Wonderland

by Marie O'Regan

  Wonderland had been there for her during the difficult years that followed—getting used to having a baby brother, going up to big school, her first broken heart—but in recent years, life had… well, it had started to get in the way. There was so much studying to do, and the other girls were always pestering her on WhatsApp, and then there was the swimming club, and her drawings, and her friend Chris, who also happened to be a boy…

  And so she’d let things drift, and although she dutifully continued to visit her grandma—the family had even taken to staying over at the house on a Saturday night, to give Lucy’s mum a chance to fuss over the now-elderly lady—she’d not ventured out into the garden for many months. Now, at the age of fourteen, she’d decided that, as wonderful as it all was, it was time she made a break with the childish things of her past. So, her teddy bears had gone into the attic, her dolls had gone down to the Barnardo’s shop, and she’d come here to bid a final farewell to the Mock Turtle, the Knave of Hearts and the Cheshire Cat, and all those others with whom she’d spent so much time as a child. She knew they’d be sad, but a grown-up girl couldn’t go on spending her life visiting a place like that, could they? It was just too… whimsical, too juvenile, and while she would cherish the memories, she had more important things to worry about now.

  Only… she hadn’t expected to find the place had changed quite so much since her last visit. What was once bright and vibrant had become dull and morose. The very atmosphere had changed. The skies were overcast and brooding, the trees groaned and creaked in the wind, having shed all of their colourful leaves, and everyone seemed to have holed themselves up in their homes. Even the Cheshire Cat’s grin had reversed itself into a sulky frown: the creature was looking at her now, peering down from the window ledge above the Queen of Hearts’ palace door. She could feel the rumbling footsteps of something moving around inside the castle.

  “There’s something big in there,” she said. “Something mighty.”

  “Oh, mighty, mighty,” said the Cat, swishing its tail. “Might he ever forgive you?”

  Lucy offered the Cat a sharp glance. “Forgive me? Whatever for? I’ve only just arrived.”

  “Exactly,” purred the Cat. “You’re late.”

  Lucy sighed and shook her head. The problem—she’d been led to understand—was that a monster had chosen to take up residence here in Wonderland. A monster so fierce, and so terrifying, that none dare oppose it, even when it had swept amongst the pack and plucked a wriggling Queen of Hearts from her throne, taking her prisoner and declaring itself the new king.

  “What does it want?” she’d asked the Knave, upon finding him wandering alone in the woods, his heart broken.

  “What do any of us want?” had been the Knave’s only reply.

  Now, she stood before the portcullis door leading into the castle, struggling to find a way inside. Why she’d decided to confront this terrible monster—of whom the inhabitants of Wonderland all appeared to be terrified—she did not know. Only… she supposed it had something to do with her knowing she couldn’t say goodbye to them all without at least trying to put things right. She didn’t think she could bear abandoning them all to the rule of some terrible tyrant. Or at least, a terrible tyrant they didn’t already know.

  “Is there nothing you can do to help?” said Lucy, glaring up at the Cat.

  “I’m already doing nothing to help,” said the Cat. “But I admit I’m growing somewhat impatient and feel the urge to intercede.”

  “Well, don’t let me stop you,” said Lucy, rolling her eyes.

  The Cat’s lips curled for a moment, hinting at its erstwhile grin. And then the portcullis door vanished, and Lucy—who’d been leaning against it—tumbled through into the forecourt beyond.

  She picked herself up, dusting down the front of her dress. “You could have warned me!” she scolded, but the Cat had already gone.

  Sighing, Lucy walked across the forecourt towards the open door that led into the castle interior. Noises were spilling out from inside: a hiss, a groan, and the stomping of feet. Whatever was in there was big.

  Lucy straightened her back, lifted her chin, and strode through the door.

  She found herself in a gloomy passageway that encircled the castle’s Great Hall. Ahead, the passage opened out onto the north end of the hall, and here, velvet drapes hung from the ceiling, obscuring Lucy’s view. She crept forward, confident that—given the clamour being made by the occupant in the hall—she was unlikely to be overheard.

  “You cannot govern a realm. Just think about it for a moment. All the dreary day-to-day issues of state. All the peasants and supplicants.” This shrill voice, Lucy knew, belonged to the Queen of Hearts.

  “Yes,” said the monster in reply, its voice low and even, “but at least I’ll get to lop off their heads.”

  A moment’s pause.

  “Well, I don’t suppose I can argue with that,” said the Queen. Another pause. “Can I watch?”

  “I’ll think about it,” replied the monster.

  Still hiding behind the velvet drapes, Lucy frowned. Who was this monster who had so brazenly usurped the throne? Where had he come from? There had to be another way in and out of Wonderland, Lucy decided—one that she wasn’t aware of. Yet, in all her years of visiting the place, she’d never once encountered another soul who claimed to have come from the world above, like her. Oh, there were tales of that one girl, years and years ago, but Lucy had always presumed she’d visited via the same hole in the garden—a previous occupier of her grandma’s house, perhaps. Yet this creature had found its way in, all the same. Had deposed the Queen of Hearts and cast a morose pall over all of Wonderland.

  Now she was here, though, she had no idea what she was going to do. Reason with it? It didn’t sound particularly reasonable. She couldn’t fight it—she was no knight, and she’d never really believed in solving problems with her fists, even when dealing with her troublesome little brother, Peter. Yet she remained adamant—she couldn’t allow it to continue. Even though the Queen of Hearts had always scared her—she was, after all, a rather furious monarch—Lucy knew that her right and proper place was on the throne.

  She took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the curtain…

  …to see a massive, hulking, lizard-like creature lounging on the dais where the throne used to be. It had green, scaly skin, and its fingers ended in sharp black talons—one of which it was using to pick food from between its teeth. It had diamond-shaped bone spurs running along its spine, a bloated pale belly, and huge jaws that hinged open like those of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Dotted in its skull were a smattering of eyes, reminiscent of a spider’s, which all shone a bright, lurid red in the gloomy light of the Great Hall. Finally, its feet ended in massive cloven hooves. Close by, looking furious, was the Queen of Hearts, trapped inside on oversized gilded birdcage that was suspended from the ceiling, close to the monster’s head.

  “Y… y… you!” blurted Lucy, in stunned recognition. She stared at the beast for a moment, rooted to the spot, feeling the hairs prickle on the nape of her neck. Now that she had seen it, she knew precisely what it was, and exactly where it had come from: it was the monster from under her bed.

  This was the creature that had haunted her dreams for so many years, whose glowing eyes had pierced the darkness of her bedroom whenever she was alone. The monster who had tormented her whenever she’d wanted to get up to go to the loo, or when she woke up in the dead of night to find the house was silent, save for its rasping breath, coming from somewhere beneath her.

  For years, she’d believed wholeheartedly that this creature had loitered under her bed each night after dark, and if she was truthful with herself (which is a difficult thing for a teenager to be), she had to admit that it was only in the last year she’d recognised her fear for what it was—the overactive imagination of a child.

  And yet, now it was here, in Wonderland, fully manifest and larger than life. And what had it done? Taken the Queen prisoner
and made everyone’s lives a misery. It was pretty terrifying, too!

  Trembling, Lucy stepped forward and cleared her throat.

  From her perch, the Queen of Hearts looked down, raising her eyebrows in surprise. “You?” she cried, echoing Lucy’s earlier sentiment.

  The monster looked up at Lucy with an air of apparent disinterest, and then returned to picking its teeth. Had it even recognised her?

  “Your Majesty,” said Lucy, regarding the Queen. “I’m here to help.”

  “Humph!” said the Queen, with a shake of her head. “I can hardly see what you might do.” Her voice was shrill, her tone typically ungrateful.

  “Fine. Be like that,” said Lucy, turning about on her heel. She made as if to walk away.

  “No, no! Do not be too hasty in your retreat,” said the Queen, her tone softening considerably. “It’s simply that we haven’t seen you in such a long while.”

  Lucy turned again on the spot. She felt a stab of regret at the truth of the Queen’s words. “I’ve been busy,” she said.

  The Queen nodded, unconvinced. “Busy? Well, as you can see, you’re not the only one.” She gestured towards the monster, who’d been following the conversation with feigned apathy.

  “Busy, yes. Busy!” The monster stopped picking its teeth for a moment, and looked down at Lucy, offering her a wicked grin. Then, looking round at the Queen, it reached over and flicked her cage with the tip of its claw, causing it to rock back and forth wildly. The Queen, clutching the bars, looked thoroughly nauseated.

  “Busy making a nuisance of himself,” came a familiar voice from over Lucy’s shoulder. She turned to see the broad, downturned mouth of the Cheshire Cat.

  “So, you’ve decided to join us at last,” said Lucy.

  “Kettles and pots,” replied the Cat. “Pots and kettles.”

  Lucy sighed. She’d been racking her brain, but the Queen had been right—although she desperately wanted to help, what could she do in the face of such a terrible creature? She decided diplomacy would be her first port of call. She stepped closer, peering up at the terrifying visage of the monster. It had returned to picking its teeth, and Lucy saw, with a shudder, that there were bits of what looked disturbingly like playing cards lodged in the gaps between them. “Look here,” she said, her voice quavering. “What exactly is it you want?”

  The monster seemed to consider this for a moment, its brow furrowing. Then its expression brightened. “More food would be good,” it said. “And perhaps some tea.”

  “Monsters don’t drink tea!” said Lucy.

  “No,” agreed the monster. “But kings do. And I’m the King of Wonderland now.” It glared at her defiantly. “So, tea it shall be.” It licked its lips. “With a further course of little girl.”

  “I’m not a little girl anymore,” she said, but she could hear the tremor in her voice.

  “Oh, but you are,” said the monster.

  Lucy swallowed, but her mouth was dry. All those churned-up feelings were flooding back: the paralysing fear of the thing curled under her bed; her worry that her toes might poke out from beneath the bedspread in the night and she’d wake up in the morning to find them nibbled away; her certainty that if she even tried to get up to go to the loo, she’d get dragged under there, to the nether realm where the monster lurked, where all children were dragged to and eaten if they were brave or stupid enough to abandon the safety of their beds after dark.

  She forced herself to think more like a grown-up and pressed on with her questioning. “But why would you want to be king? Just think of all that work you’ll have to do. The meetings. The admin. The petitions. The judgements and pronouncements. Governing a realm can’t be an easy job. It’s not all snacks and tea, you know.”

  “Hear, hear!” bellowed the Queen, whose cage had finally come to rest again. She was slumped on the cage floor, her knuckles white where her fingers still clung desperately to the gilded bars. “Tea parties are one thing, but what about all the people, hmmm? They’re a terrible burden. Terrible.”

  The monster shook his head. “I’ll just eat them all.” It hooked a rather large morsel of playing card on the tip of its claw, wiggling it loose from between two front teeth, and then, after peering at it for a moment, popped it back into its mouth and swallowed. Lucy thought she was going to be sick.

  “But there are better snacks, surely?” she said. “And besides, if you kill everyone you’ll just have even more work to do, because there’ll be no one left to command. You don’t need to be king to have a full belly. There must be something more you want.”

  The monster gave a satisfied sigh and rubbed its stomach.

  “Of course there’s something more it wants,” said the Cheshire Cat.

  Lucy turned to peer up at it. It was curled around the shoulders of a suit of armour, tail lazily describing a figure eight in the air. “Well?”

  “What does anyone want?” replied the Cat.

  “That’s just what the Knave of Hearts said.”

  “A rare moment of insight,” said the Cat. “But that doesn’t answer the question.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Power, fortune…”

  “Oh, dearie me,” said the Cat. “Now we begin to see the truth of the matter.”

  Lucy frowned. As usual, the Cat wasn’t making any sense. Unless… “You can’t mean… love and attention?” said Lucy. “Recognition?”

  The Cat grinned. “It seems we’re not the only ones who’ve been forgotten, are we, Your Majesty?”

  “Oh, no. I think not,” said the Queen.

  Lucy looked from one to the other, and then back at the monster. Was this really all her fault? She’d been so busy growing up, living her life, that she’d barely spared a thought for the people down here, in Wonderland. Let alone the monster under the bed. She’d assured herself it wasn’t real—how could it be?—and, as if to prove her point, she’d seen no sign of the creature. She’d slept soundly, safe in the knowledge that she’d put her childish imagination away, and that had been that. And now, to discover that, all along, the monster had been here instead, trying to create a new life for itself, trying to get noticed…

  Was that really all it wanted? To be believed in again? She supposed the Cheshire Cat was right—wasn’t that all anyone ever really wanted?

  “Look,” she said, waving her arm before the monster to get its attention (it didn’t seem particularly interested, she had to admit), “it’s all right. You can come home. Back under the bed where you belong. Everything can get back to normal again.”

  The monster sighed and shook its head. “No.”

  “No? What do you mean, no? Isn’t that what you want?”

  “No!” said the monster, more forcefully this time. Lucy caught a waft of its breath, full in her face, and had to turn away at the sour stench of rotten… card. “I’m staying here. Back there I’ll only be forgotten about again. At least here, I can scare people.” It offered Lucy a menacing look. “Or eat them,” it added, with a lick of its lips.

  Lucy tried to remain calm. If the monster had really wanted to eat her, it’d had plenty of opportunity over the years. It didn’t seem likely that would change now… did it? Unless it was feeling resentful…

  “But if you eat them all, you’ll be back to square one. There’ll be no one left to be scared of you,” she said.

  The monster seemed to think this over for a moment, then it waved its claw dismissively. “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

  Lucy was kicking herself. How could she have allowed this to happen? And why did growing up have to be so hard? All she wanted was to know that everyone was going to be okay. To know that Wonderland and all its denizens—and yes, she supposed, the monster from under her bed, too—were all safe and happy. If she knew that, then she’d be able to go off and get on with things, without having to worry. She needed a chance to grow up, but that didn’t mean she had to stop believing, that she wanted to forget about everything, all the wonderful, magical thin
gs she’d seen, all the experiences she’d had. Just that there were other things she needed to think about now, as well.

  It just didn’t seem fair. She’d always kept Wonderland’s secret. She’d always protected them—even when the gardener came around to cut her grandma’s hedges back, and had pointed out the hole, offering to fill it in. She couldn’t keep it up forever, though, could she? She couldn’t be here all the time.

  And that’s when it hit her. She didn’t have to. Not any longer.

  “I’ve got to go,” she blurted out suddenly, causing an eruption of frustrated noises from within the gilded cage. “I’m sorry.”

  “Go? GO? You can’t just up and go! Get back here at once, young lady, and face up to your responsibilities!”

  “Don’t worry,” said Lucy, “I’ll fix everything. I have an idea.”

  Lucy could hear the Queen snorting in frustration as she turned on her heel and walked from the castle—out into the wilds of Wonderland, along the forest path, across the meadow, and back out through the hole, until, moments later, she emerged behind the potting shed in her grandma’s garden.

  Here, back in the real world, the light was beginning to fade, and she could see through the window into the dining room, where the rest of her family were busying themselves around the dinner table, setting places and half-heartedly bickering. She glanced back at the hole, certain that she could still hear the echo of the Queen’s enraged bellowing, and wondered for a moment if she was doing the right thing. Then, concluding that she didn’t really have a choice in the matter, she dusted herself down and went to join the others for dinner.

  * * *

  After dinner—during which her little brother had spent the whole meal waffling on about a new cartoon he’d seen, and accidentally kicking her under the table because of his inability to sit still—she retreated upstairs to read. She liked it here, at her grandma’s house, and had always felt at home, although the older she got, the more annoying it was to have to share a room with Peter.