Princess Mirror-Belle and the Sea Monster's Cave

by Lydia Monks

  “Am I just dreaming this?” Luke muttered.

  They had reached the caravan park beach.

  “I’ll tie up the boat,” said Luke as they clambered out. Mirror-Belle tried again to hug him, but he shrugged her off.

  “Do you want to sleep in the camper van with me?” asked Ellen. “You’ll have to be quiet, so as not to disturb Granny and Grandpa.”

  But Mirror-Belle didn’t like this idea. “I’ll sleep under the stars,” she said. “Then I can guard my hero’s tent in case the sea monster comes to take revenge.”

  “You’d better have my anorak then,” said Ellen.

  Luke offered rather reluctantly to sleep outside himself and let Mirror-Belle have the tent but she refused. “You’ve been enough of a hero for one night,” she told him. “It’s my turn to be a heroine.”

  “Your tea’s cold,” said Granny to Ellen the next morning. “I’ve tried to wake you about five times.”

  Ellen sat up in bed and noticed that Granny was holding her anorak.

  “I found this on the ground outside,” she said.

  “Was Mirror-Belle there?” asked Ellen. “She said she wanted to sleep under the stars.”

  Granny chuckled. “That’s some dream you’ve been having.”

  Grandpa came in. “That’s it – I’ve fixed the boat to the tow bar,” he said. “I was hoping that brother of yours would help me, but he’s dead to the world.”

  “Shall we leave him behind, Ellen? What do you think?” joked Granny. But Ellen was thinking more about Mirror-Belle than about Luke. As soon as she was dressed she went outside to look for her. Luke was just staggering, bleary-eyed, out of his tent.

  “Mirror-Belle seems to have gone,” said Ellen.

  Luke looked blank for a second and then scratched his head. “That’s funny – I had a dream about Mirror-Belle,” he said. “Something about a message in a bottle and rescuing her in a boat.”

  “It wasn’t a dream. It was real!” Ellen protested. “I can show you the bottle and the message!” But then she remembered that Mirror-Belle had them. By now she must have taken them back through some mirror or other into her own world.

  Grandpa appeared at the doorway of the camper van. “Good afternoon,” he said to Luke, though it was only half past nine. “You’d better start taking that tent down. Everything else is packed up.”

  He gave the windows of the camper van a loving wipe and then made a tut-tutting noise.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Luke.

  “Someone’s been fiddling about with the wing mirror. It’s all bent back.”

  Grandpa straightened it out and then said, “That’s funny.”

  “What is?” Ellen asked.

  “There’s seaweed all over it,” said Grandpa. “I wonder how that got there?”

  Ellen smiled to herself, but she said, “I can’t think.”

  Chapter Two

  The Unusual Pets Club

  “Do you want to come back to my house for tea?” Ellen asked her best friend, Katy. They were in the school playground.

  “I can’t. I’m going to the Unusual Pets Club.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I don’t really know much about it. It’s the first meeting tonight, at Crystal’s house. Hasn’t she asked you too?”

  “No.” Ellen felt cross. Crystal was a bossy girl in their class who was always starting up clubs and societies and then meanly not letting everyone join.

  “You have to have an unusual pet to join it,” said Katy. “Maybe you could bring Splodge along. Shall I ask Crystal?”

  Ellen didn’t know what to say. She wanted to pretend that she didn’t care about the stupid old club, but in fact it sounded quite fun.

  Just then, Crystal came up to them.

  “Hi, Katy,” she said. “Do you know how to get to my house?”

  “I think so,” said Katy. “Can Ellen come too?”

  Crystal looked doubtful. “Well, I don’t know. I didn’t think you had an unusual pet, Ellen.”

  “She’s got Splodge,” said Katy. “He’s a really nice dog. He’s brilliant at chasing sticks and bringing them back, isn’t he, Ellen?”

  “But all dogs can do that,” objected Crystal. “There’s nothing unusual about it.”

  “What sort of unusual things do you mean?” asked Ellen. As far as she knew, Crystal’s hamster, Silver, was perfectly normal.

  But Crystal obviously didn’t think so. “Well, like Silver, for instance,” she said. “You know hamsters have two pouches in their cheeks and they stuff food in them? Well, Silver only ever uses his right pouch, never the left one – it’s amazing!”

  “And Twiglet can do this sort of dance,” said Katy. Twiglet was her stick insect, and it was true that sometimes he moved from side to side in quite a rhythmic way, whereas most stick insects stayed still all the time.

  “I tell you what, Ellen,” said Crystal graciously. “See if you can teach Splodge a trick or something after school, and then you can bring him along at six o’clock. But it will be a sort of trial. If he’s not unusual enough then he can’t come to any of the other meetings.”

  When Ellen got home she found her old hula hoop and took Splodge out into the garden. She held the hoop out in front of him and said, “Jump!”

  But Splodge didn’t understand; he just sat looking up at her eagerly as if he expected her to throw the hoop for him. Ellen had to give up on that trick.

  She didn’t succeed any better when she tried to teach Splodge to stand up and beg, or to thump his tail three times when she asked how old he was. The only thing he would do was shake hands, but Ellen didn’t think Crystal would call that unusual enough.

  A spider scuttled over Ellen’s shoe and suddenly she had an idea. Her brother Luke had a pet tarantula called Evilton. A tarantula would surely count as an unusual pet.

  She ran into the house with Splodge at her heels. Luke was sprawled on the sofa watching the music channel on television.

  “Can I borrow Evilton?” asked Ellen breathlessly.

  “Be quiet – this is Fire Engine’s new release.” Luke turned the volume up and sang along with the band:

  “So you think you can ride the storm, babe,

  And there’s nothing you can’t do

  But I can see a big wave coming

  And it’s gonna crash over you.”

  Ellen fidgeted impatiently till at last the song came to an end. Then she asked him again.

  “Please, Luke. Just for this evening. I want to take him to the Unusual Pets Club.”

  “No,” said Luke. “I’m not having Evilton join some silly girly club.”

  “It’s not just for girls. Martin Booth is bringing his slow-worm. Oh, go on, Luke!”

  “No,” said Luke. “Evilton might catch cold. Anyway, I need him to help me with my homework!” He laughed as if this was hilarious, and when Ellen tried to argue he turned the volume up even louder. Fire Engine was singing another song.

  Suddenly Ellen realized that she had missed most of her favourite programme, Holiday Swap. She picked up the remote control, but Luke snatched it back.

  “You’re so mean,” said Ellen. “This stuff is on twenty-four hours a day, and Holiday Swap only lasts half an hour.”

  “I got here first,” said Luke, and he made her wait while the band was interviewed before he handed over the control. “OK – it’s all yours,” he said at last, and went out of the room, leaving the door open.

  Ellen switched channels. Holiday Swap had just finished.

  “I hate you,” she shouted after Luke. She turned the television off angrily. Splodge laid his chin on her lap and she stroked his head. “You’re the only nice one,” she told him.

  “What about me?” came a ghostly whisper. The voice sounded slightly familiar, and for a moment Ellen wondered if it was Mi rror-Belle. But there was no mirror in the room, and anyway the voice was too soft to be Mirror-Belle’s.

  Splodge had heard the mysterious whisper
too, and he didn’t like it. He whined and hid behind the sofa, leaving Ellen to stare at the television, which is where the voice seemed to have come from. And yet she had definitely turned it off – the screen was dull and blank. Actually, that wasn’t quite true: Ellen could just see herself in it, but it wasn’t what she would call a proper reflection; it was faint and grey and transparent.

  “Happy Throughsday,” whispered the faint grey transparent person, and stepped out of the television.

  “Mirror-Belle – it is you! But you look all funny – like a ghost! I can see right through you.”

  “Well, what do you expect on Throughsday?” said Princess Mirror-Belle. Her voice was a little louder now, more of an eerie chant than a whisper.

  “You sound funny too. And what do you mean – Throughsday? It’s Thursday today.”

  “It may be Thursday here, but back home it’s Throughsday,” said Mirror-Belle. “Everyone can walk through things on Throughsday. Like this.” And she walked through the sofa. Splodge growled.

  “That’s amazing!” said Ellen. “Can you go through doors too?”

  “Naturally, but someone seems to have left this one open.”

  “That’s Luke. He’s so irritating.” Ellen closed the door and watched as Mirror-Belle glided through it and back again.

  Splodge barked furiously.

  “It’s a pity you can’t keep him under better control,” said Mirror-Belle. “Still, I suppose I shouldn’t expect your dog to be as well behaved as mine, seeing that he doesn’t have any royal blood.”

  In fact, Mirror-Belle’s dog, Prince Precious Paws, was the worst-behaved pet Ellen had ever met. She remembered the time he had stolen a roast chicken and scared a lot of sheep, but she decided not to mention this. Instead, now that they were on the subject of dogs, she found herself telling Mirror-Belle all about the Unusual Pets Club and how annoying Crystal was.

  “And Luke’s been horrible too,” she said. “Everyone seems to be against me.”

  A thoughtful look crossed Mirror-Belle’s face. “I can change that,” she said, and she walked through the television.

  Splodge began to bark at the television as if this should have stopped Mirror-Belle.

  “Calm down,” Ellen told him, but Mirror-Belle said, “He needs to look at the television. It’s part of the plan.”

  Just then, a strange echoey barking sound came from the screen.

  “Here he comes, the dear sweet creature,” Mirror-Belle said, and the next second a ghostly Prince Precious Paws bounded out of the screen and into the room.

  “There’s your unusual pet,” said Mirror-Belle to Ellen. “At least, he’s mine, really, but I’ll let you borrow him.”

  Luke was hungry. Supper wouldn’t be for ages: Mum was still teaching the piano. He opened the kitchen cupboard and found a jar of salsa.

  “But I can see a big wave coming

  And it’s gonna crash over you,” he sang as he rummaged around some more. That Fire Engine song was so brilliant. Luke wished he could write something as good as that for his own band, Breakneck.

  He discovered a bag of rather stale crisps and dipped one into the bright red salsa. Suddenly he felt inspired. “Red, the colour of anger,” he said to himself. That would be a good first line. How could the song go after that?

  “Red, the colour of anger,

  Blue, the colour of sorrow . . .” he sang with his mouth full. He was pausing to think what could come next, when a soft, eerie voice behind him sang:

  “And green for the mean, mean brother

  Who wouldn’t let his sister borrow.”

  Luke looked over his shoulder and saw Ellen. At least, he thought he saw her, but the next second she had gone. She seemed to have disappeared through the wall. But of course she couldn’t have done that.

  “Ellen!” Luke strode out of the kitchen and into the television room. Only Splodge was there, sitting in front of the television and staring at the blank screen. Ellen was probably hiding somewhere, giggling. Oh well, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of looking for her. Better make a start on his homework.

  Up in his room, Luke found it hard to concentrate on the Second World War. He kept thinking about Ellen and feeling a bit guilty that he hadn’t let her borrow his pet.

  Evilton was burrowing about in the bark chippings inside his tank on Luke’s table. As Luke watched him the words of a new song began to form themselves in his mind.

  “You just want to poison me

  But I’m not gonna let you start . . .”

  He chewed his pen and wondered how to carry on. Then his skin prickled as he heard the same ghostly voice as before.

  “You just want to poison me

  And I’m dying of a broken heart.”

  Luke jumped up and turned round. There stood Ellen, and yet he hadn’t heard her come into the room.

  “Ellen – why can’t you knock before you . . .” Luke’s voice trailed off and he stared at his sister. With a cold shock, he realized he could see right through her.

  “Ellen, what’s the matter . . . you look all . . . You look like a . . .” Luke couldn’t bring himself to say the word “ghost”.

  The ghostly girl gave a small sad smile. “I forgive you,” she said, “but can you forgive yourself?”

  Luke gaped. The girl was stepping backwards, still fixing him with her haunting gaze. Then, before he could think what to say, she had vanished through his bedroom wall.

  He shivered. What was happening?

  “Ellen! Come back!” But had it been Ellen?

  Maybe Luke had just been thinking so deeply about his new song that he had somehow imagined his sister’s ghost. But why? It was strange, even frightening.

  Luke searched the house. He could hear piano music coming from the sitting room, and in the television room Splodge was still staring at the blank screen, but there was no sign of Ellen. The more Luke thought about her the more he wished he had been nicer to her.

  Then he saw the note on the hall table. “Gone to the Unusual Pets Club,” it said.

  So that was all right then. Or was it?

  “Right, everyone’s here,” said Crystal.

  “Except for Ellen,” said Katy.

  “Well, we’ll just have to start without her.”

  Crystal’s front room looked like a vet’s waiting room. Five children were sitting around with their pets either on their knees or in boxes or cages beside them. Crystal, in the biggest armchair, had to keep moving one hand in front of the other as her hamster Silver ran over them.

  “Welcome to the Unusual Pets Club,” she said. “We’ll take turns to introduce our pets, and then at the end of the meeting we’ll vote for the most unusual one. The winner will get this special certificate.” She let Katy take Silver while she held out a piece of paper with “Most Unusual Pet of the Week” written on it in big purple letters.

  “But won’t the same pet just win every week?” asked Martin Booth, whose pet slow-worm was draped contentedly round his neck.

  “Not necessarily. New people might join, or someone might get a new pet, or . . . well, some pets might just become more unusual. Now, we’ll go round in a circle, starting with me.” Crystal took Silver back from Katy and explained about his unusual feeding habits. She gave him two pieces of carrot, and sure enough he stuffed them both into his right pouch. Some people clapped, and Crystal smiled smugly.

  “You next, Rachel.”

  Rachel had brought a Siamese cat who was sitting on her knee.

  “This is Lapsang,” she said. “She’s got a very unusual miaow.”

  “What’s unusual about it?” demanded Crystal.

  “It’s very low. She sounds more like a dog than a cat.”

  “But all Siamese cats have low voices,” said Martin.

  “Not as low as Lapsang’s,” said Rachel.

  “Let’s hear it then,” Crystal ordered.

  “Go on, Lapsang – miaow!” Rachel jiggled her legs, disturbing Lapsang’s comfo
rtable position. The cat looked offended, jumped off Rachel’s lap and stalked silently to the door.

  “She’ll probably do it later,” said Rachel, looking pleadingly at Crystal.

  “She’ll have to, otherwise you can’t stay in the club,” said Crystal. She turned to Martin. “Your turn.”

  “This is Sinclair,” said Martin, unwinding his slow-worm from his neck and holding him out. Some of the other children backed away.

  “Is he poisonous?” asked Rachel.

  Martin gave her a scornful look. “No. He’s not a snake. He’s a slow-worm. That’s a type of lizard – a legless lizard,” he said triumphantly.

  Everyone looked impressed apart from Crystal, who said, “Well, go on then. Tell us what’s unusual about him.”

  “I’ve just told you. He hasn’t got any legs. Most lizards have legs, don’t they?”

  “Yes, but slow-worms don’t,” pointed out Katy. “I think Sinclair would be more unusual if he did have legs.”

  An argument broke out, with the children taking sides. Crystal had to call the meeting to order.

  “We can have the discussion and the vote at the end,” she said. “Now, tell us about your guinea pig, Pamina.”

  “She’s got very unusual fur,” said Pamina, producing a mangy-looking ginger guinea-pig from a box of straw. “And she’s also got a very unusual name – Timbucktoodle-oo.”

  “Names don’t count,” Crystal told her. “Tell us what’s unusual about the fur.”

  “Well, you can see,” said Pamina. “It’s got all these bald patches.”