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“Isn’t it exciting? I can’t stay long enough to show you everything – I have to go and see to the music for the Senior Citizens’ Dance in a minute – but I think I’ve just got time to drink a cup of tea.”
    â€œOf course,” Mum said guiltily. “Coming up.” She dashed into the kitchen.
    Auntie Christa was good at getting people to do things. She was a very busy lady. Whatever went on at the Community Hall – whether it was a Youth Club Disco, Children’s Fancy Dress competition, Dog Training, Soup for the Homeless or a Jumble Sale – Auntie Christa was sure to be in the midst of it, telling people what to do. She was usually too busy to listen to what other people said. Mum said Auntie Christa was a wonder, but Dad quite often muttered, “Quack-quack-quack,” under his breath when Auntie Christa was talking.
    â€œQuack-Quack,” Dad murmured as Auntie Christa went on fetching things out of her bags and telling them what good prizes they were. Auntie Christa had just got through all the things in the bags and was turning to the cardboard box on the arm of the chair, when Mum came dashing back with tea and biscuits.
    â€œTea!” Auntie Christa said. “I can always rely on a cup of tea in this house!”
    She turned gladly to take the tea. Behind her, the box slid into the chair.
    â€œNever mind,” said Auntie Christa. “I’ll show you what’s in there in a minute. It will thrill Simon and Marcia – oh, that reminds me! The Africa Aid Coffee Morning has to be moved this Saturday because the Stamp Collectors need the hall. I think we’ll have the coffee morning here instead. You can easily manage coffee and cakes for twenty on Saturday, can’t you?” she asked Mum. “Marcia and Simon can help you.”
    â€œWell—” Mum began, while Dad looked truly dismayed.
    â€œThat’s settled, then,” said Auntie Christa and quickly went on to talk about other things. Dad and Simon and Marcia looked at one another glumly. They knew they were booked to spend Saturday morning handing round cakes and soothing Mum while she fussed. But it was worse than that.
    â€œNow, you’ll never guess what’s in the box,” Auntie Christa said, cheerily passing her cup for more tea. “Suppose we make it a competition. Let’s say that whoever guesses wrong has to come and help me with the Underprivileged Children’s Society party on Saturday afternoon.”
    â€œI think we’ll all be busy—” Dad tried to say.
    â€œNo refusing!” Auntie Christa cried. “People are so wicked, the way they always try to get out of doing good deeds! You can have one guess each. And I’ll give you a clue. Old Mr Pennyfeather gave me the box.”
    As old Mr Pennyfeather kept the junk shop, there could have been almost anything in the box. They all thought rather hard.
    Simon thought the box had rattled as it tipped. “A tea-set,” he guessed.
    Marcia thought she had heard the box slosh. “A goldfish in a bowl,” she said.
    Mum thought of something that might make a nice prize and guessed, “Dolls’ house furniture.”
    Dad thought of the sort of things that were usually in Mr Pennyfeather’s shop and said, “Mixed-up jigsaws.”
    â€œYou’re all wrong, of course!” Auntie Christa said while Dad was still speaking. She sprang up and pulled the box back to the arm of the chair. “It’s an old-fashioned conjurer’s kit. Look. Isn’t it thrilling?” She held up a large black top hat with a big shiny blue ball in it. Water – or something – was dripping out of the hat underneath. “Oh dear,” Auntie Christa said. “I think the crystal ball must be leaking. It’s made quite a puddle in your chair.”

    Dark liquid was spreading over the seat of the chair, mixing with the old ketchup