Mr Badger and the Magic Mirror Read online

  While Mr Badger was alarmed at first, neither Algernon nor Sir Cecil took any notice, so Mr Badger followed their example and settled back to enjoy the ride. The boat continued to move gently on its journey along the channel beneath the castle.

  Suddenly, out of the darkness leapt a hideous creature with long webbed feet. Green and slimy scales covered its body, and devil-like horns protruded from an awful head. It snarled, revealing rotten yellow fangs.

  ‘Take no notice,’ said Sir Cecil. ‘I’m sure its bark is worse than its bite.’

  Raising his eyebrows, Mr Badger did as requested and looked the other way.

  It was a horrifying sight.

  His eyes had barely adjusted to the dark again when, without any warning, an even more terrifying sight presented itself right in front of him. It was a ghost, with eyes glowing red and a body white and shimmering. Emitting a horrible howl, it lurched towards Sir Cecil and a startled Mr Badger.

  ‘Oh, do move along, please,’ requested Sir Cecil, brushing past the phantom. ‘Now I must show you my sailing ship, Mr Badger.’

  They continued on their tour for quite some time in peace after that, unaware that they were to be disturbed once more…

  CHAPTER 9

  More Surprises

  The little boat stopped alongside a magnificent galleon. While Algernon kept one foot in the tiny boat and the other on the deck of the galleon, he hoisted Sir Cecil and Mr Badger up with a swing of his very long arm.

  Sir Cecil was proudly showing Mr Badger over his ship when a bloodcurdling scream came from high up in the main mast. Down dropped a pirate, brandishing a cutlass.

  ‘Good heavens!’ said Mr Badger. He had never met a pirate before.

  It was a small but nasty pirate.

  This was a very short pirate, but a pirate nonetheless, with disgusting teeth and greasy hair pulled back into an untidy pigtail. One eye – no doubt lost in a sword fight – was covered with a patch.

  On the pirate’s head sat a big black hat with skull and crossbones, just like Mr Badger had seen in his pirate books, while in the middle of a nasty, mean face sat a cruel and evil smile.

  ‘Move it, measly scum!’ said the rude pirate, waving the cutlass menacingly. ‘I’ll have you walking the plank, down, down deep into the shark-infested waters below.’

  It was a long way down, and Mr Badger couldn’t swim.

  Mr Badger looked over the side. It certainly was a long way down, and he was scared of heights.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ replied Sir Cecil Smothers-Carruthers, as cool as a cucumber. ‘We’ll be doing no such thing.’

  Mr Badger wondered if their luck had run out, for this pushy pirate seemed scarier than the web-footed monster, the red-eyed phantom and the nasty fanged gnome all put together.

  What a day – and where will it end? he thought, noting again that it was quite a drop to the murky waters below, and remembering with a shudder that he couldn’t swim.

  ‘Step aside, you beastly brute,’ demanded Sir Cecil bravely.

  But the pushy pirate continued to wave the cutlass, edging them along the wobbling plank. Mr Badger tried not to look down.

  Suddenly, with a giant leap, Algernon jumped into the air and landed back on the plank with an almighty thud, shaking the weapon from the pirate’s hand.

  Mr Badger was bounced way uuuuuuuuup into the air. Oh dear, he thought, closing his eyes, waiting for the splash. He thought of darling daughter Berenice and baby Badger’s bedtime stories… and muffins and hot chocolate with Mrs Badger! Would he ever see them again?

  However, instead of plunging down into the water, Algernon caught Mr Badger and tossed him in a giant arc across the sky…

  …bouncing him right through the magic mirror, away from Boubles-land, and safely out of harm’s way.

  It was amazing. Mr Badger was back where he’d begun.

  Lady Celia was on the warpath.

  At precisely the moment Mr Badger landed on his feet at the top of the stairs, Lady Celia Smothers-Carruthers came puffing along the corridor.

  ‘You haven’t seen my granddaughter, have you, Badger?’ she demanded. ‘Sylvia’s been gone quite some time, the mischievous little monster. And that tour group from Australia has, as I expected, eaten all the scones!’

  Lady Celia was beside herself.

  CHAPTER 10

  Back at the

  Boubles Grand Hotel

  That afternoon, in spite of his extraordinary adventure, Mr Badger was ready as usual to meet and greet the visitors pouring into the foyer of the Boubles Grand Hotel. Naturally the guests included Lady Celia and, yes, Sylvia Smothers-Carruthers – who had mysteriously reappeared – for afternoon tea in the lounge.

  ‘How do you do, Lady Celia?’ inquired Mr Badger, polite as ever.

  ‘Fine, Badger,’ came a rather rude reply as Lady Celia brushed past.

  ‘Good afternoon, Miss Sylvia,’ said Mr Badger to Lady Celia’s grumpy granddaughter, who turned up her nose and looked away.

  He could tell that Lady Celia had a lot on her mind: little Sylvia was in one of her moods, tugging on her grandmother’s arm and pointing.

  ‘No, we are not going to the top of the stairs,’ snapped Lady Celia. ‘There is no such thing as a magic mirror! It’s teatime, and I’ve ordered a special fig jam for my scones.’ With that, she dragged Sylvia into the lounge.

  For a moment, Mr Badger was more than a little stunned.

  He walked up the stairs and gazed at the mirror.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Badger,’ said a voice from behind. ‘I see you’re admiring my mirror.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Badger.’

  Mr Badger turned to find Sir Cecil Smothers-Carruthers smiling at him.

  ‘My wife wants me to throw it out,’ said Sir Cecil, ‘but I know for a fact that some people appreciate it. And, Mr Badger, I’ve a feeling that you may well be one of them.’

  Mr Badger nodded in agreement as he accompanied Sir Cecil down the stairs towards the dining room, where Sir Cecil was to join Lady Celia and little Sylvia for tea and scones.

  ‘Isn’t life full of surprises!’ said Sir Cecil with a chuckle, waving his walking stick merrily at Algernon, who was standing in his glass case in the foyer wearing a brightly coloured shirt with palm trees on it.

  ‘Yes, indeed it is,’ replied Mr Badger. ‘And, Sir Cecil, I can truly say that many of them are right here in the Boubles Grand Hotel.’

  ‘So true,’ said Sir Cecil with a wink. ‘So true.’

  CHAPTER 11

  A Tale to Tell

  As if through a fog, Mr Badger heard, very faintly at first, another voice. A warm and familiar voice. It seemed to come from far away, and yet it sounded strangely close…

  ‘I really think it’s time for bed, dear.’

  Mr Badger blinked and opened his eyes. He was sitting in a chair with a book on his lap. Next to him were two little badgers snuggled in bed, darling daughter Berenice and baby Badger, too, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  ‘I really think it’s time for bed, dear,’

  said a familiar voice.

  ‘You’ve been asleep for ever so long,’ said Mrs Badger, ‘but I didn’t have the heart to wake you. In fact, you nodded off very soon after you began reading your story.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Mr Badger, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. ‘I am very tired, but there’s something I just have to tell you. You might not believe your ears … but the strangest thing happened to me today at the Boubles Grand Hotel!’

  ‘Oh really?’ smiled Mrs Badger. ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it.’

  The End

  More Leigh Hobbs books for you

  to enjoy from Allen & Unwin

  Horrible Harriet

  Hooray for Horrible Harriet

  4F for Freaks

  Freaks Ahoy

  Old Tom’s Big Book of Beauty

  Mr Chicken Goes to Paris

  and of course the Mr Badger books

  For more
details, visit Leigh’s website:

  www.leighhobbs.com.au

  Collect all of Mr Badger’s adventures

  at the Boubles Grand Hotel.

  About the Author

  In 1957, who could have dreamt that behind the innocent face above lurked a mind which, decades later, would create an array of oddities that included Old Tom, Horrible Harriet, Fiona the Pig and Mr Chicken? Plus Mr Badger. Though compared to the others, he seems quite normal.

  Mr Hobbs, the artist responsible for the aforementioned characters, was always convinced that he seemed quite normal as well. At primary school, skinny and unsporty, the last thing he wanted to do was attract attention to himself. Even later, at art school, Hobbs had no real interest in rebelling or appearing ‘arty’. There was enough action happening already, inside his head.

  For a start, all those freaks,

  just biding their time waiting to escape…