Walter Brown and the Magician's Hat Read online

  Walter Brown and the Magician’s Hat

  Karen Inglis

  Illustrated by

  Damir Kundalić

  Contents

  MAGICAL BONUS EDITION!

  For everyone who believes in magic

  1. The Birthday Surprise

  2. A Talking Cat

  3. Practice Mission

  4. Brotherly Brawl

  5. Warriors on the Loose

  6. The Duel

  7. Found Out

  8. Final Freeze

  9. Another Birthday Surprise

  Write a review and get a free poster!

  About the Author

  EEEK! THE RUNAWAY ALIEN

  THE SECRET LAKE

  HENRY HAYNES AND THE GREAT ESCAPE

  FERDINAND FOX’S BIG SLEEP

  Eeek! Chapters 1 & 2

  One

  Two

  The Secret Lake Chapters 1 & 2

  1 ~ The Gardener

  2 ~ Beneath the Mound

  Join Karen’s Readers’ Club

  Walter Brown — magical thanks

  MAGICAL BONUS EDITION!

  Includes Chapters 1 & 2 of The Secret Lake

  and Eeek! The Runaway Alien

  Both top sellers at school events.

  We’d hate you to miss out!

  For everyone who believes in magic

  1

  The Birthday Surprise

  As dawn broke on the morning of Walter Brown’s tenth birthday he hadn’t the faintest idea that his life was about to change forever. Like most other boys his age he was still fast asleep in bed.

  The wall beside him was covered with posters showing distant galaxies and planets, the sun, the moon and, of course, Earth. On the opposite wall hung a poster of his favourite football team, Southbridge Wanderers, and a team photo from his local soccer club. Walter, meanwhile, lay flat on his back underneath his duvet, only his gentle breathing stirring the still morning air.

  Despite appearances, astronomy and football were the furthest things from Walter’s mind at this precise moment. So, for that matter, was his tenth birthday.

  Walter was far too busy dreaming his favourite dream — the one where he was in the circus ring with Great-grandpa Horace, helping him perform magic.

  As ever, the benches all around brimmed with row upon row of smiling faces disappearing high into the shadows of the Big Top. As always, the smiling faces were all screaming and shouting, ‘More, Grandpa Horace! More!’

  And now, as in every dream, Great-grandpa Horace turned slowly to Walter in his black top hat and gave him a friendly wink. ‘Let’s do the last trick again shall we, Walter?’ The audience cheered as Walter gave a broad grin, picked up a silver-tipped wand from the table in front of him and passed it into his great-grandpa’s tiny white-gloved hands.

  In fact, Walter had never met Great-grandpa Horace. He had died when Walter was a baby. But his mum had an old box full of newspaper cuttings, and black and white photographs taken during the 50 years he had spent travelling around Europe with the circus. His tricks were so unusual they made headline news in every city he visited — like the time he turned a horse into a snake, or when he managed to magic sweets into the hands of all the children in the audience, and another time when he made someone’s dad vanish and reappear on the other side of the Big Top.

  The newspapers said they’d heard that even the Magic Circle couldn’t explain how he did it but, being very secretive (and probably a bit jealous), they would never comment.

  At the age of five Walter announced he wanted to be a magician. And though astronomy and football had since taken over, his fascination with magic had never quite left him.

  Had Walter been awake just now, he might have wondered why his dream had returned so vividly this particular morning. But, of course, he wasn’t and so he dreamed on — for a short while at least.

  A clock downstairs chimed once. Moments later Walter’s door creaked open, shedding a beam of light from the hallway across the floor and onto his bed. A tall, fluffy, black tail passed silently through the doorway. The owner of the proud tail, which now glided serenely across the room towards Walter’s bed, was Walter’s cat, Sixpence.

  The creak of the door and the shaft of light had already begun to stir Walter. When Sixpence jumped onto his bed Walter turned over and groaned as small lumpy paws padded over his legs, across his ribs and up towards his head. The loud purring in his ear was the final straw.

  ‘Oh, Sixpence! It’s the middle of the night,’ Walter mumbled in a sleepy grump. ‘Why can’t you just stay on the mattress and off me? Now settle down and go to sleep.’

  ‘Not on your life,’ retorted Sixpence (except that Walter couldn’t hear her). ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment for five years!’

  Sixpence continued purring loudly, then started nudging her head repeatedly against Walter’s ear.

  ‘Come on, Walter. Wake up — it’s your birthday! We’ve got things to do!’

  Despite the nudging and the purring, and even a bit of licking, Walter was already falling back into a deep sleep. ‘I don’t believe this,’ cried Sixpence. ‘It’s the boy’s tenth birthday, the most important one of his life, and all he wants to do is sleep!’

  Sixpence leapt off the bed, and stalked over to a pile of presents in the corner of the room. She sat down, took in an enormous breath, and let out a loud, grating ‘Miauowww!’ It worked. Walter sat up in bed rubbing his eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, Sixpence?’ he croaked, half asleep and half cross. But then, peering over, he saw the pile of presents in the grey morning light and remembered. ‘Hey! It’s my birthday! Well done, Sixpence!’

  Walter scrambled out of his bed across to Sixpence. He glanced at his bedside clock and groaned — it was only just gone 6.30 and no one would be up before 8. He thought about waiting (for about two seconds), but the temptation was too great.

  Walter ripped the packaging off the first present. His face lit up. ‘Wow! Southbridge Wanderers’ new football strip. Very nice!’ He held the red and white striped shirt up against himself and tried a few air kicks with his bare feet.

  He tore the wrapping off the next present — a junior chemistry set. Create a world of fizzing and exploding science experiments right in your own home! said the blurb on the front of the box.

  ‘Awesome!’ said Walter, his eyes wide as he studied the list of contents and experiments. (His dad was chemistry teacher at the local college — no prizes for guessing whose idea this was.)

  As he picked up the next present Sixpence meowed loudly and flicked her tail from side to side. ‘Nooo! Not that one!’ she said (unheard), instead peering hard at a tall rectangular box at the back of the pile.

  ‘Hey, it’s from Todd,’ said Walter, beaming. He’d recognise that handwriting anywhere. He blinked and swallowed hard. It had only been three weeks since his best friend had moved from next door, but already it felt like a year. ‘Wow! A book on the Northern Lights,’ he whispered as the paper fell away.

  ‘B-o-r-i-n-g!’ said Sixpence with a yawn as Walter began to leaf through the pages, gasping at each new photograph.

  But then the cat’s black fluffy fur began to bristle and stand on end as Walter finally reached to the back of the pile for the tall box with the silver paper.

  Walter tore at the wrapping, adding it to the growing pile, which now surrounded Sixpence. The last piece of paper fell to the ground to reveal a battered purple box with the words Handle With Care written in faded black ink diagonally across its side.

  ‘I wonder what this is, Sixpence?’ Walter held the box at eye level and shook it gently from side to side. Something inside rattled. He sniffed the box. I
t was definitely old — like the inside of a wardrobe that hadn’t been opened for 20 years. ‘Time to find out!’ he said eagerly.

  Walter placed the box on his desk and pulled up the dog-eared flaps that criss-crossed over the top end.

  As he peered down inside he took a quick inward breath as he found himself staring at a slightly tatty black top hat.

  ‘Check this out!’ he cried. Carefully, he reached in and lifted out the hat. As he did so, a slip of yellow paper fluttered out unnoticed and landed on the carpet.

  Sixpence moved to take a sitting position beside it.

  Still holding the hat aloft, Walter peered inside the box. At the bottom, previously hidden by the hat, lay a pair of white-grey gloves. But that wasn’t all. Wedged along one side, held in with a metal wire, was a faded black stick with a silver end.

  Walter’s heart began to race. He placed the top hat carefully on his bed and, with arms trembling, lifted out the gloves and slipped them on. Then he unhooked the stick from its resting place.

  ‘A magician’s outfit,’ he breathed, his mouth widening into a smile. He held up the wand between his white-gloved fingers and turned to reach for the hat. As he did so, he spotted the square of yellow paper on the carpet beside Sixpence.

  ‘What’s that, Sixpence?’ He leaned forward, picked up the note and quickly unfolded it. The message in looped and shaky handwriting was addressed to him:

  For my great and only grandson, Walter Brown. A gift on your 10th birthday, which was a gift to me on mine. It’s a magical age! Stay focused and have fun!

  Sorry I can’t be there to see you open this!

  With love from your late, Great-grandpa Horace xxx

  2

  A Talking Cat

  ‘Wow, Sixpence!’ said Walter, picking up the hat. ‘It’s from Great-grandpa Horace!’

  ‘Now we’re talking,’ said Sixpence (still unheard). ‘Well, go on — go and put it on then!’

  Walter picked up the hat and carried it carefully towards his mirror. Slowly and ceremoniously he lifted it above his head (about ten centimetres), then lowered it on.

  ‘That looks fantastic!’ cried Sixpence.

  ‘Thanks!’ said Walter, beaming. ‘Now—’

  Walter freeze-framed and glanced at his cat’s reflection in the mirror. ‘D-Did you just… say something?’ he asked, his eyes popping. But then he immediately felt ridiculous and snorted a half chuckle.

  ‘Sure!’ cried Sixpence. ‘I said the hat looks fantastic!’

  Walter grasped his hat by the brim, stepped two paces back, and fell flat on his back on his bed.

  ‘And by the way I’m “Sixth Sense”, not Sixpence!’ said Sixth Sense with a sigh. ‘Have you any idea what it’s like being called the wrong name for five whole years?!’

  Walter slowly sat up, his mouth wide open, his eyes saucer-like. He tried to speak but the words stuck tight.

  ‘Come on, Walter — get a grip!’ said Sixth Sense. ‘We’ve got things to do before the grown-ups wake. Now, please, close your mouth and get that ridiculous expression off your face!’

  Walter jerked out of his trance and snapped his mouth shut. ‘Now hang on a minute,’ he said indignantly. ‘You’ve got some explaining to do. You can’t just expect me to wake up on my tenth birthday and start talking to my cat — who, by the way, I find rather rude.’

  ‘Typical curious young boy!’ said Sixth Sense, parading around the room with her tail in the air. ‘Mind you, curiosity is no bad thing — not even for us cats.’ She stopped and twisted to lick the top of her back left leg. ‘In fact,’ she continued, looking back up at Walter, ‘it’s just what the doctor ordered.’

  ‘Pardon?’ said Walter. ‘If you’re going to talk in riddles we might as well forget it!’ He reached to remove his hat.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ said Sixth Sense. She flashed her green eyes. ‘You won’t hear me.’

  ‘Sor-ry,’ said Walter slowly. Then, still clutching the hat brim, he narrowed his eyes and grinned at his cat mischievously. ‘In that case don’t tempt me to take it off! Now, tell me what’s going on.’

  Sixth Sense stretched out her front legs and pushed her bottom and tail into the air.

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she said, clawing at the carpet as Walter looked on with a frown, ‘I suppose I do owe you an explanation now we’ve officially become partners.’

  ‘Partners?’

  ‘Yes, Walter, partners. You and me!’

  She came out of her stretch and sat down, then lifted her left paw and started washing her face.

  ‘Can you stop doing that, please?’ said Walter crossly.

  ‘Okay, okay.’ She placed her paw back down and looked up at Walter.

  ‘Well,’ she began, ‘it all started when I was born. I was the sixth in the litter and early on my mother spotted I was special.’ She stood up and began stalking around the room, tail high again. ‘Of course, everyone knows we cats have a sixth sense. You know, sensing when something’s about to happen.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Telephones ringing, doorbells going, that sort of stuff.

  ‘In that way we are, of course, superior to you humans,’ she added, darting a sideways glance at Walter.

  ‘Superior! That’s a bit cheeky!’ scoffed Walter.

  ‘Anyway, I was born with an unusually strong dose of numero six,’ Sixth Sense went on, ‘— to the extent that I see happenings far in the future as well. That’s how I knew about Great-grandpa Horace’s present.’

  ‘What?’ Walter’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You mean you knew Great-grandpa Horace would give me a magician’s outfit today?’

  ‘Of course I did! I’ve known since the day your mum bought me from that lady at the mobile library. And there’s something else…’

  ‘Go on…’ said Walter slowly. Surely nothing could surprise him now.

  Sixth Sense’s green eyes seemed to glow with pride. ‘Well, Walter, I can also see into the past. And it turns out that my great-great-great…’ She paused and shook her head. ‘Actually, I lose count of how many greats. But my great-whatever-number-it-is grandmother belonged to — your great-grandpa!’

  Walter’s mouth fell open. ‘What? You’re descended from my great-grandpa’s cat?’

  ‘Yep!’ said Sixth Sense triumphantly.

  ‘How…? W… W…’ Walter struggled to push his words out.

  ‘Well,’ said Sixth Sense, ‘when your great-grandpa went away with the circus he gave my great-great etc etc grandma to a woman who ran a perambulating library.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s a mobile library to you.’

  She continued. ‘And my great-great-whatever-the-number-is grandma went on to have kittens who had more kittens and so on, and over the years they got passed to the owners and customers of that library and other mobile libraries. And that’s where you come in, Walter, because you’re the one who persuaded your mum to rescue me from that awful, fussy woman at your mobile library. And what a relief that was, I can tell you!’

  She glanced at the ceiling and seemed to shudder.

  Walter re-played the story in his mind, clearly picturing the morning he’d tugged at his mum’s hand and pleaded with her to take one of the kittens the lady had for sale in the basket under her desk. He’d picked Sixpence because he liked her name and the look in her eyes. He was only five then, but right now it felt like yesterday.

  Sixth Sense leapt onto the bed, interrupting his daydream. ‘So, you see, Walter, we’ve been chosen — you and me!’ Her green eyes lit up. ‘Isn’t it exciting?’

  ‘Chosen? Chosen for what?’ Walter, still trying to take in everything Sixth Sense had said, had started to dress himself. He wasn’t sure he was ready for yet more surprises.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ The cat squinted thoughtfully up at the window. ‘All I know is it involves travelling abroad.’

  ‘Abroad…?’ Walter heard himself reply in a high voice.

  ‘I don’t know when or where, or what exactly happens,’ Sixth Sense went on, ‘but what I do kn
ow is that your great-grandpa has something to do with it and you’ll need to perform magic when the time comes. That means we must get some practice in — and pronto!’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s soon to you.’

  Walter’s eyes started to glaze over as he pictured himself performing magic in a distant land in Great-grandpa Horace’s outfit. Was he destined to follow in his footsteps around the cities of Europe, making the headlines with his magic tricks? If he were, that really would be a dream come true!

  ‘Ahem!’ said Sixth Sense.

  ‘Ooops — sorry!’ said Walter, coming out of his trance. ‘Okay, …er…practice. So, where do we start?’

  ‘Well,’ said Sixth Sense, pacing up and down, ‘how about something close to home?’

  ‘Like what?’

  Sixth Sense paused, then slipped him a sideways glance. ‘Like the Braithwaite twins up in Cotswolds Close?’

  ‘What — Harry and George?’ Walter tried to sound casual but already his heart was fluttering. The twins had moved into one of the big new houses at the top of the road the week before Todd moved out. Their dad rode a Harley Davidson and worked in film and, according to Todd, their mum was a famous actress (or at least someone else had told Todd that). Walter was dying to meet them but hadn’t yet plucked up the courage to knock on their door in case it looked like sucking up. He’d even thought about asking them to his birthday party, but had got cold feet when he started writing out the invitation — they just seemed so much cooler than him.