but that just spread the egg back on. “Casper,” he whispered, “is she real?”
Casper jabbed an elbow into Lamp’s side. “I’m Casper,” he said to the visitor, “and he’s Lamp.”
“Did we make her?” Lamp eyed the lie detector with a face of complete bemusement and twiddled a knob on the side. “It’s not s’posed to do that,” he mumbled.
Daisy chuckled. “We only moved in a couple of weeks ago. I live down the road.” She trotted into the garage and picked up a clipboard, upon which Lamp had drawn a diagram of an egg, with labels pointing to its brain, spleen and vocal cords. Then she spotted the lie detector. Inside a large steel saucepan sat the engine from a leaf-blower, grumbling busily, turning oily cogs and rusty axles, all set round a small china dish in the middle to hold the egg. A trigger had been welded to the handle, and an antenna with a green golf visor poked out above the pan, rotating and beeping mechanically. “What’s that?”
“Do you like it?” asked Lamp, blushing.
“Well, I…”
“You can have it if you want.” He picked it up and handed it to Daisy.
“I don’t really…”
“Come on, Lamp,” said Casper. “Put it down.”
Lamp sniffed and plonked the pan back on the table.
By now the hens had emerged and were pecking at Daisy’s ankles.
“It’s a lie detector,” said Casper. “Lamp’s an inventor.”
Lamp grinned at Daisy. “An inventor means you invent things.” He pointed at his watch, which was made of chocolate. (It tells you when it’s time to eat it.)
“Does it work?” asked Daisy, motioning to the lie detector.
“Sort of,” said Casper. He remembered that he was covered in egg and blushed.
A female voice floated in from outside. “Daisy, darling?”
“That’s my mum,” said Daisy. Then she called, “Mum, in here. I’ve made some friends.”
Round the corner swept a tall, glamorous woman with the same curly brown hair and bright green eyes, wearing a flowing blue dress and a floral brooch. She flashed a ravishing smile, the sort of smile that would melt the heart of even the frostiest snowman.
Lamp fell over.
“Hello,” she said. Her voice was cool and refreshing. “I’m Lavender. Lavender Blossom.” She reached out her hand, which Casper shook despite the egginess of his own. “You’ve met my daughter Daisy.”
“H-hello,” Casper stammered. They’d never allowed females in the garage, let alone beautiful ones, and this was exactly why. What were you supposed to do with them? He thought about offering his guests a seat or a cup of tea, but the garage didn’t have either. Lamp, crimson-cheeked and breathless, took one more look at the visitors and then scrabbled away on all fours to the back of the garage to tinker about with a driveshaft.
“Do you want some help?” asked Daisy. “I’m good at—”
“Now, now, Daisy,” Lavender interrupted. “We don’t want to interfere.” She placed her hand on Daisy’s shoulder and smiled gently at Casper.
“So… um… what brings you to Corne-on-the-Kobb?” said Casper, relieved to have thought of something to say.
“We own the flower shop,” Daisy chirped.
“Flower shop?” Casper laughed.
“Yeah.”
Lavender looked ruffled. “We opened two weeks ago.”
“Really? In Corne-on-the-Kobb?”
Lavender reached into her dress pocket, pulled out a little flowery business card and handed it to Casper. It read:
Blossom’s Bloomers
‘They’re Heaven-Scent.’
Visit us on the corner of the village square, next to the sweet shop.
Casper nodded and stuffed the business card into his pocket. “Sorry, I hadn’t heard of you. We spend a lot of time in this garage, don’t we, Lamp?”
Lamp squeaked.
“That’s OK,” said Lavender. “Drop in if you’re passing. We’ve got a summer sale on.”
“If you buy a full bunch, you’ll save a whole bunch!” sang Daisy.
“Sounds good. I’ll… um… definitely buy a full bunch then.”
“Will you? That’s brilliant!” Daisy skipped forward and planted a kiss on Casper’s cheek.
“Right then, darling, plenty more of those cards to hand out before tea time.” Lavender wrinkled her nose cheekily at the boys and sauntered out of the garage.
Daisy skipped into the sunshine in pursuit of her mother, stopping to chirp, “Nice to meet you,” before disappearing round the corner.
The garage was quiet again. Lamp shuffled towards Casper with a worried sort of face on. “Casper?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t feel my feet and my heart’s gone thumpy. What’s wrong with me?”
“I think you’re in love, Lamp.”
“Oh…” Lamp mouthed the word ‘love’ to himself a few times, and then wrote it down on his clipboard. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t really know,” said Casper. “I hope not.”
The boys worked in silence for about an hour and a half, disturbed only by the occasional clink of cogs or the whirr and crackle of Lamp’s hamster running furiously on its electric wheel. But gradually another noise swelled in the distance, a mix of yelling and clanging and stamping of feet. As the sound grew louder, Casper could make out the frantic ringing of a bell and the screams of a lady who must have been either very upset about something or a terrible singer. The boys scurried outside and were presented with the sight of that nervous wreck Clemmie Answorth tearing down the road at full speed, swinging a bell precariously round her head.
“HEAR YE,” she screamed. “HEAR YE!”
Casper and Lamp leapt back as Clemmie thundered straight past them, clanging her bell in their faces as she passed. She reached the end of the street, tripped over, sprang to her feet and raced back again. More villagers had appeared at their front doors now.
“I SAID, HEAR YE!” There was a rip in Clemmie’s skirt and she was missing a shoe. “MAYOR RATTSBULGE…” – she was quite out of breath – “REQUIRES YOUR PRESENCE… Oh, dear.” Sandy Landscape gave her a full watering can and she drank gratefully. “Thank you. IN THE VILLAGE SQUARE, AT ONCE!”
She dropped the bell, chased it down again and clanged off in the direction she’d come from.
“Ooh, are we getting presents?” Lamp’s face perked up.
“No, she said ‘presence’. We’re meant to go to the village square.”
“Not even one little present?”
“Perhaps something even better, Lamp.” Casper felt a surge of excitement like he’d not felt for exactly two months. “Let’s go and have a look,” he said. And so they did.