elephant’s trunk for a spout. The pot shivered beneath her hand and grew warm. Esme snatched back her arm as if it was on fire. What if everything in the chest was as mischievous as the pepper pot? Her arms prickled as the hairs rose in alarm. The entire collection should probably be locked away in a cabinet, where no one could stroke it and make heartfelt wishes. Was that why it was in the attic? Had someone hoped it would remain there, forgotten, forever?
With a shake of her head, Esme tried to scatter the fanciful ideas. Even if the silverware was magical, it was unlikely that anyone would try to use it. As she thought it, Esme heard a sneeze from the far side of the loft. She chewed her lip and waited for a second one. But none came, and suddenly the loft was a hubbub of activity as the camera crew headed downstairs and two burley men clambered up the wobbly ladder to move the silver.
Brad James strutted round the house like a peacock. Esme guessed it was the find of his career. The remaining chests had contained more silver; caskets, daggers and jewellery. There were carvings and figurines, and curled up intricate rugs. Esme couldn’t look at them without wondering whether they might fly.
As Brad swanned up to the camera, performing one of his long soliloquys, Esme frowned. Was it her imagination or was he a little bit taller? It must be a trick of the light. But as he walked in front of the fire-place in Aunt Maud’s sitting room, Esme noticed his reflection in the over-mantel mirror. She hadn’t seen it there last time, had she? And she was certain his hair didn’t flap at the back any more.
Before Esme could puzzle it through, Mum was pulling her away by the arm. “It’s time to go, Elderflower. I think I’ve had as much of that man as I can stomach.” She glared at Brad James. “How disappointing to discover he’s an egotistical prat.”
“In a wig!” Esme added quietly, making Mum giggle.
“Is it safe to leave Aunt Maud here alone with him? I don’t trust him,” Esme mumbled. She had her suspicions about the pepper pot and Brad’s new found height.
“I think Maud will be okay. Besides, the camera crew are here. And someone else from the programme arrived ten minutes ago to assist with the cataloguing. Apparently Brad James doesn’t do paperwork.”
Mum and Esme said goodbye to Aunt Maud and hurried out to the car. As they left, Esme glanced over her shoulder. Had Brad James been taller than Eddie when they arrived? She shook her head and climbed into the passenger seat, to the sound of a loud sneeze. She almost felt sorry for Brad then. He’d find out soon enough that wishes weren’t to be trusted.
Auction Fever
“It’s the auction on Sunday,” Mum said, looking up as Esme came in from school. “Maud called me earlier. Apparently she was in luck and there was a silver auction that Brad James knew of.”
Luck. There was that word again. Esme thought she’d never see it in the same light. Did you make your own luck or wish for it?
“Do you want to go?” Mum continued. Esme bit into an apple and chewed thoughtfully. She’d never been to an auction before – it always looked so exciting on the TV. At the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to see all the treasures sold off. Plus Brad James would be there.
Then she remembered: they’d announced in school assembly that the Spelling Championships Final was on Sunday. Although she hadn’t qualified for their year group, several children from other classes were going. One of them might win the trip to Borneo. Distraction would be good.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come. As long as Brad James doesn’t insist on calling me a ‘little lady’ every five minutes.”
Mum smiled sympathetically. “We’ll stay away from him. Or he’ll stay away from us. Aunt Maud said she gave him a piece of her mind before he left.” They both winced. Mum and Esme had been on the receiving end of Aunt Maud’s bluntness before.
“Serves him right,” Esme decided, before dropping her school bag and cartwheeling out of the room to play in the garden.
Esme wasn’t sure what she’d expected from the auction house, but it didn’t quite match what she had imagined. On the TV they looked like grand places, full of exciting knickknacks and people with paddles waiting eagerly to bid. But this auction house was tiny, squeezed down a side alley in-between a fast food restaurant and a budget supermarket. The car park only had room for three cars, so they’d parked down the road. By the time Esme and Mum hurried in to find Maud, the room was crammed.
“Excuse me, sorry, pardon me,” Mum said as she led them through the bodies all pressed in together. How did anyone figure out what they wanted to buy?
“They did all the viewing earlier, I guess,” Mum said, as if reading her mind. “You couldn’t possibly look around now.”
Dosh in the Loft had a little area to one side of the rostrum. Brad James shone a wide white smile and reached out for Mum’s hand. She tucked it behind her back and gave the antiques expert a nod. Esme looked up and up again.
He probably ought to stop wishing himself taller before somebody notices, Esme thought with a smile. And quite frankly that hair is ridiculous. Instead of a terrible brown toupee resembling road kill, the man’s hair curled in luscious blonde locks better suited to a member of a boy band.
“Alice, Esmerelda, thank you so much for coming,” Maud cried, reaching over to hug them both.
“Are you nervous, Auntie?” Esme said, taking Maud’s dry, cool hand in hers. “Or excited?”
“Both, my dear.” Maud’s eyes twinkled. “The final valuation was ten times what I’d hoped for. But now it all needs to sell.”
“What do you want the money for, Aunt Maud?” Alice asked. Brad turned to listen and Esme realised Maud hadn’t even told the show’s producers.
Maud tapped the side of her nose mischievously. “That would be telling.”
Before anyone could reply, the auctioneer rapped his gavel on his desk and the hall fell silent. Esme clamped her arms to her sides. Even though she didn’t have a paddle, she didn’t want to buy anything by accident. It seemed a nod or even the flicker of an eye was enough to bid. Feeling a desperate urge to scratch her nose, Esme shuffled behind Mum in case she bought something by mistake.
The auctioneer’s voice droned on hypnotically, until there was a ripple of movement from the film crew, and Esme realised their first item was about to be sold.
“And here we have a rather handsome selection of ornately decorated Persian Silver. Where will you start me? Five hundred? Three hundred? Surely they’re worth that. Two hundred then?”
Everyone around Esme groaned. “This lot was estimated at four to six hundred,” Maud said nervously.
Suddenly the auctioneer came to life. “Two hundred, two-twenty, forty, sixty, eighty, three!” He gestured at different people around the room. It was just like it was on TV. Esme found herself caught up in the excitement. “Seven fifty, eight hundred. Eight fifty? Are you sure madam? One more bid? No? Are we all done? Then sold, to the man in the red shirt, for eight hundred pounds!” He slammed his gavel down and Esme jumped. The first lot had gone for eight hundred pounds!
“I can’t believe that!” Maud said, her voice wobbling slightly. “I can’t believe, it!” She turned to Mum. “Can you believe that, Alice?” She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.
“Remember,” Brad murmured to the camera, “There will still be auction fees and taxes to be paid.”
Even so, Esme thought, it was more money than she’d ever seen in her life. And that was just the first lot.
The auction continued, and lot after lot of the attic treasures sold for more than their estimates. Esme’s eyes grew rounder and rounder. Even though it wasn’t her money, she was thrilled for Aunt Maud. Her great aunt looked like she might need a cup of tea. Or something stronger, as she would often say with a wink.
At last it was over. Brad gathered them all around the camera. “Maud Smudge, you wanted to raise seven hundred pounds. Do you know how much you have actually made?” Everyone dutifully shook their heads.
“Today, you have raised, before taxes and auc
tion fees,” He paused dramatically, until Esme thought she might be sick from nerves. “Sixteen thousand, five hundred and twenty-five pounds.”
There was a collective gasp, including a few of the auction attendees who were close enough to hear. More than sixteen thousand pounds? Esme couldn’t believe it.
“Never!” Maud shrieked. “That can’t be right. Really?” She looked around in amazement. “I didn’t expect so much. Did you expect that, Alice?” She clutched Mum’s hands and the two women jumped up and down in glee.
“It is more than double our estimate,” Brad James agreed, grinning as if he was on commission. He turned his megawatt smile on Maud. “And what are you going to spend the money on?”
Esme had always thought it was really rude when they asked that question. As if the poor people on TV knew, although she guessed generally people had a reason to go on Dosh in the Loft. Apart from the chance to be on TV.
For once, though, she waited for the answer with in-held breath. What was Great Aunt Maud’s secret plan?
“Well, Brad,” Maud said in her best ‘TV’ voice. “I am the lucky mother of four marvellous boys, and adoptive mother to a very special girl,” she hugged Alice as she said this. “And I have many fine strapping grandsons. But it’s my great niece who impresses me most. She’s only nine, and all she wants in the world is to go to Borneo and help the