‘Stories are boring,’ said Smash. ‘We want to play bears, don’t we, Maudie?’ She hunched over and growled.
Maudie jumped, startled. She’d usually have clapped her hands and giggled, but perhaps she was tired from her unexpected disappearing act last night. She backed away instead, her bottom lip trembling.
‘There! Look, you’re making her cry!’ said Alice. ‘I told you, read her a story.’
‘And I told you, no,’ said Smash, turning her back on her.
Alice looked at me.
‘You read to her, Rosalind, while I sort out the washing, there’s a dear,’ she said.
This was clearly a tricky one – but Maudie looked at me pleadingly, going, ‘Story, story, story!’
‘Okay then,’ I said, glancing nervously at Smash.
Maudie nestled up beside me and I started reading her The Tiger Who Came to Tea. Maudie chuckled and chanted along with the words, knowing most of it by heart.
‘There, Smash! You see! Maudie loves being read to. Thank you, Rosalind,’ said Alice.
Smash chanted the words too, in a niminy-piminy voice, clearly imitating me.
‘Smash!’ said Alice warningly.
‘I’m reading it, aren’t I? Why is it wrong if I do it, but okay for her? Oh, silly me, I forgot the sainted Rosalind can do no wrong, can she?’ Smash said, sitting down beside Maudie and me.
I carried on reading self-consciously. Smash went on mumbling, one beat behind me.
‘If you don’t stop, Smash, I’ll send you to your room,’ said Alice grimly, stuffing clothes in the washing machine. She looked as if she’d like to stuff Smash in there with them.
‘Alice had better watch out. Smash will be wishing her to disappear too,’ Robbie whispered to me.
Smash had sharp ears.
‘You shut up, Tree Boy. I didn’t wish Maudie to disappear,’ she hissed. ‘But don’t tempt me with possibilities. I might just wish you disappear, and your suck-up swotty sister.’
‘Look, will you shut up, Smash? Just because you’re feeling guilty about wishing Maudie away you don’t need to take it out on us,’ I said.
‘I didn’t wish her away! Stop saying that! It was all a mistake, you stupid little nerd.’
‘I’m not the one who’s stupid! I’m not the fool who wishes stuff right in front of the Psammead,’ I said, losing my temper at last.
‘Stop it!’ said Smash, giving me a shove.
‘You stop it!’ I said.
‘Don’t you shove my sister!’ said Robbie.
Maudie started wailing anxiously.
‘Hey, hey, what’s all the racket?’ said Dad, breezing into the kitchen. ‘What are all these grumpy faces? What are we going to do today? Shall we have a day out in London? We could take the train and go and see the sights, and maybe do some shopping?’
He expected us to whoop enthusiastically. We couldn’t very well explain that we’d been driven all round London in a stretch limo the day before yesterday and we’d been one of the sights.
‘It’s very kind of you, Dad,’ I said cautiously. ‘But wouldn’t it cost too much money?’
‘That doesn’t matter, not if that’s what you’d like to do,’ said Dad.
‘Well, actually, what we’d really like would be to go on another picnic.’ I paused. ‘Locally. In Oxshott woods.’
‘No,’ said Dad. ‘Not again.’
‘Definitely not,’ said Alice. ‘That place really spooks me. First you three get totally lost – and then poor little Maudie disappears too.’
‘Not for very long,’ said Smash.
‘And we absolutely promise we wouldn’t get lost this time,’ I said.
‘Yes, we totally promise,’ said Smash.
‘You bet,’ said Robbie.
‘No!’ said Dad. ‘And that’s an end to it.’
But it wasn’t an end, because Smash picked up Maudie and whispered to her. We already knew Maudie had the potential to be an actress and say her lines on cue.
‘Want to go to Ocky woods,’ she said earnestly. ‘Please, Daddy-Pops. Please, Mum-Mum. Want to go to Ocky woods and sandpit and play Monkey. Want Monkey!’
‘Monkey?’ said Alice. ‘Why do you always go on about this monkey, darling? There aren’t any monkeys in Oxshott woods. Don’t you mean you want to go to the zoo?’
‘Monkey in woods!’ said Maudie.
‘It’s a game we play with her. We pretend a monkey lives in the sandpit,’ I said. ‘She loves that monkey game, don’t you, Maudie?’
‘We’ve had enough games in that wretched wood,’ said Dad. ‘We’ll take you to the zoo and show you real monkeys, Maudie. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? See the funny monkeys?’ Dad did a terribly embarrassing monkey imitation, capering about, scratching himself. He was clearly trying to make Maudie laugh, but she started crying instead.
‘Want my monkey in Ocky woods,’ she sobbed.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Alice. ‘Stop it, David. You look ridiculous and you’re frightening her. All right, Maudie, we’ll take you to the woods.’
‘But if you three come you must not wander off and get lost,’ said Dad. ‘You must solemnly swear not to worry us like that again.’
‘We swear,’ I said.
‘I love swearing,’ said Smash.
‘I swear, Dad,’ said Robbie – but he got me on one side later, while we were helping Alice prepare yet another splendid picnic.
‘Is it really bad if you break a swear, Ros?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it is, but it’s all right. We won’t get lost and we won’t worry them, so we’ll be keeping our promise, okay?’
‘Aren’t we going to ask the Psammead for a wish then?’
‘Yes, of course we are – but I’ve thought of a good way to do it,’ I whispered.
This time the picnic consisted of pieces of chicken breast with crunchy carrot, almond and tomato salad and big chunks of granary bread, a cherry tart with cream, soft white cheese with black grapes and savoury biscuits, a peach each and little bars of white chocolate. Alice packed a bottle of pink lemonade for us – just like the lemonade in the limo! – and a bottle of rose-pink wine for her and Dad.
Then we set off for Oxshott woods. Robbie took his zoo monkeys with him. He held a gorilla in one hand and a chimpanzee in the other, and when we got to the woods he helped them climb up ferns and bushes as if they were tall trees in the jungle.
Robbie looked up at the real trees wistfully several times. Dad looked wistful too, but managed not to say anything. Smash held Maudie’s hand carefully, singing her own song to her, to the ‘Ring a Ring o’ Roses’ tune.
‘Going to see the monkey
Going to see the monkey
Sandpit! Sandpit!
We all make a wish!’
We were so keyed up we ate the picnic as quickly as we could.
‘Don’t bolt your food like that! You’ll get chronic indigestion,’ said Dad. He was savouring his own food, but only sipping his wine, and Alice didn’t have any at all. When they’d cleared the picnic things away, they didn’t lie down and doze off in the sunshine. They sat bolt upright, staring at us. Alice kept a firm hold of Maudie, even though she tried to wriggle away.
‘What are they doing?’ Smash muttered. ‘Why don’t they cuddle up and go to sleep?’
‘They’re keeping an eye on us. But maybe they’ll get tired in a little while,’ I whispered.
They didn’t seem at all tired, even after another half-hour. Maudie fidgeted and moaned and refused to listen to a story and wouldn’t play Round and Round the Garden with Dad. She kept looking at us and looking at the sandpit, murmuring ‘Monkey!’ in a melancholy fashion. Yet we were in full view of Dad and Alice. If we dug up the Psammead right in front of them, then doubtless Alice would scream her head off and Dad would catch the Psammead and stuff it in the picnic bag and carry it off to London Zoo or wherever …
I knew what to do when the Psammead surfaced. I just had to stop Dad and Alice
seeing him first.
‘They won’t go to sleep this time because they’re so scared we’re going to wander off again. So we’ll have to dig the Psammead up without them seeing,’ I whispered to Smash and Robbie. ‘If we all line up with our backs to Dad and Alice they won’t be able to see what we’re doing, not properly.’
We stood up and sauntered ever so casually into the sandpit.
‘Where are you going?’ Dad said immediately.
‘We’re just going to play in the sand, Dad,’ I said.
‘We’re – we’re pretending it’s a wild terrain for my animals,’ said Robbie.
Dad pulled a face. He obviously thought we were too old for pretend games now.
‘Me too, me too!’ said Maudie, struggling free of Alice. ‘Monkey, Monkey!’
‘Yes, here’s the funny monkey,’ said Robbie, holding out his gorilla to Maudie.
Alice let her go reluctantly. Maudie came charging over and squatted in the sand. She looked at the plastic gorilla, her face screwed up.
‘No! Monkey!’ she said.
‘Yes, I know, Maudie. We’re trying to find him,’ I muttered. ‘Let’s all dig.’
We scrabbled in the sand, our backs to Dad and Alice.
‘So is this the famous monkey game?’ Alice called.
‘Shall I come and help you dig?’ Dad offered.
‘No, we’re fine, Dad. I know it looks a bit daft, but Maudie loves this game, don’t you, darling?’ I said.
‘Where Monkey?’ said Maudie.
‘There!’ Robbie hissed, suddenly uncovering a familiar little paw.
Maudie shrieked delightedly.
‘What’s that? Why is Maudie so excited?’ said Alice.
‘Tell Daddy-Pops,’ said Dad, getting to his feet, clearly about to come over.
‘Oh, dear Psammead, can you hear me? This is an emergency! Could just part of our wish be that Dad and Alice don’t notice any magical thing, ever, no matter what happens? Oh please, quick, before Dad sees you,’ I gabbled.
The paw twitched. There was a great heaving and scuffling of sand as the Psammead surfaced, puffed up like a ball.
‘What on earth?’ Dad said, but then his voice faded away.
The Psammead hopped right out of the sand but Dad didn’t even blink. He rubbed his eyes.
‘Just for a moment I thought I saw this ugly little furry animal,’ Dad muttered. ‘But it must have been a trick of the light.’
‘Ugly little furry animal!’ the Psammead repeated, insulted. He spoke up indignantly – but Dad didn’t hear him.
‘Oh well, have a good game, kids,’ Dad said, and went back to join Alice.
‘Monkey!’ said Maudie, holding out her hands joyfully.
‘Is she clean and dry?’ said the Psammead anxiously.
‘Sort of,’ I said, giving Maudie another quick wipe with my T-shirt.
‘So Mum and Dave can’t see or hear you now? Wicked!’ said Smash.
‘I am not wicked. I am the most benign of magical beings – though I can be severe if I’m not properly respected, and when attacked I retaliate with a very powerful bite,’ said the Psammead, showing its sharp teeth.
‘Smash didn’t mean to be disrespectful, dear Psammead,’ I said, glaring at her. ‘She didn’t mean you were really wicked, it’s just a slang way of saying you were wonderful. And you were wonderful, getting that wish in just in time.’
‘Yes, it’s quite a feat, initiating a wish upside down, head first in one’s sandy bed – but I achieved it,’ said the Psammead. ‘Will that be all then?’
‘Oh no! We wanted another wish!’ said Smash.
‘I did say, could part of our wish be that Dad and Alice don’t notice anything. I know it’s a bit of a cheek but we did hope we could have another part of a wish – if you’d be so nice and kind,’ I said.
‘Monkey very nice,’ said Maudie, and she put her arms round the Psammead and gave him an enthusiastic hug.
It wriggled uncomfortably, its eyes right out to the end of the stalks, but it patted her gingerly with one paw.
‘Yes, nice, nice, nice Monkey – I mean Psammead – so please can we be rich and famous all over again today? Please,’ said Smash.
‘No,’ said the Psammead.
‘But I said please – twice – and I was ever so respectful,’ Smash wailed.
‘That is a matter of opinion,’ said the Psammead. ‘But it is not in my power to grant you that wish, even if I wanted to.’
‘But why? You granted it before!’
‘Exactly. You can never have the same wish twice. It would become tedious for both of us,’ said the Psammead.
‘So can’t I ever be good at tree-climbing again?’ Robbie said dolefully.
‘Perhaps you might wish to be good at something else?’ said the Psammead. ‘But I don’t believe it is your turn to choose today.’ He shuffled sideways to face me. ‘Do you want to complete your wish, Rosalind?’
‘Oh yes, please!’ I took a deep breath. ‘I wish we could meet up with those other children, Anthea and Jane and Robert and Cyril, the ones in my storybook.’
‘Very well,’ said the Psammead, and started puffing itself up.
‘How can you wish us into a storybook?’ said Smash. ‘Those children aren’t real. It won’t work.’
‘The Psammead’s in the book, and it’s real, so why can’t it work?’ I said, as the Psammead expanded.
‘You could have chosen a better storybook then,’ said Smash. ‘One with vampires and monsters and aliens.’
‘This one’s got a boy called Robert, like me!’ said Robbie. ‘Is he a nice boy, Ros?’
‘He gets to be a giant in the story – and in another story about the same children he carries a magic phoenix around in his jacket. I think you’ll like him a lot,’ I said, as the Psammead grew bigger and bigger. ‘Oh goodness, be careful! Don’t burst!’ I said anxiously.
But then the Psammead breathed out with such a gust that he blew himself head over heels – and then alarmingly we were tumbled about too, somersaulting in thin air in a world gone suddenly dark. I cried out, trying to catch hold of Robbie and Maudie. I was sure Smash could look after herself. Then I was suddenly in bright sunlight again, staring at the sandpit – but it was a different sandpit. This was much bigger and made of brown gravel, great mounds of it, with purple and yellow flowers at the top, and little holes for sand martins to hide in.
‘Oh goodness! This is the gravel pit in the story!’ I said.
I whipped round – and saw four strangely familiar children staring at me. There was a tall boy in a tweedy jacket, a smaller boy in a sailor suit, and two girls in floppy hats and pinafores.
‘It’s Anthea and Jane and Robert and Cyril, it really is!’ I said. ‘But I meant them to come to us in our time, so I could keep my promise to Dad and not leave our sandpit.’
‘They look so weird!’ said Smash, giggling.
I was relieved to see she had firm hold of Maudie – and I was clutching Robbie by his T-shirt sleeve, so at least we were all safe.
‘If you don’t mind my saying, you’re the weird ones,’ said Cyril. He looked Smash up and down. ‘You’re a rum sort of boy.’ He looked at me. ‘And you’re even odder, with your long hair.’
‘We’re not boys at all!’ I said.
‘I am!’ said Robbie.
‘How do you know our names?’ said Anthea.
‘I know them because – because I’ve read about you in a book,’ I said.
‘A book!’ Jane squeaked. ‘Oh goodness, are we famous?’
‘Nowhere near as famous as me. Or rich. I’ve starred at the O2 arena,’ Smash said, her chin jutting.
The children looked blank.
‘It’s – it’s a bit like a very big music hall,’ I said.
‘Oh, I’ve always wanted to go to a music hall, but Father says we’re not allowed,’ said Robert.
‘Are you Robert? I am too,’ said Robbie. He peered hopefully at Robbie’s sailor top. ‘
Have you got your golden phoenix tucked away in there?’
‘What golden phoenix? I haven’t – but I jolly well wish I had,’ said Robert.
‘The phoenix happens in the next book,’ I said to Robbie. ‘I wonder where we are in Five Children and It?’
‘There are only four children,’ said Smash.
‘Our little brother is having his nap just at the moment,’ said Anthea. She bent down beside Maudie and smiled at her. ‘Hello! My little brother’s about your age. What’s your name then?’
‘Maudie,’ said Maudie.
‘Perhaps you’d like to play with the Lamb?’ Anthea looked at me. ‘We call him that because –’
‘The first word he said was “Baa”!’ I said.
‘This is so strange!’ said Anthea. She glanced at the sandpit. ‘It’s some kind of magic – so this is surely something to do with the Psammead, isn’t it?’
‘Shut up, Panther!’ said Cyril. ‘Don’t tell them!’
‘We know about the Psammead. It’s ours, because I found it,’ said Smash.
‘Look here, you might know about it, but it’s definitely our Psammead. We’ve been coming to the gravel pit every day these hols and we’ve never seen you here once,’ said Robert.
‘We’re not usually here. We come from way in the future, more than a hundred years,’ I said. ‘And the Psammead lives in a sandpit in Oxshott woods now and I wished we could meet all of you, because I’ve read about you.’
‘So does it tell all about us in this book?’ said Robert. ‘Does it tell about the day I became a giant and frightened the baker’s boy?’
‘Oh, I should so love to be a giant and frighten people!’ said Robs. ‘Perhaps I could have that as my next wish!’
‘Did you read about us being as beautiful as the day? I had blue eyes then and long red hair.’ Jane ran her hand through her limp brown curls wistfully.
‘That was a completely wasted wish,’ said Cyril. ‘I liked it best when our house became a besieged castle and we poured water down on the enemy.’
‘That sounds cool,’ said Smash. ‘Maybe I’ll wish that. Isn’t it meant to be boiling oil, though? Water sounds a bit tame.’
Four Children and It Page 11
