One day Jack and Poppy were at the bottom of their garden trying to decide something. They were asking, when they grew up would they like to be gardeners?
Jack said, “Yes. Because if I was a gardener no-one would tell me off when my hands were dirty. Gardeners have got dirty hands. It goes with the job.” And Poppy said, “I’d like it!” Gardeners could lie on their tummy all day in warm grass looking at the beautiful flowers in their gardens. She said, “It’d be so inspiring. All those beautiful flowers.” Then she had a thought. She said, “Gardeners are probably all painters in their spare time. When they go home at night, they probably climb up to their studios and paint and make beautiful art. And sell it for … for tons of money. Probably they retire early from gardening and just go on painting.”
Jack wasn’t sure about that. But just as he was about to say something Mrs Threadbare walked past. The nice old lady who lived next door where the weeds grew at the front gate. Who always wore that pink floppy hat and had a big bag on her arm. She gave them a smile and stopped. She said, “I’m going up the hill to collect something special. A couple of gardeners would be a big help to me.”
Jack and Poppy jumped up grinning. They called out to their mum and headed for the gate. Mum came to the back door wiping her hands on her apron. Jack waved his arms and pointed in the direction of the hill. Then Poppy swung her arms and pointed at Mrs Threadbare, who was disappearing around the corner. Mum smiled and nodded. And off they raced, out the gate, along the footpath and onto the hill.
Up ahead Mrs Threadbare was peering closely into a small bush. It was low with bright green leaves. She put down her big handbag and adjusted her round glasses. “Yes,” she said to herself. “This is what I want to collect.” And she reached into her bag and rummaged around inside it.
Jack and Poppy arrived and Mrs Threadbare looked up. “Oh here are the gardeners,” she said. “Thanks for helping. I’m looking for something …” and her rummaging hands went deeper and deeper into her great big bag.
Jack and Poppy hoped she was feeling around for lollipops. They were too polite to say anything, but they were thinking about lollipops because when they met Mrs Threadbare she would usually ask, “How are you, children?” And then she’d inauire, “Do you have room for a lollipops? Because I have some in my handbag.”
Mrs Threadbare knew a lot about children. She knew what Jack and Poppy were thinking, and it made her grin. “You two thinking about lollipops by any chance?” she asked. Poppy went red. Mrs Threadbare burst out laughing and said today she didn’t have her usual supply because she was about to make some.
“Make lollipops!” Jack said. His eyes went wide. “Of course,” said Mrs Threadbare. “I make lollipops. I make my own, so I always have plenty.” Well, Jack and Poppy just stared and couldn’t believe what their nice old neighbour was saying.
And just then Mrs Threadbare found what she was rummaging for. “Here it is!” she exclaimed with a little-old-lady grunt, and held up a small pair of strong scissors. “Now we can start collecting!”
She stepped up to the little bush and motioned for Jack and Poppy to come close and look. “See the little tips on the end of these leaves?” Jack and Poppy nodded. “They’re special,” she said. “They’re full of flavour. I come up here to collect them and when I make my lollipops I pop these little leaf things into the mixture. It’s what makes them yummy.”
Jack and Poppy nodded again and got to work. Carefully, carefully they peered and hunted through the mass of bright green leaves for the tiny little leaf tips. Each time they found one Mrs Threadbare snipped it off and put it into the big bag. “They’re hard to find,” Poppy said to Mrs Threadbare. “They’re so small!” Mrs Threadbare said Hard for her too because her old eyes didn’t see as well as they used to.
Well, they peered and picked and looked and poked and after a long time they had enough little leaf things for the next batch of lollipops. Jack lifted the big bag onto his shoulders and the three of them headed back. Off the hill they went, along the footpath, and past Jack and Poppy’s gate. Mum was sitting in the sunshine at the backdoor, with a coffee. She saw them walking past and thought, ‘That’s odd. They’re not coming straight home?’
But Jack and Poppy and their nice old neighbour just smiled and waved, and turned into Mrs Threadbare’s house. The one with the weeds growing under the letterbox.
Mum went back to her coffee and watched as Mrs Threadbare carefully opened her front door. It creaked a slow, soft ‘c-r-e-e-e-e-a-k’. Jack and Poppy stepped onto the doorstep. They’d never been this close before. Jack looked at the windows. Dark blue curtains were pulled across. Mrs Threadbare smiled a little smile through her old round glasses and beckoned them to step right inside. Inside was dark and gloomy. Mrs Threadbare said a hushed, “Welcome to my place!” and led the way. The three of them disappeared. Into the unknown. Behind them, the front door swung shut with a deep, solid ‘Bang!’ Jack wondered who had done that. Poppy thought it might have been hung crooked.
They stood still, peering into the gloom In front of them they could make out a long passage stretching into the distance. On each side there were doors. Big heavy doors, with old handles made of thick metal. Mrs Threadbare said, “Right. The machine we’ve come to see is here, in the first room.” And she turned the handle and gently pushed open the door. Jack and Poppy crowded forward. Mrs Threadbare stood with them looking inside, beaming with an enormous smile, and asked in a low voice, “What do you think, gardeners?”
Well, Jack and Poppy didn’t know what to say. Their mouths dropped open. Their eyes popped. They couldn’t move. They were standing inside the most magnificent room. It was large, with the walls painted in extravagant colours and up-swooping, curving lines. The ceiling towered high above them. Great lights hung down shining on a jumble of unbelievable machines.
There were big, black machines. Small silver ones with clockwork engines and bells. Some machines were tugging and panting and heaving. One small, yellow machine was sitting quiet, just ticking and clicking. Maybe it was the brains driving and managing everything. There was a set of shiny steel bowls, as tall as Jack. Inside the bowls gooey, brown stuff was gurgling and boiling. Wooden paddles plopped into the goo and swirled and twisted. Long, thin iron rods like arms hissed and puffed and moved up and down and swayed back and forth. Big red cogs turned and rattled and chattered. Along the wall a row of old clocks and dials flicked and measured stuff. To one side a fat little boiler blew steam and whistled At the end of all this there was a long, narrow table piled high with little cardboard boxes.
And, through all the noise and lights and steam and gurgling, there was the most amazing smell. A sweet, sticky, smudgy sort of smell that reminded Jack and Poppy of … lollipops.
Mrs Threadbare clapped her hands and laughed out loud. “Surprised you, didn’t I!” Jack and Poppy suddenly found their voices and broke into yells and squeals. “This is so good!” Poppy said. And Jack did a Happy-Dance. “Amazing,” he said. “Mrs Threadbare, this is so cool!”
Mrs Threadbare just smiled and rummaged in her big bag. She pulled out the little tips of the leaves they’d collected and threw them into one of the shiny bowls. “There!” she said. “That’s your part, gardeners. Today’s lollipops are almost ready to make and they’re going to have the flavour of what you collected!”
The three of them laughed and clapped. Jack did another Happy Dance and invited Mrs Threadbare to join in. She said it was a great dance but probably too much for her to try … at her age. And Poppy went down to the end of the machines to watch the first lollipops coming out. All fixed on their sticks and wrapped in plastic, rolling onto the table and into the cardboard boxes.
“That first box-full is for you and mum and dad,” Mrs Threadbare said.
Well, when Jack and Poppy raced inside to mum, both of them tried to tell the story at once. Their mum threw up her hands and laughed and laughed. “Stop! Stop!” she said. “You’re going too fast. And too fantastical.”
So slowly and clearly Jack and Poppy told her what was in Mrs Threadbare’s front room. “Impossible!” mum said. “You’re playing a joke on me.” But she unwrapped one of the lollipops and took a long, happy lick. Yummm!
She paused then said, “Well, you two, you’ve discovered something very very strange and it’s got me puzzled and trying to think. Just like Jesus.”
Mum took another lick. She said, “Do you remember the time Jesus was just little, and stayed behind and went to listen to the teachers in the temple?” Jack and Poppy nodded. She knew that story. “Well,” mum went on, “that made Jesus’ mum very puzzled. And she spent a long time trying to process it and figure it out.” She smiled at Jack and Poppy. “Like me right now.”
Poppy said mum was clever. So she’d figure out Mrs Threadbare’s lollipops. And Jack said, anyway, mum’s muffins were probably more healthy. Although lollipops were a treat. Once in a while.