The Land of Neverendings

by Kate Saunders

  ‘No,’ said Emily. ‘Not a clue.’

  ‘We thought you might know,’ said Maze.

  Martha glanced up at the shelf, where Notty and Figinda Faraway sat with their steaming mugs of Biggins’ Mixture. ‘Notty, do you understand it?’

  ‘No,’ said Notty. ‘I think it must be a secret code. What about you, Figgy?’

  ‘Don’t ask me,’ said Figinda Faraway. ‘I’m far too exhausted. I went shopping at Smartweed’s and my money melted all over my dress.’

  Ruth said, ‘We know this message is important. Bluey’s obviously taken a lot of trouble to get it to us. He even trained his choir to sing it.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s in code,’ said Emily. ‘The Bluey I knew wasn’t clever enough.’

  ‘A code.’ Ruth repeated the word, staring at the nonsensical verse on her piece of paper. ‘Well, let’s see. What if we take just the letters and numbers in the song? ‘It starts with an E, then it’s number two.’

  She ended up with a short line of numbers and letters – E29PA.

  ‘E29PA,’ Emily repeated it. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Wait a minute …’ Ruth’s eyes lit up. ‘I’m an idiot! I’ve been writing my Christmas cards all day so I should’ve seen it at once – it’s a postcode!’

  ‘Of course!’ Emily was so excited that she could hardly get the words out. ‘That means an address! And Hugo said it was something to do with the Sturvey!’

  ‘I’ll look it up.’ Martha took her phone out of her pocket. Emily and Ruth stood on either side of her, watching the screen impatiently. ‘This can’t be it – it’s just a list of museums.’

  ‘Oh my garters!’ Ruth cried out. ‘I don’t believe it! How wonderfully appropriate!’ She began to shake with laughter. ‘E2 9PA is the postcode of the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green – the country’s largest collection of toys!’

  ‘So Bluey’s sending me to a toy museum.’ Emily quickly got over a slight feeling of disappointment that the message had not been about Holly and thought about it properly. ‘Of course! It’s the obvious place to find an antique bear!’

  ‘And Figinda called the Sturvey the most imagined bear in the world,’ said Ruth. ‘Now I understand why. Thousands of children have seen him and loved him, and filled him with huge amounts of imagination. And we know that this is the fuel that runs Smockeroon. I wonder what went wrong?’

  ‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Emily. ‘Bluey wants us to go there.’

  ‘That might be tricky,’ Ruth said. ‘You lot have school during the week, and I can’t afford to leave the shop on a Saturday.’

  Martha was looking at her phone again. ‘It’s open on Sundays.’

  ‘Well, that makes all the difference – I can drive down to London this Sunday, if you can think of something to tell your parents.’ There was a moment of breathless silence while they looked at each other’s excited faces.

  We’re going to find the Sturvey!

  *

  Emily’s mother had arranged a visit to Auntie Becky in Wolverhampton on Sunday and was annoyed that Emily flatly refused to give up her trip to London.

  ‘I do wish you’d asked me first.’

  ‘You didn’t ask me,’ Emily pointed out.

  Luckily, Dad was on Emily’s side. On Sunday morning, when Mum started complaining again, he laughed behind his newspaper, and said, ‘What a strange girl you are, Emily – how can you bear to miss all those lovely bean sprouts?’ And he gave her some extra money for lunch, cheerfully telling her to spend it on burgers. ‘Have a double whopper and fries, and think of me.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Emily was so excited that the excitement had sunk into her bones and made her oddly calm.

  The Sturvey!

  She had a strong sense of approaching magic, looming like a wave on the point of breaking, and when they were all gathered in Ruth’s kitchen, it was obvious the others felt it too; Martha was far less giggly than usual, and Maze kept singing, ‘We’re off to see the Sturvey …’

  ‘Right, before we set off,’ said Ruth, ‘let’s do a final check – is everyone here?’

  She wasn’t talking about humans; they had decided to take certain toys with them, partly to attract the maximum amount of magic, and partly in case they were needed to communicate with Bluey.

  Very seriously, they checked their bags. Martha had brought Pippa, Maze had Prizzy and Ruth’s large backpack contained Hugo and Smiffy.

  ‘Just a bunch of soft toys at the moment.’ Maze was disappointed. ‘Can’t they feel the magic?’

  ‘We don’t need them yet,’ said Martha. ‘They’re saving their strength. I know something’s going to happen.’

  Ruth zipped up her son’s old toys. ‘Let’s hope they don’t go off while I’m driving. We’d better keep them zipped until we get there.’

  Twenty-four

  SHOWDOWN

  THEY ARRIVED AT the museum in the early afternoon, after a hasty hamburger lunch on the motorway.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ said Ruth.

  The museum was warm, bright and welcoming, and crowded with families. Emily looked around at the children, the parents with buggies and the smiling museum staff – where was Bluey’s ‘message’?

  ‘The toys might know – our toys, I mean.’ Martha shrugged off her backpack and unzipped the pocket where she kept Pippa.

  They all stared silently at the very unmagic stuffed toy.

  Maze asked, ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Emily. ‘But we know we’re searching for an old bear.’

  Ruth groaned softly. ‘Talk about finding a needle in a haystack – this place is absolutely crowded with old bears! It must be the highest concentration of old bears in the Western world.’

  ‘We’ll have to look at all of them, that’s all. It won’t take that long if we walk quickly. Bluey wouldn’t drag us all this way without leaving a clue – he promised.’ Emily went over to the large floor plan on one wall that showed the various galleries in the museum. ‘And we don’t need to go round the whole place. Lots of these rooms are just Meccano, or train sets.’

  ‘Good thinking!’ Ruth recovered her briskness and put on her glasses to study the floor plan. ‘Let’s see – Lego, doll’s houses, toy cars, antique babyclothes … Ah, this is more like it – teddy bears and soft toys.’

  ‘We’ll know the sign when we see it,’ said Emily, with a confidence she did not feel. ‘Come on.’

  They set off very seriously, like a group of explorers. As Ruth had said, there was no shortage of old bears in this famous museum – but not a single scrap of magic. Emily pressed her face against each glass case she passed, with increasing desperation. These ancient toys, with their wise, worn little faces, stayed stubbornly toyish. Though nobody said anything, Maze had begun to be restless, and Martha kept glancing hopefully at signs for the cafe.

  Emily’s backpack was getting heavier. She listened with half an ear to the tish-tish-tish sound of someone’s radio.

  ‘Honestly, some people!’ Ruth muttered crossly. ‘You’d think they’d have the courtesy to switch off that noise pollution!’

  The sound got louder.

  … a kind friend told me what to do –

  He said BEARCORF is the thing for you!

  ‘That’s a toys’ advert!’ Emily cried out joyfully. ‘Where’s it coming from?’

  They all listened to the distant babble of music and voices.

  ‘… this is Radio Smockeroon … MORE sunny weather … a good idea to put your chocolate money in the fridge …’

  It faded into silence.

  ‘Well, that’s got to be some sort of sign,’ said Ruth.

  ‘Emily – your bag!’ Maze blurted out suddenly. ‘Look!’

  ‘It’s like my sleepover!’ said Martha.

  When she took off her bag, Emily saw that white light was streaming out of the pocket where she kept the Bluey book, bright enough to make
them all screw up their eyes.

  The pink notebook was warm when Emily’s fingers closed around it, and the light dwindled to a soft neon glow. But there was something else – a scrap of paper had suddenly appeared stuck to one of the glass cases, with an arrow drawn in purple crayon.

  ‘Bluey!’ Emily was so fiercely happy, and so proud of Holly’s chief toy that she had to blink away a few tears. ‘I knew he wouldn’t let us down.’

  ‘I owe that bear an apology,’ said Ruth. ‘We should have guessed he’d use your notebook to send his messages – it’s all about him, after all.’

  ‘Nobody’s looking at us.’ Maze glanced at the other people strolling through the gallery.

  Emily followed the direction of the arrow and saw another sign – IN HERE – this time stuck to a blank door that said NO ENTRY – STAFF ONLY.

  Ruth tried to open the door. ‘It’s locked!’ She rattled the handle impatiently. ‘Could you ask Bluey to find a key?’

  Emily tried, and the door opened perfectly.

  ‘You’re obviously in charge,’ said Maze, grinning. ‘Now’s your chance to show some leadership.’

  ‘Fine by me.’ Ruth took a step back. ‘You go first – quick, before someone notices.’

  ‘OK.’ The idea of being in charge would normally have made Emily nervous and clumsy, afraid of doing something wrong; now she was totally confident.

  I’m getting messages from Bluey.

  She led them through the door, which took them into a dull corridor lined with offices, eerily quiet after the bustle of the museum.

  ‘Nobody’s going to stop us,’ said Maze. ‘There’s nobody here.’

  ‘Let’s hope we don’t set off any alarms,’ said Martha.

  The next note appeared on a door at the far end of the corridor – IN HERE.

  This door had a keypad and Emily did not know the code, but it opened as soon as she touched the handle.

  On the other side of the door, they found themselves in a stone stairwell that looked much older than the rest of the building – dark and dusty, with feeble strip lighting and antique fire extinguishers on the landings. There was a deep, deep silence.

  Maze asked, ‘Is this still the museum?’

  ‘It looks like nobody’s been here for years,’ said Martha, brushing a cobweb off her sleeve. ‘So, where to now?’

  The pink notebook was warm in Emily’s hand. No new message had appeared, but she knew where to go next. Moving more slowly now, she led them down two flights of stairs, through a pair of swing doors, and into a long, deserted passageway.

  Emily was tingling all over with the feeling she thought of as ‘Blueyness’ – the feeling she’d had when she told one of her stories to Holly. It had never felt like making something up; more like slipping into a special state of mind. ‘Look!’ She grabbed Maze’s arm. ‘Look at that sign!’

  A wooden sign, badly written and covered with cobwebs, hung from the ceiling.

  STURVEY THIS WAY.

  They all felt the Blueyness now, and stared at the sign in breathless silence.

  ‘Wow, we really are off to see the Sturvey – this is just like The Wizard of Oz!’ Ruth let out a nervous giggle. ‘I think we can assume we’re not in Kansas any more!’

  A few yards later, another sign appeared.

  BOW OR CURTSEY HERE.

  Emily bowed low, like a prince in a cartoon fairy tale, and Maze and Martha burst into nervous giggles.

  ‘Come on – for all we know, we’re being watched.’ Ruth dropped an elaborate curtsey. ‘Just obey the sign!’

  Martha and Maze bowed, and stopped giggling.

  The long, dusty, deserted corridor finally ended at a single door.

  Maze read the faded hard-world sign aloud. ‘Long-term storage.’

  ‘I thought Bluey was taking us to the Sturvey.’ Emily was fiercely disappointed. The magic had suddenly been ripped away. ‘This is just some old stockroom.’

  ‘We can’t give up now,’ said Martha. ‘Open the door.’

  Emily touched the door. It swung open, slowly and creakily.

  Inside the room everything was stillness and silence, faintly lit by a strip light on the ceiling. The room was large and long, with deep shelves that were crowded with cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Each box or bag had a neat label: ‘MATCHBOX SPORTS CARS 1950s’, ‘DIE-CAST FARMYARD SETS 1930s’, ‘SMALL STEIFF BEARS 1970s’.

  Beyond the shelves was a group of glass cases, all standing about at odd angles, like people at a party. The glass cases were in shadow. Emily saw the black outlines of the antique toys that had once been on display in the Museum upstairs.

  ‘Poor old things,’ said Ruth softly. ‘Shoved in here and forgotten, as if they’d never been played with.’

  ‘Shhh – I can hear something!’ Martha hissed suddenly. ‘What’s that noise?’

  They listened, and out of the silence came a wheezing, huffing sound, as regular as Holly’s breathing machine.

  Arf-arf-arf-arf.

  ‘It sounds like Podge,’ said Ruth. ‘Cat snores.’

  The sound got louder, and they all jumped when a light suddenly came on in the glass case next to Emily. It contained one very old bear.

  Emily read out the card beside it. ‘Bear, Hummel Factory, Leipzig 1902. Donated to the Museum by … S. Turvey.’

  The name hung on the air.

  S. Turvey!

  ‘Wow – we’ve done it!’ Emily said softly. ‘We’ve found the Sturvey!’

  Thank you, Bluey.

  The excitement was intense and incredible. They were standing before the most imagined bear in the world.

  A handsome brown bear, with a long snout and a humped back.

  Where had they seen him before?

  Emily and Ruth remembered at the same moment, and cried out together: ‘It’s the German lodger!’

  Twenty-five

  A VERY IMPORTANT JOB

  THE ANCIENT TOY SHIFTED on his Perspex stand. ‘Too hard!’ he muttered. ‘My chocolate egg is much too hard!’

  ‘WAKE UP!’ shouted Emily. ‘Mr Sturvey – or whatever your name is – you’ve got to save Smockeroon!’

  His glass eyes glinted at them. ‘Where am I? What’s going on? Ach, I tried to tell them – they should never have put me here!’

  ‘WAKE UP!’ shouted everyone.

  ‘Oh … oh … a little strength is creeping back into my stuffing!’ The Sturvey’s arms quivered feebly. ‘But I’m so dreadfully weak – I can do nothing!’

  ‘Maybe he’s hungry,’ said Martha. ‘I wish we had some Biggins’ Mixture.’

  Ruth said, ‘I wish Danny was here. He’d know what to do.’

  ‘And I wish …’ Emily suddenly felt a great wave of sadness washing over her.

  What’s the point of silly stories without Holly?

  What’s the point of anything?

  ‘Eeyew!’ Martha clamped a hand over her nose. ‘That’s disgusting!’

  ‘Yuck – I think I’m going to throw up,’ groaned Maze. ‘That smells like about a million concentrated farts!’

  The stench hit Emily a second later, and the room filled with the desolate sound of countless people sobbing and wailing.

  The toad!

  It was in the room with them, blocking the door – black and oozing, slowly blinking its wicked eyes.

  Maze and Martha screamed.

  ‘Do something!’ Emily banged on the Sturvey’s case so hard that she nearly broke the glass. ‘Get rid of it!’

  ‘I can’t.’ The old bear sighed. ‘They shut me away and I ran out of fuel.’

  ‘What fuel?’

  ‘Human imagination – I can’t help Smockeroon without it. You must help me.’ He stood up on shaky old legs. ‘My strength is coming back, but it’s not enough. Join hands!’

  Emily grabbed Ruth’s hand on one side of her and Martha’s on the other. The four of them made a circle around the glass case.

  ‘Think about your toys!’ cried the Sturvey. ‘Thi
nk about them as hard as you can!’

  It was difficult to think about anything except the smell, which was getting stronger; knowing how important this was, Emily made a mighty effort to concentrate.

  Bluey, Bluey, Bluey, Bluey.

  There was a dazzling starburst of colour, and the glass cases suddenly lit up like little theatres, with antique toys moving and murmuring inside them. Many of them were old bears, but there were all kinds of other animals – including a truly ancient group of small stuffed monkeys in red jackets, all with musical instruments, and two moth-eaten lady rabbits in straw hats. The glass melted away and they jumped out of the cases onto the floor. A swarm of small toys began to climb out of their boxes and bags on the shelves.

  ‘More!’ cried the Sturvey. ‘Think harder!’

  Bluey!

  Ruth gasped suddenly and clutched Emily’s hand tighter. Her backpack heaved violently, the zip burst open, and Hugo and Smiffy jumped out onto the floor.

  ‘WELL DONE, RUTH!’ shouted Hugo. ‘That was some very hard thinking!’

  ‘Hi, Martha!’ The small yellow shape that was Pippa leapt out of Martha’s backpack.

  ‘Hi, Maze!’ yelled the rough voice of Prizzy, ‘HAVE I MISSED THE FIGHT?’

  And the floor was suddenly a carpet of toys, shoving and jostling and arguing.

  The massed toys bravely bombarded the toad with pies and sweets, until the air was thick with magic glitter. Hugo and Smiffy charged towards it, flourishing a weapon that looked like a vacuum cleaner – until Emily saw that the nozzle was squirting out a powerful jet of something sweet and gloopy.

  ‘A turbotrifle!’ gasped Ruth. ‘For a toy, that’s the equivalent of a rocket-launcher! But why isn’t it working?’

  The black toad was swelling and growing before their despairing eyes.

  ‘I’M NOT SCARED OF YOU!’ shouted Hugo furiously. ‘Danny says you’re just FAT and STUPID – so there!’

  The toad suddenly lashed out a long black rope of a tongue and pulled the stuffed penguin into its revolting mouth, until only his furry feet were sticking out.