Four Children and It

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘Mmm, yes, I see what you mean,’ I said. ‘Well, it won’t really matter, will it?’

  ‘Yes, it will. There’s a tiger and a leopard and a wild boar. They’ll all have a terrible fight – and there’s a rhino who’ll keep charging everything,’ Robbie said anxiously, near tears.

  ‘Calm down, Robs, it’s okay. I’m sure they’ll be fine. Though maybe we’d better go home just to be sure. You can make them all a new zoo in Maudie’s room. It’ll be fun. You can use her building blocks to make proper pens,’ I said.

  ‘I’ll need to take home lots of sand for the camel, and grass and greenery for all the others,’ said Robbie. ‘How am I going to carry it all, and the animals?’

  ‘I know!’ I said. I ran over to Dad and Alice. Dad was doing The Times crossword and Alice was flicking through Grazia magazine. They both smiled at me peacefully.

  ‘Still playing your funny sandpit game?’ said Dad indulgently. He peered over at the others. He could obviously see Maudie and Robbie and Smash – but not the little animals scuttling here and there, making tiny roars and trumpets and barks and whinnies.

  ‘Yes, but actually we’d like to pack up soon and go back home. I think Maudie and Robbie are a bit tired,’ I said. ‘Shall I help gather up the remains of the picnic?’

  ‘That’s very helpful of you, Rosalind,’ said Alice.

  I grabbed the big picnic cool bag.

  ‘Yes, I’ll put the leftover sandwiches in. Oh, hang on a minute, I think Robbie’s got sand in his eyes,’ I said. I charged over to the sandpit with the cool-bag strap over my shoulder, and seized hold of Robbie.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he said, wriggling, as I pulled his eyelid open.

  ‘I’m just pretending you’ve got sand in your eye.’

  ‘But I haven’t!’

  ‘I know. It’s a subterfuge.’

  ‘A subwhat?’

  ‘We’re going to bung some sand and stuff in the picnic bag and the animals can all squeeze in there too, only I’ll hang on to the zebra just in case. I don’t trust your lion. There are sandwiches in there if they’re hungry. The carnivores can eat the bacon and the vegetarians can snack on the lettuce.’

  We packed up the portable zoo and shut the cool bag, hoping the animals would settle down and go to sleep. It was quite a long walk back and Robbie usually dragged his feet and whined, but he stepped out smartly now, eager to see if there were any more live creatures at the house.

  ‘Don’t worry so, Robbie. If they are alive, they’ll just be rootling around in Maudie’s room. And, even if they’ve got out, Dad and Alice won’t be able to see they’re real.’

  Dad and Alice couldn’t see them – but other people could. As we trooped through the garden gate of 52 Acacia Avenue the front door opened and a stout middle-aged lady came rushing out, handbag in one hand, a J-cloth still clutched in the other. She was screaming hysterically.

  ‘I wonder what’s up with Bridget? She’s my mum’s cleaning lady,’ said Smash.

  ‘Bridget! Goodness, what’s happened? What’s frightened you?’ said Alice, rushing to her.

  ‘Is it burglars?’ said Dad, reaching for his mobile.

  ‘No, no, it’s rats!’ Bridget sobbed. ‘Terrible snarling rats, lots of them. I went to hoover under Maudie’s bed and there they were, all trying to bite me. I’m not going back in the house, not for a million pounds. Terrible rats! You’ll have to call in Rentokil.’

  ‘Rats!’ said Alice, and she clutched Maudie and started screaming too.

  ‘Oh lord, rats?’ said Dad, going white. ‘Right, Alice and you children, stay outside, out of harm’s way. In fact we might be better if we all stand clear, while I phone the experts.’

  But Robbie dived through the open door without a second thought.

  ‘Robbie? Robbie, come back! Don’t be foolish, son, rats can bite. Robbie, please!’ Dad yelled.

  Robbie hurtled down the hall and up the stairs, taking no notice.

  ‘I’ll have to go after him,’ said Dad. ‘You stay here.’

  Dad hurried up the stairs while we waited, breathless. Alice retreated to the garden gate with Maudie in her arms.

  ‘Keep back, kids. David might chase the rats out. Oh dear lord, how terrible!’

  ‘Calm down, Mum. I’m sure there aren’t really any rats. I bet Bridget made a mistake,’ said Smash. ‘I bet Dad won’t find even a teeny little mouse.’

  And at that moment Dad came back, still chalk white, but grinning all over his face. He had his arm right round Robbie.

  ‘It’s okay, folks. Panic over! Bridget made a mistake. Poor woman, you’ll have to phone her, Alice, just to make sure she’s all right,’ said Dad.

  ‘But she said she saw lots of rats.’

  ‘She went to hoover under Maudie’s bed and saw Robbie’s little toy animals. She got such a shock she thought they were rats!’ Dad said, laughing shakily. ‘Look, show Alice, Robbie.’

  Robbie held out his hands. He had a leopard in one palm, a tiger in the other. They were both snarling and showing their teeth – but Dad and Alice were still affected by the Psammead wish and couldn’t see them move.

  ‘Just little lumps of plastic!’ said Dad.

  ‘Oh, thank goodness!’ said Alice.

  ‘Nice weeny pussy cats!’ said Maudie, reaching out to stroke one.

  ‘Careful, Maudie, they might bite,’ said Smash.

  Alice and Dad laughed as if she were joking.

  ‘You kids and your pretend games!’ said Dad. ‘Mind you, Robbie, you couldn’t have known there weren’t real rats in the house. It was incredibly brave of you to go dashing in like that, especially when I know you can’t stand rats either. You had those awful nightmares after listening to that Marvel O’Kaye and his lurid stories. I’m really proud of you, son.’

  ‘Well, I was pretty sure there weren’t really any rats,’ said Robbie truthfully.

  ‘Don’t be so modest, lad. Well done!’

  ‘You’re both one hundred per cent certain there aren’t any rats at all?’ said Alice, still fearful.

  ‘Come in and see for yourself,’ said Dad.

  So we all trooped upstairs. Dad and Alice saw little plastic toys scattered about the carpet, utterly motionless. But Robbie and Smash and Maudie and I saw a weeny wild boar savagely disembowelling one of Maudie’s fluffy teddies, a golden jackal gnawing one of her bedroom slippers and a furious rhino charging at her potty.

  ‘Hey, Ros, wake up,’ said Smash. ‘I’ve just had a brilliant idea.’

  I was in the middle of a lovely dream where Anthea and Jane and I were all playing with our dolls. Mine was exceptionally beautiful, with big blue eyes and long golden hair and a cream dress patterned with tiny daisies. I didn’t want to wake up.

  ‘Come on, sleepyhead!’ Smash bounced out of her bed and sat on mine, tugging at my duvet.

  ‘Stop it! I’m asleep,’ I groaned. I looked at my alarm clock with one eye. ‘It’s only six o’clock. Are you crazy?’

  ‘Listen! Maudie will be waking up any minute and Alice always gets up ever so early to give her a drink of milk. Well, let’s ask if we can all have breakfast – a breakfast picnic at the sandpit. That way we’ll really be able to make the most of our wish all day long. It’s my turn – and I’m going to ask that I can fly. I had this dream last night, you see. I was flying right up above Mum and David and they couldn’t reach me, though they kept leaping up and down, trying. It was such fun. Then I was flying over to see my dad in the Seychelles and he was whirling round with me and it was so cool, but then she started flying too, you know, Tessa, my new stepmother. She was just like Tinkerbell, and actually she is. Isn’t it weird when dreams do that? And she swooped off with my dad in a swirl of fairy dust and I was left, just kind of hovering in mid-air. The dream went downhill after that – but the flying part was truly great.’

  I must have been looking doubtful because she gave my shoulders a little shake.

  ‘I’ll wish that you can fly too, sil
ly. And Robbie and Maudie, though she might be a bit little.’

  ‘You want us all to fly to the Seychelles to see your dad?’ I said.

  ‘Well, I thought at first I did. I mean, I don’t even need to do the flying part. I could just wish me there. But I got to thinking in my head how it would really be. Tinkerbell would make a fuss, for a start – and my dad would think I’d stowed away on an aeroplane or something and get in a right state. And – and if he really wanted me there he’d have asked me along too.’

  ‘No child gets asked along on a honeymoon, Smash,’ I said gently. ‘But if you just want to fly then I think that’s a fabulous wish. Anthea wished for wings and their wish was wonderful – until they landed on the top of a tall tower and fell asleep and their wings disappeared after sunset and they couldn’t get down.’

  ‘Okay. Flying it is – and we’ll avoid all towers. Let’s go and wake Maudie and get her to ask for the breakfast picnic. Then we can fly all day long. We could fly abroad, not as far as the Seychelles, but we could go to Paris and circle right round the Eiffel Tower – or the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy – or – or some other European tower. I don’t know, I’ve always been rubbish at geography.’

  ‘You’re great at ideas, though,’ I said.

  She grinned at me. ‘Yes, I am, aren’t I?’ she said.

  We crept into the next bedroom to wake Robbie and Maudie. Robbie was curled up, clutching his lion. When we woke him up, he looked at the little lump of moulded plastic so wistfully I wanted to cry.

  ‘We’ve thought of a great wish for today, Robbie!’ I said quickly. ‘It’s flying!’

  ‘I thought of it,’ said Smash. ‘And we’re going to try for a breakfast picnic at the sandpit – so wake up, little Maudie! That’s the girl, wake up, darling, we need you!’ Smash tickled Maudie gently. She wriggled and stretched and then wound her arms round Smash’s neck.

  ‘My Smash-Smash,’ she said.

  I struggled to feel pleased for Smash that Maudie clearly liked her the most. I had Robbie after all. Though Robbie seemed in a sad grumpy mood just now.

  ‘I don’t want a picnic at breakfast-time – it’s too early,’ he grumbled, and hunched back down under his duvet.

  ‘You want to go flying, though, don’t you?’ I said, trying to coax him out.

  ‘Not especially. I bet I’m useless at it. Or I’ll get travel sick or something. You’ll see, something will go wrong.It always does,’ said Robbie.

  ‘You loved your animal wish, Robs, and that didn’t go wrong, did it?’ I said. Maudie’s teddy and slippers would never be quite the same again, but she didn’t seem to mind.

  ‘Yes, but I can’t ever have that wish again, even though it was the best wish ever,’ Robbie said mournfully.

  ‘Oh, put his head in a bucket, will you?’ said Smash impatiently. ‘Now, Maudie, you run in to Mum and Dad, okay, and take your little dolly’s plate and cup and saucer. We’ll put it in your little straw basket – they’ll think that’s really cute – and then you tell them you want to go on a breakfast picnic. They’ll play pretending a picnic, but you must say you want a real breakfast picnic. Beg for us to go on one, all of us. Can you do that, Maudie?’

  ‘Picnic!’ said Maudie happily, and she threw half her tea set into her basket and padded off in her pyjamas.

  Smash and I nipped back to our room. We heard Dad and Alice murmur sleepily. Then they laughed a little. They clinked the china, obviously playing at picnics. Then they gently said no. They said no again. They argued for quite a while. Then they sighed. They got out of bed. We heard Maudie chuckle.

  Dad knocked and poked his head round the door.

  ‘Are you awake, girls? Guess what? We’re going to have a breakfast picnic.’

  Smash and I did a high five when he’d gone to the bathroom.

  ‘Good old Maudie,’ said Smash. ‘We’ll do the same next time, and the time after that, and –’

  ‘There isn’t going to be one – a time after next time. Robbie and I go home the day after tomorrow,’ I said sadly.

  ‘Oh rats! I’m staying another two weeks!’

  ‘Mum finishes her Summer School on Saturday,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but can’t you stay on anyway?’

  ‘Well, not really, because Mum’s taking us to visit our gran.’

  ‘Oh, that’s not fair! I don’t want to be stuck here by myself!’ said Smash.

  ‘You’ll be able to have some more Psammead wishes all to yourself,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but it won’t be such fun, not without you,’ said Smash. ‘It’s funny, when we used to meet up I thought you were awful, this little nerdy bookworm –’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘But I didn’t get to know you properly. Or Robbie – thought I do still think he’s nerdy. I’m glad I’ve got you for my stepsister.’

  ‘I’m glad I’ve got you for my stepsister,’ I said. I was surprised to find out I really meant it. Smash could still be a royal pain at times, and she’d always be an awful show-off – but she was brave and resourceful and fun.

  When we were washed and dressed, we went downstairs to help Alice make the breakfast picnic.

  ‘I wonder what you eat for a breakfast picnic?’ said Smash. ‘Cornflake sandwiches?’

  Alice had been given no warning, but she rose to the occasion wonderfully. She made toasted bacon sandwiches (storing them in special little bags to keep them warm) and sliced bananas in soft white rolls. She popped six Greek yoghurts in the cool bag with a carton of orange juice, made up a thermos of coffee and took a kilner jar of her home-made apricot compote.

  ‘Yum yum! You’re really inventive when it comes to picnics, Alice,’ I said. It felt strange praising her when she was the scheming blonde who had stolen Dad away from our mum, but I was getting more used to her now.

  I was surprised when she went bright pink.

  ‘I like making picnics for all the family,’ she said. She paused. ‘It’s been fun, all of us together,’ she added.

  ‘Watch out, Mum. You’re going to be lumbered just with me next week,’ said Smash. ‘And I’ll be five times as irritating without Ros and Robbie to play with.’

  ‘Well, I’ll just have to be brave and cope somehow,’ Alice joked, but she reached out and ruffled Smash’s mop of dark hair.

  It was almost a relief when Dad tripped over two of Robbie’s animals on the stairs – the African and Indian elephants were on a vast mountain trek. Dad yelled at Robs impatiently and Robbie went into a sulk. It had been so weird, everyone being sweet and kind to each other. I wondered about choosing this – that everyone be sweet and kind – for the last wish tomorrow, but it would be rather a strain – and not necessarily fun.

  Oxshott woods were surprisingly busy early in the morning, with people walking their dogs and earnest runners hurtling through the trees. They all smiled when they saw our picnic baskets. Maudie skipped along with her own tiny straw basket, rattling her cup and saucer and plate. When we were sitting in our usual place beside the sandpit, Alice served her a miniature meal on her own crockery: a square of bacon sandwich and half a banana roll, with juice in her weeny cup.

  ‘I’ve never had a breakfast picnic before. It’s actually a great idea,’ said Dad. He held up his mug of coffee and toasted Maudie. ‘Well done, little Maudie!’

  Smash and I rolled our eyes at each other. Robbie was still a little sulky, hunched up with his back to us so no one could see he was pretend-feeding his lion with strips of bacon. He made little roaring noises of appreciation, forced to pretend his animals were alive now.

  We finished our breakfast picnic enthusiastically, then ran over to the sandpit, still chewing.

  Smash scrabbled with her hands in the sand. Robbie and I joined in. We searched till our fingers were sore, our arms like rotary diggers, but we couldn’t seem to find the Psammead.

  ‘Oh no, maybe Anthea and the others have wished him back to the past and now he’s stayed there,’ I said.


  ‘He’s not silly enough to wish himself back to the past, unlike some people,’ said Smash.

  ‘He doesn’t seem to like it now in the present,’ I said. ‘He thinks modern children are very bad-mannered. I wonder why?’

  Smash chuckled, and waggled her sandy finger in the air, miming chalking up a point.

  ‘You try searching for the Psammead, Maudie. I bet you can magic it up easy-peasy,’ Smash said.

  Maudie patted the sand hopefully.

  ‘Monkey? Come here, nice Monkey!’ she said. But even Maudie didn’t seem to be able to summon him up today.

  ‘Oh no, he can’t have disappeared today, not when I’ve got us here extra early with the breakfast picnic,’ said Smash.

  ‘And I did think flying was a particularly good wish,’ I said.

  ‘Not as good as mine yesterday,’ said Robbie. He laid himself flat in the pit and spoke into it, in danger of getting sand up his nose and in his mouth. ‘It was the best wish ever, dear Psammead, and I never got a chance to thank you properly.’

  There was a little movement in the sand. Then two eye stalks observed the prostrate Robbie. The rest of the Psammead’s head pushed out, followed by his furry arms. He rested his chin on his paws.

  ‘Well, here’s your chance, child!’ it said, right in Robbie’s ear. ‘Thank me properly!’

  ‘Oh, Psammead, thank you, thank you, thank you! It was so wonderful when my animals were alive. It was just the best thing ever. I’ll never forget yesterday as long as I live. You are the kindest and most clever magical creature ever,’ said Robbie.

  The Psammead stuck its head in the air, looking superior. It seemed in the mood for yet more praise, so I joined in.

  ‘We’re the luckiest children ever, having you grant our wishes,’ I said.

  ‘Especially if you grant our wish today, because I’ve got an absolute corker,’ said Smash.

  ‘Nice Monkey! Kind Monkey!’ said Maudie. ‘Where your legs?’

  The Psammead hopped right out of its burrow, shaking the sand from its fur and giving itself a good stretch.

  ‘Here they are,’ it said fondly to Maudie, waving first one hind paw and then the other at her.