A Chrestomanci Book. Copyright © by Diana Wynne Jones. The Pinhoe Egg Diana Wynne Jones A Chrestomanci Book A 3S digital back-up edition click for scan notes and proofing. Descargá gratis el libro The Pinhoe Egg - Cat Chant and Marianne Pinhoe have discovered something exciting—something truly precious, very strange, and. Register Free To Download Files | File Name: The Pinhoe Egg Chrestomanci 6 Diana Wynne Jones PDF. THE PINHOE EGG CHRESTOMANCI 6 DIANA.

Author:DENA VILLESCAZ
Language:English, Spanish, German
Country:Barbados
Genre:Academic & Education
Pages:566
Published (Last):29.07.2016
ISBN:785-5-18092-535-2
Distribution:Free* [*Registration needed]
Uploaded by: SINDY

61243 downloads 162536 Views 36.87MB PDF Size Report


The Pinhoe Egg Pdf

The Pinhoe Egg - PDF. aracer.mobi: Customer reviews: The Pinhoe Egg ( Chronicles the pinhoe egg chrestomanci 6 diana wynne jones An egg protected by. The Pinhoe egg. by: Jones urn:acs6:pinhoeegg00dian:pdf:ddcefdd- 4dd Borrow this book to access EPUB and PDF files. The Pinhoe Egg (The Chrestomanci Series, Book 7) pdf epub ebooks download free, download more free pdf, epub ebooks of Jones, Diana.

Greenwillow, p Library ed. Cat, who is in line to be the next Chrestomanci, the regulator of local magical use, finds himself instantly connected with Marianne, whose extraordinary magic has been undervalued in the large Pinhoe family, when the two bond over a found egg and the eventual griffin hatchling. Swirling around the protagonists' cozy new friendship are increasingly dire curses thrown between the two feuding families. What Cat and Marianne find as they filter through the layers of animosity, however, will shake up the whole region forever: distrust, fear, and superstition led these families into making bad choices about themselves and hundreds of other magical creatures who have been entrapped for generations , and this current feud is actually based on little more than centuries-old misconceptions. Both groups will likely find the addition [End Page ] of a baby griffin and hundreds of newly released and mysterious magical folk to be intriguing elements for future novels. If you would like to authenticate using a different subscribed institution that supports Shibboleth authentication or have your own login and password to Project MUSE.

The only person able to cope seemed to be solid, fair Aunt Dinah. Come on upstairs and let them get your nightie on you. She looked down at Marianne as she went, almost like her usual self. She sounded nearly normal. Soon after that, Marianne was able to walk home between Mum and Dad, with Nutcase struggling a little in her arms. All he asked of life was to spend his time making beautiful solid furniture with Uncle Richard as his partner. In the shed behind Furze Cottage the two of them made chairs that worked to keep you comfortable, tables bespelled so that anyone who used them felt happy, cabinets that kept dust out, wardrobes that repelled moths, and many other things.

For her last birthday, Dad had made Marianne a wonderful heart-shaped writing desk with secret drawers in it that were really secret: no one could even find those drawers unless they knew the right spell.

Mum, however, was nothing like such a peace addict as Dad. She was a giddy town girl before your father married her.

Led him a proper dance, she did, and you know it, Harry! When she went to bed, where Nutcase sat on her stomach and purred, she sleepily tried to remember her grandfather. Old Gaffer had never struck her as being led a dance. Of course she had been very young then, but he had always seemed like a strong person who went his own way.

He was wiry and he smelled of earth. Marianne remembered him striding with his long legs, off into the woods, leading his beloved old horse, Molly, harnessed to the cart in which he collected all the strange plants and herbs for which he had been famous. She remembered his old felt hat. Marianne still had no idea what his name had been. She remembered how Old Gaffer seemed to love being surrounded by his sons and his grandchildren—all boys, except for Marianne— and the way she had a special place on his knee after Sunday lunch.

They always went up to Woods House for Sunday lunch. She had very clear memories of Mum and Gammer snapping at each other in the kitchen, while old Miss Callow did the actual cooking. Mum loved to cook, but she was never allowed to in that house. Just as she fell asleep, Marianne had the most vivid memory of all, of Old Gaffer calling at Furze Cottage with what he said was a special present for her. Marianne, who had been expecting chocolate, looked at the lumps in dismay.

It was worse when Gaffer fetched out his knife—which had been sharpened so often that it was more like a spike than a knife—and carefully cut a slice off a lump and told her to eat it. It tasted like earth. Marianne spat it out. Nutcase was missing in the morning.

The door was shut and the window too, but Nutcase was gone all the same. Nor was he downstairs asking for breakfast. Mum was busy rushing about finding socks and pants and shirts for Joe. Oh, God! Marianne knew this was because the stolen ferret was in the knapsack too. Joe had his very sulkiest look on. Marianne could not blame him. If it had been her, she knew she would have been dreading going to a place where they were all enchanters and out to stop anyone else doing witchcraft.

Marianne, not for the first time, thought that her brother had pretty powerful magic, even if it was not the usual sort. Go and fetch Nutcase, Marianne. She had to knock and ring the bell before the door was opened by a stone-faced angry nurse. The nurse dodged. May I come in? There still seemed to be something yellow inside the glass, but it did not look so much like a ferret today. It was fading. Illusions did that. But here Gammer distracted her by coming rushing down the stairs in a frilly white nightdress and a red flannel dressing gown, with the other nurse pelting behind her.

How are you? The nurse screamed and ran sideways. The clock tried to follow her. Well, that takes care of that! Marianne thought. But Gammer was now running for the open front door. Marianne raced after her and caught her by one skinny arm as she stumbled over the brass tray at the bottom of the steps. Those nurses are trying to help you. She hung her head, wispy and uncombed. She felt the kind of wincing, horrified pity that you would rather not feel.

Gammer smelled as if she had wet herself, and she was almost crying. Promise me, Gammer. I shall wash my hands of you and go and work in London. Marianne thought wistfully of shops and red buses and streets everywhere instead of fields. But the threat seemed to have worked. Gammer was nodding her unkempt head. She led Gammer indoors again, where the nurses were both standing staring at the wreckage. Word had got round, as usual. The nurses were soothed and took Gammer away to be dressed. More sandwiches were made, more Pinhoes arrived, and, once again, there was a solemn meeting in the front room about what to do now.

Marianne sighed again and thought Joe was lucky to be out of it. Run and fetch your Aunt Joy here. She walked up the street beside Marianne, pinning on her old blue hat as she went and grumbling the whole way. He seemed quite glad to be taken back to Furze Cottage and given breakfast. She had not realized that things were as upsetting as that. But they were. Gammer had never done anything but order Marianne about, nothing to make a person fond of her, but all the same it was awful to have her screaming and throwing things and being generally like a very small child.

She hoped they were deciding on a way to make things more reasonable, up at Woods House. It seemed as if it had not been easy to decide anything.

Mum and Dad came home some hours later, with Uncle Richard, all of them exhausted. This is no time for a man to watch his weight. It seemed that the nurses had been persuaded to stay on another week, for twice the pay, provided one of the aunts was there all the time to protect them. Unfortunately, she was right. The nurses lasted two more nights and then, very firmly and finally, gave notice. They said the house was haunted. They left. And there was yet another Pinhoe emergency meeting.

Marianne avoided this one. She told everyone, quite reasonably, that you had to keep a cat indoors for a fortnight in a new place or he would run away. So she sat in her room with Nutcase. This was not as boring as it sounded because, now that Joe was not there to jeer at her, she was able to open the secret drawer in her heart-shaped desk and fetch out the story she was writing.

This had been news to Great-Aunt Sue. She did not go for the idea at all. In fact, she had said she would go and live with her sister on the other side of Hopton, and Edgar could look after Gammer himself and see how he liked it. So everyone hastily thought again. Gammer had somehow gotten wind of what was being decided. She appeared in the front room wrapped in a tablecloth and declared that the only way she would leave Woods House was feet first in her coffin. The ancestral family home, they said, the big house of the village.

As the oldest surviving Pinhoe, Edgar said, it was his right to live there. The house is mine. It came to me when Old Gaffer went, but Gammer set store by living there, so I let her. She stared. No, my idea is to sell the place, make a bit of money to give to Isaac to support Gammer at the Dell. He and Dinah could use the cash. And Lester saying that it should only be sold to a Pinhoe or not at all—and Joy screeching for a share of the money. His side of the family are Hopton born.

I told him to get someone rich from London interested, get a really good price for it. Something tells me it may be hard work moving Gammer out tomorrow. Joe was there, looking sulky, beside Joss Callow from That Castle, alongside nearly a hundred distant relatives that Marianne had scarcely ever met. About the only people who were not there were Aunt Joy, who had to sort the post, and Aunt Dinah, who was getting the room ready for Gammer down in the Dell.

It made sense to have Uncle Arthur do the announcing. No one could say they had not heard him. Everyone was divided into work parties.

Marianne found herself in the fourth group that was supposed to get Gammer herself down to the Dell. Free wine and beer. It all sounded wonderfully efficient. The first sign that things were not, perhaps, going to go that smoothly was when Great-Uncle Edgar stopped his carriage outside Woods House slap in the path of the farm cart and strode into the house, narrowly missing a sofa that was just coming out in the hands of six second cousins. Edgar strode up to Dad, who was in the middle of the hall, trying to explain which things were to go with Gammer and which things were to be stored in the shed outside the village.

[PDF Download] The Chronicles of Chrestomanci Vol. 3 (Conrad's Fate / The Pinhoe Egg) [Download]

Move that sofa! You get upstairs, Harry. Polly and Sue and them are having a bit of trouble with Gammer. The shouts outside rose to screams mixed with braying. They turned around and watched the sofa being levitated across the startled donkey. This was followed by a horrific crash as someone dropped the glass case with the badger in it. Real trouble. Evidently they had been trying to get Gammer dressed.

Gammer had grown herself into the bed. She had sunk into the mattress, deep into it, and rooted herself, with little hairy nightdress-colored rootlets sticking out all round her. Her long toenails twined like transparent yellow creepers into the bars at the end of the bed. At the other end, her hair and her ears were impossibly grown into the pillow. Out of it her face stared, bony, defiant, and smug. His round amiable face went crimson and shiny. Leave her be. No one had realized quite how much furniture there was.

A house the size of Woods House, that was big enough to have held a family with seven children once, can hold massive quantities of furniture.

And Woods House did. Great-Uncle Edgar prudently left at this point in case someone suggested they use his fine, spruce carriage too; but Great-Uncle Lester nobly stayed and offered to take the smaller items in his car. Even so, all three vehicles had to make several trips to the big barn out on the Hopton Road, while a crowd of younger Pinhoes rushed out there on bikes and broomsticks to unload the furniture, stack it safely, and surround it in their best spells of preservation.

At the same time, so many things turned up that people thought Gammer would need in her new home, that Dolly the donkey was going backward and forward nonstop between Woods House and the Dell, with the cart loaded and creaking behind her. Marianne privately thought this was rather sentimental of Aunt Sue, since most of the stuff was things she had never once seen Gammer use. Everyone else had forgotten the attics. But he was ignored, as he mostly was, because Uncle Richard brought the donkey cart back with a small Pinhoe girl who had a message from Mum.

Evidently Mum was getting impatient to know what had become of Gammer. But Nicola was determined to finish her narrative first. I was good.

Dad began wearily climbing the stairs. If anything, she was rooted to the bed more firmly than ever. Cut it out! One last time— do you get up, or do we carry you to the Dell bed and all? The bare floor creaked under the weight of the bed. No one could shift it. This time, whatever Gammer was doing made that almost impossible. Everyone strained and sweated.

Great-Aunt Sue stopped looking neat at all. Marianne thought that, for herself, she could have lifted three elephants more easily. Uncle Charles and four cousins left off loading the donkey cart and ran upstairs to help, followed by Uncle Richard and then by Great-Uncle Lester. But the bed still would not move. Until, when every possible person was gathered round the bed, heaving and muttering the spell, Gammer smiled wickedly and let go.

The bed went up two feet and shot forward. Everyone stumbled and floundered. Great-Aunt Sue was carried along with the bed as it made for the doorway and then crushed against the doorpost as the bed jammed itself past her and swung sideways into the upstairs corridor.

It sailed toward the stairs, leaving everyone behind except for Uncle Arthur. Uncle Arthur was holding on to the bars at the end of the bed and pushing mightily to stop it. And the bed launched itself down the stairs with Uncle Arthur pelting backward in front of it for dear life. At the landing, it did a neat turn, threw Uncle Arthur off, bounced on his belly, and set off like a toboggan down the rest of the stairs. In the hall, Nutcase—who had somehow gotten out again— shot out of its way with a shriek.

There the Reverend Pinhoe, who had been standing in the churchyard, vaulted the wall and hurried over to help. Pinhoe to do! As the hill got steeper, they were quite glad of the fact that the Reverend Pinhoe was no good at levitation. Despite the way they were now going at a brisk trot, people who were not witches or not Pinhoes came out of the houses and trotted alongside to stare at Gammer and her roots. Others leaned out of windows to get a look, too.

Gammer smiled. And it very soon appeared that she had at least one more thing she could do. There were frantic shouts from behind. They twisted their heads around and saw Great-Uncle Lester, with Uncle Arthur running in great limping leaps behind him, racing down the street toward them. No one understood what they were shouting, but the way they were waving the bed carriers to one side was quite clear.

The huge table from the kitchen in Woods House was chasing Dolly, gaining on her with every stride of its six massive wooden legs. Everyone else in the street screamed warnings and crowded to the sides. Uncle Arthur collapsed on the steps of the Pinhoe Arms. Only Uncle Richard bravely let go of the bed and jumped forward to try to drag Dolly to safety.

But Dolly, her eyes set with panic, swerved aside from him and pattered on frantically. Uncle Richard had to throw himself flat as the great table veered to charge at him, its six legs going like pistons. Gammer almost certainly meant the table to go for the bed and its carriers, but as it galloped near enough, Uncle Charles, Dad, Uncle Simeon, and the Reverend Pinhoe each put out a leg and kicked it hard in the side. That swung it back into the street again. It was after Dolly in a flash.

Dolly had gained a little when the table swerved, but the table went so fast that it looked as if, unless Dolly could turn right at the bottom of the hill toward Furze Cottage in time, or left toward the Dell, she was going to be squashed against the Post Office wall. Everyone except Marianne held their breath. Marianne thought the look from it was slightly ashamed.

Dolly, seeing the wall coming up, uttered a braying scream. Somehow, no one knew how, she managed to throw herself and the cart sideways into Dell Lane. The cart rocked and shed a birdcage, a small table, and a towel rail, but it stayed upright. Dolly, cart and all, sped out of sight, still screaming. The table thundered on and hit the Post Office wall like a battering ram. It went in among the bricks as if the bricks weighed nothing and plowed on, deep into the raised lawn behind the wall.

There it stopped. When the shaken bed carriers trotted up to the wreckage, Aunt Joy was standing above them on the ruins, with her arms folded ominously. Can you pay for all this? Can you? Curse you, you old—! She turned her back and stalked away into the Post Office. Everyone looked at the vast table, half buried in rubble and earth. That house is small. And they say this table was built inside Woods House. The bed dipped as Uncle Simeon dropped his part of it and raced off up the hill to see if Woods House was still standing.

Marianne was fairly sure that Gammer grinned. They arrived at the Dell to find Dolly, still harnessed to the cart, standing in the duck pond shaking all over, while angry ducks honked at her from the bank. Aunt Dinah, Mum, Nicola, Joe, and a crowd of other people rushed anxiously out of the little house to meet the rest of them.

Everyone gratefully lowered the bed to the grass. As soon as it was down, Gammer sat up and held a queenly hand out to Aunt Dinah. And a cup of hot marmalade would be very welcome too. Marianne could tell he was anxious not to annoy Aunt Joy any further.

He stood staring at the little house, breathing heavily. Marianne could feel him building something around it in the same slow, careful way he made his furniture.

But getting it back up the hill was not quick at all. It was heavy. People kept having to totter away and sit on doorsteps, exhausted. But Dad kept them all at it until they were level with the Pinhoe Arms. Uncle Simeon met them there, looking mightily relieved. Uncle Arthur came limping out of the yard, leaning on a stick, with one eye bright purple-black. There, although Aunt Helen looked unhappy, no one found anything wrong with the food.

Even elegant Great-Aunt Clarice was seen to have two helpings of roast and four veg. Most people had three. And there was beer, mulled wine, and iced fruit drink—just what everyone felt was needed. Here at last Marianne managed to get a word with Joe. Housekeeper was really hacked off with me and Joss for taking today off. But the rest of them are just plain witches like us, from what they say.

Are you going for more roast? Fetch me another lot, too, will you? It was quite late when a cheery party of uncles and cousins took the table back to Woods House, to shove it in through the broken kitchen wall and patch up the damage until Monday. A second party roistered off down the hill to tidy up the bricks there. Everyone clean forgot about the attics. After that, neither of them could talk about anything but horses. Cat, who was younger than any of them, tried not to listen and hoped they would get tired of the subject soon.

But the horse fever grew. By the time they were on the cross-Channel ferry, Julia and Janet had decided that both of them would die unless they had a horse each the moment they got home to the Castle. Julia, now that owning a horse had stopped being just a lovely idea and become almost real, found she was quite frightened of her father too. She said she would go with Janet if the boys would come and back them up. Neither Roger nor Cat was in the least anxious to help.

They argued most of the way across the Channel. Cat and Roger duly crowded into the cabin with the girls, where Chrestomanci lay, apparently fast asleep. This must have been for something to pass the time with, because Millie, being an enchantress, could have mended most things just with a thought. This was not promising, but, having started, both Janet and Julia suddenly became very eloquent about their desperate, urgent, crying need for horses, or at least ponies, and followed this up with a detailed description of the horse each of them would like to own.

Chrestomanci kept groaning. I shall never forget how devastated I was when old Gabriel de Witt simply refused to listen to me. Chrestomanci put his hands under his head and looked at the boys. And how about you, Cat? Are you too longing to speed about the countryside on wheels or hooves? After all, he was a nine-lifed enchanter, too.

One of you is sane! He held up one hand before the girls could start talking again. So you girls will have to agree to do all the things they tell me these tiresome creatures need—mucking out, cleaning tack, grooming, and so forth. They were ecstatic. They were in heaven. At that moment, anything to do with a horse, even mucking it out, seemed like poetry to them. He could not see the point. Chrestomanci was as good as his word.

And when he had dealt with all the work Tom had for him in turn, he called Joss Callow in and asked his advice on choosing and buying a suitable horse. Joss Callow, who was rather pale and tired that day, pulled himself together and tried his best. There was a mare for sale in the north of Scotland that seemed perfect to Joss, but Chrestomanci said that was much too far away. On the other hand, a wizard called Prendergast had a decent small horse for sale in the next county. Its breeding was spectacular, its name was Syracuse, and it cost rather less money.

Joss Callow wondered about it. You can walk it on from there, can you? Go and look at it today. He reached the stableyard in time to discover Janet and Julia trying to open the big shed at the end. Jason Yeldham? What did you think you wanted in there? Joss Callow smiled. You cut along now. Millie, who always enjoyed driving the big sleek Castle car, loaded Joss Callow into the car with the girls and dropped him at Bowbridge railway station before she took Julia and Janet shopping.

Julia came back more madly excited than ever, with an armload of riding clothes. Janet, with another armload, was almost silent. Her parents, in her own world, had not been rich. She was appalled at how much riding gear cost. Although it seemed to him to be a stupid fuss, he was glad Janet had new things to think about.

It made a slight change from horses. As the kettle was still only singing, Marianne went into the hall again. The screaming in the front room had died down. I was lucky not to be hurt. This caused more screaming and made Joe giggle. He was standing over the glass case that held the twisted, snarling ferret, looking at it much as Nutcase had looked at the tin of cat food.

Joe shrugged. And you, Edith Pinhoe, have failed in that trust. You make mistakes. He sounded as if he was going to say more, but whatever this was, it was lost in the immense scream Gammer gave. Get out of my house, this instant!

The Farleighs must have gotten it right in their faces. They came staggering backward out of the front room and across the hall. At the front door, they managed to turn themselves around. Before she could be sure, all three Farleighs bolted for their carriage, jumped into it, and drove off, helter-skelter, as if Chrestomanci himself was after them.

In the front room, Gammer was still screaming. Marianne rushed in to find her rocking back and forth in her chair and screaming, screaming. Her hair was coming down and dribble was running off her chin. Help me stop her! Whatever you say! It certainly stopped Gammer screaming. She stared at Joe, all wild and shaky and panting. Makes a crumbiest. Well before Joe actually reached Furze Cottage to fetch Mum, word seemed to get round that something had happened to Gammer.

Soon after that came the two great-uncles. Uncle Edgar, who was a real estate agent, spanked up the drive in his carriage and pair; and Uncle Lester, who was a lawyer, came in his smart car all the way from Hopton, leaving his office to take care of itself.

The aunts and great-aunts were not far behind. They paused only to make sandwiches first—except for Aunt Dinah, who went back to the Dell to pen the goats before she too made sandwiches. This, it seemed to Marianne, was an unchanging Pinhoe custom. Show them a crisis, and Pinhoe aunts made sandwiches. Even her own mother arrived with a basket smelling of bread, egg, and cress. The great table in the Woods House kitchen was shortly piled with sandwiches of all sizes and flavors. Marianne and Joe were kept busy carrying pots of tea and sandwiches to the solemn meeting in the front room, where they had to tell each new arrival exactly what happened.

Marianne got sick of telling it. I felt it. They turned to Gammer then. Mum had arrived first, being the only Pinhoe lady to think of throwing sandwiches together by witchcraft, and she had found Gammer in such a state that her first act had been to send Gammer to sleep.

Gammer was most of the time lying on the shabby sofa, snoring. Get the fire brigade. The only one who did not go through this routine was Uncle Charles. Marianne liked Uncle Charles. For one thing—apart from silent Uncle Simeon—he was her only thin uncle. Most of the Pinhoe uncles ran to a sort of wideness, even if most of them were not actually fat.

And Uncle Charles had a humorous twitch to his thin face, quite unlike the rest. Knowing Joe, Marianne suspected that Uncle Charles had worked at being disappointing, just as hard as Joe did—although she did think that Uncle Charles had gone a bit far when he married Aunt Joy at the Post Office.

Uncle Charles arrived in his paint-blotched old overalls, being a house-painter by trade, and he looked at Gammer, snoring gently on the sofa with her mouth open. What happened?

Diana Wynne Jones - Chrestomanci - The Pinhoe Egg

What was the row about? I could throttle the woman, frankly. Should you be in charge now? See what they say. Both pulled at their whiskers uncertainly and finally sent Joe and Marianne out to the kitchen so that the adults could have a serious talk.

What does he wear that tweed hat for? Nutcase rushed out from under the great table demanding food. They had been fat and moist and tasty and he had eaten all but one. Do cats eat meat paste? Gammer had neglected almost everything lately. She was very used to Joe buttering her up and then asking a favor.

But I think her mind was going, all the same, she thought. Be a sport, Marianne. Very quietly, they inspected the ferret under its glass dome. It had always struck Marianne as like a furry yellow snake with legs. All squirmy. But the important thing, if you were going to do an illusion, was that this was probably just what everyone saw.

Then you noticed the wide-open fanged mouth, too, and the ferocious beady eyes. The dome was so dusty that you really hardly saw anything else. You just had to get the shape right.

She nodded. The ferret felt like a hard furry log when she picked it up. Yuck again. She passed the thing to Joe with a shudder. She put the glass dome back over the empty patch of false grass that was left and held both hands out toward it in as near ferret shape as she could.

Bent and yellow and furry-squirmy, she thought at it. Glaring eyes, horrid little ears, pink mouth snarling and full of sharp white teeth. Further yuck. She took her hands away and there it was, exactly as she had thought it up, blurrily through the dust on the glass, a dim yellow snarling shape.

Marianne saw the print of her hands on the dust of the dome, four of them. She blew on them furiously, willing them to go away. They were slowly clearing, when the door to the front room banged importantly open and Great-Uncle Edgar strode out.

Marianne stopped doing magic at once, because he was bound to notice. It turned toward her. Her voice echoed forth from inside the front room. Marianne held her breath and nodded and smiled at Great-Uncle Edgar.

Marianne took in a big breath, which made her quite dizzy after holding it for so long. Marianne stared too. Off you go. Can you bring them? When she got back with the pies, Aunt Joy sent her off again to pin a note on the Post Office door saying closed for family matters, and when she got back from that, Dad sent her to fetch the Reverend Pinhoe.

The Reverend Pinhoe came back to Woods House with Marianne, very serious and dismayed, wanting to know why no one had sent for Dr. The reason was that Gammer had no opinion at all of Dr. She must have heard what the vicar said because she immediately began shouting. Cold hands in the midriff. Marianne was sent to the vicarage phone to ask Dr. Callow to visit, and when the doctor came, there was a further outbreak of shouting.

Here they discovered that there was no bread and only one tin of sardines. She remembered to buy some cat food, too, and came back heavily laden, and very envious of Joe for having made his getaway so easily.

Each time Marianne came back to Woods House, Nutcase greeted her as if she were the only person left in the world. While she was picking him up and comforting him, Marianne could not help stealing secret looks at the glass dome that had held the ferret. Each time she was highly relieved to see a yellow smear with a snarl on the end of it seemingly inside the dome.

Great-Uncle Edgar shortly strode into the house, ushering two extremely sensible-looking nurses. Each had a neat navy overcoat and a little square suitcase.

After Mum, Aunt Prue, and Aunt Polly had shown them where to sleep, the nurses looked into the kitchen, at the muddle of provisions heaped along the huge table there, and declared they were not here to cook. Mum assured them that the aunts would take turns at doing that—at which Aunt Prue and Aunt Polly looked at each other and glowered at Mum. Finally the nurses marched into the front room. Everyone somehow flooded out into the hall with Gammer struggling and yelling in their midst. No one, even the nurses, seemed to know what to do.

Marianne sadly watched Dad and Mum looking quite helpless, Great-Uncle Lester wringing his hands, and Uncle Charles stealthily creeping away to his bicycle. The only person able to cope seemed to be solid, fair Aunt Dinah. Come on upstairs and let them get your nightie on you.

She looked down at Marianne as she went, almost like her usual self. She sounded nearly normal. Soon after that, Marianne was able to walk home between Mum and Dad, with Nutcase struggling a little in her arms.

All he asked of life was to spend his time making beautiful solid furniture with Uncle Richard as his partner. In the shed behind Furze Cottage the two of them made chairs that worked to keep you comfortable, tables bespelled so that anyone who used them felt happy, cabinets that kept dust out, wardrobes that repelled moths, and many other things.

For her last birthday, Dad had made Marianne a wonderful heart-shaped writing desk with secret drawers in it that were really secret: no one could even find those drawers unless they knew the right spell.

Mum, however, was nothing like such a peace addict as Dad. She was a giddy town girl before your father married her. Led him a proper dance, she did, and you know it, Harry!

When she went to bed, where Nutcase sat on her stomach and purred, she sleepily tried to remember her grandfather. Old Gaffer had never struck her as being led a dance. Of course she had been very young then, but he had always seemed like a strong person who went his own way.

He was wiry and he smelled of earth. Marianne remembered him striding with his long legs, off into the woods, leading his beloved old horse, Molly, harnessed to the cart in which he collected all the strange plants and herbs for which he had been famous.

She remembered his old felt hat. Marianne still had no idea what his name had been. She remembered how Old Gaffer seemed to love being surrounded by his sons and his grandchildren—all boys, except for Marianne— and the way she had a special place on his knee after Sunday lunch. They always went up to Woods House for Sunday lunch. She had very clear memories of Mum and Gammer snapping at each other in the kitchen, while old Miss Callow did the actual cooking.

Mum loved to cook, but she was never allowed to in that house. Just as she fell asleep, Marianne had the most vivid memory of all, of Old Gaffer calling at Furze Cottage with what he said was a special present for her.

Marianne, who had been expecting chocolate, looked at the lumps in dismay. It was worse when Gaffer fetched out his knife—which had been sharpened so often that it was more like a spike than a knife—and carefully cut a slice off a lump and told her to eat it. It tasted like earth. Marianne spat it out. Nutcase was missing in the morning.

The door was shut and the window too, but Nutcase was gone all the same. Nor was he downstairs asking for breakfast. Mum was busy rushing about finding socks and pants and shirts for Joe.

Oh, God! Marianne knew this was because the stolen ferret was in the knapsack too. Joe had his very sulkiest look on.

The Pinhoe egg : Jones, Diana Wynne : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

Marianne could not blame him. If it had been her, she knew she would have been dreading going to a place where they were all enchanters and out to stop anyone else doing witchcraft. Marianne, not for the first time, thought that her brother had pretty powerful magic, even if it was not the usual sort.

Go and fetch Nutcase, Marianne. She had to knock and ring the bell before the door was opened by a stone-faced angry nurse. The nurse dodged. May I come in? There still seemed to be something yellow inside the glass, but it did not look so much like a ferret today. It was fading. Illusions did that. But here Gammer distracted her by coming rushing down the stairs in a frilly white nightdress and a red flannel dressing gown, with the other nurse pelting behind her.

How are you? The nurse screamed and ran sideways. The clock tried to follow her. Well, that takes care of that! Marianne thought. But Gammer was now running for the open front door. Marianne raced after her and caught her by one skinny arm as she stumbled over the brass tray at the bottom of the steps. Those nurses are trying to help you. She hung her head, wispy and uncombed. She felt the kind of wincing, horrified pity that you would rather not feel.

Gammer smelled as if she had wet herself, and she was almost crying. Promise me, Gammer. I shall wash my hands of you and go and work in London. Marianne thought wistfully of shops and red buses and streets everywhere instead of fields. But the threat seemed to have worked. Gammer was nodding her unkempt head. She led Gammer indoors again, where the nurses were both standing staring at the wreckage.

Word had got round, as usual. The nurses were soothed and took Gammer away to be dressed.

More sandwiches were made, more Pinhoes arrived, and, once again, there was a solemn meeting in the front room about what to do now. Marianne sighed again and thought Joe was lucky to be out of it. Run and fetch your Aunt Joy here. She walked up the street beside Marianne, pinning on her old blue hat as she went and grumbling the whole way.

He seemed quite glad to be taken back to Furze Cottage and given breakfast. She had not realized that things were as upsetting as that. But they were. Gammer had never done anything but order Marianne about, nothing to make a person fond of her, but all the same it was awful to have her screaming and throwing things and being generally like a very small child. She hoped they were deciding on a way to make things more reasonable, up at Woods House. It seemed as if it had not been easy to decide anything.

Mum and Dad came home some hours later, with Uncle Richard, all of them exhausted. This is no time for a man to watch his weight. It seemed that the nurses had been persuaded to stay on another week, for twice the pay, provided one of the aunts was there all the time to protect them.

Unfortunately, she was right. The nurses lasted two more nights and then, very firmly and finally, gave notice. They said the house was haunted. They left. And there was yet another Pinhoe emergency meeting. Marianne avoided this one. She told everyone, quite reasonably, that you had to keep a cat indoors for a fortnight in a new place or he would run away.

So she sat in her room with Nutcase. This was not as boring as it sounded because, now that Joe was not there to jeer at her, she was able to open the secret drawer in her heart-shaped desk and fetch out the story she was writing.

This had been news to Great-Aunt Sue. She did not go for the idea at all. In fact, she had said she would go and live with her sister on the other side of Hopton, and Edgar could look after Gammer himself and see how he liked it.

So everyone hastily thought again. Gammer had somehow gotten wind of what was being decided. She appeared in the front room wrapped in a tablecloth and declared that the only way she would leave Woods House was feet first in her coffin. The ancestral family home, they said, the big house of the village. As the oldest surviving Pinhoe, Edgar said, it was his right to live there.

The house is mine. It came to me when Old Gaffer went, but Gammer set store by living there, so I let her. She stared.

The Pinhoe Egg

No, my idea is to sell the place, make a bit of money to give to Isaac to support Gammer at the Dell. He and Dinah could use the cash. And Lester saying that it should only be sold to a Pinhoe or not at all—and Joy screeching for a share of the money.

His side of the family are Hopton born. I told him to get someone rich from London interested, get a really good price for it. Something tells me it may be hard work moving Gammer out tomorrow. Joe was there, looking sulky, beside Joss Callow from That Castle, alongside nearly a hundred distant relatives that Marianne had scarcely ever met.

About the only people who were not there were Aunt Joy, who had to sort the post, and Aunt Dinah, who was getting the room ready for Gammer down in the Dell. It made sense to have Uncle Arthur do the announcing. No one could say they had not heard him.

Everyone was divided into work parties. Marianne found herself in the fourth group that was supposed to get Gammer herself down to the Dell. Free wine and beer. It all sounded wonderfully efficient. The first sign that things were not, perhaps, going to go that smoothly was when Great-Uncle Edgar stopped his carriage outside Woods House slap in the path of the farm cart and strode into the house, narrowly missing a sofa that was just coming out in the hands of six second cousins.

Edgar strode up to Dad, who was in the middle of the hall, trying to explain which things were to go with Gammer and which things were to be stored in the shed outside the village.

Move that sofa! You get upstairs, Harry. Polly and Sue and them are having a bit of trouble with Gammer. The shouts outside rose to screams mixed with braying. They turned around and watched the sofa being levitated across the startled donkey. This was followed by a horrific crash as someone dropped the glass case with the badger in it.

Real trouble. Evidently they had been trying to get Gammer dressed. Gammer had grown herself into the bed. She had sunk into the mattress, deep into it, and rooted herself, with little hairy nightdress-colored rootlets sticking out all round her.

Her long toenails twined like transparent yellow creepers into the bars at the end of the bed. At the other end, her hair and her ears were impossibly grown into the pillow. Out of it her face stared, bony, defiant, and smug.

His round amiable face went crimson and shiny. Leave her be. No one had realized quite how much furniture there was. A house the size of Woods House, that was big enough to have held a family with seven children once, can hold massive quantities of furniture. And Woods House did. Great-Uncle Edgar prudently left at this point in case someone suggested they use his fine, spruce carriage too; but Great-Uncle Lester nobly stayed and offered to take the smaller items in his car.

Even so, all three vehicles had to make several trips to the big barn out on the Hopton Road, while a crowd of younger Pinhoes rushed out there on bikes and broomsticks to unload the furniture, stack it safely, and surround it in their best spells of preservation. At the same time, so many things turned up that people thought Gammer would need in her new home, that Dolly the donkey was going backward and forward nonstop between Woods House and the Dell, with the cart loaded and creaking behind her.

Marianne privately thought this was rather sentimental of Aunt Sue, since most of the stuff was things she had never once seen Gammer use.

Everyone else had forgotten the attics. But he was ignored, as he mostly was, because Uncle Richard brought the donkey cart back with a small Pinhoe girl who had a message from Mum. Evidently Mum was getting impatient to know what had become of Gammer. But Nicola was determined to finish her narrative first. I was good. Dad began wearily climbing the stairs. If anything, she was rooted to the bed more firmly than ever. Cut it out!

One last time— do you get up, or do we carry you to the Dell bed and all? The bare floor creaked under the weight of the bed. No one could shift it. This time, whatever Gammer was doing made that almost impossible. Everyone strained and sweated. Great-Aunt Sue stopped looking neat at all. Marianne thought that, for herself, she could have lifted three elephants more easily. Uncle Charles and four cousins left off loading the donkey cart and ran upstairs to help, followed by Uncle Richard and then by Great-Uncle Lester.

But the bed still would not move. Until, when every possible person was gathered round the bed, heaving and muttering the spell, Gammer smiled wickedly and let go. The bed went up two feet and shot forward. Everyone stumbled and floundered.

Great-Aunt Sue was carried along with the bed as it made for the doorway and then crushed against the doorpost as the bed jammed itself past her and swung sideways into the upstairs corridor.

It sailed toward the stairs, leaving everyone behind except for Uncle Arthur. Uncle Arthur was holding on to the bars at the end of the bed and pushing mightily to stop it. And the bed launched itself down the stairs with Uncle Arthur pelting backward in front of it for dear life.

At the landing, it did a neat turn, threw Uncle Arthur off, bounced on his belly, and set off like a toboggan down the rest of the stairs. In the hall, Nutcase—who had somehow gotten out again— shot out of its way with a shriek. There the Reverend Pinhoe, who had been standing in the churchyard, vaulted the wall and hurried over to help.

Pinhoe to do! As the hill got steeper, they were quite glad of the fact that the Reverend Pinhoe was no good at levitation. Despite the way they were now going at a brisk trot, people who were not witches or not Pinhoes came out of the houses and trotted alongside to stare at Gammer and her roots.

Similar files:


Copyright © 2019 aracer.mobi. All rights reserved.
DMCA |Contact Us