Magic Parcel Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t find one. He was entirely alone, with only the trees and birds for company.
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    Mr Grainger received many rather strange looks from passers-by as he maintained his continuous stream of advice and comment to his audience. It wasn’t until he had almost reached the post office that he stopped for breath and turned towards his young listener to find he was ... alone!
    â€œWell, blast me! The little b...,” he gasped, face colouring to a bright crimson. “He’s taken himself off!” His voice became squeakier than ever, and a slight wheeze could be heard rattling in his throat as his temperature soared, and he threatened to explode.
    He did manage to calm down, however, shortly after a young woman stopped and asked if he was all right. He shambled off, threatening dark things to that young rascal when he saw him again.
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Chapter Three
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    As the clock hands drew on to six o’clock in the evening - Jimmy’s usual return time - and past, his mother became increasingly agitated.
    Half past six had arrived, then hastily departed, and she could stand it no longer. She was convinced he had had an accident, been spirited away, or, even worse, missed the bus. When it got to seven o’clock, and the first heralds of dusk were stealing in and paving the way for the dark armies of night, she was convinced that the worst had happened.
    â€œOh, that dratted boy!” she muttered to herself as she tidied the kitchen for the third time. “Where on earth can he be? He ought to consider my feelings, making me worry like this.”
    This was her way. Concerned underneath all, but not showing it outwardly too much.
    â€œTommy,” she shouted finally, unable to contain herself. “Tom...”
    â€œYes, mum,” he answered from close behind her left ear.
    â€œOh dear!” she blurted out, throwing her head into the air and almost jumping over the table. “Don’t creep up on me like that! Listen,” she went on, “Jimmy’s not come back from Uncle Reuben’s yet. Would you catch the half past seven bus and see where he is?”
    â€œWhy don’t you phone?” Tommy replied, reluctant to leave his favourite TV show.
    â€œYou know very well,” she frowned, “that Uncle Reuben doesn’t hold with telephones. Says they ruin conversations. You can’t tell who’s at the other end anyway.”
    â€œOK mum,” Tommy offered over his shoulder as he was leaving the room. “I’ll get my coat and be off then,” and with that he was gone.
    The journey might have been an exact replay of Jimmy’s earlier that day; same old substitute bus was just pulling away; Tommy was hauled on by the same tuneful, mountainous conductor; he felt the same tingle and twinge as he approached his uncle’s house. This time, though, Reuben, as if expecting Tommy to call at that precise moment, was waiting at the gate, usual grin across his welcoming face.
    â€œWell now Tom,” he said, holding out his hand in greeting. “Nice to see you. Haven’t been around here for quite some time, have you?” He paused to look at Tommy over his glasses, with as near a reproachful gaze above a cheery smile as you would ever come near to seeing from him.
    â€œMum’s worried,” Tommy said in a quiet voice as they wandered up the path towards the house.
    â€œAh, yes,” Uncle Reuben smiled, eyes twinkling knowingly.
    â€œShe’s asked me to see where Jimmy is,” Tommy continued, and as he spoke a slight smile began to play around the corners of his mouth, and, as he read the face of his uncle, it grew slowly into a great grin of understanding.
    â€œI think you know where he’s gone, don’t you?” Reuben said, eyebrows threatening to engulf his glasses, once they were in the lounge.
    â€œThe parcel?” Tommy asked, answered almost before he spoke by a gentle nodding from