by Meg Rosoff
“Do you really understand that?” Ma Peachey asked Ava.
“Of course,” Ava said, and went back to her reading.
Ma Peachey shrugged. “Has anyone seen your father?” she asked.
Ollie and Ava shook their heads.
“A bad sign,” Ma Peachey said. “Has anyone heard your father?”
Ollie and Ava shook their heads.
“Another bad sign,” Ma Peachey said. She sighed. “I think I had better investigate.”
Ma Peachey carefully pushed open the kitchen door. Ava and Ollie followed close behind.
Inside, Pa Peachey was still at the kitchen table, his head resting on a pile of gingerbread. He was fast asleep, snoring softly.
“Oh dear,” whispered Ma Peachey.
“Oh dear,” Ava whispered.
Ollie looked at the Palace of Versailles.
“Oh dear,” he whispered.
They all stared.
“Oh dear,” they all whispered at once.
“Do you think we can fix it?” Ava whispered.
“No,” Ollie whispered.
“I’m afraid your brother is right,” Ma Peachey whispered. “I don’t think anyone could fix it.”
“Not NASA,” whispered Ollie. “Or Michelangelo. Or Albert Einstein. Or . . .”
“We get your drift,” whispered Ava.
Ma Peachey ushered them out of the kitchen.
“What on earth are we going to do?” she asked in a normal tone of voice.
Upstairs they could hear Betty and McTavish leaping and running and jumping. The ceiling rattled and shook.
“It’s their new exercise program,” Ollie explained. “And it’s very annoying.”
Ma Peachey put her hands over her ears. “I suppose we shall just have to wake Pa Peachey and let him try to finish his masterpiece.”
“But he’ll be a laughingstock!” Ollie said.
Ava picked up her book. “I am just now reading about the role of doubt and faith in human philosophy. And although doubt is important, faith is important, too. I think it might be best to hide our doubts and let Pa Peachey know we have faith in him.”
“But we don’t,” Ollie said.
Ma Peachey gave him a stern look. “We do,” she said.
“Pa is certain to be awarded last place,” Ollie said.
“There is no award for last place,” Ava said. “There will be a winner and a second place, and maybe even a third. But everyone else will just be . . .”
“Losers,” Ollie said.
“I think your sister is right,” Ma Peachey said. “Short of a miracle, we must simply show that we have faith in your father.”
“But what if we don’t have faith?” Ollie said.
“Then we must pretend,” said Ma Peachey.
Just then, McTavish and Betty thundered down the stairs, panting and laughing. They flopped onto the floor and lay there.
“How is Pa’s palace looking today?” Betty asked.
“How do you think?” Ollie asked.
“Oh,” said Betty. She felt suddenly sad. “Pa Peachey is not very good at baking, but in the past he has been very good at being a kind and understanding father,” she said to McTavish. “We must think of a way to help him. What on earth can we do?”
McTavish looked thoughtful. He was considering the same question.
He had rescued the Peachey family many times in the past. But could he rescue Pa Peachey from being the worst baker in the world?
This time he was not so sure.
The morning of the judging arrived.
Despite Ollie hoping that the world might end a few hours before daybreak, it did not.
Despite Ollie hoping for a very dense fog that would reduce visibility to just a few inches, or a blizzard that would shut down all the roads and cause the competition to be canceled, it was a beautiful, clear, and sunny day.
Pa Peachey had worked all night, gluing and decorating. In the final few hours, he threw his entire heart and soul into the project, every ounce of his determination and skill.
The Palace of Versailles looked terrible.
Pa Peachey was too tired to notice how it looked. But the rest of the Peacheys had resigned themselves to humiliation and ridicule. It was impossible to imagine any other result.
“Poor, poor Pa,” Betty said.
“Poor, poor Pa,” said Ava.
“Poor, poor us,” said Ollie, hoping nobody he knew would be at the competition.
Ma Peachey shook her head sadly.
Everybody helped transfer the terrible Palace of Versailles onto a large wooden board. Ma Peachey wrapped it around and around with a loose cover of brown paper for protection. Then she and Ollie placed it ever so carefully into the trunk of the car.
The Peacheys all climbed into the car with infinite care so as not to joggle Pa’s creation. Pa Peachey looked tired and dejected.
Ma Peachey drove slowly and carefully.
Pa Peachey was so tired from his all-night efforts that he kept nodding off on the way to the town hall.
When at last Ma Peachey stopped the car, he jerked up from a dream.
“First prize? Why, I am so honored! Thank you, Madam Mayor, and thank you, Fame and Fortune Flour Company! Five hundred dollars will allow me to achieve ever greater feats of baking!” Pa Peachey blinked happily, still half-asleep.
“Wake up, Pa.” Ava shook his shoulder gently. “We’ve just arrived at the town hall. They haven’t begun the judging yet.”
“Oh,” Pa Peachey said.
Betty and McTavish leaped out of the car and began running in figure eights around the parking lot.
“Wheeee!” Betty shouted.
“Woof!” McTavish answered.
Ma Peachey and Ollie removed the Grand Masterpiece from the trunk of the car.
“I’ll take that,” Pa Peachey said.
“I think it might be better if I carried it, Pa,” Ollie said. “You look very tired.”
Pa Peachey sighed. “I suppose I am tired. And I suppose if you carry the masterpiece, I can practice my speech.”
Nobody asked which speech he was practicing, though everyone in the Peachey family had the same nervous idea—that Pa Peachey was practicing his victory speech.
Betty had brought McTavish’s ball, and the two of them practiced throwing and catching.
“Settle down, Betty,” Ma Peachey said.
Betty frowned. “But we need more exercise. McTavish and I are on the road to being fit and healthy.”
“Yes,” Ma Peachey said. “But perhaps now is not the right moment.”
The Peacheys approached the town hall, walking sideways and carrying Pa’s masterpiece with great care. Other contestants arrived with their masterpieces, some wrapped up and some not. The unwrapped entries caused Betty’s heart to sink. They were professional, elegant, beautifully constructed and worthy of a five-hundred-dollar prize.
One was a cake in the shape of a cactus. The cactus was so lifelike you had to look carefully to see that it was not a genuine desert plant.
Another cake looked exactly like a Formula One race car.
There was a beautiful, shiny loaf of bread in the shape of a blue whale.
Every entry looked amazing. Except for Pa Peachey’s.
A large handwritten sign directed entrants to a row of long tables set up on the lawn beside the town hall. A crowd had already gathered, and a banner read WELCOME, BAKERS, TO THE BAKE-OFF and then underneath that, SPONSORED BY THE FAME AND FORTUNE FLOUR COMPANY.
Ma Peachey and Ollie sidestepped carefully in the direction of the long tables, dreading the moment when the brown paper would have to come off.
After days of constant throwing and catching, McTavish and Betty were finding it impossible to stand still. So they had a hopping race from one side of the huge lawn to the other. McTavish was not a very good hopper, so he ran rings around Betty instead.
Ma Peachey and Ollie approached the long table, balancing Pa Peachey’s masterpiece
between them on the large board.
Betty and McTavish played catch.
Sometimes McTavish added a little twist in the air, just to show off. Sometimes he waited till the last moment to jump so that everyone gasped and thought, He will never catch it this time. But McTavish always, always caught the ball.
Even when Betty’s throw wasn’t very good, McTavish caught the ball.
Which made what happened next so very surprising.
Betty threw the ball high into the air.
McTavish looked up to judge where it was headed, then coiled his body up like a spring and leaped.
Afterward, nobody could quite agree on exactly what had gone wrong.
Perhaps McTavish forgot to calculate that extra bit of body fat he still carried around his middle.
Perhaps Betty’s aim was the problem.
Perhaps there was a slight spin on the ball, which caused it to change direction in midair.
Perhaps a gust of wind blew it off course at the very last moment.
All the onlookers turned to watch as the ball flew above the crowd. All the onlookers watched as the ball flew directly toward McTavish’s jaws. And all the onlookers gasped as the ball flew—not into McTavish’s jaws but just barely, ever so slightly, beyond them.
McTavish snapped his mouth shut, but the ball kept going.
It flew up, up, up, and then, thanks to the miracle of gravity, it began to fall down, down, down. Instead of hitting the ground, the ball clipped the edge of the long table and ricocheted sideways at great speed.
Ollie watched with horror as the ball headed straight toward him.
It might be good to remember that it is a natural human reflex to duck when a ball is headed straight toward you at great speed.
Ollie ducked.
He did not let go of the board, but when he ducked, his side of the board dropped by approximately three feet. This meant that his side of Pa Peachey’s masterpiece also dropped by approximately three feet.
A gasp went up from the crowd as the Palace of Versailles, still entirely covered in brown paper, began to slide.
But before Ollie could react to the sliding palace, McTavish’s ball whacked him on the side of his head, causing him to shout “OW!” and fall sideways.
The Palace of Versailles began to slide off the board. Ollie put his hand out to stop it. But it was too late.
The gingerbread palace slid off the end of the board and plummeted to the ground. It met its end with a muffled noise that was somewhere between a crunch and a thud.
Pa Peachey’s masterpiece lay in a terrible heap on the ground, still covered in brown paper.
“NOOOOOOO!” cried Pa Peachey.
“NO!” cried Betty and Ava and Ollie and Ma Peachey together.
The judges and rival contestants all rushed to the scene of the disaster.
Pa Peachey dropped to his knees beside the large tangled pile of brown paper and broken gingerbread.
“My beautiful palace!” he cried.
McTavish was nowhere to be seen.
“My glorious palace!” Pa Peachey cried. “Oh, the tragedy! Oh, the heartache!”
It is an interesting fact that not one of the judges had seen Pa’s palace before it was smashed to smithereens. When they saw it lying in a heap on the ground, it was easy to think it had once been a creation of exquisite beauty. The judges covered their faces with their hands. They assumed sorrowful expressions. They circled Pa Peachey and his ruined palace, shaking their heads. They could only begin to imagine the amount of work that had gone into building the entire Palace of Versailles out of gingerbread.
“It must have been glorious,” one of them said in a hushed voice.
“It must have been a work of art,” another said, nearly choking with sorrow.
“It must have been unlike anything we’ve ever seen,” another said, holding back actual tears.
“You can say that again,” Ollie muttered.
Somebody handed Pa Peachey a dustpan and brush.
Sadly, and with great dignity, Pa Peachey began to sweep up the remnants of his broken dreams.
Pa Peachey did not win the five-hundred-dollar prize that day.
First prize went to a most amazing model of the Titanic made entirely of chocolate, sinking into the sea surrounded by marzipan lifeboats.
Second prize went to the beautiful blue whale made out of rye bread.
And third prize went to the cake that looked so much like a cactus nobody dared touch it for fear of getting pricked.
The Peachey family stayed through the award ceremony because only sore losers sneak off home when they have not won. They clapped when each winner was announced. But they all felt very downcast.
Pa Peachey looked like a man whose dream had been shattered in a terrible ball-throwing accident.
Which it had.
The Peachey family looked like a group of people who had been through a most distressing and emotional experience.
Which they had.
McTavish looked like a dog who had managed to save his family from disaster and humiliation without anyone even noticing.
Which he had.
Betty looked at her father. His sadness moved her to tears.
“Let’s go home, Pa. There will be other contests,” she said, taking his hand.
But just as they were about to set off for home, they heard the mayor call Pa Peachey’s name.
“Will Mr. Peachey please come up to the stage to join the winners?”
A confused Pa Peachey made his way through the crowd and took his place onstage, where he looked this way and that, wondering what could possibly happen next.
The mayor handed Pa Peachey an envelope and shook his hand.
“Mr. Peachey,” the mayor said, “in recognition of the extraordinary toil and creativity you invested in your entry, not to mention the unfortunate destruction of the magnificent Palace of Versailles, the Fame and Fortune Flour Company hereby awards you a consolation prize of a year’s supply of free flour.”
The crowd clapped and stamped and cheered and whistled. Pa Peachey turned bright red. The barest hint of a smile appeared on his haggard, exhausted face.
“Thank you,” he said softly, and shook the mayor’s hand. He was too overcome with emotion to say anything else.
After everyone had congratulated the winners and admired the cakes, Betty threw her arms around her father.
“Oh, Pa,” she said, “I am more sorry than words can ever express that my ball caused your palace to crash to the ground.”
“Never mind, Betty,” Pa Peachey said cheerily. “All’s well that ends well. I am planning to use at least five hundred dollars’ worth of flour this year. So my consolation prize has turned out to be nearly as good as winning. And,” he said in a low voice, “I feel quite confident that my Palace of Versailles would have won first prize had it not been for the unfortunate accident.”
The year’s supply of free flour made Ma Peachey nervous.
“I think it is time to go home and celebrate today’s triumph,” she said, “and think about free flour at another time.”
McTavish crept up behind Pa Peachey with his tail between his legs.
“Here is the hero—I mean, the villain—of the day,” Ollie said. “If it weren’t for the fact that you missed your ball and it whacked me in the head, McTavish, Pa Peachey’s masterpiece would still be in one piece.”
“Life is full of senseless tragedy,” Pa Peachey said, shaking his head. “But after all, McTavish is only a dog. What else can we expect from him but foolish bungling?”
Only a dog? thought McTavish. Foolish bungling?
McTavish did not expect to receive credit for all the clever plans he made for the Peachey family, but it did sometimes hurt his feelings when they went so unnoticed.
But just then Ollie swept McTavish up in his arms.
“McTavish,” Ollie whispered in his ear, “I don’t know if you missed that ball by mistake or on purpose, but either wa
y, you are the hero of the day, and we all know it.” He glanced at Pa Peachey. “Almost all of us, that is.”
Betty and Ava came and hugged him, too.
“You are the best dog in the entire world,” Betty whispered.
“And the smartest,” Ava said.
“I have no idea what we would do without McTavish,” Ma Peachey added, patting him fondly on the head.
You’d be lost, McTavish thought.
But he was far too polite to say it out loud.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2019 by Meg Rosoff Original illustrational style and cover art copyright © 2019 by Grace Easton Interior illustrations by copy artist David Shephard, based on and in the style of Grace Easton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First US electronic edition 2021 First published by Barrington Stoke, Ltd. (Great Britain), 2019
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2021935042
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