I drew little flowers and trees and bluebirds and squirrels and rabbits in my frieze. Robbie drew lions and tigers and elephants and giraffes. His animals were so big their necks and paws and trunks and tails burst right out of the frieze, but he was good at drawing so it still looked reasonably artistic.
Smash stood over us and commented caustically.
‘Who do you two fancy yourselves as, Walt Disney?’ she said. ‘Honestly, Rosalind, exactly how old are you? Still drawing cute little bunnie-wunnies!’
‘Shut up. I’m not drawing them for me. It’s to charm my dad. And he always thinks of me as much younger than I actually am. He gave me a doll last Christmas.’
‘He didn’t!’
‘Well, it might have been the Christmas before. But still,’ I said, drawing steadily. I didn’t feel the need to tell Smash that I’d been secretly thrilled with this beautiful American doll and I’d dressed and undressed her and combed her long hair and played tentative little games with her in secret.
‘My dad gives me really cool presents, like designer clothes and my iPod and my phone. Can I have it back, Robbie? I need to see if there are any texts from him. He’s been sending me heaps from the Seychelles.’
Smash consulted her phone and looked disappointed – but read out several texts even so. It was obvious even to Robbie that she was making them up.
‘Heaps and heaps of texts,’ Smash mumbled.
‘Your mum sent you heaps and heaps of texts last night,’ I said meanly.
‘Stupid old bag,’ said Smash, busy deleting them.
‘Why don’t you try writing her a letter?’ I said. ‘You don’t have to mean what you put.’
‘I’m not a creep like you two,’ said Smash.
‘Okay, we’re creeps – and if it works they’ll take Robbie and me to the sandpit and we’ll get the next Psammead wish all to ourselves while you stay stuck at home,’ I said.
Smash considered this.
‘Give us one of your pages then,’ she said, sitting down on the floor beside us.
She drew a very big frieze and spent a very long time filling it in with little pictures of herself. She drew a small Smash climbing a tree all the way up the page, another jumping on the trampoline at the gym, another dancing in high heels, and yet another wearing a black and silver costume, singing into a microphone.
‘She’ll think I’m simply fantasizing,’ said Smash, sighing. ‘But tomorrow when I wish I’m rich and famous all over again I’m going to have Mum right at the front of the auditorium. And Dad. And your boring old dad and my dad’s silly new wife. And all my old schoolteachers and that stupid therapist and everyone else who’s ever nagged and moaned at me. They’ll all goggle at my performance and say, “Oh, now I understand. It’s just Smash’s artistic temperament – isn’t she wonderful!”’
‘You do talk drivel at times,’ said Robbie, adding delicate stripes to his tiger.
‘I’m ready to do my letter now,’ I said. I drafted it out carefully on a rough piece of paper so I wouldn’t make a mess of it.
Dear Dad and Alice
I am so so sorry we worried you so much yesterday and wasted everyone’s time, including the police. We truly didn’t get lost on purpose but I suppose it was our fault for wandering off.
We just love going to the woods so much but if we’re ever lucky enough to go there again we solemnly promise we’ll stay by the sandpit. It’s so good of you to take time off work to look after us and it’s been such fun to stay in your house.
Please can we keep on coming to stay because you are such a special dad and stepmother.
Love from Rosalind
‘Oh yuck!’ said Smash, reading over my shoulder. She did a pretend vomit all over my head.
‘I agree,’ I said. ‘I don’t mean it.’
Robbie’s letter was much briefer, but covered the same ground.
Dear Dad and Alice
I’m ever so sorry. I won’t get lost again. I really am ever so ever so sorry.
Love from Robbie
Smash decided her letter would be briefer still. It consisted of one word: Sorry. But she wrote it over and over again in all different handwritings, using a new coloured pencil each time, so that it irritatingly looked most effective.
‘There! See, I’m making my point without doing any loathsome grovelling,’ she said. ‘That’s what you are, Rosalind. The Loathsome Groveller.’
‘No, I’m not,’ I said.
‘The Loathsome Groveller,’ Smash repeated in a silly affected voice, and she started doing a very unkind imitation of me, with her lips stuck right out revoltingly.
‘Stop it! Why are you pulling that stupid face? I don’t look anything like that,’ I said. ‘Especially not my lips.’
‘Yes, you do. These are your sucky lips because you keep sucking up to my mum and your dad even though you don’t like them any more than I do. You’re just a gutless creep.’
‘I am not,’ I said, though my heart was banging in my chest.
‘It’s a waste of time anyway, because it doesn’t work,’ said Smash. ‘They just think you’re pathetic. You’re so stuck up and nerdy and boring. No wonder your dad walked out on you. He got sick of you and your stupid brother. My dad wanted me.’
‘You shut up about my dad,’ I said.
I couldn’t believe she was being so horrible, especially after I’d done my best to comfort her last night. I knew it wasn’t really true – or was it? Smash was just being horrid because she was bored and fed up that her precious dad still hadn’t contacted her – but somehow her words seemed to have crawled right into my head. They wriggled around there, making me feel scared and panicky.
I picked up Five Children and It again to distract myself. I needed to reread it to remind myself how Cyril, Anthea, their Robert and Jane had coped with the Psammead. It was hard concentrating, because Smash made up a Loathsome Groveller song, circling round me, sucking and smacking her lips and doing a special bent-over creep walk.
When we were called downstairs for lunch, we gave Dad and Alice our letters.
‘You mustn’t think you’re getting round us just like that,’ Dad said gruffly – but then he gave us a big hug.
He was careful not to leave Smash out this time. In fact he made a huge fuss of her, saying her letter was incredibly artistic. Smash grinned smugly and I wanted to slap her.
We were allowed to stay downstairs in the afternoon, although Smash’s computer was still confiscated.
‘See if I care,’ she said to Alice, and she took my coloured pencils again – without asking – and started crayoning all sorts of pictures for Maudie.
‘Draw Monkey!’ Maudie begged.
So Smash drew a reasonably accurate picture of the Psammead, much to Maudie’s delight.
‘That’s not a very good monkey. It’s much too fat and it’s got weird things sticking out of its head,’ said Alice.
‘Nobody asked your opinion,’ said Smash crossly, and she scribbled all over her picture with the brown pencil until it broke.
‘Smash! That’s my pencil,’ I said.
She pulled a face at me, and when Alice wasn’t looking she deliberately broke a green and a blue pencil too.
‘You pig! Give them back. I never said you could borrow them,’ I said, snatching them back.
‘Hey, hey,’ said Dad, coming into the room. ‘Rosalind, what are you doing? Can’t Smash share your pencils?’
‘No, she can’t – they’re mine,’ I said, knowing I sounded like a spoilt baby. ‘She’s ruining them all, look.’ I was a telltale now, which was even worse.
‘Keep your silly crayons then,’ said Smash. ‘Come on, Maudie, shall we play with all your teddies? Let’s give them a plasticine picnic. We’re sick of silly crayoning anyway, aren’t we?’
Smash played an inventive game of Teddy Bears’ Picnic with Maudie. Robbie helped make all the plasticine food, which I thought was intensely disloyal of him. I sharpened all my coloured pencils until
they had perfect points and then coloured in some of the pictures in Five Children and It.
I did it very slowly and carefully, even doing proper shading. I chose exactly the right shade of brown for the Psammead and coloured his little eye stalks rose pink. I added a tweedy design to Cyril’s and Robert’s clothes and gave Anthea and Jane patterned pinafores. I was particularly fond of Anthea, because she was the eldest, and she had the best ideas. I’d have liked to have her as a special friend. I wished she was real.
Smash’s game of teddy bears got wilder and wilder after tea. She made all the teddies growl at Maudie, and then she made them be naughty, throwing their plasticine jam tarts everywhere.
‘Stop that, Smash! You’re getting little bits of plasticine stuck all over the carpet!’ said Alice, outraged. ‘And you’re getting Maudie much too overexcited.’
Maudie was shrieking with laughter, but in such a high-pitched way it was almost like crying.
‘Hey, hey, calm down, little Maudie,’ said Dad, squatting beside her. ‘Perhaps we’re all getting a bit het up because we’ve been cooped up indoors all day. How about a little walk before bedtime? Shall we go to the pond in the park and feed the duckies?’
‘No! No, go Ocky woods and feed Monkey,’ said Maudie.
‘We’re not going anywhere near those wretched woods ever again,’ said Alice firmly. ‘You’ve been far too naughty and irresponsible ever to be trusted there again.’
Maudie stared at her – and burst into floods of tears.
‘No, no, Maudie. I didn’t mean you, darling,’ said Alice, picking her up.
Maudie wept harder, flinging herself around hysterically.
‘Hey, Maudie, don’t cry, sweetheart. Let Daddy-Pops take you. There!’
Maudie arched her back and screamed louder, kicking her legs.
‘She’s gone past being sensible. She’s overtired from all those silly noisy teddy games. Come here, I’ll put her to bed,’ said Alice.
‘No bed, no bed – want walk in woods!’ Maudie screamed.
‘Did you hear that? Perhaps you ought to give in to her. She’ll never get to sleep in that state,’ Smash said quickly. ‘You want a little walk in Oxshott woods, don’t you, Maudie?’
‘Yep!’ said Maudie, stopping crying instantly.
‘See that!’ said Smash.
‘Yes, but we’re not giving in to her. We don’t want to encourage her to start screaming whenever she wants her own way. We’ve got one spoilt brat in the family already,’ said Alice crisply.
‘Please, Dad-Dad,’ said Maudie, snuggling up to him. ‘Please go walky in woods.’
‘Well, perhaps we could go for a quick stroll – if we all stayed together and you older guys absolutely promised not to wander off,’ said Dad, unable to resist her.
‘Brilliant, Maudie!’ said Smash as we all set off. ‘We’ll just about get time for one more magic wish before sunset. I bags it this time.’
‘But you had yesterday’s wish. It’s my turn,’ I said.
‘Who says we have to take it in turns? And, anyway, yesterday’s wish was for all of us. We all got to be rich and famous, didn’t we? I want my own wish now. I’m going to wish my dad sends me a mega-long text and I shall save it so it’ll last even after sunset.’
‘It won’t last, it’ll just disappear,’ I said.
‘No, it won’t. You don’t know everything. I wish you’d disappear,’ said Smash.
‘You shut up. You disappear, you mean beast,’ I said.
‘Mean beast! Is that the worst you can call me? You sound like those prattish children in your silly storybook,’ said Smash, sneering at me.
We quarrelled all the way into the woods, while Robbie ran ahead talking to his lion, and Dad and Alice held Maudie’s hands and swung her in the air every few steps.
‘Maudie flying!’ she squealed happily.
‘Yes, and Mummy’s arms are aching like mad!’ said Alice. ‘I think we’d better go back home now before it gets dark.’
‘Oh no, please, Mum. Let’s go to the sandpit. Maudie wants to have just a teeny-weeny play in the sandpit, don’t you, Maudie?’ said Smash.
‘Yes, yes, yes!’ said Maudie.
‘Who’s your favourite sister then?’ said Smash, dancing round and round her and pulling funny faces. ‘Is it Smash-Smash?’
‘Smash-Smash! Smash-Smash!’ Maudie cried, laughing at her.
‘See!’ said Smash, poking her head at me. She picked Maudie up and gave her a piggyback, jumping her up and down.
‘Careful, Smash! You might trip,’ said Alice. ‘Put her down!’
‘She likes it, don’t you, Maudie?’ said Smash. ‘She likes me. She loves me!’ She jumped even higher, forgetting that Maudie was higher still.
Maudie bumped her head on a low tree branch and started crying.
‘I told you, you stupid careless girl!’ said Alice, rushing to pull Maudie away and cradle her in her arms.
‘You idiot, Smash, you could have taken her eye out!’ Dad shouted, forgetting all his resolutions.
‘I didn’t mean to. I didn’t see the stupid tree. You’re all right, aren’t you, Maudie?’ said Smash.
Maudie was actually fine. She just had a tiny scratch from a twig on her forehead. It wasn’t even bleeding. But she’d had a shock, and like any toddler she decided to make the most of all the attention. She cried noisily all the way through the woods. When Alice suggested returning home at once, she cried even harder.
Smash stumped along beside Robbie and me, glowering.
‘I don’t think Maudie loves you now,’ Robbie remarked.
‘You shut up, Tree Boy. Absolutely nobody at all loves you, you’re so pathetic,’ said Smash.
‘Don’t you dare say such horrid things to him! Take no notice, Robbie, it’s not true at all. Mum loves us like anything, you know that – and Dad loves us too,’ I said.
‘No, he doesn’t. He loved me when he thought I was good at tree-climbing, but he doesn’t really like me much at all now,’ said Robbie dolefully.
‘Yes, he does,’ I insisted.
‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Smash, smirking.
We squabbled about it all the way to the sandpit. Dad and Alice sat down beside it. Maudie clamoured ‘Smash-Smash!’ but Alice hung on to her tightly.
‘No, no, darling, you stay with Mummy and Daddy, sweetheart. You don’t want to play with the big ones; you’ll only get hurt. Mummy will play in the sandpit with you.’ She started digging in a desultory fashion, very careful of her manicured fingernails.
‘She wants to play with me, Mum,’ said Smash sulkily. ‘Won’t you listen?’
‘Don’t talk to your mother in that tone of voice, Smash!’ said Dad.
‘You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father,’ said Smash.
Maudie was scrabbling in the sand too – and seemed to have found something. It looked like a little clenched paw.
‘Smash!’ I said pointedly.
‘You can shut up too,’ said Smash, misunderstanding. ‘I’m sick of you. I’m sick of being stuck in this stupid new family. I wish my mum had never ever met your dad.’
The entire Psammead surfaced, swelling rapidly. Smash saw it and gasped.
‘No, that wasn’t a proper wish!’ she said, but it was too late.
The Psammead grew into a sphere, gave a little wheeze and then deflated rapidly. It burrowed back down into the sand immediately, not pausing to say a word. We were all speechless too. We stared at each other, Smash and Robbie and I.
‘It didn’t do anything, did it?’ Smash asked.
We looked round. Alice was still sitting by the sandpit – but where was Dad? And Maudie! As we watched she faded rapidly, a little ghost girl on Alice’s lap. Her mouth was round in a silent scream. She lifted her wispy little arms helplessly – and then vanished completely.
‘Maudie!’ Smash screamed, and scrabbled at Alice, trying to grab Maudie back.
‘Where is she? Where’s David? What’
s happening?’ said Alice.
She stood up and started shouting their names frantically.
‘I didn’t wish that they’d disappear!’ said Smash, white with shock.
‘You wished Dad had never met your mum, so he’s disappeared – and Maudie doesn’t even exist now,’ I said, starting to cry.
‘But I didn’t mean it! Oh please, Psammead, stop it! I want Maudie back!’
‘And I want my dad!’ said Robbie. ‘I love him even if he doesn’t love me much.’
‘Maudie! David! Where are you? Come back! Don’t play silly games – it’s getting dark!’ Alice shouted, running frantically this way and that.
‘It’s getting dark!’ I echoed, looking up at the sky.
I saw the pink rays of the setting sun above the treetops. Then Dad suddenly came running back into the clearing, looking utterly bewildered – and Maudie appeared again, bouncing on Alice’s lap.
Robbie and I hugged Dad, and Smash hugged Maudie. Then we hugged little Maudie. Smash didn’t go as far as hugging Dad, but she did ask him worriedly if he was all right.
‘Well, I think so. I just had the weirdest kind of waking dream,’ Dad said, shaking his head and looking dazed.
‘Were you playing a silly trick, hiding from us?’ said Alice. ‘I was terrified. How did you make Maudie disappear like that?’
‘I didn’t make her disappear,’ said Dad.
‘But she suddenly wasn’t there! One minute she was on my lap – and then she vanished,’ said Alice, clasping Maudie close.
‘Maudie went pop!’ said Maudie, blinking.
Smash suddenly burst into tears. We all stared at her, astounded.
‘Don’t cry, Smash-Smash. Maudie back now,’ said Maudie, smiling heroically.
Smash ducked her head and covered her eyes. She wouldn’t say a word to any of us on the way home. I tried talking to her when we went to bed, but she pulled the covers over her head and wouldn’t answer.
Smash kept picking Maudie up and giving her huge smothering hugs the next morning.
‘Will you stop squeezing her like that, Smash, she’s only little,’ Alice snapped. ‘Why do you always have to be so rough with her? If you want to play with her, why don’t you sit and read her a story from one of her picture books?’
Four Children and It Page 10
