The Last Phoenix by Linda Chapman Read Free Book Online Page A

wobbly hands.” Mr. Milton shrugged; he seemed a little embarrassed. “I was tinkering with the controls after you came with your stepmother, Milly, and I’m afraid they jammed on. I can’t turn off the kiln. I’ve called someone to fix it but they can’t come for a week…”
    â€œPerfect!” Fenella whooped, flying in above their heads. “I’ll be done with it by then. It’s fate!”
    Jess tried to stifle a smile and Mr. Milton looked at her quizzically—of course, he’d seen and heard nothing at all. “It seems a shame to waste all that electricity,” she said carefully. “Perhaps we could all have a go at doing some pottery?”
    â€œWell, you seem sensible children…” The old man beamed. “So long as you don’t use the kiln without adult supervision, you’re welcome to come here whenever you wish.”
    â€œReally?” Milly couldn’t help sharing an excited glance with Fenella. “And would it be okay if we… left things here between visits?”
    â€œOf course! You don’t want to be lugging pots and clay and goodness knows what all over the place. Leavewhatever you like. Treat the place as your own.” Mr. Milton walked to the doorway and Fenella quickly fluttered aside. “Now, I’m afraid I must leave you for a while. I have an elderly guest staying who’s dreadfully fussy.” He chuckled and nodded to himself. “I’d better attend to him before I get back to my garden. See you again, children. Take care.” With a last little smile, he hobbled off.
    The four children held their breaths until he was a safe distance away and then let out their laughter and relief as Fenella came spiraling inside.
    â€œI’m home!” she declared, grabbing the handle to the kiln door with her golden talons. She tugged it open and a wave of intense heat swept through the workshop. “Ooooh, heaven,” she said, nuzzling inside and placing her egg on the gritty oven floor. “Cozy as crumpets. This is just the place for me, lovies—thank you! Thank you!”
    â€œThank old Milton,” said Michael, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Amazingly lucky though, isn’t it—the perfect place falling into our laps? I mean, talk about mega-coincidence.”
    â€œIt’s destiny !” Fenella declared dramatically.
    Jason nodded. “Mr. Milton gave us permission to leave things here and we can come back whenever we want!”
    â€œWe’ll have to tell Mum she can’t come for a week,” Jess realized. “But she’ll probably be too tied up at work toplay with pots anyway.”
    â€œI’m glad Mr. Milton has got someone staying with him,” said Milly. “He smiles a lot but he does seem sad.”
    â€œHe’s weird,” Michael declared.
    â€œHe’s just a bit eccentric, I think,” said Jess. “Artists often are, aren’t they? He’s really talented, though. Did you see those fighting bird things?”
    â€œGryphons, dearie,” put in Fenella. “I once knew a gryphon. George, his name was. Slightly grumpy but lovely all the same.” She laughed warmly. “I’ll cheer up that nice Mr. Milton when I’m done here, never you fret. He reminds me of somebody…Alfred the Great! That was it. He was a great one for roses, was Alfred.”
    â€œWhat?” Jason stared. “You knew Alfred the Great, the ancient English king?”
    â€œWho d’you think taught him to sing? Without me he’d never have been able to sneak into the Viking camp disguised as a minstrel and learn their plans.” Fenella ruffled her feathers. “Oh, I’ve known them all, my pet, the great and the good. And I’ll leave Milton the Great some lovely phoenix gold when all this is over to say thank you for my bed and board!”
    Milly smiled and stroked her back. “You’re so