The Whizz Pop Chocolate Shop (24 page)

At last the shelling was finished and the dusky nibs filled a deep silver bowl. On the table beside the wall Isadore laid out his mother’s notebooks, a collection of tiny glass bottles with silver stoppers and various squares of the chocolate they had taken from Pierre’s safe and the SMU vault.

“Pick up the molds in your right hands.” Isadore looked tired and haggard, but his eyes burned. “Pierre’s
sun for Lily, Marcel’s star for Caydon—and Oz, I think you are the true inheritor of my moon. When you use it, only good things will happen.”

He tipped the cacao nibs onto the stone, warmed by the fire Caydon had built underneath it. Taking a knife with a round silver blade, Isadore crushed the nibs into crumbs, which slowly melted together into one glorious smooth, glossy, gloopy mass. Though they were in such a hurry, Lily found herself mesmerized by the skill of Isadore’s bony fingers.

“Now the real magic begins.” He scooped the melted cacao back into the silver bowl and gave each of the children a long golden spoon. “Stir the mixture, and keep a tight hold on those molds—I had to trick Pierre and Marcel into doing this when I first made my immortality chocolate. They thought we were making a cure for indigestion.”

The three of them stood around the bowl, stirring the chocolate and clutching the golden molds.

“Ten o’clock!” muttered Isadore. “Here we go!”

He began to rattle out words, too fast for Lily to make anything out—and the mold was growing so hot and heavy in her hand that it was hard to think about anything else.

Every few minutes, Isadore called out a series of numbers and gave one of the tiny bottles to Spike or Demerara. The two animals shook a single drop from each
bottle into the chocolate and each drop filled the room with a different smell—roses, violets, marzipan, cinnamon, vanilla, golden syrup and dark brown sugar. The melted chocolate in the bowl became more and more fragrant.

“Goodness, this takes me back,” Demerara sighed. “We used to do this for Pierre—Spike, do you remember when you fell in with a whole bottle of 11256?”

“Do I ever!” chuckled Spike. “It was while he was working on that slimming chocolate—I swear I farted for two solid days!”

“Poor old Pierre,” Isadore said. “It’s possible to make immortality chocolate, but slimming chocolate was simply too good to be true.”

The time was creeping on. Isadore—with beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead—told them to stop stirring the mixture and poured in a carton of thick cream. Lily hoped they were finished now, but it only seemed to be the start of another complicated process. Isadore told them to hold the golden molds on the table while he poured in the melted chocolate. Once again she felt the weird energy joining her to the other two and pulsing through her—just as she had felt it in the sunken tram.

“Ten past eleven!” groaned Oz. “How much longer is this going to take?”

“Have faith, dear boy—I must say the incantations—I’m
babbling as fast as I can.” Isadore was haggard now, with hollow cheeks and deep wrinkles around his eyes.

The chocolate in the three golden molds had quickly set. Isadore turned them out on the table. They all stared in silence at the three beautiful medallions of perfect chocolate. The detail of each chocolate face was exquisite. The smile on the plump face of the sun was filled with joy. The smiling face of the star was romantic and dreamy. The stern face of the moon had a gentle wisdom.

“My masterpieces,” whispered Isadore. “I’m glad I lived to see this sight one more time!”

He picked up a small silver hammer, and smashed the perfect chocolate into tiny pieces.

They were all horrified—the beautiful pieces of chocolate that had taken so many hours to make.

“What?” gasped Lily. “Why did you do that?”

“You haven’t changed sides again, have you?” Oz asked.

“Trust me; it’s all part of the process.” Isadore swept the fragments of chocolate into another silver bowl. He placed the bowl on the chocolate stone and the three children watched in amazement as he seemed to stir it away into nothing.

Finally, his arm became still. He bent over the silver bowl, limp with exhaustion. All they were left with was one tiny disc.

“What a letdown,” Caydon said crossly. “I’ve seen bigger chocolate buttons!”

“It’s twenty to midnight,” Oz said. “We’ll never get to the Whittington in twenty minutes.”

“Yes we can,” Caydon said. “I’ll fetch my mum and she can drive us.”

Isadore stood upright. “That would take far too long.” He placed the disc of chocolate in a glass tube, corking up the end carefully. “Come with me.”

“I wish I knew what was going on,” Caydon complained. “Why are we in such a hurry?”

“My dear Caydon, I admire your habit of asking awkward questions,” Isadore said. “It’s one of your finest qualities—but right now it’s getting in the way.” He swept open the door and shooed them out of the room.

“Good luck!” Spike called after them.

“Take care!” mewed Demerara.

Oz was so sick with worry he could hardly get words out. “What—? How—?”

“We could take a minicab,” offered Lily. “There’s an office round the corner.”

“There’s nothing else for it.” Isadore was grim. “Please, children—don’t get killed or I’ll never be redeemed—we’ll have to fly.”

“Wow!” cried Caydon, his face lighting up. “Actually FLY, like Superman?”

“No, not at all like Superman—he didn’t run the risk
of plummeting out of the sky. Link arms and hold on for dear life!”

Lily linked arms with Isadore on one side and Oz on the other; this was incredibly scary, but it was also like a dream, and she was painfully aware of the other voice calling in a plaintive way, like a bird moving away to the next valley.

She screwed her eyes tight shut; the pavement of Skittle Street dropped away from under her feet and the night air rushed around her face.

“This is AWESOME!” yelled Caydon.

“INCREDIBLE!” shouted Oz.

She couldn’t help opening her eyes. They were shooting over the dark streets of Holloway, just above the level of the tallest houses, so fast that the long necklaces of street lights below were a blur. The Whittington Hospital was near the Archway branch of McDonald’s, only a short distance from Skittle Street if you didn’t have to bother with roads and traffic lights. Lily watched the ground rushing past underneath until the jumble of hospital buildings rose up to meet them—and suddenly they were all sprawled in a heap on the tarmac outside the emergency room.

“Ten minutes!” Isadore panted, struggling to his feet. He gazed around at the dozens of signs pointing to different departments. “X-Ray—Podiatry—Hematology—this place is enormous! Where do they keep the babies?”

“I know where,” Caydon said. “My gran’s one of the midwives—come on.”

He hurried them to the end of the main building, to a small door with a notice: “Maternity Night Bell.” It had a keypad and Caydon punched in the code.

It was a very good thing Caydon knew his way around; the place was a maze of sudden staircases and endless corridors. Very out of breath, they reached the Maternity Unit with six minutes to spare. Everything was very quiet, except for the machines bleeping and one baby crying a long way off.

Caydon put a finger to his lips. “Shhh! If my gran sees us she’ll go crazy—I wish my shoes didn’t squeak!”

He led them through a pair of doors marked “Prenatal Ward.”

Lily looked into a side room with a glass door and her heart leapt. Dad was sleeping in a plastic chair, while Mum lay on a high bed with wires coming out of her and a large machine bleeping beside her. They crept into the room.

“She’s asleep!” Oz moaned breathlessly. “How do we give her the chocolate?”

Isadore took the glass tube from his pocket and pulled out the cork. The small, hot room was suddenly filled with a beautiful smell of chocolate. “I’ll just slip it into her mouth.”

The door slammed open; an angry voice snapped,
“What do you think you’re doing?” A stout black lady in a blue midwife’s dress was in the room with them, standing between Mum and Isadore. “Are you trying to choke her?”

“Gran!” squeaked Caydon.

Isadore’s mouth fell open with shock; he nearly dropped the disc of magic chocolate. “Elvira!”

“Give that to me!” Elvira snatched the chocolate from Isadore. “What took you so long?” She put the chocolate in the palm of her hand, blew on it and held it under Mum’s nose, where it turned to mist and disappeared. In her sleep, Mum sighed and smiled. “She’s taken it now—with just one and a half minutes to spare.” Dad stirred in his chair, then seemed to sleep more peacefully.

“We did it!” Isadore collapsed into the plastic chair next to Dad. “Elvira, thank you.”

“Gran?” Caydon was bewildered. “What’s going on? Do you know him?”

“Oh, I know Isadore Spoffard,” Elvira said. “I used to be married to him.”

“WHAT!”

“Out of this room, everybody—these two tired parents need their sleep.” The stern midwife suddenly smiled at Oz. “It’s OK now.”

“Really?” The surge of relief and hope took Oz’s
breath away; it was like a great weight lifting off him. He knew Lily could feel it too. She took his hand as they went back into the corridor, and the other voice shot through them both in a pulse of the purest happiness.

Caydon was too astonished to pay attention to anyone but his grandmother. “You were married to Isadore?”

“I’m afraid so,” Elvira said briskly. “Back when I was a silly girl in Jamaica.”

“But—does Mum know?”

“Well, no.” She was a little uncomfortable. “You see, when I came to England, I married your grandad, who wasn’t a bit magic, and your mum takes after him. She didn’t need to know about all that stuff.”

“Hang on,” Lily said. “Are you the local witch?”

“Yes, darling; I’ve been keeping an eye on Skittle Street for years, and Demerara reports to me—I wrote the letter that was supposed to come from the solicitor. The department wanted me to take on the whole mission, but I’m a working witch with a maternity unit to run, so I sent Caydon instead.”

“But—but—am I magical, then?”

Elvira chuckled and patted his cheek. “Oh, you’re as magical as they come—I could tell the minute you were born! I didn’t mean to start training you till you were sixteen, but this was an emergency.” She turned sharply to Isadore. “What will you do now?”

He looked very tired. “You know.”

Her face softened. “I never thought I’d say this, but you did a very good thing today.”

“I was merely making amends,” said Isadore. “I’ve sent you back the deeds to your farm.”

“Thanks, Isadore.”

“Farm?” Caydon asked faintly.

“My family’s farm in Jamaica; I’ll tell you about it later.”

“That’s where I went with Isadore,” Oz told him. “It’s amazing.”

“Wow—we have a farm!”

“Yes, but you three should be in bed,” Elvira said. “Go right back to Skittle Street.”

Caydon brightened. “Can we fly again?”

“You let them FLY?” Elvira turned furiously on Isadore. “My only grandson and these innocent twins? You could’ve KILLED them!”

“It was an emergency,” he said quickly. “There wasn’t any other way.”

“Don’t get mad, Gran.” Caydon took Elvira’s plump arm. “He couldn’t help it, and we’re fine.”

“Hmmm,” said Elvira. “Well, you can take the night bus home. There’ll be no more flying, thank you very much!”

“Will you teach me flying when I’m sixteen? Will you teach me NOW?”

“Caydon Robert Campbell, stop pestering me while I’m at work. You’ll learn magic when I’m good and ready—get home at once!”

Now that Oz had met Caydon’s gran, he wasn’t at all surprised to learn that she was a witch—when she was angry, her face was thunderous.

“I’ll take good care of them,” Isadore said quietly. “I’m glad we met again, Elvira. I’m sorry I cheated you all those years ago. The fact is, I wouldn’t have married you if you hadn’t been so beautiful.”

“Oh, go on!” The fearsome midwife smiled, and was suddenly surprisingly young and pretty. “You could always talk the paint off a wall!”

“You won’t see me again.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

Oz caught the serious look that passed between them, and wondered what they were talking about.

“Thanks, Elvira.” Isadore solemnly kissed her hand. “Thanks for everything.”

“Excuse me,” Lily said. “Do you know when our baby will be born?”

“Very soon.” The local witch became businesslike again. “I hope you two are ready to be very helpful and change lots of nappies.”

“Yeuch,” Caydon said. “Yellow baby poo!”

“You cheeky boy—I’ll deal with you when I finish my shift! Now get back home before I throw you there.”

Caydon laughed and gave her a quick hug. “See you later.”

“Nice to meet you,” Oz said. The ridiculous happiness hadn’t worn off, but he was starting to get worried about Isadore; he was stooping, and nearly all his hair was gray.

“You mustn’t fret about him, darling,” Elvira said gently. “He’s going to be fine.”

Isadore didn’t seem fine. He had to cling to Oz’s arm when they left the hospital and he was shuffling like a very old man. All three of them had to help him on and off the night bus. It took them ages to walk the short distance from the bus stop to Skittle Street.

“I’d better get to my house,” Caydon said.

“We couldn’t have managed without you, Caydon,” Isadore said. “Thank you very much, and give my respects to your grandmother.” It sounded to Oz as if he were saying goodbye, but Caydon didn’t notice.

“OK,” he said cheerfully. “Good night.”

Isadore limped painfully into Number 18 and collapsed into a chair in the kitchen. When Oz switched the light on, he looked shockingly older.

“Uncle Isadore, are you OK?” Oz asked

“Never better, my dear boy. Perhaps you’d be kind enough to make me a cup of tea.”

“Sure.” Oz went to fill the kettle.

Lily yawned. “I feel like I’ve been up for days!”

“Go to bed,” Isadore said. “There’s nothing more to do now.”

She looked at him properly. “You’re getting older.”

“A trick of the light! You must get some rest. But it’s likely that I won’t be here tomorrow morning.”