The Phredde Collection

by Jackie French

  ‘But you don’t HAVE an Uncle Carbuncle,’ protested Mum.

  ‘Course not, ‘cause he’s dead,’ I said.

  ‘You don’t even have a dead one,’ said Dad.

  ‘I must have,’ I pointed out, ‘because he left me a mansion!’

  Mr Nahsti shook his head. I waited for the dead rat to fall off, but it didn’t. I wondered how he stuck it on so tight. ‘Actually, Prudence, your mother is right.’ He smiled at me, one of those grown-up ‘kids-suck’ sort of smiles. ‘Mothers are usually right, you know. Mr Carbuncle was your father’s fifth cousin four times removed. He stated in his will that his property should be left to his nearest female relative.’

  ‘And that’s me?’

  ‘Well, no.’ Mr Nahsti looked a bit embarrassed. ‘There were actually 56 closer female relatives than you. You see, there is one condition you have to fulfil before you can inherit.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I asked happily. I could hardly wait to tell Phredde and Bruce. My own graveyard!

  ‘You have to spend two nights in the house…with no other human being.’

  ‘Is that all?’ I yelled.

  ‘Prudence, lower your voice,’ said Mum. ‘Please excuse her, Mr Nahsti. Exactly why didn’t the other, er…56 females manage to spend two nights in the house?’

  Mr Nahsti shook his head again. He didn’t look like any solicitor I’d seen on TV. As well as the dead rat on his head, he was short and fat and had a red face and a soggy cornflake left over from breakfast on his collar. Or maybe it had been the rat’s last breakfast, and he was keeping it for a snack later.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell you,’ he said. ‘That’s one of the terms of the will too. But I really must advise you not to take up this offer. It might be quite, um, distressing if you even try.’

  Mum took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Prudence, there’s no way I’m letting you spend two nights alone in a deserted mansion!’

  ‘Look, Mum, stop worrying!’ I turned to Mr Nahsti. ‘Those 56 other chicks—the house didn’t kill them, did it?’

  ‘No,’ said Mr Nahsti cautiously.

  ‘Their legs didn’t drop off, did they?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Mr Nahsti. ‘But I really do advise you not to—’

  ‘See, Mum?’ I said. ‘There’s absolutely nothing to worry about!’

  ‘What happens to the place if Pru doesn’t inherit it?’ asked Dad. ‘Do you try another relative?’

  Mr Nahsti shook his head. ‘There are no other female relatives. If Prudence doesn’t accept the inheritance, the house and its land will be sold, and the money sent to,’ he consulted his notes again, ‘the Society for the Improvement of Children’s Manners.’

  ‘And I get nothing?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Mr Nahsti. He gave a fake ‘I-really-love-kids’ smile. ‘But of course it’s a very good cause. I’m President of the Society, you know,’ he added modestly.

  ‘That settles it,’ I announced. ‘I’m taking it!’

  ‘Impossible,’ said Dad firmly. ‘Pru, you are not spending two nights by yourself in a house that has scared off 56 other girls!’

  I grinned. ‘But I won’t be by myself.’

  ‘I’m afraid the will is very strict,’ said Mr Nahsti. ‘With no other human being whatsoever, it says.’

  ‘Who said anything about human beings? Phredde and Bruce can come with me,’ I told him. ‘They’re phaeries!’

  Mr Nahsti stared at me as though I was the one with a dead rat on my head. ‘Phaeries?’

  ‘Yep,’ I said happily. ‘Well, Bruce is a frog most of the time, because he likes being a frog better than being a phaery prince. But, you see, there’s no danger at all, because they can PING! me out of any sort of trouble.’

  ‘Phaeries,’ muttered Mr Nahsti, in the same sort of voice I’d use to say, oh-oh, maggots in my sandwich. ‘I really don’t think…’ He saw me looking at him and stopped.

  ‘Phredde is my best friend in all the world,’ I told him. ‘And so is Bruce. Even if he is a frog.’

  ‘Oh, of course, of course,’ said Mr Nahsti quickly. ‘I’m the last person to be prejudiced against, ahem, phaeries or…or other creatures, I mean, ahem, people. We’re all the same really, aren’t we? I mean…’

  ‘Of course we’re not the same! Phredde’s only 30 centimetres high and Bruce eats flies and—’

  ‘Er…under the skin, I mean,’ said Mr Nahsti hurriedly.

  ‘No, we’re not,’ I informed him. ‘Mrs Olsen, that’s our teacher, says humans and phaeries and frogs have quite different circulatory systems, and she should know as she’s a vampire.’

  ‘A vampire!’ cried Mr Nahsti, casting Mum and Dad the sort of look that says what sort of dumb parents are you, letting your kid go to school with vampires and phaeries?

  Then Dad said, ‘I have always been very proud of Prudence and her friends.’

  I could have hugged him!

  Then Mum said, ‘And Mrs Olsen is the best teacher Prudence has had. Her work has improved in leaps and bounds.’

  ‘Especially in anatomy,’ I added. ‘I know all about the jugular, and how humans have eight pints of blood but cows have—’

  ‘That’s enough, Pru,’ muttered Dad.

  ‘But I was just explaining to Mr Nasty,’ I began.

  ‘That’s enough!’ roared Dad. ‘Mr Nasty, I mean Nahsti, doesn’t need to know how much blood a cow has got.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Mr Nahsti coldly. ‘Well, as I was saying, if Prudence was my daughter I would never dream of letting her stay in the house for two nights, especially in the company of two, ahem, phaeries! Phaeries. Those creatures think they can walk all over us normal people.’

  ‘Fly,’ I put in.

  ‘What?’ demanded Mr Nahsti.

  ‘Fly,’ I said. ‘They fly all over us, not walk.’

  Mr Nahsti glared at me, then at Mum and Dad. ‘Really! I am beginning to think your daughter badly needs the services of the Society for the Improvement of Children’s Manners herself.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Pru’s manners!’ said Dad. ‘Much,’ he added honestly.

  ‘Nothing at all!’ put in Mum.

  ‘If you take my advice,’ began Mr Nahsti angrily.

  ‘Take your advice, you prejudiced twit? I’d rather go swimming with Pru’s piranhas!’ Dad declared. ‘Pru, if you want to stay in that house for two nights, of course you can!’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Mum. ‘You’ll be quite safe with Phredde and Bruce!’ She gave Mr Nahsti the kind of look she usually keeps for leftover banana peels that have fermented at the bottom of my school bag.

  ‘Very well,’ said Mr Nahsti. ‘But don’t come whining to me and say I didn’t warn you!’ He handed me a set of keys and some documents. ‘You will find all you need to know in here. Good day.’

  ‘By the way,’ Mum added, ‘that hairpiece on your bald spot looks like a dead rat!’

  ‘So that’s what it is!’ I exclaimed.

  Mum swept out. Dad and I followed her.

  ‘Stupid prejudiced old #**@!!!’ said Mum as soon as we were in the corridor. I stared at her. I didn’t think Mum even KNEW a word like that! And then I grinned.

  ‘I’ve got a mansion of my own! And a lake! And a graveyard!’ I yelled.

  Mum and Dad looked at me, then at each other.

  ‘Oh dear. What have we agreed to?’ whispered Mum.

  * * *

  1See Phredde and the Zombie Librarian.

  Chapter 2

  The Trouble with Phaeries

  Dad drove me to school and dropped me off at the gate.

  ‘You know, you don’t HAVE to stay in that house if you don’t want to,’ he said.

  ‘But I do want to! What could possibly go wrong?’

  Dad looked at me as though wondering whether to give me a list of the 220 terrible things that could happen to a kid staying in an old mansion. But then he just leaned over, kissed my cheek and said,’Have a good day at
school, Pru.’

  ‘Half day,’ I said happily. ‘It’s nearly lunch time.’

  It was hard not to dance through the school gates, I felt so happy. A mansion of my own! No other kid at school had their own mansion! And whatever the mystery was, I’d be quite safe with Phredde and Bruce.

  Phaeries can PING! up all kinds of things—like a magic carpet to escape from the cannibal pirates of Vort (I haven’t written anything about that one, because if Mum finds out she’ll ground me for 50 years). If a phaery wants iced watermelon, a spaceship or a pet tyrannosaurus, all they have to do is PING!—as long as they haven’t used up their weekly magic allowance.

  But sometimes, just sometimes…well, I suppose it’s a bit like having a friend who can run faster than you, jump higher and always beat you in every spelling test…I mean, just sometimes it would be nice to be able to PING! too.

  Then I gave myself a shake. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a phaery and there was no way I could be, and Phredde was the best friend in the world and so was Bruce, even if he was a frog. And even though we were different, we’d be friends for the whole of our lives.

  I glanced at my watch. Only another half an hour till lunch time. And then I could tell them all about it!

  …

  ‘You’ve got what?’ yelled Phredde, spraying her black-olive and tomato focaccia all over me.

  ‘A mansion, and a lake, and my own graveyard!’ I told her.

  ‘How cool is that?’ cried Phredde. Bruce nodded. His froggy eyes go all googly when he nods. I suppose that’s why real frogs don’t nod very often.

  ‘I wonder why the other girls wouldn’t stay in it,’ he said thoughtfully. His googly eyes lit up. ‘I know!’

  ‘What?’ I asked cautiously.

  ‘I bet an alien lives in the attic. It injects its young into human stomachs, just like in that movie, and then they hatch and eat the guts then burst out and—’

  ‘Bruce!’ I yelled. ‘Shut up!’

  ‘I was only trying to help,’ said Bruce, looking hurt. ‘And anyway, we could PING! an alien back to where it came from and—’

  ‘Shut up, Frog-face. I bet the place has got ghouls,’ said Phredde. ‘Those little critters can BITE.’

  ‘Nah,’ I said, swallowing a big piece of zucchini fritter with cucumber yoghurt. (Our butler, Gark,2 makes them and they’re brilliant.) ‘It’ll be a ghost house. Deserted mansions are always ghost houses.’

  Bruce snorted, sending bits of mosquito sandwich all over Phredde. ‘Ghosts! You don’t believe in ghosts, do you?’

  I stared at him. ‘Of course I believe in ghosts. Don’t you?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Bruce. Phredde shook her head.

  ‘But you’re PHAERIES! And you believe in trolls, ogres, ghouls, vampires…’

  ‘Yeah, but those are real,’ said Bruce. ‘Ghosts are just make-believe.’

  ‘Huh,’ I said, unconvinced. ‘Well, anyway, all we have to do is spend two nights in it this weekend and it’s all mine. Well, ours,’ I added,’because of course I’ll share—’

  ‘Two nights?’ Phredde looked at Bruce in alarm. Then she looked back at me. ‘Two nights THIS weekend?’

  I nodded.

  ‘That means if we go there Friday straight after school, we’d be finished Sunday morning?’ asked Bruce thoughtfully.

  ‘Sure,’ I said, puzzled.

  ‘That’ll be all right then,’ said Phredde. ‘Won’t it, Frog-face?’

  Bruce nodded as Phredde took another bite of her foccacia.

  ‘What’s so special about Sunday?’ I demanded.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ croaked Bruce airily. ‘Just that we’ve got a lot of homework so we’d still have time to do it.’

  ‘But Mrs Olsen hasn’t given us our homework yet,’ I protested.

  Bruce and Phredde exchanged another glance. Then Phredde said carelessly, ‘Well, if it’s just TWO nights there’s no problem, is there?’

  ‘Then you’ll come?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Phredde, as though there hadn’t been any doubt at all. ‘Anyone want some iced watermelon?’

  …

  Phredde and I finished the watermelon, and Bruce zotted a few flies. His mum always packs him a nourishing lunch of mosquito sandwiches, but Bruce says flies are best fresh.

  There’s one problem with watermelon though.

  I stood up. ‘Back in a minute,’ I said. I didn’t ask if Phredde wanted to go to the toilet too. Phaeries do go to the toilet—I know because I asked Phredde. But they can sort of PING! it so that they’ve already been, if you know what I mean.

  So I trudged over to the toilet next to the library by myself. The main toilet block is over by the science lab, but I like the library one, because there’s only one cubicle for girls and one for boys so you usually have it to yourself.

  Not this time though. The cubicle door was shut. I waited till whoever it was had finished, trying not to listen. I did have a quick glance under the door to see what colour their underpants were—pink, and a G-STRING. What girl at our school is allowed to wear a G-string?!

  And then I found out. The toilet flushed, the door opened and Amelia came out.

  ‘Why, Pru!’ she cooed. ‘I didn’t think you’d EVER need to go to the toilet! Can’t you ask Phredde or Bruce to PING! it all away?’

  Have you ever heard of hate at first sight? Well, that’s me and Amelia. Amelia thinks she’s too cool for school—AND she gets better marks than me, even in maths. And I could just see myself asking Bruce to PING! away my full bladder. Or even Phredde. There are some things you don’t ask even your best friends to do. I mean, EMBARRASSING.

  I scowled and pushed past Amelia into the toilet cubicle. (It smelled of her—I hate it when that happens.) But Amelia didn’t let go of the door.

  I glared at her. ‘Hey, have you gone kinky, Amelia? You want to watch or something?’

  Amelia smiled at me, like a cat that’s worked out how to use a can opener. ‘Guess who’s got a secret?’ she cooed.

  I shrugged. ‘Who cares?’

  ‘Phredde and Bruce went to Phaeryland yesterday after dinner,’ sang Amelia.

  ‘So what? How do you know anyway?’

  ‘Cause I heard them discussing it,’ said Amelia smugly. ‘And Phredde said, “Don’t let Pru know,” and Bruce said, “Of course not!” And I thought you were, like, really good friends!’

  If she kept cooing at me like that I was going to ask Phredde to turn her into a pigeon. Or maybe just a pile of pigeon droppings.

  ‘It’s just phaery business,’ I told her coolly. ‘Nothing I’m interested in.’

  ‘Then why did Phredde say you weren’t to know?’ Amelia sighed as if she was in a TV soap drama, the sort I’m not allowed to watch if I’m home sick. ‘I suppose they just get tired of having a human trailing after them all the time.’

  ‘I do NOT trail! And now I want to have a pee!’

  I grabbed the door from Amelia and slammed it in her face then pushed my trakkie daks down. But I was too upset to do much. So I just sat there, listening to Amelia wash her hands and dry them, then the footsteps that said she’d left.

  Were Phredde and Bruce sick of having a human around all the time?

  Okay, I couldn’t fly. And I couldn’t PING! us into adventures or out of trouble. But I had good ideas, didn’t I? And I was their friend…

  Of course I was.

  Then why didn’t they tell me they’d gone to Phaeryland? Phredde HATES Phaeryland. She’d have complained to me for DAYS if she’d had to go there. Wouldn’t she?

  My bladder finally decided to behave itself, so I did my business, washed my hands and trudged back over the asphalt. Phredde and Bruce were still on the seat under the big oak tree, giggling about something. Then they saw me and stopped.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ I demanded.

  ‘Oh, just a silly joke,’ croaked Bruce offhandedly.

  ‘I like silly jokes,’ I said.

  ‘Not this silly,’ said
Phredde. ‘Hey, you want a choc-chip muffin?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ Suddenly I had an idea. ‘Gark made us choc-chip muffins after dinner last night,’ I said casually. ‘While we were watching that movie. Did you see it? The Curse of the Zombie Potatoes.’

  ‘What? Oh, yeah,’ croaked Bruce. ‘It was really good, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Mm, cool,’ said Phredde.

  ‘Oh,’ I said. Because there hadn’t been any movie called The Curse of the Zombie Potatoes.

  I’d made it up.

  And they’d LIED to me!

  And then the hippos roared and it was time to go back into class.3

  * * *

  2Pru’s magpie butler.

  3See Phredde and the Purple Pyramid.

  Chapter 3

  Prix’s Mansion

  It rained on Friday. The sort of rain that makes you feel wet even if you’re only looking at it out the window. The sort of rain that you could really believe was once a bit of ocean that evaporated and can’t wait to turn into an ocean again, mostly in your backyard.

  The car’s wipers pushed at the water on the windscreen as though they wished they’d gone to windscreen gym and built up their muscles a bit. Dad looked out at the wet world doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you want to do this today, kids?’

  ‘No worries, Dad,’ I said. ‘We have to spend the night indoors anyway. It’ll be dry inside the house.’

  ‘Unless the roof leaks,’ said Bruce happily. Frogs like the rain.

  Thunder grumbled somewhere over the hills. Dad glanced nervously at the paddocks on either side of the road. ‘I hadn’t realised it would be quite so deserted!’ he said.

  ‘Mansions are always deserted,’ I said confidently.

  ‘What do you think the house’ll be like?’ asked Phredde. She sounded excited.

  ‘Big…and gloomy…and maybe with bats around the turrets,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, and dungeons with skeletons and creaking doors and spiders’ webs,’ put in Bruce.

  ‘Shut up, Frog-face,’ hissed Phredde. ‘You’ll panic Pru’s dad.’

  ‘You really don’t have to do this, Prudence,’ Dad said.