The Peppers and the International Magic Guys. Sian Pattenden

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Chapter 1 – The “Trick Of All Tricks”

      Chapter 2 – Mind Magic

      Chapter 3 – The Costsnippas Convenience Store

      Chapter 4 – Preparations

      Chapter 5 – The “Houdini Secret”

      Chapter 6 – The Trunk with the Secret Panel

      Chapter 7 – A Strict “No Children” Policy

      Chapter 8 – The International Magic Guys

      Chapter 9 – Stuck

      Chapter 10 – Secret Escapology

      Chapter 11 – The Greatest Show on Earth

      Chapter 12 – The Cage of Possibilities

      Chapter 13 – A Mouse, a Lion and One Hundred Doves

      Chapter 14 – A Magnificent Day

      Afterword by Dr Pompkins

       Coming Soon

       Back Ad

      Copyright

       About the Publisher

      Tell your friends that sugar lumps are magnetic; as you place a full bowl in front of you, pick up one lump, then “stick” it to another and hold both aloft.

      Watch your pals’ frustration as they try to do the same!

       Of course, you prepared a lump beforehand with a small dab of butter, but your friends are not to know that…

      If you are reading this book then undoubtedly you have a thirst to learn the secrets of the great magicians who perform such tricks regularly. I, Dr Pompkins, famed for tricks including my one-legged straitjacket escape act in a telephone box full of water and 25 man-eating lizards, can teach you some of them.

      Read on, dear performer, and you too could be fi lling audiences with astonishment and joy. If you enjoy magic, and I believe that you must do, then walk beside me on this fantastical journey and we shall see great sights and experience true wonders.

      In all totality,

      our days ago Uncle Potty had come to stay with eleven-year-old Pepper twins – Esmé and Monty. It was the summer holidays and while Mr and Mrs Pepper went on a quick trip to an ancient woodland site, Uncle Potty was in charge. The best and most exciting thing about this was that Uncle Potty was a professional conjuror, a member of the International Magic Guys (IMG) club, which happened to be based round the corner from the Peppers’ home in Highwood Road. The next best thing, as far as Monty was concerned, was that Uncle Potty was always practising magic and therefore always in need of an assistant. Monty had been delighted to help. He had fetched and carried for Uncle Potty (so far Monty had cleaned fourteen magic tumblers and one plastic bowl), polished Uncle Potty’s patent leather shoes and glued his magic top hat back together where it had split.

      Uncle Potty was impossibly old and extremely tall. As a consequence, his sleeves reached his elbows and his trouser hems were always by his shins. He found it difficult to navigate those tiny waistcoat pockets with such long fingers and when he started to become anxious – like now – his hair would stick up on end, looking like crazy woollen worms on a roller-coaster ride. Uncle Potty’s eyebrows also seemed to have been knitted – to form one gigantic, fluffy strip. He had a loud voice and a basic theatricality. He could not have been anything other than a magician, although the rest of his family were a roaring success in the dry-cleaning business.

      However, as thrilling as it was having a magician in the house, Esmé had begun to notice that most of Uncle Potty’s tricks seemed to end in disaster. Worryingly,

      Uncle Potty had taken over the kitchen at the Peppers’ home all morning and was now standing by the kitchen table, ready to perform his latest act. Uncle Potty had so far removed the items in his way – Esmé’s homework notebook, a library book about wildlife, the Peppers’ laptop and some sticks that had yet to serve a purpose – and put them on the floor. In their place was a large bowl of water and five different fruits placed in a line – a kiwi, a melon, a medium-sized pineapple, an apple and a tangerine. The fruits were a little squashed and soggy and Uncle Potty had brightly coloured stains all over his shirt.

      “I have discovered the trick of all tricks,” announced Potty, long arms in the air. “It involves making a watch disappear, then to be revealed in a piece of… fruit.”

      Esmé gave Potty an encouraging look, even though the trick sounded quite complicated.

      “What’s the time, Esmé?” asked Uncle Potty, in a dramatic voice. Esmé glanced at the extremely reliable watch that her mum had given her when she got a high grade in last year’s maths test and announced, “Half past twelve.”

      Esmé waited for Uncle Potty’s next line, but instead Monty popped his head up from under the table, where he was supposed to be hiding. He handed Uncle Potty a long strip of paper.

      “What’s that?” Esmé asked.

      “Nothing,” said Monty. “You weren’t supposed to see.”

      “Please get back under the table, Monty,” said Uncle Potty, politely but firmly. “I have the item now.”

      Monty reluctantly disappeared again. “Ahem, thus we have safely concluded that it is half past twelve,” announced Uncle Potty. “May I see your watch, Esmé?”

      Raising her left wrist, Esmé revealed her treasured Timex. Uncle Potty quickly unsnapped the watch from Esmé’s wrist before she could stop him and hid it behind his back. There was a scuffling sound as he handed the watch to Monty.

      “Time is an extraordinary thing!” said Uncle Potty, even louder. “It reminds us that the bus is late, it flows with the seasons and it, er, gives us wrinkles.”

      “Could I have my watch back, please?” Esmé asked, suddenly realising her watch was going to be hidden in a piece of soggy fruit, which might do it more harm than good.

      “Of course!” replied Uncle Potty, searching his multi-coloured waistcoat pockets for something.

      “Aha, your elegant timepiece!” said Uncle Potty, as he retrieved the now-crinkled strip of paper and balanced it on Esmé’s wrist. It had a badly drawn clock face on it,