Molly and Pim and the Millions of Stars Read Online Free Page B

tree. She glanced warily at the acorn in its potion. It looked as if
it had sunk to the bottom of a dirty pond. Molly couldn’t see anything magical about
it. She sniffed the wet, earthy, sharp smell, which was exactly as you would expect
rotting leaves in winter to smell. It was probably just a normal old acorn, Molly
scoffed to herself.
    She rummaged through the washing basket, found her favourite red dress, put it on
and ran outside with Maude to get some borage. Borage was growing everywhere in the
garden, even where it was not meant to be. It had large, squishy, slightly prickly
leaves and tiny blue flowers. Molly picked a bunch, plucking off the flowers and
eating them as she went. She shooed the chickens and picked up the Gentleman, who
was most handsome with his white feathers and glorious red comb. She swished at the
harlequin beetles that were eating the cherry tomatoes and picked some basil, because
her mama often liked basil and borage together.
    Molly ran inside and boiled the water and steeped the herbs in the teapot. Then she
took the pot and a cup outside to where her mama was digging the hole.
    Her mama stood up and rubbed her back and tore off her gloves. The wide brim of her
straw hat sagged, but Molly could see her cheeks were red.
    ‘It seems such a big hole for an acorn, but the roots will need lots of room to grow
quickly. Ah, tea…Thank you.’
    ‘Borage and basil,’ Molly declared.
    Her mama smiled, but she seemed too tired to be impressed. They both sat there and
watched a willie wagtail dance in the mottled shade under the lilly pilly tree.
    Molly poured the tea. Maude nuzzled up to Mama, who lazily gave her a pat.
    Mama sipped her tea, peeping over the teacup at Molly. ‘The hole is almost deep enough
and I think we might see something happen as soon as we plant the acorn,’ she said
as she put down the cup.
    Everything felt so sleepy and lazy and sunny that it seemed impossible for it all
to change as violently as it did in the very next instant.
    Molly’s mama took another mouthful. She gulped. Her eyes widened. She stared in horror
at what she held in her hand.
    It was the jar of acorn potion.
    Molly stared too. Something terrible was happening. ‘Mama?’ she breathed.
    But it seemed that her mama couldn’t talk. Her eyes closed and she wobbled, but instead
of falling over she began to turn a dark muddy colour. Her body welled up and up
and grew tall and her arms shot outwards, as rigid as a scarecrow’s. A loud creaking
and splitting sound came from her body, and her eyes were wide as if something had
tugged suddenly at her eyelids. She stared at Molly with a look of great yearning.
Then her eyes swept shut and she seemed to be sucked inwards as her breath blew out
of her in a violent blast.
    Maude began to run in circles.
    Molly froze. Her mama’s body turned to a trunk. Her skin turned to bark. Her arms
became branches. And her face vanished in the crown of leaves that spread across
the summer sky. All that remained was her straw hat, which hung perilously from a
branch high up in the tree, its thin red ribbon flying gaily in the wind.
    Molly’s heart was very loud inside her. Her eyes were stuck wide open, and her legs
began to tremble. She crouched down and put her hands on the warm grass. Then she
crawled towards the tree that was her mama and put her head against it.
    She squeezed her eyes very tightly shut and told herself she mustn’t cry.



CHAPTER 8
    Chocolate-and-Cashew Balls
    Even for the bravest of the brave, it is a terrible shock to watch your mama turn
into a tree. Molly crouched down and rocked herself gently. She drew herself into
a ball, like a bug, and squeezed herself hard, trying not to let anything go in or
come out. Her thoughts raced round and round.
    Her mama was gone.
    Her mama was a tree.
    It was a sunny Saturday morning, and half the town was already up and bustling about
and the hum of activity crept up from the valley. But Molly stayed curled up by