Kennedy and her brother Wilson loved to explore the Old Town of Horsmarlonerpool. The buildings overhung the windy little streets, and even though it wasn’t the biggest town, there was always something new to see, new to smell, and new to hear.
Whenever they walked about the old town, they never really had a plan of where to go - they just led their feet lead them. And on this occasion, they found themselves walking up Duckfeather St, turning right onto Pepperpot Street, and then turning left onto Tinkers Lane.
But even though they liked to think they were just wandering without any plans, their feet always seemed to make them end up at the same place - Mr Manhattan’s bakery.
This was the best bakery in town, and not just because it was the only bakery in town. You could buy bread and even buns in some other shops that sold other things, but Mr Manhattan was a master baker - and all his bakery sold were the things that he made himself. Flavored breads, soft breads, cakes - oh the cakes were the greatest anyone had ever tasted - and sticky buns.
But when Wilson and Kennedy got to Mr Manhattan’s, with their minds on two croissants filled with smashberry jam, they were in for an awful shock. Mr Manhattan was standing outside, with a tear in his eye, hanging a sign on the door that said “Closed”.
“Oh, no! Are we too late?” asked Wilson.
“Ah,” said Mr Manhattan, turning to face them. “I’m afraid so. You see, I’m closing the bakery - for ever.”
Wilson and Kennedy gasped. “But why?”
“Well because I’m moving,” said Mr Manhattan. “Hadn’t you heard? I’m moving to the Skylands. I’m getting old and - well, the Skylands is a good place to retire to. And it’ll keep me young - a fresh start. Goodbye Wilson, goodbye Kennedy.”
He locked the door, looked at his old shop, put the key in an envelope - posted it though the front door - and slowly walked away. Wilson and Kennedy watched him walk up the street and disappear, and then looked through the glass door of their favorite bakery. It was completely empty.
Later, as they strolled though Peacock Park, headed to Mr Dennis’ cafe for ice cream, they bumped into Mateo and Mohammed - and decided they’d get ice cream together.
After telling them about Mr Manhattan closing his bakery and moving to the Skylands, Mateo and Mohammed had their own sad news to tell.
“We’ve just been visiting Mrs Western,” said Mohammed. “We took her a toy rocket to look at because it isn’t flying like it used to. But - well, we think she’s lonely.”
“Lonely?” gasped Kennedy. “But she’s the toy expert. Everyone brings Mrs Western their toys to look at.”
“Well,” sighed Mateo, “Do they, though? I don’t think people take toys for Mrs Western to look at much any more. And she lives all by herself.”
Well that afternoon, as they were making their way home, Wilson and Kennedy decided to visit Mrs Western, but they had to go back to the house first and pick up one of their toys to take her - as a kind of excuse for dropping by.
They took along a radio controlled car - even though there was nothing really wrong with it - and before long they were knocking on her door.
Mrs Western lives out of town, close to the Albion Sea, and she seemed very pleased to see them, and busied herself making a hot pot of tea and buttering some crumpets.
“What seems to be the matter with it,” she said, inspecting the car.
“Oh. It… doesn’t go as fast as it used to,” said Wilson. Which was sort of true, but he knew that that was just because it was getting a bit old.
Mrs Western seemed disappointed that it wasn’t a more interesting problem, but looked it over and then tightened the shaft that held the back wheels to the cog in the middle of the underside of the car. “You just needed to tighten the gears,” she told them, and handed it back.
They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping on their tea.
“Um, Mrs Wilson,” said Kennedy. “Would you mind showing us your favorite toys.”
“Oh,” said Mrs Western. “I don’t have favorites exactly.”
“Well, what’s your most interesting toys, then?” said Wilson.
Mrs Wilson thought a bit, and then smiled. She really was pleased to have visitors.
“Well,” she said - suddenly a bit shy. “I suppose the ones I’m most interested in are the ones that I make myself.”
Wilson and Kennedy watched as she went around the room picking up different toys. There was a hot air ballon that could fly as high as you wanted it to - and then come straight back down into your hand. A spinning top that would spin forever until you asked it to stop. A mechanical claw that spun around and picked up a tiny pin before gently placing it down on a table. And a red ball which, when she gently dropped it, bounced from floor to ceiling and ceiling to floor and back again non-stop.
Mrs Western caught the ball with a quick flick of her wrist.
“I suppose I do like to make my own toys more than I do fix them,” she said.
Kennedy suddenly had an idea.
“Mrs Western,” she said. “Would you like to go for a walk? And we must bring your toys with us.”
So the three of them walked into the Old Town, all carrying some of West Western’s toys.
“But where are we going?” she asked, more than a little confused.
Before long they were walking down Tinkers Lane and stopped outside Mr Manhattan’s empty bakery.
Kennedy was carrying Mrs Western’s magical robot claw grabber, and placed it down by the letterbox. It reached through, picked up the envelope that Mr Manhattan had posted containing the key, and brought it back out.
Smiling, Kennedy opened the door.
“But we can’t do that!” said Mrs Western, a little shocked.
“But we’re not taking anything,” said Kennedy. "We’re just borrowing the key, and look - the shop’s completely empty!”
Kennedy, Wilson and Mrs Western entered the old bakery.
“Right,” said Wilson. “Let’s put all these toys of yours, Mrs Western, into the front window and set them going.”
Soon, everyone on the street had gathered around the window to see a robot claw turning around and picking up tiny pieces of wood. And a ball bouncing non-stop from floor to ceiling. And a spinning top whirring around. And a hot air ballon drifting up and landing straight back into Wilson’s hand. And just for good measure, Kennedy raced their remote control car around the floor faster than it had ever gone.
“I still don’t think we should be in Mr Manhattan’s shop,” said Mrs Western.
“But it’s not his shop anymore,” said Kennedy. “He’s moved to the Skylands. So - what if it were - your shop?”
“My shop?” gulped Mrs Western.
Wilson opened the doors and everyone came in to take a closer look, laughing and clapping at all the amazing, magical toys.
Well for the next few days, Wilson, Kennedy and Mrs Western cleaned and painted until the shop was bright and colorful. It looked nothing like a bakery anymore, but instead a wonderful toyshop that only sold very special toys - toys that Mrs Western herself had invented and made.
Outside was a big sign that read ‘Mrs Western’s Astonishing Toys’, and every mooring at ten O’clock she turned the key in the door, smiled to herself, watched everyone in the street smile and wave back, and then welcomed her first customers of the day.
She was never lonely again, and spent all day doing what she loved best - making and inventing toys - and then chatting to all the happy customers who lined up to buy them.
But she did find time to do one extra job. She sat down at her new desk and wrote to Mr Manhattan in the Skylands. “Your shop is very much cared for and well, Mr Manhattan” she wrote on the paper. “Thank you. Thank you for an extraordinary little shop.”
