play in them?’ Angelina asked anxiously. ‘Won’t you?’
Bryony shrugged. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘As long as I don’t wear socks. But they’re not going to last much longer, Angelina. And it seems like it was only yesterday that I got them.’
‘You need new rollerskates, Bryony,’ Angelina said gently.
Bryony nodded. ‘Reckon Mum and Dad’ll get me them for Christmas?’
‘Sure to,’Angelina smiled. ‘After all, you got us the big contract, didn’t you!’
Bryony stroked her skates again. ‘I’ll ask for another pair of Vipers,’ she said, cheering up. ‘Can’t get skates better than Vipers, that’s for sure!’
She pulled them on with difficulty and struck a pose by the dressing table. ‘Make way for the angel’s entrance!’ she announced. Then she did a magnificent leap right across the bedroom, landed as softly as stardust, bowed her head and said in an uncannily awe-inspiring voice, ‘Behold, I bring you great good news!’
Angelina could hardly contain herself. ‘It’s wonderful, Bryony!’ she said. ‘Looks just like you’re flying.’
Bryony curtsied, winced slightly, and eased the Vipers off. Angelina surveyed Bryony’s red and blistered feet. Then, very thoughtfully, she said goodnight and tiptoed off to her own bedroom…