‘Now, now,’ said her uncle, emerging from his bedroom. ‘No opening the presents before we’ve had breakfast.’
‘Oh, just one, uncle? Just one? Please.’
‘No, no, you’ve got to learn to be patient. Eat your breakfast and then you’ll really enjoy your presents.’
Mia wolfed down her eggs and thick fried bacon, suddenly feeling quite tired as she finished her milk, her stomach so full with food. But she hadn’t lost sight of her goal: the presents under the tree.
Once they had all sat around the tree, Mia and Jack on the floor, and their uncle on a chair, he made them open the presents in a calm and civilized fashion.
‘Now, because Jack is the eldest, he gets to choose who opens the first present.’ Jack smiled and looked over at Mia.
‘Me, Jack, pick me! Me first!’ He paused with a gleam in his eye before curtly saying.
‘Me,’ and leaned forward to pick out his first present. Mia sat crossly with her head in her hands, nonetheless slightly exhilarated at the opening of the first present. Jack untied the ribbon and tore off the paper to reveal a model aeroplane construction kit. Jack looked very pleased and excited, opening the box immediately. ‘Boring,’ thought Mia; she could never understand Jack’s fascination with something so uninteresting as wartime aeroplanes.
‘Who’s next Jack?’ asked his uncle. Jack looked around at the faces of each member of his family, merely to prolong Mia’s frustration, before saying lightly and quite inconsequentially, ‘Mia.’ Mia smiled and suddenly loved her brother again. She pulled out the flat rectangular present she saw was labelled for her. She had a little difficultly untying the ribbon, which had been tied into the tiniest little knot.
‘Would you do this for me, Uncle?’ asked Mia.
‘No, Mia. Everyone has to open their own presents.’ Mia struggled and wished she had fingers the size of pins, but eventually the ribbon came free and slid right off. She tore the paper completely, ripping it right across the front of her present, revealing a colour illustration of a scarecrow and a man made of tin. ‘Yes!’ yelled Mia. But to her surprise, not only had she got Ozma of Oz, the very book she had asked Santa for, she had also got another book which slid out from behind the first one. It was The Patchwork Girl of Oz. ‘Two!’ she yelled in excitement. She hugged her uncle around the neck. ‘Thank you, uncle.’
‘Don’t thank me, thank Santa Claus,’ he said, glancing at Jack, and when Mia stared into the eyes of her uncle, she saw for a split second, the eyes of Santa Claus. But this thought soon left her mind as she planted herself in the corner of the room with her two books, looking through them at the luxurious colourful pictures that accompanied the text. These versions were much more elaborate than the ones she had and liked them especially. They were certainly the best presents she could have possibly hoped for. It wasn’t long before she began reading Ozma of Oz, finding out about how Dorothy had found herself in the eye of the storm at sea and had ended up floating to Oz in a chicken coop. Later she asked her Uncle.
‘What’s a chicken coop?’
‘It’s something they cage chickens in,’ he answered.
‘Would it make a good boat?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. There are holes in it.’
‘Oh,’ said Mia. ‘But would it float?’
‘Probably. I’m not sure. Why do you ask?’
‘No reason,’ Mia said, as she stayed quiet and continued reading, her wide eyes racing across the pages. Lying in bed that night she realised that she didn’t need a cyclone to get to Oz and that there were other more practical ways of getting there. All her time had been wasted waiting for the storms to turn into cyclones that sucked up the sea. If only she had got her hands on this book sooner, she might have already been there and back by now.
The next day she walked along the port and eyed the fishing boats. She didn’t think she could have got any of them out of the dock at all; she had no idea how to sail. At the end of the line, however, there was a small rowing boat that she had always seen there. At its base was a pool of stagnant water that must have collected when it rained, she thought. If there was a hole in it, it would have sunk by now. She went up close and peered into it. There were two oars hidden down at the bottom. They looked heavy, and the boat was attached to the shore by a thick, dirty rope that looked impossible to untie.
That night, she asked her uncle, ‘Are any of those boats in use anymore?’
‘Which boats?’
‘The boats out at the harbour.’
‘Of course,’ he said, ‘the fishermen use them every day to collect fish.’
‘But how come I never see them being used?’
‘Because you’re always fast asleep when they do. They get up very early in the morning, far earlier than you ever wake, and are back with all the fish in the sea before you’ve even had your breakfast.’
‘They must get up very early for that.’
‘They certainly do. A fisherman’s life is not an easy one.’
‘Are all the boats used?’
‘I’m sure they are.’
‘All of them?’
‘Yes.’
‘But there’s one at the end of the line, a rowing boat. That doesn’t look like it’s ever used.’
‘What rowing boat?’
‘At the end, next to all the big boats.’
‘I’m sure there isn’t a rowing boat there.’
‘There is.’
‘Well there can’t be much use for it sitting over there at the harbour with nothing to do. What is it with all these questions?’ asked her uncle sternly.
‘Oh, nothing. I was just wondering,’ replied Mia. And every day and every night she thought about that little boat at the end of the line, wondering how it would take to water. Like an old man, it must be wise and know the water well. It could not possibly have any holes in it otherwise it would have sunk a long time ago.
Her brother had been talking about how it was to be a new year soon and that there was going to be a gathering in the village for all the local people and that they were invited. Mia wasn’t looking particularly forward to it because she’d have to be with all the other people and would rather be doing her own thing elsewhere. A few days before this, she and Emily were sitting on the beach watching the waves folding over themselves, reaching out towards the shore and being dragged back in again.
‘I’ve found a way to get to Oz,’ said Mia.
‘How?’ asked Emily.
‘Well, in my book, it says that Dorothy floated to Oz in a chicken coop-’
‘What’s a chicken coop?’
‘It’s like a cage for chickens.’
‘Does it float?’
‘Yes, it must do. So I’ve worked out that we don’t need a cyclone to get there, but that we can sail there.’
‘How are you going to sail there?’ asked Emily.
‘By boat.’
‘But you don’t know how to sail.’
‘But I could row.’
‘You’ve never rowed before.’
‘I know, but it can’t be that difficult. I’ve watched people row before. Look, if I took one oar and you took the other, we could do it. We’d get to Oz by morning.’
‘I don’t know. It sounds dangerous.’
‘If we sail through the night and then fall asleep on the boat, we will wake up in Oz-I’m sure of it. By morning we would have hit one of the deserts that surround Oz.’
‘What desert?’
‘Well there are four deserts surrounding Oz: the Shifting Sands, the Impassable Desert, the Deadly Desert, and the Great Sandy Waste.’
‘They don’t sound very nice.’
‘I’m sure that once we get there we can sail through the sand and jump onto shore.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Emily.
‘Oh Emily, don’t be such a scaredycat, it’ll be an adventure.’
‘I’m not a scardeycat, I just don’t know if my parents will let me.’
�
�Grown ups don’t understand us children. Don’t go telling your parents about this otherwise we may get in trouble.’ Emily remained silent. ‘I’m going anyway, whether you come with me or not, so it’s your choice.’
‘I’ll think about it. You’re not going tonight are you?’
‘No, I’ll go when everyone’s at that party. They say it’s a new year coming.’
‘Are you going to that?’ asked Emily.
‘Everyone is, they say. I don’t really want to go. I’m going to sneak out just as everyone forgets I’m there, as they always do.’
‘Well, I’ve got to go home for tea now. Maybe see you tomorrow, Mia.’
‘Just you think about it. I’ll be going whatever happens.’
‘Okay, Mia. See you later.’ Emily walked off along the beach with her shoulders slumped. Mia watched her until she was out of sight and then turned back to the sea. She looked at the horizon, where the dark grey of the sea met the light grey of the sky, a fine line. Mia squinted, and for a moment thought that she could just about see the shifting sands of the deserts of Oz, only proving in her own mind that it wasn’t that far at all.
Mia packed her bag far before the party had started. She made sure she had all four of her Oz books with her. There was a map printed at the front of The Patchwork Girl of Oz which she thought would come in handy once she got there. She stuffed some warm clothes into her bag, a jumper and her tracksuit, which always managed to keep her warm. She didn’t pack any food because she knew that once she got to Oz there would be more than enough for her to eat, especially with its lunch pail trees, trees that hung packed lunches from its branches; enough to sustain you for the rest of your life. She hid her rucksack underneath the bushes just beyond the harbour so that she would not have to return to the house before she got onto the boat. She hid a knife stolen from the kitchen drawer deep inside her bag so that she could cut the rope when leaving shore.
Unfortunately when she returned to the house that afternoon her uncle made her wear her smart dress for the party. She would have much rather worn her jeans because they were much more comfortable and would have been practical for the journey. She sulked and cried about it-she did everything she could to gain his sympathy-but he was unrelenting, and so when they all walked into the village that evening, with Mia trudging along in her party dress, she was doubly determined to make her journey.
The party was dull, but all Mia could think about was finding the right moment to sneak out without anyone noticing. Just as the party was gathering momentum and all the old people had begun to dance, Mia felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Emily.
‘Hi Mia, enjoying the party?’
‘No, it’s boring. You want to go play?’
‘Okay,’ said Emily.
‘I’m just going to play with Emily,’ said Mia to her brother.
‘Okay, don’t stray too far,’ said her brother, not once looking down at her. And with that, Mia and Emily snuck out of the party and into the street.
The air was bitterly cold and Mia’s dress wasn’t helping to keep her warm. As soon as they left the town hall Mia started walking briskly down the street.
‘Where are you going?’ called Emily after her.
‘To the harbour.’
‘You’re not going to do what you said you were, are you?’ Mia stopped and turned.
‘Of course I am. Didn’t you believe me?’
‘I thought you were only pretending.’
‘I was not pretending!’ She turned fiercely back and continued to walk. Emily chased after her.
‘You’re going to get in trouble, you know.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Mia.
‘But I do.’
‘Go back to the party, Emily.’
‘Come back with me.’
‘No, I’m going. I don’t like it here.’
‘But what about your brother, and your uncle? Won’t they miss you?’
‘They won’t miss me. They’d prefer it if I were gone.’
‘That’s not true. Ask them. Just ask them’
‘No,’ said Mia, never once looking Emily in the eye as she continued her walk along the street. Emily struggled to keep up but wasn’t going to let her friend go on without her. She felt it her duty to at least stay with her to the last, to try and do everything she could to make her see sense. But there was nothing she could do but follow her in silence all the way to the harbour.
The wind seemed to rumble overhead, and the sky seemed darker than usual. Perhaps the clouds were angry at what Mia was doing, thought Emily, as she stared up at the sky, the trees floating along at walking pace.
Mia rummaged around at the base of the bush and dragged out her rucksack which was now covered with leaves and dirt, and flung it over her shoulder.
‘What’s that?’ asked Emily without any reply from Mia. She merely stormed off towards the harbour where her little boat at the end of the line was waiting. Emily quickly followed. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said as Mia attempted to untie the rope, which made her hands hurt. Mia still didn’t say anything to Emily as she opened her bag and dug her hand inside. Her hand almost brushed past the blade but she managed to pull the knife out safely. ‘What are you doing with that?’ asked Emily before Mia began to cut through the thick, ugly rope. It was a tough job and Mia put everything she had into it. The knife was much too small and so it was a slow process, but Mia stopped a little way through, picked up her bag and stepped into the boat. ‘You’re going now?’ asked Emily. Mia remained fiercely silent, digging the knife firmly into the rope close to where it was tied to the boat and from there, thread by thread, began to make her way through it.
Emily couldn’t do anything but watch with horror. She would have run back to the party, but it was too far away for her to make it there and back in time. Battling with all the decisions that leapt towards her, Emily stared at the rope as it almost fell free from the harbour, its threads all spreading up and out. Just before the final threads had been cut, and as she felt the first drops of rain falling upon her arms and face, she yelled, ‘Wait! I’m coming with you.’ Mia looked up at her.
‘Well hurry up then.’ If Emily couldn’t stop her from going, she would at least go with her and help her back to safety. Emily shakily stepped into the boat as it rocked and she stepped her nice evening shoes into the dirty water that had pooled at the bottom. ‘Ugh,’ she said as the water soaked through her socks and onto her feet.
‘Almost done,’ said Mia as she forced the knife through the final thread. Emily looked up at the sky which looked sinisterly back down at her, letting its few drops fall down upon her, and with that she felt the boat come away from its place. Mia turned and grabbed an oar from the bottom of the boat. ‘Take one!’ she said. Emily did so, but found these long pieces of wood to be very heavy and with difficulty she managed to get it into its rest at the side of the boat. ‘Row!’ yelled Mia, ‘Row!’ But these thick pieces of woods were too heavy to move and both Mia and Emily were trying to turn them in opposite directions. Emily looked back towards the harbour, which looked surprisingly far away after only a moment. The boat was drifting out to sea much faster than they could even begin to row.
‘We’re drifting out to sea!’ shouted Emily. The rain was falling harder now and Emily had begun to shiver from the gusts of icy cold air that blew upon her wet clothes.
‘You have to row, Emily!’
‘I can’t row, it’s too heavy!’ Mia was struggling too and Emily watched her as she tried to get the oar to lift out of the water.
‘Help me with this one,’ yelled Mia. Emily moved to sit next to her but as she did so, her oar slipped from its place and into the sea. ‘Emily!’ yelled Mia in desperation, as they watched the oar float away from the boat. ‘Quick, grab this one!’ Emily sat next to her and tried to pull the oar along with her, but the oar was too heavy and the water too tempestuous for their actions to have any impact.
Emily turned and looked behind her and could barely see t
he land through the rain which had now become minute as the watery gap between the harbour and the boat widened. The clouds began to rumble and lightening began to whip the sky just as the wind caused the waves to send them higher and higher into the air. And every time they dipped down again they were dropped so far that water splashed over the side of the boat and caused the pool at their feet to deepen. It was now beyond their ankles.
‘Try and row back!’ yelled Emily through the roaring of the storm.
‘It’s too hard!’ replied Mia.
‘What are we going to do?’
‘Quick, get down here.’ Mia fell to the floor and pulled Emily with her. She placed her soaking rucksack in between them which they huddled around, their bodies tight together. Their eyes were shut tightly and all they could feel was the rising and dipping of the small boat upon the sea and the water that splashed over the side and rained down upon them. Emily was secretly praying, hoping she would be in bed when she opened her eyes again. Mia was terrified but hoped they’d soon be in Oz. At least then they would be safe from the horror of the sea. The little boat continued to spin towards the horizon.
It was not yet midnight but the party had already stopped. The lights were on and people were rushing around everywhere. Emily’s mother had alerted the congregation that her daughter was missing and nowhere to be found; they soon discovered that Mia was gone too. The mayor, Harry Rumpleton, took it upon himself to form the crowd into a search party. ‘Now, look here everyone,’ he said standing upon a chair. ‘It’s no use us all running around like headless chickens. We must split up into groups and search in all directions.’ He managed to make eight different groups of people with everyone involved, including the other children. Mia’s uncle and brother led the group that headed towards their home which just so happened to pass by the harbour. They were finding it difficult to see through the rain that fell sharply upon them and streamed into their eyes, but Mia’s uncle saw enough to notice that there was a boat missing, or at least a space in which a boat must once have sat.
The Glass Book - A London Love Story Page 12
