Mennyms Alive

by Sylvia Waugh

“This is Chang,” he said, looking across at Poopie, “Chang the Mysterious, walking the earth in search of his own kind, feeling forever lost and lonely. Persecuted by men and feared by the beasts.”

  Billy pressed the button and set Chang moving. It was not easy at first. The robot tended to go off in his own direction because the rocking button on the remote control had to be handled very precisely. He went off over to the window and became entangled in the curtains that fell in folds to the floor. Then he made a right turn that was slightly too sharp and he fell over sideways. But eventually Billy got the knack of it and the robot returned to the room door.

  Next he set off across the desert. He was twice the height of any of the soldiers, and four times as broad. His metal feet could easily have crushed them. But they were hidden from him. He walked past them, unseeing, at a slow steady pace. They fired at him and he was so large a target that they could not miss but their feeble bullets, even had they been real and not pretend, could make no impact on his powerful frame. He strode off, unharmed, to the edge of the jungle.

  There he stood still whilst Billy moved the lions, the tigers and the leopards into hiding, making them scatter to one side and the other, taking refuge in the undergrowth.

  “Look!” he said to Poopie. “They’re all running away from him. He wouldn’t harm them. He would love them and make pets of them. But they don’t know that. So they run off and leave him lonely as ever.”

  When the beasts had been made, artistically, to flee, Billy set the robot moving again, towards the wardrobe, till he fell into it. He lay there like an injured man. Billy stood him on his feet again and pointed him towards the room. Then the robot walked stiffly but directly to the foot of the bed and stood there looking up at Poopie.

  Poopie thought the story wonderful and was dying to say so, but the pact, the silly old pact, kept him in check!

  Billy picked up the robot and put it on the bed beside Poopie. Then he tidied the toys away again and closed the door. Poopie’s arm was draped around Chang and Billy decided to leave it there.

  “Billy!” called Daisy from the floor below. Time we were going now. Taxi’ll be here for me in twenty minutes. I’ll drop you off at the bus station.”

  Daisy had spent a peaceful afternoon watching an old black-and-white film on TV, a love story set in a poor quarter of Paris, a seventh heaven in a run-down tenement flat.

  Alone in his room, Poopie was free to move again. He looked at the robot sitting stiffly beside him. He thought of the story Billy had told, and he cuddled it to him as if it were as soft and as lovable as a teddy bear.

  “You needn’t be lonely,” he said. “I won’t put you back in the cupboard again. You can sit on a cushion beside Paddy Black. He’s only a rabbit, but he’s good fun.”

  CHAPTER 31

  The Green Rover

  “ARE YOU SURE you don’t mind being left all on your own?”

  Daisy opened the front door of Number 39 to let Billy in, but she herself remained out on the pavement. In the roadway, Billy’s dad was waiting in the car. This was the last Wednesday of the summer holidays and it was following a different pattern. Daisy was leaving Billy alone in the flat whilst she went shopping with his parents.

  “Of course I don’t mind. It’s much better than traipsing round shops all afternoon,” said Billy, turning to wave to the car. “You don’t know what you’re letting yourself in for!”

  As soon as Daisy left, Billy closed the door behind her and set off up the staircase. Under his arm he was carrying a box the size and the shape of a shoe box.

  “Aunt Daisy’s not coming up today,” he called loudly to warn the dolls of his coming just as Daisy always did. “I’m here by meself.”

  He went into the living room first, looked shyly round and said, “Hello, everybody. I’m just going to play upstairs. I’ll be down again when the doorbell rings. They’re coming back for me at five o’clock.”

  Then he turned on the television set, partly hoping to please the dolls, partly feeling more comfortable with a noise in the background as he turned to go.

  He stood for a second in the doorway, glanced furtively at Soobie who was in his usual place in the rocking-chair, opened his mouth to say something else, and then changed his mind. He was used to Poopie now, at home with Poopie, but he still felt just a shade nervous of the big blue doll.

  He looked in briefly on Miss Quigley and told her that Daisy wasn’t coming today, which news Miss Quigley received as impassively as ever, not showing the disappointment she felt. She had come to welcome Daisy’s visits. They gave a pattern to the week.

  On reaching the next floor, he did no more than put his head in at the door of the grandparents’ room. Then he went to join his playmate, eager to show him what he had brought.

  The box lid was taken off to reveal another box inside, a display box in clear perspex with a black base. And in the box was a car. The car . . .

  Poopie, seated on the side of his bed where Billy had left him last time, found it hard not to lean forward and look more closely.

  “This is the car,” said Billy removing it carefully from its stand. “It’s a Rover. That colour’s called British Racing Green. The seats inside are padded . . .” he opened the front door “. . . the doors open properly, all four of them . . .” his fingers delicately turned the steering wheel “. . . and it really steers. The wheels turn left or right as you turn the driving wheel.”

  He lifted it up and placed it carefully on Poopie’s knee, but without leaving go of it. Poopie was delighted. It was desperately difficult not to show how delighted he was.

  “It’s not a toy, you know,” said Billy. “It’s a real scale model. My mam bought it last week. It’s what she calls an unbirthday present, because my birthday’s right near Christmas and it’s the holidays and we haven’t been anywhere.”

  Poopie felt like saying – My birthday’s on Christmas Day. They’ve never thought of giving me an unbirthday present.

  He felt like saying – I know what you mean about it not being a toy. Paddy Black’s not a toy either.

  But, oh, above all, he was itching to get down on his knees and steer the car and push it gently, ever so gently, over the carpet.

  Billy took the car from Poopie’s hands and put it on the floor. Then, knowing instinctively what his friend wanted, he sat Poopie on the floor beside it. They sat there facing each other with the car in between them, Poopie’s back resting against the Lego box that Billy had not put away on his last visit.

  “Look, it even has proper mirrors,” said Billy, “and a glove compartment that pulls down.”

  Without standing up, Billy twisted round to pick up the display stand. As he reached out to grasp it, his back was towards the doll. When he turned again he was amazed to see that the car had changed position and was facing the window.

  He looked sharply at Poopie. The doll was still as a doll should be, but frozen in a different stance from before, its upper half inclined towards the car.

  He’s moved, thought Billy. And the car’s moved. He’s moved the car.

  He looked into Poopie’s face and detected something like fear in the doll’s blue eyes, the fear of being found out. And at that point Billy realised that he himself had come far enough not to be afraid, not even if his friend stood up and did a dance in the middle of the room.

  He can move, thought Billy, I know he can move – but can he speak? Will he speak? Can I get him to talk to me?

  “I don’t mind if you talk to me,” said Billy, looking Poopie straight in the eye. “I wouldn’t be frightened. And I wouldn’t tell anybody.”

  Poopie heard the words and was thoroughly alarmed. The pact might be irritating, but it was important. They all said it was important. They had warned him over and over again. So he sat there, his back braced against the box, and he concentrated hard on being a doll, on saying nothing, doing nothing, not even drawing breath.

  Daisy had told Billy to treat all of the dolls with respect, bu
t by now Poopie was more person than doll. Billy felt irritated with him for playing the game of stiffness and silence. He raised Poopie’s left arm till it pointed to the ceiling. Then he let it go and it dropped leadenly back into place. He did the same with the right arm.

  “You’re not being fair,” he said. “I didn’t ask for any pact. The pact was Aunt Daisy’s idea, not mine.”

  But Poopie remained as still and impassive as ever.

  “Two can play at that game,” said Billy at last. “I’m going to lie on your bed and go to sleep. You can do whatever you want.”

  He flung himself down on the bed with his head on the pillow, his face turned towards the room. His eyes closed immediately and he took on the look of a peaceful sleeper breathing softly and regularly, arms stretched out and still. Poopie, seated on the floor at the bottom of the bed, had a close-up view of Billy’s right foot, or to be precise, the corrugated sole of his training shoe. Focussing as best he could, without moving his head at all, he could see the face on the pillow. The eyes were closed, thick pale lashes fringed the cheek.

  And on the floor there was still the beautiful car just begging to be played with.

  Poopie sat impatiently waiting for half-an-hour.

  Billy began to snore lightly.

  Another half-hour passed.

  The boy on the bed was what Granpa would call ‘out to the world’.

  Poopie looked longingly at the car and stretched out one hand to touch it. His palm settled on the shiny roof . . .

  “GOTCHA!” cried Billy, jumping up from the bed. “I knew you could move. I just knew you could. And I bet y’can talk as well.”

  Poopie sprang to his feet and gave Billy a look of terror.

  “You cheated,” yelled Poopie. “You cheated.”

  And he ran from the room and down the stairs.

  CHAPTER 32

  A Different Pact

  IN THE LIVING room below, the dolls sitting round the television set were watching a gardener digging a trench and filling it with some sort of compost. It was not the most scintillating of broadcasts but they had no other choice. The pact demanded that they should not interfere.

  Then suddenly from the floor above came the sound of Poopie’s voice and the clatter of feet. The Mennyms were filled with consternation.

  The feet came running down the staircase.

  Soobie looked at the others and then put one finger to his lips.

  “You must all keep the pact,” he said. “That is best. I will break it and I will do what I can to put things right.”

  “Why you?” said Appleby.

  “He knows me,” said Soobie. “I have spoken to him before. And if we all came to life in front of him, just think how frightened he might be. In this flat, at this moment, he is outnumbered.”

  Soobie’s voice carried authority. There was no time to argue. The others all froze just as the door burst open.

  Poopie came into the room, closely followed by Billy. Neither was fully aware of the rest of the Mennyms. Poopie’s fear was turning to anger and he was just about ready to turn and fight. Billy was reaching a hand out to grab him as he might a smaller boy in the playground.

  “Mind the flex!” shouted Soobie. “Do you want to pull everything over?”

  Billy and Poopie stopped dead and looked in amazement at the big blue doll that was standing in front of them.

  He’s broken the pact, thought Poopie.

  I knew it, thought Billy, I knew it, I knew it all along.

  Firmly but gently, Soobie placed one hand on Poopie’s shoulder and the other on Billy’s.

  “Calm down, the pair of you,” he said. “Take it easy.” And, leading them to the dining table, he sat them down on the chairs and drew up another chair to sit beside them. They had their backs to the others in the room. Soobie, at the far side of the table, sat facing. He could see the rest of the family. Over Poopie’s head he signalled to Joshua a reminder that they should all keep still. Joshua gave just the ghost of a nod.

  “Now,” said Soobie, “we’ll have to talk.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” said Poopie hastily. “It was his. He tricked me. He . . .”

  “That’s not important,” said Soobie. “What matters now is that Billy here knows everything.”

  “I can’t help that,” said Billy. “If you weren’t alive, I could never have found out that you were, could I? No trick in the world could bring you to life if you weren’t alive already.”

  Billy and Poopie glared at each other, the older boy ready to slap, the younger one wanting to kick. Even the best of friends can come to blows!

  “And that’s not important either,” said Soobie, feeling like an older brother to both of them. “I’m not interested in blaming either of you. Our problem is what happens next.”

  Suddenly to all the listeners in the room that seemed a massive problem, one without any solution at all. They sat for some minutes in silence.

  Billy was struggling with all sorts of weird thoughts. What would they do to keep their secret? Were they aliens from another world? Might they even murder him? Daft idea! If they were aliens, they were friendly aliens. He felt quite sure of that.

  “What are you?” he said, looking keenly into Soobie’s silver button eyes and seeing not a doll but a person there.

  “We don’t really know the answer to that,” said Soobie. “Do you know what you are?”

  “That’s not a fair question,” said Billy. “And it doesn’t matter any way. I know that you are alive and you are not made of flesh and blood like me. You don’t want me to know that. So what are you going to do?”

  Soobie recognised Billy’s bravery, his determined facing up to the situation. He had always liked Billy, ever since Comus House.

  “You tried to save my life once,” said Soobie. “You cared what happened to me. I care what happens to you. But we must have some sort of understanding. Just sit and listen till I tell you the story of the Mennyms. Then we will talk about what happens next.”

  They listened in silence as Soobie went back to the beginning, or at least to the time when they had come to life in the attic at Number 5 Brocklehurst Grove. Sometimes the tale was hard to hear without weeping but the dolls in the room showed no sign that the suffering had been part of their lives. They kept the pact as rigidly as ever.

  “And now,” Soobie ended, “we are looking for another place to live, a place where we can be ourselves and have no fear of being found out again.”

  “You can stay here. I would never tell on you,” said Billy. “Never ever.”

  He looked round earnestly at all of them but apart from Soobie and Poopie there was no other evidence of life in the room. But there was warmth there. Billy wanted to talk to all of them, to hear all of them speak.

  “No,” said Soobie, reading his thoughts. “They won’t talk to you. It is better as it is. After today I shall never speak to you again and never let myself be seen to move. That is how Daisy wants it to be. She has looked after us well and we would not hurt her. Belief is all she can cope with. Certainty might cause her heart to stop.”

  Billy flushed.

  “I wouldn’t hurt Aunt Daisy either. She’s one of the nicest people I know. But what do I tell her?”

  “Tell her nothing,” said Soobie. “Let this afternoon exist in a bubble, a place all of its own.”

  “Like UFOS,” said Billy catching on to the idea.

  “A bit like that,” said Soobie with a smile.

  “But what about next time I come?” said Billy. “Daisy’ll be here, but can I not mebbe just talk to Poopie upstairs when we’re playing? And let him talk to me.”

  Soobie gave it thought and decided that such an arrangement wouldn’t hold for long.

  “Please,” said Poopie as he saw his brother ready to say no. “He’s my friend. I’ve never had a friend like him before.”

  “It won’t be till Christmas anyway,” said Billy, thinking the time interval might turn the balance. “I�
�m back at school next week.”

  His words gave Soobie a feeling of relief.

  “Christmas is a fair way off,” he said. “What is it Granpa says? – A lot of water will have passed under Dean Bridge before then. So perhaps we should just wait and see.”

  Then Soobie went with them to the room upstairs, to take the strain off the rest of the family. The door bell should ring in less than an hour. The ordeal would soon be over.

  For Billy and Poopie it was no longer an ordeal. They were friends again. They showed Soobie the car, and then Poopie brought the robot from its cushion.

  “He’s called Chang,” said Poopie, “and Billy made up a lovely story about him. Now he sits beside Paddy Black so he won’t be lonely.”

  Soobie smiled and wondered how one measured loneliness.

  “And when you go to your new house,” Billy asked him as they sat comfortably together, “will you live there forever, never getting any older, always being just as you are now?”

  “Yes,” said Soobie. “I suppose so.”

  “But that means you will never really die. That’s wonderful. We hated it when my grandad died.”

  “I’m not so sure how wonderful it is,” said Soobie. “What about the Wandering Jew and the Flying Dutchman?”

  Billy had heard of them, but only just. He couldn’t remember the stories. He gave Soobie a questioning look.

  “They were condemned to live forever,” said Soobie. “They found no joy in it.”

  The doorbell rang. Billy clasped Poopie and Soobie each in turn. He stuffed the Green Rover back in its box and as the bell rang again he hurried to the door.

  “I won’t tell,” he called over his shoulder as he started down the stairs. “Never a word, Not if I live to be a hundred.”

  CHAPTER 33

  The Ideal Home

  “THAT’S THE ONE!”

  Appleby was holding a glossy brochure in which there were pictures of yet another desirable residence. Tulip had seen it and discarded it. And if Granny Tulip gave the thumbs down, that was that.