Free Tales From The Wyrd Museum 1: The Woven Path by Robin Jarvis Page B

was the very last place he wanted to be.
    Two days passed in which Mr Chapman continued to sulk and brood, whilst Neil tried to forget all about the strange creature in The Separate Collection. He had almost managed to convince himself that it was a peculiar hallucination when a chance remark from Josh compelled him to think otherwise.
    For most of the morning, he had entertained his younger brother. First of all they had played in the yard and Josh immediately hurried to the drinking fountain to inspect the masses of fading flowers placed beneath it.
    ‘Look!’ he cried. ‘A garden, a garden!’
    Into the mound of bouquets he waded, grabbing handfuls of petals and thrusting his nose into the heart of the brightest blooms. Neil couldn't help laughing; most of the flowers were wilting and they drooped sadly when the toddler brandished them in his mittens but this didn't deter him. Shrieking joyously, he danced and jumped, twirling them over his head like sparklers and flinging them as high as he could manage.
    ‘You're making a mess!’ Neil chuckled. ‘Get out of there.’
    Josh traipsed out of the colourful chaos he had created. Broken stems dangled limply from the collar of his coat, fallen leaves were tangled in his fair hair and, when he shambled from the wreckage, the grips of his shoes dragged a number of bedraggled bouquets after him.
    Pulling the floppy stalks from his clothing, he peered at the large image of a tree made solely from petals and turned an excited face to his brother.
    ‘Neil,’ he whispered, ‘is that a magic picture?’
    Neil tapped him on the head with a bunch of browning daffodils. ‘Don't be soft, there's no such thing.’
    ‘Yes there is,’ Josh told him with a superior air, ‘this place is full of magic’
    ‘If you say so.’
    ‘It is!’
    Neil wiped his forehead where a splash of water had landed. ‘It's starting to rain,’ he grumbled, ‘come on you, back inside.’
    Josh glowered at him mutinously. There is, too, magic,’ he breathed, ‘I seen it.’
    Back in the apartment, Neil read a book whilst his brother emptied a bag of toys on the floor and quietly began to play with them.
    After half an hour, Neil laid the book down and looked round to see what Josh was up to.
    The four-year-old was sitting behind the settee with the fluffy polar bear he usually took to bed propped up on its hind legs before him. Unaware that he was being observed, Josh whispered and beckoned to the stuffed animal, staring at it the entire time with unusual concentration on his expectant face.
    Neil had never seen him play like that before.
    ‘What are you doing?’ he asked finally.
    Josh raised his eyes, pouting with impatience and confusion. ‘I wanted to show you,’ he burbled, ‘Why won't it work?’
    ‘What won't?’
    ‘Groofles,’ came the perplexed reply, ‘he won't wake up.’
    Neil groaned and tried to remember if he had been as childish when he was that age. Picking the book up once more he gladly abandoned Josh to whatever nonsense he was playing.
    From behind the settee the child's plaintive voice resumed speaking to the polar bear.
    ‘Say “hello” Groofles,’ he instructed, “you can do it. Go on, like the other one does. Say “hello”.’
    Neil's book was thrown to the floor as he raced round to grip Josh by the shoulders.
    ‘What did you say?’ he demanded. ‘What “other one”? What do you mean, Josh?’
    The toddler gazed at him in bewilderment. ‘Let me go!’ he squealed. That hurts, I'll tell Dad.’
    But a dreadful suspicion had stolen over Neil and he grasped his brother's arms even tighter and shook him. 'Tell me,’ he shouted, ‘has someone been telling you that toys can talk? Who was it? It's important, Josh, you've got to tell me. Was it when you were with Dad yesterday?’
    Josh nodded.
    ‘What happened, did someone speak to you?’
    ‘Might've.’
    ‘Did they?’
    ‘You'll make fun of me.’
    ‘I won't, I promise.’
    ‘Will!’
    ‘Honest.