Jack was panting and puffing and struggling up the garden carrying a great big armful of long, green, scratchy weeds that was so big he could hardly see where he was walking.
But he got to the weed place and dumped them down and said, “There!” Poppy was right behind him and she threw a heap of weeds down, and she also said ‘there’. Then dad arrived. He was pushing a whole heavy wheelbarrow full of the long weeds. He tipped them all out and said, “Done!”
Just then a voice called, “Well done!” and someone started clapping. It was Mrs Threadbare. She was at her gate, the one next door with weeds growing under the letterbox. She said. “Good work, neighbours! That garden’s looking like new.” Then a little twinkle appeared in her eyes. She said, “What you all need is one of these …” And she rummaged in her big handbag and pulled out three lollipops. “One for you too, Dad,” she said laughing.
Dad smiled. He took it and said, “Thanks!” and went back into the garden to tidy up. Jack and Poppy unwrapped theirs. Poppy took her first suck and then said, “Maybe we could help you with your weeds, Mrs Threadbare.”
Their kind old neighbour smiled her big granny smile and wagged her finger. “You think there’s too many weeds under my letterbox?” Poppy and Jack grinned and nodded. Mrs Threadbare laughed and another little twinkle came up into her eyes. She said actually she would never pull out those letterbox weeds. Because they weren’t ordinary weeds. She leaned down close to Jack and Poppy and said in a low, secret voice, “My letterbox weeds are special.”
Jack and Poppy’ s eyes went bigger. They stopped sucking. Oh? Jack said, “Special? How?”
“They change things,” Mrs Threadbare said. She paused and looked at them with a sweet little smile creeping onto her face. “Okay. I can see you don’t quite know what to think. Because you know that normally weeds don’t change anything. But you also know your nice old neighbour doesn’t deliberately tell you something untrue.”
Jack and Poppy nodded. They were totally confused. Mrs Threadbare was beaming. She said, “Come on. I’ll show you.”
They bent down under Mrs Threatbare’s letterbox and she gently took one of the scraggly weeds and pointed. “See?” she said. “See how there’s little flowers here? At the top.” Jack and Poppy squinted and, sure enough, there were flowers nestled together at the top of the weed. “Those flowers make it special,” Mrs Threadbare said in a low voice. “Now keep watching …” And she made the weed wobble and shake a little bit and Jack and Poppy could see small things flicking out of the flower. “Seeds,” Mrs Threadbare said. “These are the weed’s seeds.”
Jack murmured, “They’re quite small.” Poppy said, “they’re minuscule.” Jack said he didn’t know about that, but the seeds were very very tiny. Mrs Threadbare nodded and put her hand underneath the flower and shook again. A shower of seeds fell softly onto her palm and when there were no more to come out of the flower she held her hand up so Jack and Poppy could see the seeds properly. She said, “These seeds are what change things. You sprinkle them on something … and it’ll change.” Jack and Poppy’s eyes went wide. Jack said, ‘wow’ and Poppy thought that was amazing.
Mrs Threadbare stood up and said, okay it was now time for Jack and Poppy to try out the seeds. To see if they really would change things. She reached into her big bag and pulled out a scrap of white paper. Carefully, so none of the seeds would drop, she gently tipped them onto the paper. Then she folded it up in a clever way so the seeds were wrapped in a sort of temporary envelope and gave them to Poppy.
She said, “Take these, with Jack, and go up on the hill. You know the old car that’s up there?” Jack nodded. He said, “The one near the top, under the cliff?” Mrs Threadbare nodded. “Yes. I don’t know how they got it up there. No-one seems to know, actually. But anyway, yes, that’s the car. The old rusty, broken down, useless car. Up you go, you two. Sprinkle these seeds on the old wreck and see what happens.”
Poppy carefully put the little folded paper in her pocket. Jack looked into the garden and signalled to dad with his ‘can-we-go-up?’ signal. Dad waved back his ‘yes-you-can-go’ wave and the two of them set off along the footpath, up onto the hill, sucking and crunching what was left of their lollipops.
On and up they climbed, scrambling around rocky boulders, under tall trees, through patches of wavy grass, pushing past low bushes, heading for the place high up near the top where the old car wreck was. Jack called to Poppy, saying he didn’t know how the old car had ever been driven up such a difficult hill. Poppy said, ‘stranger things had happened’. Jack didn’t know what those things could be but he didn’t say anything.
Up and up and at last they came to a low cliff. Like a long wiggly stone wall. There were bushes underneath the cliff, thick and scratchy, but Jack and Poppy struggled and wiggled along and then suddenly they stumbled out into a small clearing and there was the car.
It had once been a long, slender, bright yellow, racy car. Fast and sleek and wide. When it roared through town in this days people on the footpath would stop and gawk and point and shout, “Look!” And, “Amazing!” Back then it had enormous glinting mirrors on the sides and shiny round polished plates on each wheel.
But that was a long long time ago. Now it was dilapidated. Old and broken-down. Some yellow colour still showed but mostly it was rusted. A door hung open and someone had punched holes in it. The tyres were wrinkly and flat and covered in green mould. The roof was sagging down. All the windows were broken and it looked like birds had made nests inside on the seats. And had left white, smelly droppings behind! Long grass was growing at the front, right up into the motor. And the whole car was lying on an angle, like it had been thrown away because no-one wanted it any more.
Jack said, “I dunno. Do you think the seeds’ll change it.” Poppy said, “I don’t know. But Mrs Threadbatre said they would.” She took the folded paper out of her pocket and gave a small smile. “Jack,” she said. “Let’s give it a try.”
Poppy went over to the car and with a big flick she threw her hand up and the seeds went whoosh high into the air and floated down. Jack was just about to say, ‘be careful’, when the first seeds landed softly on the roof of the car and the strangest thing happened. Or seemed to happen. The car jolted. Just a little. Like a tiny jerk sort of jolt.
Jack saw it right away and his mouth dropped open. He wanted to say to Poppy, ‘did you see that!’ but his tongue was twisted. Words couldn’t come out. But they weren’t needed because Poppy had also seen the car nudge. She clapped her hand to her mouth in total surprise and turned to Jack.
He was pointing and trying to say, ‘now it’s moving!’ Then Poppy saw it too. The car started to move. To shake backwards and forwards, like a shivering leaf. The seats creaked. A blackbird exploded out of a bush and thrashed away as fast as it could.
Jack and Poppy wanted to fly away too, but before they could Poppy said, “Jack! The colour!” The rusty old yellow paint was changing colour. To red! Vivid, bright red! The new colour went spilling and spreading from the front, down over the sides, slurping up onto the roof and sliding away over the back. The rusty old yellow car was now bright red.
Then everything stopped.
Jack and Poppy also stopped. They blinked. Were their eyes working? After a second Jack gasped, “Poppy. Is that real?” Poppy said, “Jack. I don’t know.” Jack asked if it was a trick. But they were close to the car and it certainly seemed like the old car was now red. Completely red. Without any trick, it had become red. Poppy slowly reached over and gave the door a timid touch. The colour was dry! It had really changed.
They looked at each other and Poppy said they should go and tell dad. Obviously they should!
…
But when they got back home panting and puffing and tried to describe it dad said ‘impossible’ and told them their eyes were probably playing tricks. Jack and Poppy said, “Dad!” So he said, “Alright. Let’s go and see.” He put his gardening spade against the wall of the shed and the three of them set off to climb the hill.
They struggled up to the cliff, pushed through the bushes and … there was the old car. Yellow. Like it had always been. Yellow and rusty.
Dad didn’t say anything. Jack and Poppy couldn’t say anything. They were utterly confused. So dad gave them one of his special ‘it’ll-be-okay’ hugs and they set off slowly down the hill.
Poppy said, “Remember that Bible story we had at bedtime the other day? The disciples saw Jesus change. He lit up with bright light.” Jack said, “Well, yes. But that story really happened. But that old wrecked car … did the colour really change? Were we just imaging things?”
Dad said Mrs Threadbare might be able to explain. Then he added that he knew one thing for sure. Mum had been baking muffins earlier and by the time they got home again they’d be ready. Jack let out a whoop. He shouted, “Race you down!” and took off like the wind, with Poppy and Dad laughing and trying to keep up.