The Christmas Pig

by J. K. Rowling

  “They won’t want me back!” cried Blue Bunny in desperation. “Oh, take me, please take me, let me be yours!”

  But of course, neither the girl nor her mother could hear the bunny.

  “Look at his sweet little face, Mum!” said the girl.

  Jack heard a tiny clink behind him. The Christmas Pig had pushed open the golden gates. Jack slid through them, still looking back over his shoulder at the bunny.

  “Oh, all right,” came the mother’s voice, half-amused, half-exasperated. “I just hope he doesn’t clog up the washing machine!”

  And with a sudden whoosh, Blue Bunny was whipped through the hole and out of the Land of the Lost, but not before waving a single muddy paw at Jack, a look of bewildered joy on his face.

  Chapter 39

  The City of the Missed

  On the other side of the gates were no streets: only a canal bordered by beautiful tall houses with wrought iron balconies. Floating on the water were a number of empty gondolas, which were moored to a striped post sticking up out of the green water. The snow dappled the boats and spotted the water with flakes. The nearest gondola had a dark blue velvet blanket folded on the seat.

  “You first!” the Christmas Pig whispered to Jack. “Get in the boat and hide under that blanket!”

  Jack did as he was told, lying down in the bottom of the boat and dragging the thick velvet wrap over himself, which had clearly been provided to keep passengers warm. Jack felt the gondola wobble as the Christmas Pig got on board, too, and wriggled under the blanket beside him. They lay curled up together, hoping nobody would notice the lumps in the velvet.

  “Blimey,” Jack heard one of the Loss Adjusters say.

  “Only goes to show,” said another voice.

  “A dirty little bunny like that, found!” said the third.

  “When’s the last time you saw a bit of Surplus saved?”

  “Not for years and years.”

  “Well, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” came the first voice. “Kids is strange. Imagine that girl liking a muddy lump what had lain in a flower bed for ages!”

  A distant whistle pierced the calm.

  “Here it comes, bang on time,” the voice continued. “Train from Mislaid.”

  Jack lay very still, curled up beside the Christmas Pig and listening to the sounds of the train chugging nearer and nearer. Soon the noise became deafening. Then, with a loud hiss and a screech of brakes, the train came to a halt. They heard the train doors open, and then the city gates, and then a lot of voices oohing and aahing at the sight of the beautiful gondolas waiting to take them into the heart of the city.

  “Welcome, welcome!” the Loss Adjusters cried. “This way, sir . . . Watch your step there, Your Eminence . . . Perhaps you should have a gondola to yourself, Your Highness . . .”

  Jack had never heard Loss Adjusters treating lost Things with such respect. Then Jack felt the gondola rock as some Thing climbed inside and adjusted itself on the seat. Strong heat was suddenly beating down on the velvet rug, as though the Thing in the gondola was on fire. Jack couldn’t imagine what it might be.

  “Would you like this, Your Highness?” came the nutcracker’s voice from just over Jack’s head. Jack and the Christmas Pig clutched each other in terror, expecting the velvet wrap to be tweaked off them.

  “No, thank you, I never feel the cold,” said a lady’s voice.

  There was a little more creaking of gondolas, and a few more “careful there, Your Worships,” and then a Loss Adjuster’s voice rang out from what Jack guessed was the gondola at the front.

  “Your Highness, Your Eminence, Your Worship, my lords, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the City of the Missed! Please remain seated for our short journey and then we’ll show you to your new homes!”

  “We need to think of a way off this boat once we’re farther into the city,” whispered the Christmas Pig, his snout snuffling against Jack’s cheek as the gondola began to move.

  “Could we dive off while nobody’s looking?” whispered Jack.

  “What about this Thing that’s sitting in the gondola with us? It’s bound to see us and raise the alarm.”

  “It’s very hot, whatever it is,” whispered Jack.

  “I know,” said the Christmas Pig. “It feels like a burning coal. I’m surprised it hasn’t set the boat on—”

  Without warning, somebody twitched the velvet stole off them. For a horrified moment, Jack couldn’t see anything at all, because the gondola was full of a dazzling golden light. It was as though the sun were sitting beside them.

  “I’m not a burning coal,” said the same lady’s voice as before, which came from the very middle of the blazing light. It was so bright that Jack had to close his eyes for a moment, but he could see the Thing, even through his eyelids. “I’m Happiness.”

  “Happiness?” repeated Jack.

  “Yes,” she said. “Now do get up and enjoy the view. It’s such a beautiful city!”

  “We can’t sit up,” Jack whispered, his eyes watering again as he tried to look at Happiness. “We—we aren’t supposed to be here.”

  “I guessed as much,” she said, “but nobody will be able to spot you while you’re close to me, because I’m so bright. Do sit up, and we can enjoy the ride together!”

  Jack and the Christmas Pig pulled themselves up onto the seat facing Happiness. The heat she was giving off was wonderfully comforting after their hours spent on the snowy wastes, and as long as they didn’t look at her directly, they were able to see their surroundings by her light.

  The City of the Missed was unlike anything they’d seen so far in the Land of the Lost. The steps of the villas on either side of the canal ran down to the lapping water. It was dusk and strings of silver Christmas lights hung above their heads. From somewhere in the distance came the sound of a choir singing carols. There were many more finding holes over the City of the Missed than there’d been on the Wastes of the Unlamented, and Jack was glad to see them. Once they found DP, they should be able to get back up to the Land of the Living quite easily.

  The gondolas passed under a stone bridge, across which a fat silver pocket watch was rolling, its reflection gleaming like a fallen moon. A glittering emerald necklace waved its clasp at the newcomers from an upper window, while a golden sovereign twinkled from a doorway. Jack craned his neck and looked all around, but nowhere could he see any old toys, and no hint of DP. There were, however, other Things, almost as odd and magnificent as Happiness.

  “What are they?” Jack asked the Christmas Pig, as a gondola passed, going the other way. It contained a long coil of paper, on which lots of numbers were printed, and a golden throne. These two strange Things were talking to each other in low voices.

  “That paper is a lost Fortune,” said Happiness, turning to look. “Some rich human Up There has lost all their money. Fortune is talking to a lost Kingdom. A long time ago, a monarch in the Land of the Living lost their throne.”

  Jack’s eyes were getting used to the extreme brightness of Happiness, and he found that if he peeped at her sideways, he could just make out the form of a smiling woman in the middle of the dazzling light.

  “How were you lost?” he asked shyly.

  “Through carelessness,” sighed Happiness. “My owner is an actress. She’s charming and talented, but she wasn’t as kind as she should have been to the people she cared about, nor as hardworking as she might have been, even though she loved her job. Her gifts once brought her friends and success, but through laziness and selfishness, they slipped away and now, sadly, she has lost me, too.”

  “How will she get you back again?” asked the Christmas Pig.

  “It will be difficult,” said Happiness, “because she’s looking for me in all the wrong places, and as she isn’t used to admitting fault, I’m afraid I may be in the City of the Missed for a long time .
. . perhaps forever. Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?” Happiness went on. “Or is it a secret?”

  “A secret,” said the Christmas Pig, before Jack could answer.

  “I thought so. In that case,” said Happiness, dropping her voice, “you might want to get out here. We seem to be slowing down, but I’ll glow extra bright, so they can’t see you.”

  Jack and the Christmas Pig looked around. Happiness was quite right: the gondolas were definitely slowing down.

  “Come on,” Jack whispered to the Christmas Pig, bracing himself at the thought of entering the icy water, “we’ll go over the side.”

  “Good luck!” said Happiness.

  Jack and the Christmas Pig climbed carefully over the side of the gondola, slipped into the freezing water, and let go of the boat, which drifted away, and Happiness blazing brighter than ever, so that nobody saw them go.

  Gasping in the icy cold water, Jack managed to swim over to some steps that led up to the canal bank. However, when he looked back, all he could see of the Christmas Pig was his snout, which was bobbing on the surface. The Christmas Pig was drowning.

  Chapter 40

  Followed

  Jack swam back just in time to stop the pig from sinking forever. By using only one of his arms and kicking his legs hard, Jack succeeded in dragging the waterlogged pig through the water and up the stone steps.

  “Thank you, Jack,” panted the Christmas Pig, whose toweling body was now greenish from the water. “You’re a very good swimmer! I didn’t like that at all,” he admitted, squeezing himself out so that he stood in a small puddle.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you couldn’t swim?” asked Jack, who was shivering violently now that he was out of the water and standing in the falling snow.

  “I didn’t know I couldn’t swim until I was already sinking,” said the Christmas Pig, “and then the water was in my mouth, so I couldn’t tell you.” After wringing out his ears, which left them somewhat lopsided, the Christmas Pig said, “Come on. Let’s find DP.”

  One good thing about going in the canal was that the Christmas Pig’s tummy beans weren’t making as much noise as usual, because they were stuck together. He and Jack set off through the narrow streets of the City of the Missed.

  Cobbled and lined with gorgeous villas, the alleys were just as beautiful as the waterways. Sparkling Christmas wreaths hung on doors and candlelit Christmas trees glowed in the windows. Jack and the Christmas Pig passed a few Things as they crossed snow-covered squares in the gathering darkness, but none of them seemed very curious about Jack and the Christmas Pig. A magnificent diamond brooch in the shape of a unicorn bowed politely as he made his way into his villa, and a beautiful, gold-embossed book flicked her pages in a casual wave as she passed, but just as in Bother-It’s-Gone, Jack was troubled by the lack of toys.

  “D’you think they put cuddly animals in a different part of town?” he asked the Christmas Pig.

  “Maybe,” said the Christmas Pig. “This does seem a larger city than the others. I think we’re getting nearer the place where they’re singing carols, though . . .”

  “Yes,” said Jack, who was still shivering from his icy dip in the canal. “D’you think it’s a party?”

  “Perhaps,” said the Christmas Pig. He squinted over his shoulder, looked as though he was going to say something, but seemed to change his mind. “Come on, let’s see if we can find out where the toys are.”

  They walked on, but the farther they went, the stronger Jack’s feeling that they weren’t alone became. Twice he glanced back and saw nothing, but on the third occasion he thought he caught a glimpse of something black whisking away around a corner out of sight.

  “CP, did you see that?” Jack whispered.

  “Yes,” said the Christmas Pig, who’d looked back at the same moment as Jack. “I thought something was following us. I think we might be safer mingling in a crowd . . . let’s head for the singers. Come on, quick.”

  Chapter 41

  The Performers

  They hurried on toward the place where the carols were being sung, and after a few minutes, they found themselves standing in an archway that looked out onto a large and beautiful square, strung with gleaming silver Christmas lights just like the canals. A choir of instruments was singing in one corner of the square. All of them—from the French horns and the violins, to the flutes and the tubas—had human voices now, and Jack had never heard carols sung so beautifully. For just a few seconds, he forgot how cold he was in his sodden pajamas, and simply marveled at the wonderful sights and sounds.

  The square lay in front of a huge white palace, which had a golden roof and arched windows. On either side of the palace doors stood two Loss Adjusters, a pencil sharpener and a mallet, who, like the Loss Adjusters guarding the city gates, wore black hats with long black plumes.

  A balcony stretched the length of the palace and Jack could see people-shaped Things standing there, listening to the choir of instruments. Like Happiness, each of these Things was giving off light. One was scarlet, another green, and several were bright blue. Jack was too far away to be able to see what the figures in the middle of the colored lights looked like, but he knew they must be extremely important, to live in the golden-roofed palace.

  Meanwhile, right ahead of where Jack and the Christmas Pig stood, was a crowd of other Things packed together in the falling snow, their shadows long in the light of the dying day. They seemed to be watching some kind of performance that was taking place in their middle.

  “Let’s hide in that crowd,” whispered the Christmas Pig, glancing over his shoulder again. “Keep your eyes peeled for DP!”

  So they set off into the square, Jack’s bare, frozen feet leaving footprints and the Christmas Pig’s trotters leaving round, damp spots in the snow, and neither of them noticed the figure cloaked in black that slid out from behind a marble column to follow them.

  None of the Things in the crowd took much notice of Jack and the Christmas Pig as they sidled in among them. When at last they were able to see what the crowd was watching, Jack and the Christmas Pig also stopped and stared.

  All the performers were transparent and human-shaped, just like Pretense. A jester was juggling and doing backflips, while a little man with a long mustache was spinning plates on long poles. A chef was flipping pancakes, catching them every time, while a ballerina twirled in endless pirouettes. One old man was tying a long length of rope into complicated knots, and another was performing card tricks.

  “What are they?” Jack wondered aloud to a brand-new smartphone standing beside him.

  “Lost Knacks,” said the phone. “Clever little tricks that humans can do but which, through age or injury, poor memory or lack of practice, they lose.”

  “Can’t they get them back?” asked Jack.

  “Sometimes,” said the phone. “Yesterday, a very clever magic trick was whooshed back up to the Land of the Living while we were watching. Very disappointing, because he hadn’t finished. We’re always sorry to lose Knacks, because they put on a show for us this time every evening—but the Knacks are just the warm-up act. Wait until you see today’s Talent!”

  Sure enough, the Lost Knacks finally bowed to much cheering, and they ran, tumbled, bounced, and pirouetted out of the square and out of sight.

  Now a very large transparent lady, who was wearing a jeweled dress, strode into the middle of the square. Some of the onlookers cheered, but the phone groaned.

  “You’re out of luck. I was hoping for one of our Stories—they’re always very entertaining—but it’s a Voice.”

  Voice took a deep breath and began to sing in a language Jack didn’t understand. Her song echoed off the stone arches and palace wall, making Jack’s ears ring. He supposed Voice must be very talented, judging by the way all the jewelry and fine books were sighing in admiration, but the phone leaned over to Jack and sai
d, “She was lost by an opera singer, Up There. I’m not much of a one for opera. Think I’ll be getting home.”

  Phone hopped away. Jack would have liked to follow, because Voice’s song was making his ears ring, but at that moment a Thing whispered in his ear. “Excuse me. Are you the ones who’re looking for a toy pig?”

  Chapter 42

  The King’s Invitation

  Jack spun around to face a figure that appeared to be that of a woman. A black cloak hid her from head to toe, though violet light escaped from the hood and beneath the hem. Noticing that Jack had turned round, the Christmas Pig did so, too, and when he saw the cloaked figure, he took his trotters away from his ears and grasped Jack’s arm, ready to run.

  “Don’t be alarmed,” said the female voice from beneath the cloak. “I was sent to fetch you by one who means you well.”

  “Was it Happiness?” asked Jack.

  “Yes, Happiness,” said the woman, “but unless you want to get her into trouble, keep that quiet. A Thing could get eaten for helping you two. You’ve caused a lot of trouble. Follow me, and I’ll explain.”

  The Christmas Pig still looked suspicious, but they followed the figure away from Voice and the crowd, into the shadows beneath an archway. Here the mysterious figure threw back her hood. She glowed with violet light as Happiness had shone with gold, but gave off no heat. Her face looked older than that of Happiness, and rather less kind.

  “D’you know where DP is?” asked Jack.

  “I’m afraid not,” said the woman, “but the king does. His Majesty invites you both to dinner at the palace, where all will be explained.”

  “What king is this?” asked the Christmas Pig suspiciously. “The Loser’s in charge down here. Everyone knows that.”

  “The Loser is in overall command,” said the violet lady, “but we have a royal family here in the City of the Missed. I am His Majesty’s ambassador. If you really want to find your pig, the king is the only one who can help . . . I’d have thought you’d be glad of some shelter, at least,” she added, because Jack’s teeth were chattering and green water was still oozing out of the Christmas Pig.