Tiger Lilly and the Princess

by Graeme Ingham

CHAPTER 4

  Tiger Lilly was stepping out as fast as she could with her longest ever strides, but each time she turned another bend, it seemed even further to the next. No point arguing, the road was definitely twice as long as the last time she walked to town with her Dad, so that meant someone must have given it an almighty stretch or moved Yeltsin a mile further away. Of course, that was silly, but that was how it seemed! Oh, what a horrible, horrible birthday this has turned out to be. She said it out aloud so she wouldn’t start in crying again. She had cried more than enough as it was and who to blame but herself.

  How silly it now seemed to have hidden under the bed; even sillier to have fallen asleep and far beyond the silliest silliness to have ever thought that Pearl and Lilac would ever be so mean as to creep out the house and leave her without good reason. Her Mum and Dad? She tried not to think of them, felt her insides turn to a cold chill at the thought of all the worrying they would do once they found she wasn’t in her bed. They would worry themselves silly, be looking everywhere, be desperate to find her. What was the word? Frantic! Yes, frantic with worry and probably angry at the same time. Not that Tiger Lilly gave a cat’s meow about them being mad at her – all she wanted was to be with them, to let them know she was safe. Worst thing always was when they were disappointed with her. That hurt more than anything else, more than any shouting or being made to do without things, or being sent to bed. Tiger Lilly swallowed at the thought.

  ‘Oh, at last!’ she exclaimed, brightening now as she turned another bend in the road. ‘There it is - the bench Dad and I sat on the last time we came to town.’ It wasn’t really a bench, more an old, chopped-down log that someone had left at the side of the road, but whoever it was who had cut it down must have though what a wonderful a bench it would make: exactly the right shape with four sticky-out bits for legs and an even larger sticky-out bit to lean against. She remembered her father saying the log was a good place to rest because it was exactly half way to Yeltsin and how it made the journey seem only half as long. He also said there were people who said it was a magic log and that if you sat on it long enough, and wished hard enough, your wish was bound to come true.

  Tiger Lilly remembered how much she had wished for rain and, though she had squeezed her eyes tight as tight to make them smart, not a single drop had fallen. Not a drop! She remembered, too, how her father had laughed at her, but later said he had wished the same wish. So,that was a double wish and still no rain! Not a spit, not a spot. Later , when they told Lilac, she said it was because they had not sat on the log long enough or wished hard enough, but then Pearl said it was silly to even think such a silliness and that if there was really such a thing as magic – which she said there definitely was not - it would surely find a much better place to live than in a mossy old log that had been left at the side of a road. Lilac, though, shook her head and said it wasn’t at all silly because magic could easily magic itself and make the inside of the log the nicest place ever. Make it a place that had rain nearly every day and where the fields were lush and green. Pearl had said nothing more about magic being silly, but looked at Lilac and, when she had finished looking – which was for the longest time - she put her arms around Lilac and gave her an extra big hug. Pearl liked giving hugs.

  However, magic or not, Tiger Lilly thought how wonderful it would be to rest on the log for a while. Just a little while. But how could she? How could she when there was not a single, solitary moment to spare? Still, her legs were as heavy as butter tubs and wasn’t her Dad always saying that a rest was nearly as good as a night’s sleep?. Even a little one. Yes very well – her Mum always said very well even when things weren’t well at all – she would try stretching out on the log for a minute. A minute mind, not one single second more. But, hardly had she time to stretch her legs on the cool of the log when she heard it - a clippety, clopping, rushing kind of noise! No need to guess, though! She knew exactly what it was. Horses! Horses pulling a cart. No - second thoughts - not a cart. Something faster. Much faster! A coach! With galloping horses! Coming fast! Quick! Better hide!

  So, quick as a flash, Tiger Lilly jumped from the bench. This whole thing was fast becoming scary with no point saying it wasn’t - and not just a little scary, a whole lot scary and to make matters worse, one of her shoes caught itself on the edge of the log, slipped from her foot and, as you might well know, rolled itself straight under the log and disappeared. Stupid thing! Luckily though, and not far away, stood a tall, sprawly bush with a branch so heavy with leaves that it almost touched the ground. Worry about the shoe later, Tiger Lilly decided as she pulled the leaves about her like a cloak. What a birthday! Most of it spent hiding and holding her breath.

  Still louder and louder came the sound until it became so loud she simply had to take a peep. Was there ever such a sight! A coach, true enough, but what a coach! And such horses! Horses the like she had never seen! Beautiful - no other word - and exactly like the horses in the book of drawings her Dad kept in his special box. Arabians he called them.

  She remembered then how her mummy had once told them how their daddy knew a lot about horses because his father, old Grandpapa Santino had once owned a stable with more than a hundred horses and how their daddy had grown up learning all about horses and how to look after them. Grandpapa Santino’s horses were famous, she said, and rich and famous people came from every corner of the world wanting to buy them. Royalty, too! Santino horses they were called and her mummy had cried when she told about them. Most of all she cried when she said there was a war and how soldiers had come from a far distant land, had taken all the horses and burned the stables to the ground. She also said how Grandpapa had tried his best, but was never to have horses again.

  Tiger Lilly was sure these horses were Arabians too: white and handsome enough to make you gasp out loud, with flowing tails and manes; with black, high-polished saddles and bright, silver buckles. With peacock feathers on their heads. And did you ever in your life see such a coach! White as new fallen snow with a silvery curtain at each window and with a fiery serpent that blew an orange and red flame across the whole of its side. A coachman dressed in the brightest of bright red was half standing, half sitting as he pulled with all his might on a prancing team of four horses as it thundered ahead of an escort of soldiers. Six soldiers there were, each one riding proud in his saddle and each with his sword held high. Was there ever such a sight! Like a dream.

  But in a moment the dream was over.

  ‘Stop. Stop here! Stop this minute.’ Such a sharp, piercing, echoing cry!

  Immediately there came the sound of wheels squealing, of horses snorting, of hooves digging at the ground until, quite suddenly, all was quiet. Only the sound of a soldier whispering to calm his horse.

  Tiger Lilly stretched high on her toes, high enough to push away a few of the leaves and see a girl stepping down from the coach. She stretched further – but no use, the girl had stepped from the coach, was now out of sight. No trouble hearing her though. No trouble whatsoever.

  ‘I am sick to death of being jogged about in this crate of a thing you have the nerve to call a coach and I need a rest.’ A piercing, shrill-shriek of a voice. ‘I’m tired of it! Tired, tired, tired! So go tell the sergeant to move himself and his stupid coach and escort away from here. Out of my sight!’ She seemed to have no need for breath. ‘Also, tell him I absolutely refuse to let that idiot of a coachman drive me back home again - all that jolting about. Do you hear what I say? Have him replaced before my return!’

  Tiger Lilly dared a wider parting of the leaves: the girl had returned, was now back in view, but she was sitting with her back to Tiger Lilly and all she could see was a long sweep of ebony black hair that tumbled across shoulders taught with temper. Her voice, steel sharp, somehow reminded Tiger Lilly of her mum’s chopping knife. Snappety snap! Snappety snap! ‘You hear what I say?’ she shouted. It was more of a choppity sound than a shout. Snappety, snippety snap!

  ‘Yes, very well, you can
rest here a while.’ It was an older voice, a voice as soft as the other was harsh and the start of tingle in one of her toes made Tiger Lilly dare an extra inch. No use, the owner of the voice was still out of sight.

  ‘I have to admit it has not been what you could call a smooth ride.’ the soft voice continued. ‘But let’s not forget we are now living in the country and bumpy roads are something we must surely expect. Not only that, but we are tired and no wonder. Yesterday was exhausting for all of us – all the travelling, the business of having to settle in. My fault entirely, I should have insisted on a day of rest before even thinking of visiting something as tiring as a circus. Still, what is done is done and we still have our duties to consider. Saying which, we should not forget your father. Such an early start he had this morning and he won’t be the only one – most of Yeltsin and the whole of the Town Council will have been waiting since first thing this morning to greet their princess. I hear it’s been more than two years since they received a royal visit and there’s bound to be a great deal of excitement.’

  ‘Well then, if they are so excited, they won’t mind the waiting,’ came the snappity-snap reply. ‘As for their crack-pot council – well, let them try listening to their own silly speeches and go ahead without me! Boring, boring, boring! All the same as each other they are and all completely useless for no one pays a dot of attention to a single word they say and just try thinking of how many I am expected to meet in a week! Puffed up and full of themselves, every one!’ She gave a toss of hair. ‘And what’s more, Miss Penelope Pennington, I would prefer not to have you standing there like a squabbly old crow lecturing me about things I already know. Leave me! Go join the escort. I need to be on my own.’

  ‘I’m sorry dear, but I don’t think I should leave you – not out here, not alone.’

  Tiger Lily could still see little of the girl, but her companion had moved into view as she talked. She was tall, slender, with dark brown hair drawn tight to a bun and with a smock-like dress that fell starch-stiff to the ground. It was more a uniform than a dress and designed to be, yet neither its ruler-straight lines nor the stiff buttoning of her collar could harden a face that was kind and gentle. She reached to touch the girl, had it brushed away.

  ‘Woman, can you never once do as you are told. Leave me! Being my governess does not mean you have to be at my side every minute of the day, pestering the way you do. Do as I say and go wait with the escort. I’ll call you when I’m good and ready and not a moment before.’

  ‘Very well, but not too long,’ the Governess replied with a sigh. ‘Five minutes and I’ll be back. I mean it! Five minutes, no more.’

  Tiger Lilly was starting to feel the start of a cramp in her right foot, shuffled sideways to change position. Whoops, careful, - nearly seen! The girl had turned, was now straining forward, looking up the lane and then down again. Up, down and every which-way as if to make sure she was not being seen. Strange! But then, with a last look up and a quick look down she was gone. Gone! Like a rabbit from a hat!

  Must be tying a shoelace, was Tiger Lilly’s first thought, but more than a minute passed and not a sign. So what in the name of Silly Billy Dickens could she be doing? (Mum was also in the habit of saying Silly Billy Dickens – whoever he was.) Another minute passed and the cramp in Tiger Lilly’s right foot began to tingle more than ever. Best not to think about it she decided, but then, as everyone knows, trying not think of an itch makes it itch even more? Always!

  ‘Right, that is it,’ she decided. ‘Absolutely and definitely it! If I’m going to be seen, then I’m going to be seen and Silly Billy Dickens with all this waiting and hiding and holding my breath. Enough!’ And, with that, Tiger Lilly took a hold of the nearest branch and began to pull herself up. She stopped! The girl was back again, but was now standing facing her. Full view!

  Tiger Lilly gave a gasp. Oh, my gosh, it couldn’t be! Definitely could not be! But it was! Princess Serena! There, in real life, true as a fact and standing straight in front of her. Princess Serena herself! The Royal Princess! All right, all right, so it was ages since she had last seen a picture of the Princess , but it was Serena and no question. Absolutely was!

  So, how stupid not to have known it from the start? More than rabbit-brained not to have guessed! Who else but a princess could own such beautiful horses, ride in such a coach, be guarded by soldiers? Oh and how stunningly pretty she was! Prettier than any picture, with eyes darker even than her ebony-black hair, with ruby lips, with skin the colour of new cream and with what Lilac would call a rosebud mouth - Lilac was always drawing pictures of ladies with rosebud mouths and ruby lips. And, such a dress – no, wait; it wasn’t a dress, more a cape. Yes, a long velvety cape of shiny blues and rich glossy greens that fell in deep folds from a huge clasp of pearls that fastened high on her shoulder.

  Cramp or no cramp, Tiger Lilly decided to stay still. Not a move. Never had she seen anyone so breathtakingly beautiful, so graceful - but neither had she known anyone so ill mannered and so filled with thoughts that went no further than herself. Royal princess or not, the one thing Tiger Lilly knew was that Princess Serena was a definite someone she did not want to know. Not ever! Further and what’s more, she wasn’t one of those someones you had to puzzle yourself about. She didn’t like her now, would never nor could ever like her, and how much better to suffer a cramp in your foot than having to talk to someone so nasty and so rude. No, she did not want to meet or talk to her, and that was absolutely and positively for certain. Anyway, she was near to getting used to cramps in the foot and maybe, fingers crossed, this time the waiting wouldn’t be anywhere near so long. It wasn’t! The princess had turned full circle and, with another toss of hair and a twirl of cape, was stepping down the lane and shouting for her escort to make itself ready.

  ‘Without delay, if you please!’ she cried.

  Tiger Lilly listened until all was quiet. Waited and listened again; counted to a hundred to make double sure. Not a sound! So, after counting another fifty to make triple sure, she gave her foot a quick rub, dropped to her knees and scrambled under the log to find her shoe. Where the Silly Billy Dickens was it? She crouched further down, reached under the log. Found it! But hold on, what was that? She gave it a stroke. Not a dead mouse, she could tell that, but something just as soft and round and smooth. Slowly, she drew it out: a handkerchief, newly smeared with moss and folded tight into a ball

  Careful as careful and taking her time, Tiger Lilly began to open its folds - a handkerchief true enough, but made of the finest material and with a letter ‘S’ embroidered in one corner. Was there anything so soft, so smooth? Like the one her mother kept in her drawer. Silk, yes that was what it was.! She continued to open its folds. She stopped! There was something wrapped inside, something hard and sharp - and a second later Tiger Lily was gazing at a necklace so ruby bright she had to blink her eyes. So bright, she had to close her eyes and blink again.