by Roald Dahl
'Well done!' Sophie whispered. 'Now quick! Over that wall!'
Directly in front of them, bordering the pavement, there was a brick wall with fearsome-looking spikes all along the top of it. A swift crouch, a little leap and the BFG was over it.
'We're there!' Sophie whispered excitedly. 'We're in the Queen's back garden!'
The Palace
'By gumdrops!' whispered the Big Friendly Giant. 'Is this really it?'
'There's the Palace,' Sophie whispered back.
Not more than a hundred yards away, through the tall trees in the garden, across the mown lawns and the tidy flower-beds, the massive shape of the Palace itself loomed through the darkness. It was made of whitish stone. The sheer size of it staggered the BFG.
'But this place is having a hundred bedrooms at least!' he said.
'Easily, I should think,' Sophie whispered.
'Then I is boggled,' the BFG said. 'How is I possibly finding the one where the Queen is sleeping?'
'Let's go a bit closer and have a look,' Sophie whispered.
The BFG glided forward among the trees. Suddenly he stopped dead. The great ear in which Sophie was sitting began to swivel round. 'Hey!' Sophie whispered. 'You're going to tip me out!'
'Ssshh!' the BFG whispered back. 'I is hearing something!' He stopped behind a clump of bushes. He waited. The ear was till swinging this way and that. Sophie had to hang on tight to the side of it to save herself from tumbling out. The BFG pointed through a gap in the bushes, and there, not more than fifty yards away, she saw a man padding softly across the lawn. He had a guard-dog with him on a leash.
The BFG stayed as still as a stone. So did Sophie. The man and the dog walked on and disappeared into the darkness.
'You was telling me they has no soldiers in the back garden,' the BFG whispered.
'He wasn't a soldier,' Sophie whispered. 'He was some sort of a watchman. We'll have to be careful!'
'I is not too worried,' the BFG said. 'These wacksey big ears of mine is picking up even the noise of a man breathing the other side of this garden.'
'How much longer before it begins to get light?' Sophie whispered.
'Very short,' the BFG said. 'We must go pell-mell for leather now!'
He glided forward through the vast garden, and once again Sophie noticed how he seemed to melt into the shadows wherever he went. His feet made no sound at all, even when he was walking on gravel.
Suddenly, they were right up close against the back wall of the great Palace. The BFG's head was level with the upper windows one flight up, and Sophie, sitting in his ear, had the same view. In all the windows on that floor the curtains seemed to be drawn. There were no lights showing anywhere. In the distance they could hear the muted sound of traffic going round Hyde Park Corner.
The BFG stopped and put his other ear, the one Sophie wasn't sitting in, close to the first window.
'No,' he whispered.
'What are you listening for?' Sophie whispered back.
'For breathing,' the BFG whispered. 'I is able to tell if it is a man human bean or a lady by the breathing-voice. We has a man in there. Snortling a little bit, too.'
He glided on, flattening his tall, thin, black-cloaked body against the side of the building. He came to the next window. He listened.
'No,' he whispered.
He moved on.
'This room is empty,' he whispered.
He listened in at several more windows, but at each one he shook his head and moved on.
When he came to the window in the very centre of the Palace, he listened but did not move on. 'Ho-ho,' he whispered. 'We has a lady sleeping in there.'
Sophie felt a little quiver go running down her spine. 'But who?' she whispered back.
The BFG put a finger to his lips for silence. He reached up through the open window and parted the curtains every so slightly.
The orange glow from the night-sky over London crept into the room and cast a glimmer of light on to its walls. It was a large room. A lovely room. A rich carpet. Gilded chairs. A dressing-table. A bed. And on the pillow of the bed lay the head of a sleeping woman.
Sophie suddenly found herself looking at a face she had seen on stamps and coins and in the newspapers all her life.
For a few seconds she was speechless.
'Is that her?' the BFG whispered.
'Yes,' Sophie whispered back.
The BFG wasted no time. First, and very carefully, he started to raise the lower half of the large window. The BFG was an expert on windows. He had opened thousands of them over the years to blow his dreams into children's bedrooms. Some windows got stuck. Some were wobbly. Some creaked. He was pleased to find that the Queen's window slid upward like silk. He pushed up the lower half as far as it would go so as to leave a place on the sill for Sophie to sit.
Next, he closed the crack in the curtains.
Then, with finger and thumb, he lifted Sophie out of his ear and placed her on the window-ledge with her legs dangling just inside the room, but behind the curtains.
'Now don't you go tip-toppling backwards,' the BFG whispered. 'You must always be holding on tight with both hands to the inside of the window-sill.'
Sophie did as he said.
It was summertime in London and the night was not cold, but don't forget that Sophie was wearing only her thin nightie. She would have given anything for a dressing-gown, not just to keep her warm but to hide the whiteness of her nightie from watchful eyes in the garden below.
The BFG was taking the glass jar from the pocket of his cloak. He unscrewed the lid. Now, very cautiously, he poured the precious dream into the wide end of his trumpet. He steered the trumpet through the curtains, far into the room, aiming it at the place where he knew the bed to be. He took a deep breath. He puffed out his cheeks and pooff, he blew.
Now he was withdrawing the trumpet, sliding it out very very carefully, like a thermometer.
'Is you all right sitting there?' he whispered.
'Yes,' Sophie murmured. She was quite terrified, but determined not to show it. She looked down over her shoulder. The ground seemed miles away. It was a nasty drop.
'How long will the dream take to work?' Sophie whispered.
'Some takes an hour,' the BFG whispered back. 'Some is quicker. Some is slower still. But it is sure to find her in the end.'
Sophie said nothing.
'I is going off to wait in the garden,' the BFG whispered. 'When you is wanting me, just call out my name and I is coming very quick.'
'Will you hear me?' Sophie whispered.
'You is forgetting these,' the BFG whispered, smiling and pointing to his great ears.
'Goodbye,' Sophie whispered.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, the BFG leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.
Sophie felt like crying.
When she turned to look at him, he was already gone. He had simply melted away into the dark garden.
The Queen
Dawn came at last, and the rim of a lemon-coloured sun rose up behind the roof-tops somewhere behind Victoria Station.
A while later, Sophie felt a little of its warmth on her back and was grateful.
In the distance, she heard a church clock striking. She counted the strikes. There were seven.
She found it almost impossible to believe that she, Sophie, a little orphan of no real importance in the world, was at this moment actually sitting high above the ground on the window-sill of the Queen of England's bedroom, with the Queen herself asleep in there behind the curtain not more than five yards away.
The very idea of it was absurd.
No one had ever done such a thing before.
It was a terrifying thing to be doing.
What would happen if the dream didn't work?
No one, least of all the Queen, would believe a word of her story.
It seemed possible that nobody had ever woken up to find a small child sitting behind the curtains on his or her window-sill.
The Queen was bound to get a shock.
Who wouldn't?
With all the patience of a small girl who has something important to wait for, Sophie sat motionless on the window-sill.
How much longer? she wondered.
What time do Queens wake up?
Faint stirrings and distant sounds came to her from deep inside the belly of the Palace.
Then, all at once, beyond the curtains, she heard the voice of the sleeper in the bedroom. It was a slightly blurred sleep-talker's voice. 'Oh no!' it cried out. 'No! Don't - Someone stop them! - Don't let them do it! - I can't bear it! - Oh please stop them! - It's horrible! - Oh, it's ghastly! - No! No! No!...'
She is having the dream, Sophie told herself. It must be really horrid. I feel so sorry for her. But it has to be done.
After that, there were a few moans. Then there was a long silence.
Sophie waited. She looked over her shoulder. She was terrified that she would see the man with the dog down in the garden staring up at her. But the garden was deserted. A pale summer mist hung over it like smoke. It was an enormous garden, very beautiful, with a large funny-shaped lake at the far end. There was an island in the lake and there were ducks swimming on the water.
Inside the room, beyond the curtains, Sophie suddenly heard what was obviously a knock on the door. She heard the doorknob being turned. She heard someone entering the room.
'Good morning, Your Majesty,' a woman was saying. It was the voice of an oldish person.
There was a pause and then a slight rattle of china and silver.
'Will you have your tray on the bed, ma'am, or on the table?'
'Oh Mary! Something awful has just happened!' This was a voice Sophie had heard many times on radio and television, especially on Christmas Day. It was a very well-known voice.
'Whatever is it, ma'am?'
'I've just had the most frightful dream! It was a nightmare! It was awful!'
'Oh, I am sorry, ma'am. But don't be distressed. You're awake now and it will go away. It was only a dream, ma'am.'
'Do you know what I dreamed, Mary? I dreamed that girls and boys were being snatched out of their beds at boarding-school and were being eaten by the most ghastly giants! The giants were putting their arms in through the dormitory windows and plucking the children out with their fingers! One lot from a girls' school and another from a boys' school! It was all so... so vivid, Mary! it was so real!'
There was a silence. Sophie waited. She was quivering with excitement. But why the silence? Why didn't the other one, the maid, why didn't she say something?
'What on earth's the matter, Mary?' the famous voice was saying.
There was another silence.
'Mary! You've gone as white as a sheet! Are you feeling ill?'
There was suddenly a crash and a clatter of crockery which could only have meant that the tray the maid was carrying had fallen out of her hands.
'Mary!' the famous voice was saying rather sharply. 'I think you'd better sit down at once! You look as though you're going to faint! You really mustn't take it so hard just because I've had an awful dream.'
'That... that... that isn't the reason, ma'am.' The maid's voice was quivering terribly.
'Then for heaven's sake what is the reason?'
'I'm very sorry about the tray, ma'am.'
'Oh, don't worry about the tray. But what on earth was it that made you drop it? Why did you go white as a ghost all of a sudden?'
'You haven't seen the papers yet, have you, ma'am?'
'No, what do they say?'
Sophie heard the rustling of a newspaper as it was being handed over.
'It's like the very dream you had in the night, ma'am.'
'Rubbish, Mary. Where is it?'
'On the front page, ma'am. It's the big headlines.'
'Great Scott!' cried the famous voice. 'Eighteen girls vanish mysteriously from their beds at Roedean School! Fourteen boys disappear from Eton! Bones are found underneath dormitory windows!'
Then there was a pause punctuated by gasps from the famous voice as the newspaper article was clearly being read and digested.
'Oh, how ghastly!' the famous voice cried out. 'It's absolutely frightful! Bones under the windows! What can have happened? Oh, those poor children!'
'But ma'am... don't you see, ma'am...'
'See what, Mary?'
'Those children were taken away almost exactly as you dreamed it, ma'am!'
'Not by giants, Mary'
'No, ma'am. But the bit about the girls and boys disappearing from their dormitories, you dreamed it so clearly and then it actually happened. That's why I came over all queer, ma'am.'
'I'm coming over a bit queer myself, Mary.'
'It gives me the shakes, ma'am, when something like that happens, it really does.'
'I don't blame you, Mary.'
'I shall get you some more breakfast, ma'am, and have this mess cleared up.'
'No! Don't go, Mary! Stay here a moment!'
Sophie wished she could see into the room, but she didn't dare touch the curtains. The famous voice began speaking again. 'I really did dream about those children, Mary. It was clear as crystal.'
'I know you did, ma'am.'
'I don't know how giants got into it. That was rubbish.'
'Shall I draw the curtains, ma'am, then we shall all feel better. It's a lovely day.'
'Please do.'
With a swish, the great curtains were pulled aside.
The maid screamed.
Sophie froze to the window-ledge.
The Queen, sitting up in her bed with The Times on her lap, glanced up sharply. Now it was her turn to freeze. She didn't scream as the maid had done. Queens are too self-controlled for that. She simply sat there staring wide-eyed and white-faced at the small girl who was perched on her window-sill in a nightie.
Sophie was petrified.
Curiously enough, the Queen looked petrified, too. One would have expected her to look surprised, as you or I would have done had we discovered a small girl sitting on our window-sill first thing in the morning. But the Queen didn't look surprised. She looked genuinely frightened.
The maid, a middle-aged woman with a funny cap on the top of her head, was the first to recover. 'What in the name of heaven do you think you're doing in here?' she shouted angrily to Sophie.
Sophie looked beseechingly towards the Queen for help.
The Queen was still staring at Sophie. Gaping at her would be more accurate. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes were round and wide as two saucers, and the whole of that famous rather lovely face was filled with disbelief.
'Now listen here, young lady, how on earth did you get into this room?' the maid shouted furiously.
'I don't believe it,' the Queen was murmuring. 'I simply don't believe it.'
'I'll take her out, ma'am, at once,' the maid was saying.
'No, Mary! No, don't do that!' The Queen spoke so sharply that the maid was quite taken aback. She turned and stared at the Queen. What on earth had come over her? It looked as though she was in a state of shock.
'Are you all right, ma'am?' the maid was saying.
When the Queen spoke again, it was in a strange strangled sort of whisper. 'Tell me, Mary,' she said, 'tell me quite truthfully, is there really a little girl sitting on my window-sill, or am I still dreaming?'
'She is sitting there all right, ma'am, as clear as daylight, but heaven only knows how she got there! Your Majesty is certainly not dreaming it this time!'
'But that's exactly what I did dream!' the Queen cried out. 'I dreamed that as well! I dreamed there would be a little girl sitting on my window-sill in her nightie and she would talk to me!'
The maid, with her hands clasped across her starched white bosom, was staring at her mistress with a look of absolute disbelief on her face. The situation was getting beyond her. She was lost. She had not been trained to cope with this kind of madness.
'Are you real?' the Queen said to Sophie.
<
br /> 'Y-y-yes, Your Majesty,' Sophie murmured.
'What is your name?'
'Sophie, Your Majesty.'
'And how did you get up on to my window-sill? No, don't answer that! Hang on a moment! I dreamed that part of it, too! I dreamed that a giant put you there!'
'He did, Your Majesty' Sophie said.
The maid gave a howl of anguish and clasped her hands over her face.
'Control yourself, Mary' the Queen said sharply. Then to Sophie she said, 'You are not serious about the giant, are you?'
'Oh yes, Your Majesty. He's out there in the garden now.'
'Is he indeed,' the Queen said. The sheer absurdity of it all was helping her to regain her composure. 'So he's in the garden, is he?' she said, smiling a little.
'He is a good giant, Your Majesty' Sophie said. 'You need not be frightened of him.'
'I'm delighted to hear it,' said the Queen, still smiling.
'He is my best friend, Your Majesty.'
'How nice,' the Queen said.
'He's a lovely giant, Your Majesty.'
'I'm quite sure he is,' the Queen said. 'But why have you and this giant come to see me?'
'I think you have dreamed that part of it, too, Your Majesty' Sophie said calmly.
That pulled the Queen up short.
It took the smile right off her face.
She certainly had dreamed that part of it. She was remembering now how, at the end of her dream, it had said that a little girl and a big friendly giant would come and show her how to find the nine horrible man-eating giants.
But be careful, the Queen told herself. Keep very calm. Because this is surely not very far from the place where madness begins.
'You did dream that, didn't you, Your Majesty?' Sophie said.
The maid was out of it now. She just stood there goggling.
'Yes,' the Queen murmured. 'Yes, now you come to mention it, I did. But how do you know what I dreamed?'
'Oh, that's a long story, Your Majesty' Sophie said. 'Would you like me to call the Big Friendly Giant?'
The Queen looked at the child. The child looked straight back at the Queen, her face open and quite serious. The Queen simply didn't know what to make of it. Was someone pulling her leg? she wondered.
'Shall I call him for you?' Sophie went on. 'You'll like him very much.'
