Mr Gum and the Power Crystals Read Online Free

relief, burying her face in Old Granny’s petticoats and bashing her forehead on the bottle of sherry hidden amongst their folds.

    â€˜I been through terrible things, Old Granny! Terrible things indeeds!’ she sobbed. ‘An’ Friday’s off in Spainland an’ I been tryin’ to find you, Old Granny, an’ there’s bad mysteries goin’ on, bad mysteries like I doesn’t knows what!’
    â€˜Dry your eyes, young ’un,’ soothed Old Granny, stroking Polly’s hair with her bony hands. ‘You are safe for now. By the way, sorry about my hands. I know they’re a bit bony but they’re the only ones I’ve got. Now come with me.’
    And switching on her old-fashioned torch from before the War, Old Granny led the way down a spiral staircase carved into the very earth itself. How long did they walk down those stairs? No one can say, for time passes strangely when you are underground and it’s quite dark and things. Down and down they went, only stopping now and then for Old Granny to take a sip of sherry from the bottle she always kept in her walking-stick. Down and down, until presentlythe steps levelled out and they found themselves at the entrance to a long narrow tunnel hardly higher than Polly’s head. Beetles and millipedes scurried along the floor and tree roots poked through the earthen ceiling, dry and twisted and gnarled.
    â€˜Hmmph,’ grunted Old Granny, breaking off one of the tree roots and eating it.
    â€˜How do you knows which ones is good to eat an’ which ones is poisoners?’ asked Pollyin fascination.
    â€˜It is the Old Ways, young ’un,’ said Old Granny, who was quite drunk. Secretly she spat out the disgusting-tasting tree root into her handkerchief before continuing. ‘Most of this ancient wisdom is forgotten now, but us old folk still know the tricks.’
    â€˜Like this tunnel?’ asked Polly.
    â€˜Aye,’ said Old Granny, nodding slowly. ‘These tunnels run under the whole of LamonicBibber. My mother told me about them when I was just a little girl. “Old Granny,” she told me. “There are some tunnels.” My mother was a wonderful woman,’ sighed Old Granny, wiping a tear from her eye. ‘It was a shame the way those pelicans got her. But enough! We are here.’

    The tunnel had been climbing steadily uphill for some time, and now in the dim torchlight Polly could see a small white door up ahead, half-overgrown with moss. What washidden behind that door? Polly dared not guess, but Old Granny pushed it back on its hinges and crawled through without a moment’s thought. And following, Polly was amazed to find herself surrounded by bowls of boiled eggs with cling film over the top and a jar of piccalilli from before the War. The tunnel had come out in Old Granny’s fridge.

    â€˜That’s the way, young ’un,’ said Old Granny, helping Polly out into the kitchen. ‘Now come and sit by the fireside while Old Granny tells you her incredible tale.’
    So Polly knelt down at the hearth and Old Granny lit the fire against the cold wind that had caught up outside.
    â€˜There,’ said the old woman, ‘a good old-fashioned blaze-up, that’s the way.’
    Old Granny stirred the fire with a poker.Then she poured a few drops of sherry on to the flames, causing them to flicker and dance with a strange purplish light.
    For some time she sat gazing with a faraway look into the flames, as if seeing pictures there from days long gone. She nodded occasionally and sipped her sherry and once Polly heard her gasp, ‘Don’t go in there, Mother! It’s full of pelicans!’ But eventually Old Granny seemed to remember where she was.
    â€˜Young ’un,’ said she, turning to Polly. ‘Show me what that whopper dog did find down by the Lamonic River where the water rushes grow.’
    With a grimace, Polly took the coloured