‘Are you some kind of nutter?’ said Smash. ‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.’
‘I know,’ said Robbie. ‘I do that too. Like with my zoo animals – I know they’re little pieces of plastic, of course I do, but sometimes it seems like they’re great big wild animals roaring and running around me.’
‘Total nutters, both of you. It must run in your family,’ Smash said. ‘Well, I don’t pretend anything of the sort. I saw that sammy-thingy yesterday and I absolutely know it’s real.’
‘I am not a “sammy-thingy”, if you please. I am the Psammead,’ said a voice behind us.
We whipped round. There was the Psammead sitting on the sand, its arms crossed as it contemplated us, eyes swivelling on their stalks.
‘There you are! Oh, I’m ever so pleased you really are real,’ I said. I wanted to stroke it, but I didn’t quite dare, in case it thought I was being impertinent.
Maudie was much bolder. She shuffled forward on her knees and reached out eagerly.
‘Nice Monkey,’ she said.
‘And nice small infant,’ said the Psammead, returning the compliment politely, but it edged backwards. It looked at me. ‘Could you please wipe her paws if she must touch me? They look a little damp to me. I have a horror of water.’
‘Are you like the Wicked Witch of the West? Will you shrivel up if we pour a bucket of water over you?’ said Smash.
‘Don’t you dare try!’ said Robbie, springing in front of the Psammead protectively.
‘Do not worry, young gentleman. It would be an extremely unpleasant experience, but I would survive – unlike your uncouth companion, who would be instantly turned to stone and gush water forever if she dared to do any such thing.’
‘You would turn her to stone?’ I asked.
‘Have you never observed fountains?’ said the Psammead. ‘All those stone maidens with water pitchers and ugly young louts with open mouths? All my handiwork!’
I wasn’t sure if it was joking or not, but I did my best to look impressed. I wiped Maudie’s sticky hands thoroughly with the bottom of my T-shirt.
‘Nice, nice, nice Monkey,’ Maudie said, and very gently stroked the Psammead’s back with one hand.
It quivered a little, clearly not particularly enjoying the experience, but it sat still for her.
‘Were you hiding behind us all the time we were digging?’ Smash demanded.
‘No, indeed. I was snoozing delightfully deep in my sand, when you started excavating the entire pit with such clumsy vigour that you caused a minor earthquake. I was abruptly woken from my slumbers and tossed hither and yon until I scrabbled free and listened to your not especially interesting philosophical discussion on the nature of my existence,’ said the Psammead.
‘Well, you obviously do exist and we’d like you to do another wish for us,’ said Smash.
The Psammead looked outraged.
‘Please,’ Smash added.
‘I don’t please, Miss Shouty Person. Why on earth should I exhaust myself granting you wishes when you destroy my sleeping quarters and then threaten to annihilate me with a jug of water?’
‘But – but isn’t that what you do? Grant wishes? That’s your job!’ said Smash.
The Psammead gave a little hissing sound, so that puffs of air blew between its sharp little teeth. It might have been a laugh, though it didn’t sound very mirthful. It might have been a threat.
‘Shut up, Smash. We must treat the Psammead with great respect,’ I said.
‘Because we want a wish?’ said Smash.
‘Because it’s a very, very elderly and amazing magical individual, a myth and a legend and possibly even an immortal,’ I said.
The Psammead’s mood changed. It positively preened.
‘I couldn’t have expressed it better myself,’ said the Psammead. ‘You have a way with words, Miss Rosalind.’
‘That’s because she’s always reading hundreds of books,’ said Smash. ‘And she’s a creep. But I didn’t mean to upset you, Mr Psammead, sir. I wasn’t really being rude. I talk like this to everyone. It’s just my way.’
‘It’s a very unpleasant way,’ said the Psammead. ‘When I last surfaced, the children then had mostly impeccable manners. That was in the good old days when children were supposed to be seen and not heard.’ It sighed wistfully. ‘I still feel quite affronted. I am not used to shouty people. I think I will have to retire to my bed forthwith.’ It started scrabbling in the sand.
‘Oh, don’t go! Please! I’m sorry, I’m very, very, very sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you for the world!’ said Smash, trying hard to make her voice pleasant and placating. She sounded weirdly like her mother.
The Psammead didn’t look convinced, but then Maudie nestled up to it and stroked its fur again, very gently and soothingly.
‘Very, very sorry,’ she echoed, though she’d done nothing wrong.
The Psammead stopped scrabbling and stretched a little.
‘Yes, yes, small child. Scratch my back a little, my paws don’t reach quite far enough. Ah! That’s delightful. Now, where were we?’
‘Perhaps – perhaps you were about to grant us another wish?’ said Robbie.
‘Perhaps I was,’ said the Psammead.
‘Then I wish –’ Robbie began.
‘You’ve had your turn, Robs,’ I said. ‘No, please, dear Psammead, I was wondering about wishing for –’
‘No, no! Please let it be me. I wish I – okay, we – can all be rich and famous,’ Smash gabbled.
The Psammead paused, and then nodded.
‘Very well. Rich and famous it is,’ it said, and started puffing itself up. It grew until its eyes bulged on the ends of its stalks and it became totally spherical – and then it subsided abruptly, scrabbled weakly in the sand, and retreated.
‘Thank you so much, dear Psammead,’ I said, nudging Smash to do likewise.
But she was distracted by someone approaching.
‘Look out!’ she said.
A vast man was striding purposefully through the woods towards us. He was very tall and very big, with a very red bald head and very little neck – a terrifying giant of a man in a pale grey straining suit, stamping towards us in shiny brown shoes.
I clutched Robbie and Smash grabbed Maudie.
‘Run for it!’ she said. ‘He looks like a gangster! Perhaps he’s going to kill us!’
But when he got nearer he stopped and touched his fingers to his scarlet forehead in a weird kind of salute.
‘Good day, Miss Smash, Miss Rosalind, Master Robbie, little Miss Maudie. I hope you enjoyed your private picnic,’ he said humbly. ‘So sorry if you’ve been kept waiting.’
We blinked at him.
‘Er … who are you?’ said Smash.
He hung his huge head a little foolishly.
‘You’re joking me, right, Miss Smash? I’m Bulldog, your bodyguard. If you’ll kindly step this way, Bob has the car ready and waiting.’
‘What kind of car?’ said Smash.
‘He thought you’d ordered the pink stretch limo today as there are the four of you travelling together – but if you’d sooner the Rolls or the red Ferrari then you’ve only to say,’ he said, clearly anxious to please.
Smash swallowed. ‘Oh, I dare say the pink stretch limo will do for today,’ she said, giggling. She stood up and shifted Maudie to her hip. ‘Come on then,’ she said to us.
‘But – but we can’t go off with a stranger!’ Robbie hissed.
‘He’s not a stranger. He knows us. He works for us,’ said Smash. ‘We’re rich and famous.’
‘I’ll say,’ said Bulldog. ‘You’re in all the papers again, Miss Smash – and the telly people are going bananas trying to get you on their shows. Graham Norton and Paul O’Grady aren’t even on speaking terms now – and Oprah’s talking about sending her own private jet across the pond just to get you on her programme.’
‘Really!’ said Smash. ‘Come on, you two. Let’s get in this car!’
‘But shouldn’t we tell Dad and Alice?’ I said.
‘Yes, like they’ll let us if we say we’re going off with some great big gorilla guy to appear on telly,’ Smash hissed. ‘It’s not real, Rosalind. It’s magic – and it’s only for one day. You can stay behind and spoil it if you like, but I’m going to make the most of it.’
‘Are we famous too then?’ Robbie asked. ‘I wish we could tell Dad. What am I famous for?’ He reached for the nearest tree branch experimentally and tried to pull himself up. It didn’t work.
‘Clearly not tree-climbing this time,’ said Smash. ‘Okay, we’re coming, Bulldog.’
She started striding along beside him, still carrying Maudie.
‘We’ll go with her just to see if there really is a pink limo,’ I whispered to Robbie. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t let her get in the car, especially not with Maudie.’
We held hands and hurried after them. We could hear a distant murmuring. It got louder and louder – and then through the trees we saw a large crowd of people standing waiting, chatting, jostling each other, mobile phones held above their heads, ready to take photos.
‘Whatever are they waiting for?’ I asked as we got nearer.
There was a sudden roar. They surged towards us, mobile phones flashing like fireworks.
‘They’re waiting for us!’ Smash said.
Bulldog barged forward, arms spread, shielding us, while two more massive bull-headed minders leant hard against the crowd, quelling anyone too eager to get a glimpse of us.
‘It is us!’ I said.
I looked down at myself hopefully, thinking that I must be transformed into some glossy adult celebrity, all tan and glitter and cleavage and high heels. No, I still seemed to be me, with my mousy plaits and my slightly grubby T-shirt and my jeans with a rip at the knees from yesterday’s tree-climbing. Robbie was just the same too, his hair sticking up at the back and his glasses slightly askew. Smash was her ordinary self, with her T-shirt too tight and showing her tummy, and her sparkly shoes covered in sandy dust. Maudie always looked delightful, with her lovely blonde hair and big blue eyes and sweet smile, but she had a runny nose and she was sucking her thumb anxiously.
So why were these crowds of people surging forward to see four ordinary tousled children? Smash was grinning all over her face, strolling along, waving to everyone, while they roared her name and begged her to look this way and that and thrust autograph books at her for her to sign. And it wasn’t just Smash. They clamoured for me and Robbie! They were even mad enough to try to get Maudie to sign stuff, when she can only print a very wobbly M. There were several stupid women crowding up really close to her, giving her presents, great chocolate bunnies, pink teddy bears, an entire herd of Sophie the Giraffe. Maudie was getting poked and pinched as they ooohed and aaahed over her blonde curls and dimples.
Smash tried to fight them off, her arms tight round Maudie, but someone was grabbing at her T-shirt and someone else was pulling at her hair. Bulldog lifted Maudie and Smash up in his huge arms and ran with them, to where an enormous bright pink limo was waiting, surrounded by more burly bodyguards. I screamed and called after them, hanging on desperately to Robbie, while I tried to duck away from someone who was waving books at me – and then two great minders grabbed me, grabbed Robbie and ran with us too.
We were thrust through the open door into the limo and tumbled down beside Smash and Maudie, as the car revved up and shot off like a rocket.
‘Phew!’ said Smash, laughing hysterically. ‘They went crazy, especially over me! Did you just hear them!’
‘Yes, but – but what about Dad and Alice? They’ll go mad when they wake up and find we’ve all disappeared. And here we are in a crazy car and we don’t even know where we’re going!’ I gabbled.
‘Don’t worry, Rosalind. I have your full schedule here,’ said a pretty woman with shiny brown bobbed hair. Bulldog and Bob the smiley chauffeur were in the front of the limo, but the brown-haired lady was in the back with us. She whipped a BlackBerry out of her huge handbag and consulted it, smiling. ‘We’re due to arrive at Harrods at two. They’re closing the entire store for us, so there shouldn’t be any problems.’
‘Trust Naomi – she can fix anything!’ said Bulldog.
‘What’s Harrods?’ said Robbie.
‘It’s a huge posh department store,’ said Smash. ‘So … we’re going shopping?’
‘It will have to be a whistle-stop trip, I’m afraid,’ said Naomi. ‘But you’re always such a decisive shopper, Smash.’
‘Is this shopping trip just for Smash?’ I asked.
Naomi laughed. ‘Of course not, Rosalind. I’ve had them pick out some great outfits for you, just you wait and see,’ she assured me.
‘And … shoes? Could I have some shoes a bit like …?’ I pointed to Smash’s sparkly emerald trainers.
‘Certainly. There will be several pairs of trainers, Converse boots, espadrilles to go with shorts, jeans and beach wear – plus little patent pumps for smart dresses and high heels for parties,’ she said.
‘That’s absolutely marvellous!’ I said.
‘You’re not allowed high heels, Rosalind,’ said Robbie.
‘You try and stop me,’ I said.
‘High heels, high heels!’ said Maudie, thrusting out her feet as if she wanted some too.
‘Is this just going to be boring old clothes shopping?’ said Robbie.
‘Oh, I know where you want to go, Robbie!’ said Naomi.
‘Where do I want to go?’ asked Robbie.
‘I’m guessing you’ll want to check out the kitchenware first, but I’ve given the pet department a ring and they’re very much looking forward to seeing you too,’ she said.
We were all a little baffled by the reference to kitchenware, but the mention of the pet shop made Robbie bounce excitedly on the seat.
‘Oh, Smash, this is an ace wish!’ he said.
‘A tad more interesting than tree-climbing,’ she said. She was fiddling with buttons in the upholstery, so that music suddenly blared. Then she pointed to a pink bottle with a gold-foil top and four glasses stacked in a little alcove. ‘Can we have some of that?’
‘Of course you can,’ said Naomi. She got the bottle out and expertly popped the cork.
‘Smash, that’s pink champagne!’
‘So?’ said Smash.
‘Well, Maudie definitely can’t drink it. And Robbie shouldn’t either,’ I said.
‘Yes, I should!’ said Robbie. ‘I’ve always wanted to know what champagne tastes like.’
‘Well, just a sip. We’ll all just have a sip,’ I said. ‘We don’t want to end up drunk.’
‘I do! It’s my wish. I can do what I want,’ said Smash, taking a long gulp. She snorted a little as the bubbles went up her nose, but she went on drinking steadily until she’d finished her glassful. Then she hiccuped and laughed at me.
‘Smash!’ I said, taking a sip myself. She wasn’t quite as crazy as I’d thought. It wasn’t champagne at all, it was extra-delicious pink fizzy lemonade.
We all had some, and shared a wonderful big box of pink and white chocolates. There were ultra-cute pink and white jelly babies too, which we let Maudie have. She insisted on playing with them in between nibbles, so she got very sticky indeed, but Naomi was clearly prepared for every eventuality and produced a pack of wet wipes from her voluminous handbag.
‘Come here, Maudie. Let Naomi wipe your hands,’ she said.
She wiped Maudie’s face too, but very gently and carefully. Maudie usually squirmed and struggled when Alice attacked her with a damp flannel, but she accepted Naomi’s ministrations with dignity. When the limo drew up outside Harrods, Maudie put her hand in Naomi’s, treating her like a new mummy.
The friendly chauffeur Bob took us to a back entrance, but even so there were more crowds jostling on the pavement, pressing so close to the car that their noses were bizarrely squashed against the black glass. They couldn’t see in at us, but we could se
e them. Robbie clutched my hand tight and even Smash looked apprehensive.
‘How are we supposed to get out? They look like they’ll tear us apart!’ said Smash.
‘The boys will protect you,’ said Naomi.
Bulldog was whispering urgently into his mobile while looking at his watch.
‘Now!’ he said suddenly, flinging the car doors open.
He seemed to have summoned up a whole army of Bulldog clones. Very large men in suits manhandled the crowd out of the way, forcing a tunnel to the entrance – and Bulldog hurried us through it. Smash tried to pause for photos and autographs, but this caused such a flurry of people that they were surging all around her, nearly knocking her over. Bulldog caught her up and carried her over his shoulder into the store.
‘Excuse the liberty, Miss Smash, but you were getting a bit swamped there,’ he said, setting her down gently.
Smash’s hair was sticking up and she needed several of Naomi’s wet wipes herself, but she thanked him regally, as if she were the Queen, and then waved to the assembled shop staff. We were escorted to the lifts and Smash pressed the button to the fourth floor, clearly knowing where she was going.
There was an enormous toy department on this top floor. Maudie started jumping up and down, Robbie got his lion and tiger out of his pockets to look for friends and I have to admit I got quite excited too, even though I’m really much too old for toys.
Smash let Maudie grab a gigantic blue rabbit and ordered Naomi to pay for it, but then she hurried us on to the clothes department. Robbie moaned and I hung back as well, wishing I’d had a chance to look at the special American dolls properly. I rather wanted one – just as an ornament, not to play with, of course. But then I got completely distracted by the clothes department.
Mum and I usually go to Primark for T-shirts and jeans. I had no idea you could have vast departments specially for girls under fourteen, with the most amazing designer outfits: slinky shorts and showy halter tops, tiny miniskirts and long flouncy maxis, elaborate party dresses with a froth of pale petticoats all different pastel colours – and the shoes! I ran from one pair to the next ecstatically. I tried on a pair of real high heels and wobbled around in front of the mirror, kicking up my legs at an angle to see the shoes to their best advantage.
Four Children and It Page 6
