by Lou Kuenzler
“Esme? Where are you?” I cried.
“Ribbit!”
I looked down to see a tiny toad hopping up and down in the mud. It was no bigger than my hand with webbed feet, bendy knees, warty green skin, popping-out eyes and a thin yellow stripe down its back.
“Esme?” I said. “Is that you?”
“Ribbit!” she answered.
I really had turned my best friend into a toad.
Chapter Twenty-One
Esme hopped towards me.
Boing!
She was a perfect natterjack toad.
I bent down and scooped her up in my hands.
“Ooh, you are cold and slimy!” I giggled, almost dropping her by mistake.
“Thanks very much!” croaked Esme, answering in Toad Talk and blowing a big wet bubble at me.
“Come on! The environmental officer is still in the orchard,” I said. But Esme started to wriggle. “Yikes! What are you doing?”
She leapt right out of my hand.
“Sorry!” she croaked, jumping away. “It’s being a toad … I can’t help myself. All I want to do is hop … and I’m suddenly desperate for a swim!”
Boing! Boing! Boing!
“Stop!” I only just managed to grab her slimy webbed foot before she dived head first into the stream.
“Ribbit!” she stuck out her long, slippery tongue.
“You can’t go swimming now. We have to save the windmill,” I reminded her. Esme was starting to think far too much like a real toad. I opened my sleeve so that she could hide inside there. It would be safer than trying to hold her in my hand while she was so bouncy.
“Eeek!” I shivered as her slippery feet hopped along my arm. “Just don’t go leaping about… Not till we see the environmental officer and I give you the word,” I said, setting off towards the orchard. I couldn’t wait to see the twins’ faces when they saw I had a real natterjack toad. Zac had said that would save the windmill for sure.
I was running so fast I almost tripped over something in the grass … something white and plump and fluffy.
“Nibbles?” I gasped as I stumbled forward. “Oh no! That’s all we need!” The rabbits had escaped from the coach.
Nibbles was happily chewing a fallen apple while Snowy, Chocolate and Speckles all rolled around in the long grass. I saw a wisp of Fluffy’s hair caught on a bush and a streak of grey as Smoky dashed past. Midnight was cowering shyly behind a tree and Cosy and Dozy were just settling down for a nap.
At least they were keeping well away from the big machines. The environmental officer hadn’t noticed them either. She was too busy tapping the bark of the trees.
Poor sensible Ginger popped his head out from under a bramble bush and clicked his teeth as if to say “Sorry!” I’d left him in charge but he hadn’t managed to keep the other rabbits on the bus. I couldn’t blame him. I knew how hard it was to control the naughty bunnies – especially when Nibbles was hungry and looking for food. He had eaten the fallen apple right down to the core and now his whiskers were covered in dark purple juice as he munched on a fat, ripe blackberry.
“Tumbling trolls! It’s the whole gang again,” I groaned as Bunnykins the Second squeezed under the hedge. I opened my sleeve so that Esme could see her favourite rabbit hopping past.
“Ribbit!” she cried. But poor Bunnykins the Second looked startled and leapt away.
“We’ll just have to worry about them later,” I whispered, running on towards the environmental officer and the twins. “There’s not a moment to lose. It’s time for you to do your toad thing, Esme.”
I sprinted across the orchard. “Excuse me,” I called out as the officer reached one of the huge bulldozer digging machines. “I have found a rare natterjack toad.”
“A natterjack?” The environmental officer shook her head. “You must be mistaken. Natterjack toads like sandy ground, not grassy meadows like this one. It would be most unusual to find a natterjack living here. It is quite the wrong habitat.”
“Oh…” I stammered. “But…”
“Couldn’t there be an exception?” asked Zac.
“Please, Dr Greenwood,” Zoe joined in, grabbing the environmental officer by the arm. “Couldn’t you just take a look? If there is a rare natterjack toad, the digging would have to stop, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, yes…” Dr Greenwood pulled a notebook out of the pocket of her white coat.
“Ready, Esme,” I whispered in Toad Talk, quickly shaking my sleeve. “Esme?”
I shook my sleeve again and peered inside it.
“Esme?” I croaked. But my sleeve was empty. She was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The environmental officer stared at me as I fell to my knees and began desperately searching through the long grass. “There was a toad. Really there was,” I promised.
“Back to work, everybody!” I heard Mr Seymour’s voice booming across the meadow. He waved the brown envelope in the air as he stepped out of the windmill. Miss Marker stood in the doorway with her arm around Mrs Lee. Lady Trim followed with her head bowed in shame.
“Just like I said, these papers are all in order. Signed and sealed by the council!” Mr Seymour crowed. “Nothing can stop me covering this whole place in concrete.”
“There’s nothing I can do either,” Dr Greenwood told me and the twins apologetically. “I wish there was. This is such a beautiful place. But there is no sign of any endangered species.”
“But there really was a natterjack. I saw it too,” said Zoe, scrabbling around in the grass beside me.
“Did you?” I turned towards her. If she had seen a toad it must be Esme. “Thank goodness for that!”
“I’m only fibbing!” she whispered. “Just like you are. It’s our last chance to save the windmill.”
“But I’m not fibbing! You don’t understand. There really was a toad,” I groaned as the giant machines above us began to rumble. I was afraid of something even more terrible than losing the windmill now. There was no sign of Esme. She could be anywhere, hopping around in the grass. She was so small the Persons driving the machines wouldn’t notice her – and even if they did, they would only see a tiny toad. I couldn’t imagine Mr Seymour’s workers stopping for that.
The great digger beside us shuddered and sprang into life.
“Hurry, Indigo Class – come with me! It is not safe with all these machines,” cried Miss Marker.
“Get digging!” bellowed Mr Seymour, above the roar of the engines. “Start in the orchard and bulldoze the trees.”
“Stop!” I begged, waving my hands wildly in the air. Wherever Esme was, she could be squashed at any moment.
“Move out of the way, little girl,” yelled Mr Seymour. “I want this whole place covered in concrete by nightfall!”
“No!” I stepped out in front of the smallest apple tree and spread my arms wide. “I’m not going anywhere! I’m not moving!” I said.
The digger rolled towards me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I have seen fierce fiery dragons and roaring mountain ogres back in the Magic Realm, but nothing was as terrifying as that enormous snarling machine with its terrible iron jaws.
“Out of the way!” cried the driver. I saw that it was Knox’s Uncle Bruiser.
I was so scared, my whole body was shaking like a rattling skeleton. But I didn’t move. I stayed rooted to the spot, right in front of the little apple tree with my arms spread out.
“You can’t touch this orchard,” I yelled. “Or the meadow. Or the windmill.” I couldn’t let the enormous digger move even another centimetre. If it rolled forward it might squash Esme. She had to be near here somewhere.
“Oh dear!” shrieked Lady Trim. “This has all gone a bit too far!”
“Bella! What are you doing?” cried Miss Marker, running towards me from the other side of the meadow.
Dr Greenwood stepped forward and took my arm, bravely standing beside me in front of the juddering machine. “You really do ha
ve to come away now,” she shouted over the noise.
“But the toad… She’s here somewhere. She’s my best friend,” I cried.
“Your best friend?” Dr Greenwood smiled. “I know what you mean,” she said. “Some of my best friends are slimy creatures too. Snakes and snails. Even slugs … I love them all.”
“You don’t understand,” I said, realizing I would have to confess everything, even if meant telling everybody I was a witch. I couldn’t let Esme be squashed to death. “She’s not really a toad, you see…”
“Well, she’s almost certainly not a natterjack,” interrupted Dr Greenwood kindly. “As I explained, this isn’t the right habitat at all. Meadow grass like this is much more suited to rabbits or deer or—”
“Rabbits?” Suddenly I knew what I had to do. “Stop!” I bellowed, throwing my arms in the air again. “You can’t bulldoze the meadow. There are rare bunnies living here.”
“Rare bunnies?” said Dr Greenwood. “Where?”
The giant metal teeth of the machine snapped and shuddered above us but I stood my ground and pointed to the bramble hedge. “There!” Nibbles poked his head out from under a bush. His pink nose was bright purple with blackberry juice.
“Turn off the engines!” cried Dr Greenwood, grabbing her notebook.
“Yes! Turn them off at once!” cried Miss Marker, skidding to a stop beside us. Most of Indigo Class were right behind her. “Bella, are you all right?” She scooped me into a hug. “You were so brave,” she said (and it was better than any gold star she could ever have given me). “But also very silly. You can’t just stand in front of a dangerous machine like this. You scared me!”
“I’m sorry!” I flushed as hot as a boiling cauldron. I was glad she was still holding on to me as my knees felt so weak I almost fell over. The rattling engine of the giant digger shuddered to a halt at last.
The children cheered.
I looked around, desperately trying to see Esme, but there was still no sign of the tiny toad.
“Bunny rabbits?” Bruiser Bailey climbed down from the giant digger. He shook his fist as Dr Greenwood. “You can’t make us stop work because of a few bunny rabbits.”
“There’s nothing special about these rabbits,” agreed Mr Seymour, thundering across the orchard to join us. “Best thing we could do is put them in a pie. There’s been a plague of the long-eared leapers all over Merrymeet Village.”
“Not any more! Most of them are safe at the Roman villa now!” whispered Zoe, squeezing my hand.
“Set some traps, Bruiser,” said Mr Seymour, clicking his fingers as Snowy and Speckles poked their heads up in the long grass beside Nibbles. “Better still, fetch a gun. We’ll deal with this lot in no time.”
“No!” I cried. “You can’t. These rabbits are rare and magical and—”
“They’re just bunnies!” said Mr Seymour, clicking his fingers again. “Get on with it Bruiser.”
“Not so fast!” said Dr Greenwood. “There does seem to be something very unusual about these rabbits.”
Mr Seymour’s shouting must have frightened Nibbles and the gang. All we could see was a row of fluffy bottoms poking up in the air as the rabbits tried to dig a burrow and escape.
Even Cozy and Dozy had woken up and were digging too. We could see eleven tails all in a row … and each little tail had a magic star on it.
“Extraordinary! I have never seen markings like that before,” said Dr Greenwood, almost dancing a jig, she was so excited. “These rabbits could be extremely rare. A whole new breed perhaps.” She picked a clump of Fluffy’s hair from a nearby bramble bush and popped it into a little plastic bag. “All work in this meadow will have to stop while I investigate.”
“You mean Mr Seymour can’t build his car park?” I asked. “The windmill will be safe? And the meadow too?”
“The machines will never be allowed back again if these rabbits really are as rare and special as they look,” said Dr Greenwood.
Ginger poked his head out from behind a tree. “There’s no magic rabbits like us in the whole of the Person World,” he said wisely in Rabbit language. Then he clicked his teeth and winked at me.
“Oh these rabbits are rare … and very special. I am sure of it,” I said. I was tingling all over with excitement. If only I could find Esme and share the good news.
“Three cheers for Bella,” whooped Zac. “The diggers would never have stopped if she hadn’t spotted the bunnies hiding in the grass.”
“Hip, hip, hooray!” cheered Indigo Class (or most of them anyway). Piers looked furious, of course, and Malinda and Fay took his side as usual.
Knox cheered louder than anybody else. “Three cheers for the rabbits too!” he called. I always knew he was good and kind really. “I love bunnies,” he whispered in my ear. “When I was told to set the traps I made sure they wouldn’t really go off.” Then he blushed bright red as his Uncle Bruiser grabbed him by the ear and marched him towards the digger.
“You haven’t heard the last of this,” said Mr Seymour, jabbing his finger at Mrs Lee. “I … I’ll appeal to the council … I’ll—”
“I think you’ll find,” Lady Trim said haughtily, “that any – ah – arrangement you might have with the council is off. You said you would get rid of the rabbits, and you’ve obviously failed. Goodbye, Mr Seymour.” She swept off angrily.
Mrs Lee straightened her spectacles. “Yes, hop along Mr Seymour and take your machines with you! The Rabbits of Windmill Meadow have won this battle,” she said firmly. Then she passed baby Bean to Gretel and flung her arms around my neck.
“Thank you, Bella! We could never have stopped Mr Seymour’s machines without you,” she said. “But where’s Esme? She’ll jump for joy when she hears the good news…”
All I could think about was Esme jumping like a toad.
“Er … I’ll try and find her,” I said, staring hopelessly at the ground.
We might have saved the windmill, but how could I explain to Mrs Lee that I had turned her daughter into a toad?
Chapter Twenty-Four
What if my tiny slimy best friend had already been squashed by one of the terrible diggers? What if, what if – it was all too awful to think about.
“Where are you, Esme?” I groaned. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine where I would hop off to if I was a toad. “Leaping lobsters! Of course!”
I sped off across the meadow. “I know where she is… I’m going to find Esme!” I called.
“Quick as you can, Bella. I want everyone back on the coach in five minutes,” Miss Marker shouted after me.
“We’ll be there,” I promised. At least I hope we will, I thought, clutching my wand as I skidded to a stop beside the stream.
I remembered how desperate Esme had been to go for a swim… If she had escaped the diggers and gone anywhere, then surely it would be here.
“Yes!” I clapped my hands as I saw a trail of tiny toad prints in the mud. “Esme!” I cried, spotting her at the edge of the stream. But it was too late. She dived head first into the water.
Plop!
Her little webbed feet disappeared below the surface.
“Wait!” I called. If Esme swam downstream I would never be able to find her again.
I waded into the shallow water and began paddling towards her.
“Esme, come back!” I rolled my sleeves up and plunged my hands right down to the mud at the bottom of the stream – just the sort of place a toad would love to squelch about. “Got you!” I cried, grabbing something wet and slippery, but it was only a piece of weed.
Then I heard a big wet PLOP as she leapt out of the water just ahead of me.
I plunged forward, tripped over a stone and fell SPLAT! in the stream.
I looked like a dripping-wet marsh monster as I clambered to my feet covered from head to toe in mud and weeds and slime.
The stream was all stirred up like a swirling cauldron and there was no sign of Esme anywhere.
“Where are you?”
I cried in despair.
Then I felt something hopping about amongst the slimy weeds on top of my head.
“Is that you?” I asked, nearly leaping out of my skin as Esme sprung past the end of my muddy nose and plopped into my outstretched palm.
“At last!” I cried, holding her firmly in one hand and wiping the other on the clean grass at the edge of the stream. “I thought you’d been squashed by the diggers!”
I grabbed my soggy wand and waved it over Esme’s head.
Little toad you’ve had your fun,
But now your hopping days are done.
You must turn back to a girl,
When I give my wand a
twir ……………. l!
Esme shot up to full size so quickly we both tumbled into the stream again.
Splosh!
“Slithering serpents!” I cried as the wet, pink wand flew out of my slippery fingers.
It spun through the air just as Piers Seymour appeared over the hill.
“What are you two up to now?” he scowled.
Bam!
The wand hit him right on the top of his head.
“Ouch!” he yelped. “What was that? And why are you two sitting in the stream?”
Before we could answer his questions there was a faint puff of green smoke.
Piers looked startled for a moment. Then, to my amazement, he crouched down and started hopping around at the edge of the water.
Boing! Boing! Boing!
“Oh dear!” When the wand hit Piers a tiny bit of the toad magic must have been left on the end of it. Esme and I looked at each other, trying not to laugh. “It really was an accident!” I whispered, helping her to her feet. “And at least Piers hasn’t turned green or slimy or anything. But I think he might be hopping like that for a few days yet.”
“Serves him right for throwing my family out of our windmill!” said Esme.
“Laughing lizards! You didn’t hear the good news,” I cried, realizing she must have set off to the stream before the diggers were stopped. “The concrete car park can’t be built. Dr Greenwood saw the magic rabbits. She says they are really rare. As long as the bunnies live in the meadow, there is nothing Piers or his father can do.”
