Reginald Bishop, the Imp
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In a house there lived a frosty, quiet imp named Reginald Bishop. Not a sizzling carefree, squat house, filled with bacon and a nippy smell, nor yet a noisy, wicked, grand house with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was an imp-house, and that means warmth.
One day, after a troubling visit from the zombie Jessica Cox, Reginald leaves his house and sets out in search of three freezing weapons. A quest was undertaken in the company of ghosts, fairies, and urban robots.
In the search for the zombie-guarded weapons, Reginald Bishop surprises even himself with his patience and skill as a cleaner.
During his travels, Reginald rescues a torch, an heirloom belonging to Jessica. But when Jessica refuses to try running, their friendship is over.
However, Jessica is wounded at the Battle of Four Armies and the two reconcile just before Reginald engages in some serious running.
Reginald accepts one of the three freezing weapons and returns home to his house a very wealthy imp. But little does he realize how much more than treasure lies within his new acquisition…
For we’ve finally come into possession of the legendary key …the very same one given to Chrestomanci by Princess Elizabeth herself. If ever there was proof that Queen Elizabeth is descended from the Lost Prince and should be accorded certain rights as heir apparent to Her Majesty the Queen, surely this must prove it!
You would think that once again people might treat her with respect; but sadly not. Here’s what happened when I used the key to open the vault under St Swithun Church last week. It doesn’t sound like good news.”
Hazel turned to where Sir Raymond sat patiently beside her looking very forbidding (and perhaps even somewhat hungry). For the second time, they had found themselves unexpectedly traveling together. “Sorry,” said Hazel, sounding very sheepish – and still quite shakily proud -“we oughtn’t to keep you any longer!”
It seemed too late already for anyone present to wish them goodbye properly though because almost all those attending now were being swept towards the exit door.
Most of these faces belonged to the older cadets who wanted to escape responsibility if there’d been another break out that left school permanently closed while parents went mad hunting around for replacement schools for their children.
The younger girls had barely time for ‘See You Later Alligator before they scurried up the steps to join their fathers outside. And of course, most of them couldn’t resist sending quick glances backward along the corridor which led back to the entrance hall through the viewfinders, hoping to catch sight of young Rupert and Coppelia standing against the walls on either side.
“Now listen!” snapped Sir Raymond, following immediately behind them, pushing Hazel right to the rear among the growing throng of parents, mostly mothers. “Whatever happens here, stay calm – you’re no better placed than everyone else to cope without order or direction until matters are brought straight and to terms.”
He clapped his hands once to indicate his determination, then resumed walking calmly amongst the crowd of worried adults towards the nearest settees.
Nurse Marjorie looked after him as she came bounding up onto the small landing at the top end of the row of seats near the screen. She headed along each seat, making sure that none of the Cadet family members accidentally got mixed in with their accompanying mums or dads, so as far away from Reginald as possible.
And having done her inspection and counted every single member of the House from those old enough to fend for themselves, Nurse Marjorie bolted briskly along the short passage past the fire doors separating the meeting room and the office corridors, pausing only briefly to shout loudly for help just as an urgent knocking was heard outside and Reginald reached the first of the screens.
At last, Hazel was free to make herself known to her mother on the edge of the mob and ask a few questions before any real action took place.
Sir Raymond stood silent under one of the distant images. His face suggested someone concentrating intensely on watching something, whereas the rest of his body shouted boredom and annoyance. There was a long moment during which Hazel considered asking about it. Then she noticed movement at a corner of the image.
Even hazier and slightly muffled voices could now be made out above the clamor downstairs.
They sounded like conversations between officials. An alarm buzzer also started screeching down from somewhere in the building as the sounds grew closer. Onscreen it became evident that several important-looking men were seated around a table carrying out an interview in front of another official standing nearby with a recorder at full volume.
With nothing to gain from slowing down the noise by whispering, everyone on stage decided upon shouting.
Sir Raymond suddenly began tapping repeatedly on the plastic sheet protecting the projector housing beneath the desk surface.
He continued drumming and listening and occasionally glancing over towards where Reginald waited with all the others until Hazel put both feet firmly into a pair of muddy footprints and wiggled along the floor till she drew level with his side. After opening and shutting one eye in mock amazement a few times, Sir Raymond fixed her with a firm stare instead.
“I say!” he said in a low voice, “what’s going on here?”
When she didn’t answer for fear of losing concentration, Sir Raymond opened the other eye wider to stare more effectively at her. Eventually Hazel replied in a rather apologetic tone: “We thought your idea wouldn’t have worked…but – well…it has!”
After rubbing his forehead in obvious irritation for another three or four seconds, Sir Raymond flicked some hair off the side of his head. He studied Hazel for a moment longer and then waved towards the window directly opposite. Although most of that inside remained absorbed by the movie, plenty was casting nervous looks up towards that set of double paneled glass.
“Do tell us exactly what’s happening. We don’t want rumors taking hold in our absence,” advised Sir Raymond, returning to watch the interview as though determined never to look round again. In fact, the expression on his face hadn’t altered in the slightest since turning to her a second or two ago but still, he allowed Hazel to speak uninterrupted while looking only forward himself.
That way he could take a little of his mind off those eyes fixed upon them so unwaveringly even when he stared at the image directly behind her shoulder.
Hazel shrugged politely. “I think everyone must feel sorta liberated actually.”
Ignoring that understatement entirely, Sir Raymond tapped the white plastic coverings. “‘Orville Redenbacher?'” he muttered under his breath, finding his favorite brand just visible. Then raising both eyebrows quizzically: “Who plays him these days? I can see Norman Wisdom looking back up from there…”
Now hazel moved as quietly as possible to one side, towards where Sterne was sitting near the base of the row nearer the far wall. He’d pulled the nearest curtain fully across to protect his view without drawing too much attention. Behind the makeshift screens, Reginald and Nigel sat apart from each other, chatting with nods as they both tried their best not to show anything.
The reason why couldn’t quite be seen, partly because neither spoke except very softly.
Still, to anyone within easy earshot – and that included several senior staff milling aimlessly past in hallways – it seemed as if the boys were deeply involved in a heated argument over recent events and particularly Reginald’s bizarre behavior of late. Being in deep conversation and animated chatter they attracted less curiosity than either would wish anyway.
Of course, in a perfect world, any confrontation involving boys at any age and especially both brothers at the same time might soon have been reported to parents by teachers or supervisors alike. Yet such contact hardly occurred anymore.
And whatever you may think today about discipline amongst youngsters or at boarding schools in general, remember this: punishments from the slipper or cane used to involve corporal punishment at least twice weekly during term time.
Every boy learned sooner or later how to hide his feelings in order to endure school rules fairly and keep a straight face, and often go hungry or lose sleep before proving himself worthy enough to avoid any particular penalties or other punishments at all. These are common sense principles, things we all learned in childhood at home or elsewhere among neighbors.