‘Will we be able to buy things in the shops.’
‘Not really. We’re doing a survey, aren’t we? Counting things, that sort of thing …’
‘It would be nice if we could buy things.’
The line of children had now reached the shops. They divided into groups. Felix stayed with Miss Block. They also had Poppy and Prue and Sultan and Zak in their group.
Question 1 – How many greengrocers are there?
Question 2 – How many shops selling newspapers are there?
Question 3 – Where would you go if you wanted to buy a kettle?
‘Argos,’ said Poppy.
‘Argos Direct,’ said Zak. ‘You wouldn’t have to go anywhere. You could do it online.’
‘I think we could go to the hardware store,’ said Miss Block, ‘or to a shop that sells lots of different things, like Woolworths. The answers to the questions are here in these shops.’
On it went until:
Question 10 – (‘Look, we’re on the last one already!’ said Miss Block. She found being off school premises whilst in charge of children horribly unnerving.) Which shop is your group’s favourite? Vote for it.
They all liked Woolworths best. It was a pokey Woolworths, carrying only a limited stock, but the children loved it. It won hands down. It got all the votes except Felix’s.
‘What would you vote for then Felix?’ Miss Block asked him.
‘I like the stationery shop. Everything there is beautiful.’ They walked back a few steps to look. It was a bargain, cut-price stationer’s. The window display was of wheels of felt pens, huge cases of two hundred, all different colours, and blue, black and green box files (buy one, get one free!), a shredder, an easel, portfolios (the manager was drifting towards artists’ materials) and stacks and stacks of Black n’ Red hardbacked notebooks, some indexed, some for accounts, some A4, some A5, and some A6.
‘I have always, always wanted one of those books,’ said Felix. Poppy and Prue sniggered. A whistle blew. The children were counted. The walk back up the hill to school began. Felix and Miss Block took up their position at the rear again. They had to stop whilst Miss Block had a sneezing fit.
‘Don’t… worry… Felix …’ she said between sneezes. ‘Tree pollen.’ When it seemed to be over Felix said, ‘Oh, I thought you were just doing it to annoy.’
‘Felix! What a thing to say!’
‘Oh, that’s just what Dad and me always say,’ said Felix. ‘You know –
Speak harshly to your little boy and beat him when he sneezes.
He only does it to annoy, because he knows it teases
Miss Block smiled.
‘And what else do you always say?’
‘We say “Off with his head!” if we don’t like someone.’
‘Well, I hope you won’t say it about me.’
‘Oh, we only say it about people on TV. We don’t really know very many people.’
That evening Miss Block went into the stationer’s on her way home. She bought two A4 ruled Black n’ Red books, two A5s and an A6 with columns. She didn’t know what he might do with that one. She knew that it was unethical, so she saved them for Friday afternoon. The Monday was an inset day, and somehow that made it less risky. At the end of school on Friday afternoon she called Felix back.
‘These are for you. I do hope your dad won’t mind.’
‘Oh, Miss Block. Thank you!’ Felix gave her a really big smile. ‘He won’t mind.’ Or notice, Felix might have added.
He took the books home and showed them to Guy.
‘Look, Dad, Miss Block gave these to me.’
‘Block? Do you really have a teacher called Block?’
‘Yes,’ said Felix.
‘Block. Are you sure? Spell it.’
Felix could.
‘Good God,’ said Guy. ‘Are you really sure?’
‘I only wanted to show you the notebooks,’ said Felix, rather cross. ‘She said on the first day that it was block like a brick.’
‘Oh, I dare say it was originally Bloch. German or similar. Ask her.’
Felix would do no such thing.
‘Five books!’ he said, thrusting them at Guy’s stomach.
‘Oh yes, very nice. Clearing out the stationery cupboard, was she? Funny time of year to be doing it. Usually do it at the end of term.’
‘She’s new,’ said Felix.
‘New brooms … new blocks … new block on the kids …’ mused Guy. ‘Wonder if she gets sick of people saying that to her.’ Actually nobody had yet.
Felix took his notebooks and wandered away. Upstairs by himself he propped them up on his pillow so that he could admire their covers properly. Imagine having five! Just one would have been brilliant. He didn’t know why he had wanted them so badly.
He loved the way that they were not only black and red, but said ‘Black n’ Red’ on their covers. Why would that be? Everybody could see that they were black and red. If it was to tell blind people that they were black and red, it should have been in Braille. Perhaps it was for people who were colour-blind, just in case they happened to hate black and red, but then why wasn’t everything labelled with its colour?
Anyway, he loved them. They were smart, serious, and important. And they had hard covers that nobody could rip. He knew that Dad had one in the lab with A–Z, a little one with phone numbers. But in these you were allowed to put things in any order. He loved the way that the pages had margins. They had to draw margins sometimes at school and the ruler would always slip and spoil it. These had margins that magically swapped sides as you turned the pages and hardly showed through. It was several days before it occurred to him that he could actually use the books for writing in himself. He started with an A4 one. Miss Block had calculated correctly that if she gave him enough of them, he wouldn’t worry about using them up.
Felix Pieter Misselthwaite
Age 7. This is my book. This was Dad’s new pen.
Felix P. Misselthwaite. Felix P. Misselthwaite.
Today I asked if we could have a dog. Dad said maybe. I have a kind of pet already. Snowy is my cat who lives in the garden. A sharing cat. But I don’t know who feeds her. Or maybe it is a him. Also Sea Monkeys.
Miss Block gave me this book. Her name is Miranda!!! Miranda Block. Miranda Block. Mrs Cowplain called her that at playtime. I hope she stays at our school for ever.
I like Erica too. She is very beautiful and kind also. List of why
1. Does not wear stupid clothes.
2. Good at being very quiet in the garden.
3. Knows many insects and animals also more about plants than me. I like creatures better.
4. Brings things to do, like frisbees. Also cakes and drinks.
List of things I know about her
1. Three brothers older than me.
2. She has a sister who lives in France up a mountain with goats and a boyfriend. Also older than me.
3. Her mum has twenty-four hens.
Felix stopped writing. He wished he had some brothers or even sisters. They wouldn’t be babies but at least four or five years old so that they could play and do things.
Erica had said that he could go to tea with her soon. He had never seen her house before. She had said that she would collect him from school, and that, another time, maybe in the school holidays, she would take him on a trip somewhere – maybe to a museum or an aquarium.
He wouldn’t have minded if the the trip was to the house where her family lived. She’d said it had a river.
Chapter 10
At last it had come. Today was the day that Felix was going to Erica’s house. He told Miss Block. He told all the children on his table at school.
‘Big deal,’ they said and, ‘Who’s Erica? Your girlfriend?’
‘No!’ said Felix, too vehemently, and they all laughed.
‘Felix has got a girlfriend! Felix has got a girlfriend!’
He looked as though he might cry. Miss Block came over.
‘Yel
low table! Get on with your work! Leave Felix alone!’ She couldn’t resist smoothing his tousled hair.
‘Felix has got two girlfriends! Felix has got two girlfriends!’ they whispered as soon as she had moved away.
Erica was waiting for him in the playground. She seemed to know just the right sort of place to stand, not too near the door, as though he were one of the little ones, but not so far away that they wouldn’t have been able to spot each other the moment he came out.
‘Hey Felix!’ she said, and gave him a quick hug, even though she didn’t usually when they saw each other in the garden. ‘Got all your stuff?’ she said. ‘No lunch box?’ Felix had his anorak-in-a-bag, a navy blue one, and his school folder with a school library book and a three-week-old newsletter inside. Guy didn’t know that these bags were meant to be checked for communications every day.
‘I have school dinners,’ said Felix.
‘Are they nice?’
‘Sometimes. As long as it isn’t fish or jelly.’
‘Hmm,’ said Erica, ‘I can imagine. Especially if they were on the same day. Or even worse than fish and jelly – jellyfish.’
Felix laughed.
‘I like it sometimes, but it’s a bit noisy. When I started I hardly ate anything because the smell made me feel so sick. I had to breathe through my sweatshirt all the time.’
‘That must have made eating tricky.’
‘If you are naughty, the dinner ladies stand you up, and then you don’t get to eat anything anyway.’
‘Well, I hope you never get standed up, I mean stood up,’ said Erica.
‘I only have been once. And that wasn’t my fault. I got pushed and my drink went in somebody’s sandwiches.’
‘Poor you.’
‘Don’t tell Dad.’
‘OK. But I’m sure he wouldn’t be cross.’
‘Anyway, it was when I was in Reception.’
‘Then he definitely wouldn’t be cross. They shouldn’t be standing up people who are in Reception. It sounds very cruel. Did you get to eat your dinner?’
‘No. But I didn’t mind. It was fish and jelly.’
By now they had reached Erica’s car. It was a pale blue Renault 4. The front seat was a banquette.
‘Can I sit in the front? It’s sort of like a sofa for driving. I bet it’s really old. Is it vintage?’
‘Kind of vintage. It hasn’t got any seat belts in the back, so you better had sit up with me.’
‘Is it really, really old?’
‘Um, nearly thirty. One of my brothers has a garage that fixes and sells French cars. He helps me look after it. I’ve always just liked these Renault 4s. I might get a van one day. It would be great for moving plants.’ She strapped Felix in. ‘We could have walked really. I just thought it would make a change for you to have a lift home from school.’
‘Thanks,’ said Felix.
Four minutes later they were there.
‘If you could cut across gardens or wade along the stream, you could probably make a shortcut to the botanical garden,’ Erica told him. ‘It’s just there, behind those trees. Have you heard people say “as the crow flies”? Well, it’s not far as the crow flies.’
‘If I shouted,’ said Felix, ‘would Dad be able to hear me?’
‘Maybe, but we won’t try it. We don’t want to worry him. Anyway, come in.’
‘Wow,’ said Felix, ‘it’s huge.’
‘It is huge, but it’s not all mine. Just the ground floor is mine. And the garden. We can have tea outside if you like.’
‘Yes please.’
‘Who lives upstairs?’
‘A lady from Poland. Some music students. Luckily they play nice instruments, and a man who nobody sees very much. I think he might be the real Mr Nobody. He doesn’t get much post. We aren’t meant to have pets, but the Polish lady, her name is Anna, has a grey cat. He goes up and down that plank to get in and out of her window.’
‘It’s like a slide. Does she go up and down it too?’
Felix supposed that the etiquette of not going up slides wouldn’t apply to cats or to private slides. ‘Even in the rain?’
‘Anna uses the stairs. Sometimes she sits out in the garden with me in the evening. She’s only got a little balcony. I don’t think Sebastian (that’s the cat) goes out in the rain much. Cats don’t like rain, do they?’
‘Some cats can swim. One day I might have a dog or a cat and teach it to swim. I have a book with all the names of all the types. Otterhound is best-looking, but I wouldn’t let it hurt any otters. Or a Burmese blue for cats. They aren’t actually blue, but I would call it Bluey.’
He looked around, wondering what they were going to do. He had always wondered what people might do when they went to tea with each other. There were shelves and shelves, and piles and piles of books, but these were neat piles, not much like the ones at home. They had lots of strips of coloured paper poking out of them, like Guy’s, but Guy just ripped up anything to make his bookmarks. Erica’s TV was even smaller than the one at home. Felix hadn’t known that they came that small.
Erica followed his gaze.
‘Would you like to watch TV?’ she asked. ‘I know lots of people like to watch TV when they get in from school. I used to sometimes.’
‘Um …’ said Felix, not sure which was the right answer to give. He could see the remote. It wasn’t lost the way the one at home was always lost. Sometimes they didn’t watch TV because they couldn’t be bothered to find it.
Erica flicked it on.
‘I don’t suppose you want to see these. Too babyish,’ said Erica. ‘Who are they anyway?’
‘The Fimbles,’ said Felix.
‘Well, their suits look jolly static-y and hot. I wouldn’t want to be in one of those.’
‘They have a friend frog who’s more normal-looking. And a kind mole who reads pretend books. He has this underground library with all these shelves, and he always says, “Now let me see, which one shall I choose? How about this one?” Then he always picks the same one because the others are all just drawn-on books, but he hasn’t noticed. And the stories aren’t ever real stories, they are just about these boring children who wash the car and go to the shops,’ said Felix. Then he blushed, realising that he had betrayed himself as a Fimbles-watcher. Erica noticed his discomfort.
‘I suppose this mole hasn’t noticed that he only has one book because he’s so short-sighted. Sometimes little kids’ things are really funny, and kind of relaxing. I used to watch Playschool sometimes when I was much too old for it,’ she said. This was quite untrue. Her after-school time had been a whirl of riding lessons and swimming and cross-country, violin lessons, even a brief flirtation with fencing. She had been a member of the local Young Archaeologists’ Society, Friends of the Earth and Greenpeace. She had spent her summers building dry-stone walls and restoring canals. There hadn’t been much time for under-fives’ TV. Her whole family had been this busy. It had been one of those houses with cricket pads perpetually in the hall, terrapins swimming in the sink whilst their tank was cleaned, and everybody having somebody to tea.
When she had been Felix’s age, Erica had sometimes wondered why she had been called Erica. It was such an obvious version of a boy’s name. She had three big brothers: surely it couldn’t be that Mum and Dad had really just wanted another boy?
What a relief it had been to discover that it was to do with ‘heather’ – her mum and dad had been very fond of the plant heather but thought that ‘Heather Grey’ sounded rather silly (too many colours); they liked ‘Erica’ better because it sounded stronger.
Erica herself was fond of the whole Erica family. The name ‘Heather’ did sound rather Sunday-schoolish to her, a bit like a kind rabbit wearing a frock. On balance, ‘Erica’ was better. Her mum and dad didn’t tell her that she had been conceived at dawn in the heather on a walking holiday in the Lake District whilst her trio of brothers were still asleep in the tent. No wonder that she was such an out-doorsy, wholesome person.
Why had she offered TV? It wasn’t at all what she had planned. Actually, come to think of it, she hadn’t really planned very much, apart from the food. She could play chess or draughts or dominoes with Felix, if he knew how to play any of those, or she could teach him. Her nephews and nieces were all quite sporty. At home they always had big family games of rounders, even when it was freezing.
Then she remembered the Twits card game that her niece Lyddie had left behind. It was a complicated ‘old maid’ sort of game with positive and negative scoring. Felix would love it.
Here it was, tucked into the bookcase, but oh dear, it said, ‘For three or more players’.
‘Never mind,’ said Felix, ‘deal out some for Mr Nobody, and one of us can do him as well. That’s what Dad and I always do when it says “three or more players”.’
They had their tea in the garden.
‘Please may I come back again soon?’ Felix asked, when Erica took him home.
A few days later, inside one of the greenhouses, Guy was staring at the glass. An interesting pattern of lichen was growing across it. It seemed that Jack Frost had been at work, but with green and yellow paint on his brush. Here were some burnt and raw umbers and siennas, brown and gold ochres, and Naples yellow. There were so many shades of green. Impossible to categorise them all. Could there be names for all of these greens? He realised that he ought perhaps to be cleaning them off, that they would be blocking the light to the plants and his experiments inside. But surely it would be wrong to wipe them away, to scrub out their lives with some detergent solution. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was coming to the conclusion that everything was just best left. Let the honey fungus take the apple trees. Let the stream silt up. Let bindweed strangle the philadelphus and the roses. Who was he to go destroying and interfering with the natural order of things? Let the meadows turn to scrubland, let the scrubland turn back to forest. There would be nothing but trees.
He didn’t even notice Felix come in, and was startled when he heard ‘Dad’. It was really only a whisper. ‘Dad,’ louder this time. ‘Erica says she’ll take me on a trip, maybe to an aquarium. Please may I go?’
A Bit of Earth Page 8
