Free TALES FROM WITCHWAY WOOD: Crash 'n' Bang by Kaye Umansky

get the camera. Did I mention the camera? State-of-the-art – comes with a tripod and cloth and everything. Bought it with the Magic Card.’
    ‘The what?’ said Arthur.
    ‘I’ve got a Magic Card. Didn’t I tell you? It’s a new thing – all band managers have ’em. Saves messing about with money.’ TT reached into the van for the camera. ‘I need to take a photo for the fan club. The Boys And Their Supporters Getting Ready To Depart. Right, girls?’ He raised an eyebrow at the Banshees, who squealed excitedly and began fussing with their hair. ‘I’ll set it up and the roadie can start loading.’
    ‘The what ?’ chorused Filth and Arthur together.
    ‘Ah. Didn’t mention that, did I? Another little surprise for you.’ TT put his fingers in his mouth and blew a shrill whistle.
    The passenger door opened and a squat figure thumped down into the road and stood grinning at them.
    ‘Chip?’ said Arthur.
    ‘Uh,’ said Chip the Troll. He had dispensed with his apron and the rubber gloves. He now wore a straining Moonmad T-shirt in a dirty shade of plum – clearly one of the bottom-drawer variety – and had cut the sleeves off in order to better display the glory of his bulging biceps.
    ‘I headhunted him,’ explained TT cheerfully. ‘Got the idea when I saw him with those potato sacks. Strong boy, he is. We need someone to handle the equipment. He’s exploited in that cafe. He’s always wanted to be a roadie and go on tour. Isn’t that right, Chip?’
    ‘Uh,’ said Chip happily.
    ‘What – he actually said that?’ asked Arthur.
    ‘Well – no. But I put it to him and he grunted and it definitely meant yes. Take it away, Chip!’
    Chip was a Troll of few words – well, one, actually – but much action. He spat on his hands, hoisted Arthur’s piano on to his back, cart and all, and heaved it into the van. Arthur winced as it crashed down. Then Chip began picking up Filth’s beloved drums and hurling them in alongside. He was enthusiastic, but not especially careful.
    ‘Hey, man!’ protested Filth. ‘Show some respect, yeah?’
    The air wobbled and O’Brian was suddenly amongst them. In his arms was a large, grubby, round earthenware pot. Another of his fingers was bandaged, there was a hole in the knee of his jolly red trousers and he was still wearing the awful, constricting pink T-shirt over his jerkin. He looked a bit fed up.
    ‘Sorry,’ he sighed. ‘Took a while to dig this up. Then I tried to dismantle the Rainbow Deflector and store it inside. But I had to leave it up in the end.’
    ‘Why?’ enquired Arthur.
    ‘I fell off the roof,’ admitted O’Brian.
    He had too. Yet one more thing to add to his spate of bad luck, which he had initially put down to coincidence. Was it, though? Nothing had gone right ever since – well, ever since the business with the Fairy. He had a bad feeling that he might have been a bit hasty there.
    ‘That’s the secret pot of gold, I take it?’ asked Arthur, staring at the earthenware pot which still had clods of earth clinging to it.
    ‘Yes,’ said O’Brian. ‘This is the Pot.’
    ‘Very nice,’ said Arthur’s mum kindly. She gave Sludgegooey a little nudge. ‘It’s a very nice pot, don’t you think?’
    ‘Bit of a let-down, I’d say,’ said Sludgegooey, who believed in being frank. ‘Not at all what I imagined. All those Leprechaun stories about rainbows and stuff. I thought it’d be more impressive. Not just a big, dirty old pot.’
    ‘It’s dirty because I’ve just dug it up,’ said O’Brian defensively. ‘And it needs to be big because there’s a lot of gold in it.’
    ‘Let’s see,’ said Sludgegooey.
    ‘I never open it,’ explained O’Brian. ‘I just have it.’
    ‘Ridiculous,’ scoffed Sludgegooey. ‘Having a pot of gold and not even opening it. You Leprechauns are mad.’
    ‘Well, anyway, it’s very nice,’ said Arthur’s mother.
    ‘It’s a liability,’ said Arthur sternly. ‘I thought we’d