A Stranger Calls

England – about now

"Ouch ... stop! Stop it, you furry monster!"

I sat cross-legged on my bed, having finished with homework. Jester, intrigued by the 10 little grey mice at the end of my feet, pounced. His claws went right through my socks.

"Ow."

I pushed the cat onto the floor but he jumped straight back and started washing himself. I continued sorting out my notes for my English project.

The doorbell rang. "Mum! Mum!" No reply, so taking a deep breath, I shouted, "Muuum ... it's the door."

I waited. The doorbell rang again and echoed through the silent house. Actually, I could hear something; faint strains of violins wailed classical something or others from Juliette's bedroom. Why my sister didn't just wear earphones remained a mystery. The loud music gave her the perfect excuse for not answering the door though.

"Mum!" I tried again, shouting even louder, before remembering that she had gone across to the library. Bother, I don't need this. I padded down the stairs, jumped the last four steps and landed more noisily and painfully than I'd intended. I yanked on the front door, as it always stuck.

"Good evening, my friend!"

A young man stood there. He'd spiky dark hair, a little moustache painted on his face, and a black jacket with bits hanging down to the back of his knees, like someone at a posh wedding. He wore white gloves and ridiculously shiny shoes.

"Er, hello."

"May I enquire, is the lady of the house at home, or indeed your esteemed pater?"

He didn't look dangerous to me, but you never knew. Whatever they were that began with the syllable 'pea', and threatened children, came in all shapes and sizes; though I admitted, I never imagined one with a little black moustache – unless it was Hitler of course.

"No, um that is, they'll be back any moment. Can I help you?"

"That's very kind of you. I am collecting signatures, but they have to be from the householder. We are trying to save the local bandstand. The council wants to bulldoze it and put some awful leisure centre there. It's historic and, as I suppose you know, young sir, we do little entertainments under its ancient roof, throughout the summer. Here's my card."

He slowly held up his empty-gloved hand. He showed it on both sides and then proceeded to produce a business card out of thin air. He held it out to me.

"Wow!" I reached for it a little gingerly. "Are you a magician, then?" "Not really," he replied, flicking the card up in the air, where it promptly vanished and appeared in his other hand. He held it out again.

I took it, thanked him, and put it in my trouser pocket.

"How'd you do that?" I asked, my voice sounding a bit loud in my head.

"Ah, now, that would be telling wouldn't it?" He held up a clipboard. "It's quite tiring walking the streets, though I've a goodly number of signatures."

He swayed a bit and his eyes lost focus. I was about to ask if he wanted a glass of water, when a long, straight walking stick appeared in his hand. He leant on it.

"That's better." He smiled at me and I noticed how blue his eyes were: bluer even than Mum's. He flourished his stick and it turned into a snake that disappeared slowly up his sleeve. I'd never seen that trick before and could feel giggles developing inside. My shoulders crept up towards my ears.

Perhaps he sensed my discomfort because he stepped back until he reached the gate to our tiny front garden.

"Have you noticed?" he said. He pointed up the street towards the railway line at the end. There above the trees hung a huge, yellow full moon.

"People say when it looks that big, it's an illusion, but I don't know. It looks real to me! Thank you anyway, young man. I might come back to see your parents later, if that would be all right with you?"

I didn't answer, because the moon was, well, actually ... enormous. I'd never seen it so big. I stared up our road at it for a moment or two before I remembered my manners. I turned to answer the strangely dressed guy, but he wasn't there.

I couldn't believe my eyes. He'd just gone. Even if he'd run, he would've barely made the corner as I turned.

A little way down the pavement, a small black and white dog scrabbled about chasing its tail. It stopped. It looked at me, or possibly the moon, barked a couple of times, then ran down the road towards the park and disappeared around the corner. I'd no idea where it had come from or if it belonged to the strange man who seemed to have just vanished.

Moments later, Mum appeared at the same corner.

"I thought you were doing your coursework, Rhory. Remember, we are off to London tomorrow. Why are you out on the street, and why aren't you wearing shoes?"

"Someone rang the doorbell. You must've seen him. He was dressed like ... well like someone at a wedding. You must've passed him coming back from the library, didn't you? And there was a small dog."

"I don't think so, dear. No, I'd have noticed a man in a morning suit with a dog, I'm sure. Goodness, you look pale, Rhory. Are you okay?"

"You must have. He was right here." I nearly stamped my foot.

Mum smiled her, you're-having-me-on-again-Rhory smile.

"He gave me a card, actually," I said, a little too loud, and reached into my trouser pocket, where I found only a broken pencil. I tried the other pocket. The card took a bit of extracting as it had fused to a half-sucked boiled sweet, wrapped in a bit of Kleenex that had in turn welded itself to my pocket.

Finally, I retrieved it.

"Look, Mum," I said, waving the card. But Mum had also disappeared and I could hear her calling up to Juliette inside the house. I read the card. On one side it said simply,

Caduceus Productions

On the other it said, Magic, Mystery and Illusion we are at your service

There was no name or phone number.

The Egyptian Room

The following day a London taxi whisked Mum and me past cafes, newsagents – with tempting displays of crisps and sweets – and little shops offering Chinese prints, obscure books and small statues. A window with chipped paintwork displayed posters of Tutankhamen. Finally, I saw one place that might be worth visiting, a shop with a huge collection of comic books.

"Hey, Mum! I could wait in there, couldn't I?" It looked more fun than the museum.

"Where, darling?"

"The comic shop ... back there."

"We might go after I meet up with you, dear. I think you'll find there's more to see in the museum."

The taxi drew to a halt.

"Okay then, I'll pick you up in about an hour and a half, when I've got the tickets. Make sure your mobile's on."

Mum leaned over and buttoned up my jacket. I grimaced. Once out of the taxi I undid them again.

"And, Rhory, wait in the foyer, in case the ..." My mum's voice floated out of the departing taxi's window but the whole message didn't. I assumed she was worried the mobile might not work inside the huge building that housed the British Museum.

I strode up the entrance steps narrowly avoiding a school party coming in the other direction. Excited voices shared intense experiences, and dark eyes sparkled with pleasure. I didn't understand a word, as they chattered to each other in Chinese.

The chilly wind found its way inside my open jacket as I reached the top of the stairs.

"Your bag, please."

A burly man in...