by Sam Gayton
Gulliver, you’re crazy
As can be.’
Lily was flabbergasted. ‘Yes!’ she cried eventually. ‘Exactly like that! How do you know them too?’
‘Everyone knows those rhymes,’ Finn answered. ‘All the children in the city. They were invented many years ago. I don’t know when, or why.’
‘When Gulliver first came back from his travels.’ Lily suddenly understood. ‘To make fun of him. When he first told London about Lilliput no one believed a word. He brought back some Lilliputian sheep and cattle, but they all got eaten by rats. That’s why he went back and fetched me. He needed proof.’
Finn nodded. ‘I suppose that makes sense. Lots of the rhymes call him a liar. Or a lunatic.’
‘Gulliver was humiliated. Everywhere he went children in the street must have sung those rhymes. And they still do today, but no one knows why. It was too long ago. Everyone has forgotten.’
‘That’s right,’ said Finn. ‘Dumpling and her friends know the rhymes, but not the reason behind them. They repeat, but they don’t understand.’
‘Like Señor Chitchat,’ Lily said, thinking of the parrot on his perch.
‘¡No seas descarado!’ he squawked out, ruffling his feathers indignantly.
‘It all makes sense,’ Lily continued, ignoring the bird. ‘They all thought I was a dolly when they saw me. And after that I made them think I was a faerie.’
Finn chuckled. ‘I was the same, remember? It wasn’t until I found your note that I knew the truth.’
‘You’re not like them, Finn,’ said Lily fiercely. ‘You’re my safekeeper.’
He sighed. ‘Yes I am. So don’t leave me again, all right? I can’t keep you safe if you wander off without me.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Lily said stepping from the egg cup. ‘I’ve learned my lesson.’
She wrapped herself up in a clean handkerchief Mr Ozinda had left for her and looked down at the filthy, raggedy dress she had worn for moons. She left it by the egg cup, and went to the pile of clothes Plum-Thumb had tipped out of the wardrobe.
The clothes were still in a pile, like a huge blob of rainbow-coloured paint. Lilac and lavender ball gowns, crimson soldier’s tunics … even a judge’s black robe and snow-white wig. Scattered over the floor were a dozen pairs of clogs, boots, slippers …
Lily was speechless. She had walked about in thin slippers she’d made herself, out of Gulliver’s silk handkerchiefs, ever since outgrowing her old iron shoes.
Plunging her hands into the pile, Lily began trying on outfits. Nothing seemed to fit at first. She threw down a princess’s dress (too pretty), and a royal robe (too long). She pranced about in a black cloak for quite a while, but eventually she threw that away with the others (too spooky).
In the end Lily mixed and matched. She chose a soldier’s green and gold jacket, a pair of white silk trousers and some blue jewelled slippers. Finally she poked Stabber through her belt and stepped out of the front door.
‘What do you think?’ she asked, shyly.
Finn grinned. ‘Marvellous!’
‘Estupendo!’ said Señor Chitchat.
‘Let me see!’ called Mr Ozinda, coming into the room.
Lily gave him a curtsey, and he burst into applause.
‘Wonder of wonders!’ he breathed. ‘I still think I am dreaming when I see you.’
Lily blushed.
‘Now, I think, it is time for us to talk.’ Mr Ozinda leaned on the counter eyes twinkling.
‘Chit-chat!’ called the parrot. ‘Chit-chat!’
Lily nodded and sat on the doll’s-house porch. Finn and Mr Ozinda seated themselves on stools either side of the counter, leaning close. Not wanting to miss out on learning a few new words, Señor Chitchat flew down onto his owner’s shoulder and listened too.
And Lily began to speak.
LILY TOLD MR Ozinda everything. About Lilliput, about Gulliver, about Finn. Sometimes the Spaniard interrupted her with a ‘Where?’ or ‘How?’ but mostly he just sat there stroking Señor Chitchat and listening.
‘So,’ he said, when at last she had finished. ‘You wish to go home, Lily.’
She nodded. ‘If I can.’
‘If you can, you must!’ Mr Ozinda declared. ‘I know what it is like to be far from the ones you love. Mrs Ozinda, the amor I adore, is sailing the Atlantic as we speak …’
He turned to look at a portrait above the fireplace, and Mrs Ozinda – a tiny woman with eyes the colour of steel – gazed lovingly back at him.
‘I shall help all I can.’ The Spaniard dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. ‘You have my word. I swear by Spain. By my Dumpling. By chocolate itself!’
Lily smiled. That was a promise she could trust.
‘Now I have two safekeepers,’ she said.
‘Tres!’ Señor Chitchat squawked. ‘Tres!’
‘We must all work together,’ Mr Ozinda declared stroking his parrot fondly. ‘Until we do, Lily remains a prisoner here.’
Lily frowned. She might still be lost, but she wasn’t a prisoner any more. ‘Finn’s already freed me.’
Mr Ozinda smiled, taking a chocolate pot and stirring it thoughtfully. ‘But you still feel trapped, do you not?’
She thought about what she’d said to Finn in the alleyway and nodded.
‘So, how can you be free?’
Lily didn’t have an answer. She sat for a long time trying to think of one. Then she remembered what she had learned from the Waste-Not Watch.
The world is full of cages, and not all of them are built with iron bars.
‘Gulliver still has me trapped,’ she whispered. ‘Even though I’m here and he’s in the attic.’
‘Yes,’ said Mr Ozinda filling up two cups and a thimble. ‘He has you imprisoned in a cage of questions.’
Lily nodded. She understood. ‘Where is Lilliput?’ she whispered. ‘That’s the question. And only Gulliver knows the answer.’
‘Ah!’ said Mr Ozinda leaning forward and handing Lily her thimble. ‘You are right. Gulliver knows the way to Lilliput. He will lead us there!’
Lily looked in bewilderment at the Spaniard.
So this is what happens when you drink too much hot chocolate, she thought. It rots your teeth, bloats your belly and turns your brain to mush.
Finn was obviously thinking the same. ‘Are you saying …’ he said slowly, ‘that we need to ask Gulliver for directions?’
‘Ah!’ said Mr Ozinda, and one corner of his mouth upturned into a smile. ‘Not at all. If I am right he has already written them down for us.’
Lily tilted her head in confusion. What was he talking about?
‘The book!’ Finn cried suddenly, making her jump.
‘Libro!’ cried Señor Chitchat.
‘Exactamente!’ said Mr Ozinda, leaning back and folding his hands on his belly. ‘The book of Gulliver’s travels.’
‘The answer was there all along,’ said Finn smacking his palm to his forehead. ‘It was with you in the attic, Lily. I even saw it on his desk.’
‘If I am right,’ Mr Ozinda said, ‘we must look in this book of travels. There, Gulliver will have written exactly where he discovered Lilliput. Perhaps there will even be a map.’
‘Mr Ozinda, you’re a genius,’ laughed Finn. ‘I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before!’
‘I know why,’ Lily snapped. ‘Because it’s blumbercrock, that’s why. You two are mad. If we try sneaking into the attic to read that book, Gulliver will catch us in an instant!’
‘That is the least of our worries,’ said Mr Ozinda. ‘There is a second question we must answer. Knowing where Lilliput is will not be enough. We must also know how you will get there.’
Lily nodded. She thought back to when she had almost convinced herself that Finn would be able to get her home in a few giant strides. Now they needed a real answer.
‘Couldn’t we just sail there?’ Finn said. He turned to Mr Ozinda. ‘You said that Mrs Ozinda sails the world … won’t she tak
e Lily?’
Mr Ozinda nodded doubtfully. ‘Of course she would. But there is a problem – one that we are battling against, even now.’
‘What?’ said Lily, although she felt she already knew.
‘You have many enemies in this city, besides Gulliver. Cruel clock makers, hungry cats, deep mud, curious children … But the most dangerous enemy of all is time.’
Lily knew what Mr Ozinda was saying. Lilliputians measured their lives in moons, not years. Lily was growing up twelve times faster than Finn. She was almost twelve moons old. Half her life had been spent with Gulliver. He had brought her so far from home that getting back would take a long, long time.
It was a terrifying thought. By the time Lily returned she might not recognise Lilliput at all.
Or – even worse – home might not recognise her.
‘The day before I was snatched, my nana was sixty moons old,’ Lily said. ‘That’s five of your giant years. Now she’ll be sixty-six. What if I get home and she’s not there? What if all my friends have grown up and forgotten me? Sailing is too slow. There must be another way, one that’s faster!’
‘You are right,’ said Mr Ozinda. ‘There must be. We only need to think of it.’
For a long time the three them sat there. Wishing for things that could never be. Thinking of plans that could never work. Mr Ozinda muttered his ideas to Señor Chitchat, who dismissed each one with the phrase: ‘No me preguntes, yo sólo soy un loro.’
Finn just stared into space, thinking his thoughts. Lily could see them behind his eyes. A hundred possibilities were soaring, like birds.
Like birds.
Lily jumped up so quickly she sploshed hot chocolate into her lap. She didn’t care. Finn had the answer.
‘You’re a genius!’ she cried, startling everyone. ‘You’re a right old clever bonce!’
Finn looked baffled. ‘But I didn’t say anything.’
Lily just laughed, her excitement building. ‘It wasn’t what you said, but what you thought.’
‘I must admit, I am puzzled a bit,’ Mr Ozinda said. ‘Finn has a plan?’
‘He does,’ said Lily, jumping up and down on her armchair in excitement. ‘I saw it in his eyes!’
‘Then tell us, Finn, tell us!’
But Finn just shrugged hopelessly, and in the end it was Lily who told them:
‘We’re going to find me a pair of wings. It’s obvious – if I can’t sail across the sea, I’ll have to fly over it instead!’
Mr Ozinda’s eyes darted about as he thought. ‘It could work,’ he muttered. ‘It could work. But we need to find a bird.’
‘Hola,’ said Señor Chitchat.
‘Not you,’ Mr Ozinda told the parrot. ‘You can barely fly across this room, let alone an ocean. No, we need a special bird … There must be millions in this city, and most of them won’t do.’
‘Pigeon?’ Lily suggested.
Finn shook his head. ‘Too stupid.’
‘Sparrow, then.’
Mr Ozinda made a pfff sound. ‘Too small and weak.’
Lily’s eyes sparkled. ‘An eagle!’
‘Too rare,’ said Finn. ‘And too dangerous.’
Lily sighed. ‘I don’t know any other birds.’
Finn gasped. ‘I do,’ he whispered with wide eyes. ‘I know just the bird we need. A swift.’
‘Pfff,’ said Mr Ozinda again. ‘The swifts have all migrated south.’
‘But I know one that hasn’t,’ said Finn. ‘And I know where we can find him – he’s in Mr Plinker’s workshop, trapped in the Astronomical Budgerigar. Mr Plinker caught him roosting in the chimney. He was only being used to make sure the clock worked. Until Mr Plinker bought a budgerigar. Then, after the accident, Mr Plinker just left him there.’
Lily leaped from her seat, her hand falling down to grip Stabber. Suddenly it all fell into place.
She knew what they had to do next.
‘So it’s Gulliver and Plinker,’ she said. ‘Plinker and Gulliver. They’ve got the answers. The answers to Where? and How?. And we’re going to steal them.’
LILY RUBBED HER eyes, looking round at the tired faces of her friends. Light spilled in through the windows and onto the floor in slabs like golden treacle. Everyone looked exhausted.
‘So,’ Lily asked drowsily. ‘What now?’
‘The sun is dawning,’ said Mr Ozinda, ‘and you are yawning, and we are as tired as can be. We will not rescue Swift this morning, so sleep, and I’ll see you for tea.’
‘Beddy-byes,’ croaked Señor Chitchat, tucking his head under his wing.
But Lily didn’t want to sleep.
‘I’m not tired,’ she yawned, staggering up from her chair. ‘We’ve got a book to steal, and a bird to set free!’
‘But, Lily,’ Mr Ozinda said. ‘We cannot just rescue Swift with a click of our fingers. First we need a plan. There is thinking to be done, understand?’
She sank into her chair, grumbling. ‘I’m not going to sleep. You can all sit back and snore. Not me. I’m staying awake.’
Mr Ozinda shook his head and silenced her with a squawk. Lily looked up at him, startled. Then he sprouted grey feathers like Señor Chitchat and started laying chocolate eggs on the counter.
Oh well, Lily thought. If I’m already dreaming, I might as well carry on.
Over on the counter one of the chocolate eggs hatched a tiny chocolate chick. Lily fed him on cocoa beans, and he started to grow. When he was big enough she jumped on his back and up they flew.
With a flap of the chocolate-bird’s wings they left London behind. Suddenly Lily was halfway to Lilliput, soaring over the seas, higher and higher. The world whirled beneath her and sweat dripped from the bird as she flew him faster and faster.
He’s not sweating, he’s melting! Lily realised with a jolt.
And then she knew – they were too high, too hot, too close to the sun. The chocolate bird melted away to nothing, and Lily fell from the sky and the dream with a BUMP–
She sat up on the floor of the doll’s house, next to the bed. Finn or Mr Ozinda must have tucked her up when she was asleep. Kicking off the tangle of covers, she shivered. How quickly that dream had become a nightmare.
It wasn’t just a nightmare, she thought to herself. It was a warning. We need to steal Swift and the Book of Travels without getting caught. If we don’t have a good plan, everything will just melt away.
Lily stood up; she was jittery and restless. Every part of her wanted to rush to Plinker’s Timepieces right now, but she knew they had to wait until they were ready.
Out in the chocolate shop Finn was still asleep. His snores made the curtains flutter. Lily poked her head out of the doll’s-house window and spotted him across the counter curled up in an armchair.
‘Rise and shine, it’s half past nine!’ she yelled at him in her best impression of Mr Ozinda.
Finn gave a groan and forced himself awake. He looked at the clock above the counter. ‘Half past nine?’ he moaned. ‘We’ve barely slept …’
‘You giants are lazy,’ Lily grumbled.
‘You might live longer than Lilliputians but you spend it all snoring.’
Up on his perch Señor Chitchat gave an irritated snort and buried his head deeper into his feathers.
Lily went down the stairs, buttoning up her sleeves and combing her hair with her fingers. As she stepped out onto the counter Mr Ozinda thudded down the stairs in an enormous wine-coloured nightgown.
‘Good morning, Mr Ozinda,’ she called to him. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘It was more a nap than a sleep,’ he sighed. ‘Never mind. I will mix a little coffee into our hot chocolate.’ He went to the window and threw it open. A few brittle leaves blew inside, and a cold breeze shook everyone awake.
‘What’s that smell?’ said Lily, sniffing the air. ‘Like mud mixed with smoke?’
Mr Ozinda lit the stove and began to clear the counter. ‘That, Lily, is the smell of autumn. It is August, you see. Summer is endi
ng.’
‘Autumn,’ she breathed. The last time autumn had come was eleven moons ago … Lily had been a baby! The thought startled her. Time was moving so fast. The world was turning and the seasons were slipping away.
‘Let’s get to work on a plan,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ said Mr Ozinda. ‘First we must work on our appetites!’
Lily frowned. ‘What?’
‘No time for questions!’ said Mr Ozinda. ‘We have already missed breakfast. I must hurry – there is barely time for brunch!’
He dashed off to the larder, and came back with his arms full of eggs, butter, bacon and bread. Finn’s eyes were wide with delight.
‘Why are we eating?’ Lily said anxiously. ‘Swift is stuck in that clock, and the Book of Travels is stuck in the attic … Shouldn’t we –?’
‘Of course we must plan,’ Mr Ozinda said coming back from the larder again, this time with a bag of apples, half a dozen oysters, a wheel of cheese and a lobster. ‘Planning is very important. For example … shall we have lobster for lunch, or supper?’
‘Let’s have it now!’ Finn cried.
‘Lobster for brunch? Don’t be so silly! Tell me, what would you like, Lily?’
But Lily just stood there, fists clenched, lips pressed together. ‘I don’t want anything,’ she said trying to keep her temper. ‘Just a few crumbs and a drop of water. That’s all.’
Mr Ozinda’s moustache drooped a little. ‘But surely–?’
‘I said, no thank you!’ Lily shouted, not caring that she was being rude. ‘I don’t want breakfast, or brunch, or anything! It’s almost autumn, you silly quogs! Don’t you see?’ Her voice cracked. ‘Almost autumn!’
She stomped over the counter and sat down on the edge with her legs dangling over the side, hot and angry. What lazy, greedy safekeepers she had. All they cared about was snoring and stuffing their faces. Had they forgotten Lily was trying to get home? That her deadliest enemy was time?
‘Here,’ said Finn holding out a thimble for her to drink.
Lily ignored him. She just sat and gazed out of the window at the crystal-clear sky, at the soldiers on plumed horses trotting crisply around the square, at the leaves spinning away from the trees.
