Page 3 - The Divided Talisman_Taster

Chapter 1

Jenny didn’t hear the rattle of the letterbox delivering the thunderbolt, on that fateful afternoon that
would change her life. As usual she was chattering loudly like a magpie, endlessly interrupting her
family and asking questions. Everyone had gathered in the kitchen, busy with their own projects, and
Jenny was hopping about madly.
“But why can’t I be one of Robin Hood’s Merry Men?” she asked her older sister, for the
umpteenth time. “All your friends have parts, why not me?” “Stop shouting,” said Gill,
glaring at her.
Their mum, Mary, who’d been stirring a pan of bubbling strawberry jam sighed, wiped her
hands on her apron and went out into the hall.
“You’ll never get a part until you can learn to sit still and be quiet for five minutes,” Gill
continued, “and stop making things up!” With that, she went back to adapting the story of Robin
Hood for her new play.
The big wooden table where Gill had spread out all her books, paper and pens sat at the
widest end of the shabby L-shaped kitchen. At the other end Chris, their older brother was totally
engrossed in building a new home for his pet sanctuary. On the wall behind his head was a long
wooden key rack and above it a large calendar where all the family events were recorded. Jenny’s
eye landed on her own birthday, just two weeks before, now scored through with a big X. She had
so looked forward to becoming 10, expecting it to open up all sorts of possibilities but, so far, not
much had changed.
Her hazel eyes darkened with disappointment. She’d hoped that, if she asked often enough,
Gill would finally relent and let her join in with the play. It was so unfair. Besides, she didn’t make
things up; though, admittedly, she did sometimes embellish stories to make them more interesting.
Jenny leaned over Gill’s shoulder, and peered down at the old, battered book of legends, which
she had found and Gill had, unfairly, confiscated.
“It looks like it’s been chewed by mice,” she said loudly, just to annoy Gill, who was now
pointedly ignoring her. But she loved its vivid, colourful pictures, especially the fox howling under a
full moon; the lady gowned in green cloth and leather, carrying a long bow; the three dancing witches,
and the Green Man.
“It’s not very nice to be chewed by mice!” sang Jenny, at the top of her voice, twirling round
and round, faster and faster until she banged against a bunch of keys, knocking them off the rack. They
bounced onto the tiles with a jarring clang and, thrown off balance, she stumbled giddily into Chris,
jogging his elbow.
“Watch out, Stupid,” he yelled, as the loaded paintbrush streaked his black hair with orange
and flicked paint all over the table.
“Hey! Be careful,” said Gill, snatching the precious book out of harm’s way.
“Blame her,” said Chris, who had already gone back to painting a wooden tea chest in his own
slaphappy way, taking no more notice of either of them.
“I’m not stupid!” muttered Jenny, scowling.
A pair of curious eyes, then whiskers, followed by a fluffy reddish-grey body and feathery tail
emerged from Chris’s pocket and scampered across the floor towards the bunch of keys.
“Toffee. Stop!” said Jenny, grabbing the orphaned baby squirrel before he could disappear
with them.
“Mum’s threatened to ban Toffee from the kitchen if he doesn’t stop trying to steal those
keys!”
Jenny looked from the squirrel to the new home Chris was painting for it. It didn’t look any
more secure than the last one.