one plant stall remained. Claire hopped impatiently from one foot to another. The stall was surrounded by keen gardeners, all of whom seemed determined to spend ages deciding what type of tomato plant they should have or asking a string of questions about the care of the many trays of seedlings.
‘Don’t push. Wait your turn.’
A grey haired gentleman frowned at Claire. She moaned to herself as she joined the back of the line. Three minutes later she’d had enough.
‘Mum will have to go without her flowers,’ she muttered, as she turned to make her way to the carpark.
Claire had to push her way through crowds of people. The Saturday morning market was very popular with both the townsfolk and visitors, many of whom carried large bags of bargains as they checked out each stall in turn. Claire threaded her way through a group of young children who were brandishing sticky toffee apples, and found her way blocked by a large clown.
‘Would you like a balloon?’ he boomed, thrusting a large and particularly revolting pink one in her face.
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Claire recoiled in revulsion and darted through a gap between two stalls, as the clown waved the balloon enticingly. It was much quieter on this side of the market. A small child dozed in a stroller guarded by a large shaggy dog, which lifted a lazy ear and yawned when it saw Claire. With a gasp of relief she spotted a plant stall that she hadn’t noticed before. This was a very small stall, with a dingy grey table holding a few dark and straggly plants.
‘Did you want something?’ a voice piped up.
Claire looked more closely and saw a small plump woman sitting behind the stall, almost hidden beneath the shade of an enormous red and white striped umbrella.
‘Um, I wanted some flowers,’ she began doubtfully.
‘No trouble at all,’ said the woman pleasantly. She put down her knitting, which appeared to be a tangle of grey and brown wool that might have been a sock for a very large foot. ‘I have some beauties here. What about this? It’s only two dollars.’ She picked up a spindly plant in a grubby plastic pot and proffered it for Claire’s inspection.
Claire looked even more doubtful. The plant looked remarkably like a weed and didn’t look as if it was even worth fifty cents.
‘I need something flowering,’ Claire mumbled, beginning to back away from the stall.
‘I have just the thing,’ cried the woman eagerly. She produced a packet from her pocket and flourished it in front of Claire with an air of triumph. ‘Snapdragons. Guaranteed to please. Only a dollar a pack. What do you think about that?’
She seemed so enthusiastic that Claire couldn’t bear the thought of turning her down.
‘Oh, all right,’ she said with a sigh, and handed across the five dollar note. She was appalled when the woman promptly handed her five packs of seeds before picking up her knitting and settling herself down again.
‘I only wanted one packet,’ Claire protested, thinking that her mother wasn’t going to be too pleased to get seeds instead of the plants she was expecting.
‘A bargain is a bargain,’ the woman said firmly. ‘No going back on it. See.’ she pointed to a small notice at the back of the stall which was partly obscured by a large pot.
NO REFUNDS FOR ANY REASON
Claire read the notice and muttered to herself in disgust as she turned and made her way to the carpark.
‘Come on, Claire. I thought you were the one in a hurry. We bought the jam ages ago,’ Marcus called accusingly, as his sister climbed into the car.
‘Where are my plants?’ Mrs Pierce asked with astonishment.
‘Um, er, well I didn’t actually buy any plants,’ Claire said carefully. ‘Not as such. But I bought you some seeds instead.’
‘Seeds!’
‘They’re guaranteed to grow. They’re snapdragons,’ Claire mumbled, not meeting her mother’s eyes. ‘They only cost a dollar a packet.’ She thrust the packets into her mother’s hand. ‘There was too much of a wait at the big plant stall.’
‘You spent all that money on seeds!’ Mrs Pierce was horrified. ‘Really Claire. I thought you would have had more sense at your age. Mrs Ainsworth specifically said to get plants.’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ Claire said uncomfortably.
‘Are they magic beans?’ Marcus grinned. ‘Did you think we’d get a giant beanstalk?’
Claire kicked him and scowled.
‘I suppose it can’t be helped now. But you can be the one to plant them and look after them. It might teach you to be a bit more patient in future,’ her mother said briskly, as she started the car. ‘You can dig up the patch of grass beside the living room window. Mrs Ainsworth says that is a good place for a garden.’
‘I’ll do it tomorrow,’ Claire said grudgingly. ‘I’ll be too busy today with the party.’
Claire hoped her mother would forget about the seeds, but the next morning she was handed a small spade, the packets of seeds and a container of fertilizer.
‘Now make sure you do it properly,’ Mrs Pierce instructed. ‘Mrs Ainsworth says to dig in the fertilizer thoroughly and plants the seeds evenly. Mrs Ainsworth says to be sure and water them well.’
Claire rolled her eyes at this. ‘Perhaps Mrs Ainsworth would like to do it herself if she’s so fussy,’ she snapped, as she pushed the seeds in savagely with her fingers and smoothed the earth on top of them. She was horrified to discover there were only three seeds in each packet, a fact that had been well disguised by the amount of packing paper wrapped around them. Guiltily she spread them around the freshly dug dirt, hoping that they would grow as well as the woman at the market had said.
Over the next few weeks, Claire watered the seeds whenever she remembered, and was relieved to see that there were at least no weeds coming up.
‘I can’t understand it,’ her mother said in puzzlement. ‘There are thistles all over the lawn but that patch you planted has none. Not even the seeds have sprouted yet.’
‘Maybe the seeds are poisonous and they’ve killed the weeds,’ Marcus suggested.
‘Don’t be silly,’ scoffed his sister. ‘Seeds wouldn’t do that.’ She sounded more confident than she felt. The seeds had certainly looked peculiar.
‘Did you use the fertilizer I gave you?’ her mother asked.
‘Of course I used it,’ Claire replied indignantly. ‘I’m sure they’ll grow soon.’
She went out and eyed the patch of garden moodily. ‘Hurry up and grow,’ she muttered, kicking a clump of dirt at the edge of the garden.
Claire was never sure if the seeds had heard her or not, but the next day she was relieved to see fifteen small green spikes poking through the earth. Over the next few days they grew taller and larger pale green leaves unfolded to wave limply in the breeze. Two weeks after that, the plants were as high as her waist, with tightly folded buds of shiny brown.
‘Mrs Ainsworth says they don’t look like snapdragons,’ Mrs Pierce said doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you heard the name right, Claire?’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ sighed Claire. ‘Maybe when the flowers open they will look better.’
The buds remained stubbornly closed until one hot Saturday. Marcus had gone off with his friends to play at the waterhole in the river and Claire and her friend Brianna had flopped on the rug on Claire’s living room floor to do their school homework together.
‘What’s the square root of sixteen?’ Brianna asked. ‘Oh, look Claire. What weird flowers.’
‘Where?’ Claire looked up from her exercise book, where she was struggling with an essay on What I want to be when I grow up.’
‘There. Outside the window. Aren’t they strange?’
Claire looked out the window where Brianna was pointing, to see the snapdragon buds slowly opening to reveal flowers of a most peculiar appearance. They were all different colours; some mottled green and red, while others were deep purple with vivid gold stripes or slashes of white against them. The flowers were shaped like curved trumpets, with a wide opening at one end while the other end
tapered to a narrow curve where it joined the stalk.
‘They’re snapdragons,’ she told her friend.
‘They look like dragons, all right,’ agreed Brianna, studying one more closely.
Claire had to admit she had a point. The flowers did look very much like dragons’ heads, and the way they moved in the wind made them look almost alive. A bee buzzed past outside the window and landed on the edge of one of the flowers. There was a sharp ‘snap’ and the flower closed around the bee. In the blink of an eye the bee was gone and flower moved lazily and innocently beneath Claire and Brianna’s startled gaze.
‘Did you see that?’ they cried together.
‘It ate the bee!’ Brianna was incredulous.
‘It can’t have. Plants don’t do that,’ Claire protested.
‘It did. I saw it,’ Brianna insisted, jumping up to look more closely.
‘Perhaps it was a co-incidence,’ Claire ventured feebly, as she joined her.
The girls stood and watched the flowers intently, but no more insects flew near them. The flowers swayed slowly and turned their gaping mouths towards the girls.
‘I’m going to finish my homework somewhere else,’ said Claire hastily. ‘Let’s go to my bedroom.
‘Good idea,’ agreed Brianna with alacrity, trying not to look at the flowers which leaned menacingly towards her.
The girls collected their schoolbooks and retreated to the safety of the bedroom where they finished their homework in a rather subdued silence.
Claire took her mother to see the flowers when Brianna had gone.
‘Oh,