Dad gives the books to Gerda and she squeezes them to her chest. ‘Thank you,’ she sighs.
‘Wait!’ cries Dad. ‘You need one more book.’ He scuttles up a ladder and plucks out an elegant crimson leatherbound book of poetry. ‘I think your dad will enjoy this too.’
When Gerda tries to pay, Dad waves the money aside. ‘No, no, no!’ he says. ‘These books are special. I’m just glad they’ve found their way home.’
Home.
It’s very moving. I have to swallow the lump in my throat.
As Gerda leaves, she walks close to Willemina.
This is it, I think. The beautiful moment. She’s going to apologise!
Gerda leans in to Willemina and whispers, ‘What are you staring at, Bug Eyes?’
But Gerda’s heart’s not in it.
And Willemina doesn’t even flinch.
CHAPTER 15
Flossy waddles and looming gloom
‘I’d better go,’ says Willemina. ‘It’s getting late.’
‘We’ll take you home,’ says Dad. ‘You and Mim can ride Flossy. She could do with an outing. It’ll keep her fit for when we move on once more.’
Willemina’s face falls. Her eyes water and blink behind her glasses.
‘There’s nothing to be scared of.’ I pat her shoulder. ‘I know Flossy’s huge, but she’s as gentle as a dove.’
‘You can ride one of our bikes if you’d rather,’ says Dad.
‘Or fly with Daisy,’ says Nat.
‘I’d love to ride Flossy,’ Willemina whispers. ‘I’m just sad at the thought of you leaving. It’s been so nice having you here. But when you go, I’ll be alone again. I’ll have no friends.’
Poor Willemina. Now my eyes water.
‘Oh,’ sighs Dad. His eyes go wet and squishy too.
But not for long.
Dad claps his hands and shouts, ‘There’s no time for gloom! Chop-chop! Come along, kiddywinks! Shoes and socks on!’
‘You mean shoes and sock puppets on,’ I say.
We try to slip our shoes and clogs over our sock puppets, but we can’t get comfy.
‘The buttons rub,’ says Nat.
‘The tongues tangle too,’ I add, then giggle because my own tongue tangles as I say it.
‘We’ll wear sandals instead!’ announces Dad.
Sock puppets and sandals look really stupid but funny. Woolly hair grows from our ankles, eyes peep out between the straps of our sandals and tongues flap about at the tips of our toes. As though our feet are blabbering. On and on and on.
Nat dances about, giggling at his sock-puppet sandals.
Willemina giggles too and her sadness disappears. For now.
Willemina, Daisy, Coco and I ride on Flossy. Her back is wide and warm, and her hooves make a lovely crisp clippety-clop on the cobblestones. We wibble and wobble as she ambles along.
Dad and Nat ride the tandem, Dad at the front, his knees up around his ears. They wibble and wobble too, because Nat keeps waving his feet in the air to see his sock puppets flapping their tongues.
‘Hellooo! Hellooo!’ It’s Casper, waving us to a halt. He spots Daisy with his fairy wings. He stares at our sock-puppet sandals. His teeth fill his face. His chins and belly begin to quiver. And then he laughs. On and on until he snorts.
‘Maaaa!’ Daisy bleats rudely down at him.
‘I must thank you, Zedekiah,’ says Casper to Dad. ‘You saved my windmill.’
Dad smiles, but I’m confused.
‘It was the book!’ says Casper. ‘The perfect book!’
Now I’m really confused. Which book? The big book of jokes? One of the funny novels? The yellow book with cartoons of cats chasing dogs? How could any of those save a windmill?
‘Termites!’ hisses Casper. ‘My mother bought a book on termites from your bookshop. For days, she’s been obsessed with termites. She’s been poking around my house and shed and fences and barn, longing to find termites. And at last, in the windmill, she did!’
‘I hate termites!’ shouts Nat. Then he lifts his foot in the air and wriggles it about. ‘Me too!’ he says, as though the sock puppet is talking.
‘Me too!’ agrees Casper, speaking right at the sock puppet. ‘The pest controller is coming tomorrow to get rid of them. Thankfully, we caught the little monsters in time. If they’d taken hold, the windmill would be ruined. And without the windmill to pump water from the low-lying paddocks, my farm would flood. My house would sink. My cheeses would drown. My cows and sheep would float away.’ He takes a big red hanky from his pocket and blows his nose. ‘And then my heart would break!’
‘I’m glad we found the right book,’ says Dad. ‘Or rather, the right book found your mother.’
Casper shakes Dad’s hand. ‘You must visit again before you hit the road. We’ll have a party to celebrate the shooing of the termites.’
‘We love parties!’ shouts Nat.
‘Yes, we do!’ shout his sock puppets both at once.
‘That’s settled then,’ says Casper, and he waves us on our way.
Willemina’s mum and dad, Nora and Herbert, come out of their house to greet us. They’re lovely, just like Willemina, with short, cloud-like hair and thick, round glasses. Except they’re taller. And Herbert has a beard.
The grey cat sitting on the windowsill is the shaggiest thing I’ve ever seen. It’s fat and healthy, but its fur is a weird mix of tufty and fluffy and ruffled and smooth, as though it can’t decide whether to be a Siamese, a Persian or a plain old moggy.
‘We’re so very pleased to meet you!’ sings Nora. ‘Won’t you come in? We’re having brown bread with chocolate sprinkles.’
‘I love chocolate sprinkles!’ shouts Nat.
I do too! But we can’t come in because of Flossy. And Daisy. And Coco. The grey cat is staring hungrily at our cockatoo, licking its lips, flicking its tail.
Nora lifts Willemina down from Flossy, gives her a hug and leads her inside.
‘See you tomorrow!’ I call after her.
Herbert stays behind. ‘Thank you,’ he says, nodding to Dad and Nat, then me. ‘Willemina has been so much happier these past few days. I don’t know how she’ll cope when you leave. She gets very lonely.’ His eyes are large and sad behind his glasses.
My tummy hurts.
Or maybe it’s my heart.
Actually, it’s both.
I worry all the way home. I know Gerda has the right book. Or maybe it’s her dad who has the right book. Either way, things are changing. Gerda is already different. Happier. Softer.
Who knows? Maybe she’ll stop picking on Willemina altogether.
But the damage is done. Nobody plays with Willemina any more. Nobody will be her friend. Willemina will always be lonely.
Maybe Willemina is not the reason we’re here. Maybe Gerda’s the reason. And Franz and Elke. And Casper.
Maybe Willemina has to get by on her own.
CHAPTER 16
How not to win friends
It’s Monday afternoon. The bookshop is bustling once more. People are browsing and buying. Others are curling up on sofas, perching on ladders, stretching out on rugs, losing themselves in the pages of beautiful books. The hedgehogs snuffle around the customers on the floor, hoping to find a sweet treat that has fallen from a pocket. Daisy bleats rudely from the top of a bookshelf, his fairy wings quivering. Coco sits on the shoulder of a woman who is reading a romance novel. Again, I wonder if Coco can read. And, if so, does she only read love stories?
The pretty blonde woman is back, searching for a book about a bird with no feathers . . . or a squirrel with no tail . . . or a guinea pig with no teeth. Dad is very happy to help.
Nat pulls out his treasure chest. ‘O’s,’ he whispers, opening the lid. A putrid cheesy smell fills the air.
‘Poo!’ I gasp.
The woman reading the romance novel coughs and presses a lace hanky to her face. Coco flicks up her yellow crest and glares at Nat.
Nat beams. He lifts the sl
ice of holey cheese from the top of his O collection. It’s green and furry with mould.
‘Hairy O’s!’ shouts Nat. ‘I love hairy O’s! This is the best day of my life!’
I’m staring at the neat, little package that’s just been delivered.
‘Come here, Nat,’ I say. ‘There’s a parcel from Mum.’
We tear back the brown paper to find a delicate wooden box and a crisp white envelope with a letter inside.
Nat holds the box while I read the letter out loud.
My dear Mim and Nat,
Today I returned to Vienna. It’s good to be home, but already I miss Japan. It’s a beautiful country and even though my work was busy, I enjoyed many gentle moments. I stood in a park full of cherry blossoms while pink petals snowed upon my head. I sipped tea in silence with my dear friend Mrs Tanaka. I watched koi fish drift sleepily about in still, dark ponds.
I have sent you a box that contains ten teeny-tiny origami animals. I got Mrs Tanaka’s clever son, Hiro, to make them from the finest pearlescent paper. If you hold them to the light, the paper glitters and sparkles. Like every thought of my two darling children glitters and sparkles in my heart.
All my love,
Mum XXX
We open the box. Inside are the most amazing origami animals, each one as small as a cherry — a cat, a bear, a fox, an elephant, a monkey, a giraffe, a koi fish, a rabbit, a crane and a butterfly. I sit the bear in the palm of my hand and hold it up to the lamplight.
‘It twinkles,’ I whisper.
Nat does the same with the butterfly. ‘I love butterflies!’ he shouts. ‘Especially salami butterflies.’
‘Origami,’ I say.
Nat giggles as though I’m the one who’s confused. He lies on a rug on his tummy and plays with the little paper animals. The hedgehogs waddle about him.
‘Hello!’ It’s Willemina. School’s out and she’s come straight here.
Nat hops the rabbit across the floor towards her. ‘It’s a salami rabbit!’ he shouts.
‘Brilliant!’ says Willemina.
Nat beams at her.
Willemina plops to the floor and scoops both hedgehogs into her lap. ‘I have a treat for you,’ she tells them. From her pocket she pulls two fat grubs. The hedgehogs snuffle and smile, then gobble them down.
‘They love grubs!’ shouts Nat. ‘Almost as much as I love salami.’
Willemina nods. ‘I found these grubs in the playground before school this morning. I looked them up in The Big Book of Creepy-Crawly Things and it said they were like chocolate for hedgehogs. So I collected as many as I could before the bell went.’ She takes more grubs from her pocket and feeds them to the hedgehogs.
I grimace. ‘You’ve had grubs in your pocket all day?’
Willemina smiles and nods again.
I don’t think this is going to help Willemina make new friends.
‘Dad,’ I whisper. ‘Come and look at this.’
Dad sits on the floor with us. He grins as Willemina takes grub after grub from her pocket and feeds them to the hedgehogs.
‘They love grubs!’ shouts Dad. He sounds just like Nat.
And he’s missing the point.
The point is that Willemina has grubs in her pocket.
GRUBS.
IN HER POCKET!
It’s just a matter of time before someone starts calling her Grub Girl. Someone like —
‘Gerda!’ sings Dad.
Oh no! Gerda’s here. Now. Right beside us.
‘How lovely to see you,’ says Dad.
Gerda smiles. And not in a creepy way. She gives a proper happy smile.
But it makes no difference to Willemina. She hunches in on herself, as though she’s trying to become invisible.
‘What can we do for you, Gerda?’ asks Dad.
‘Nothing,’ she says. ‘I just came to say thank you. The books were perfect.’
Dad nods. He knew they were the right books.
Gerda plops down on the floor with us. ‘Last night we all snuggled up on the sofa, Mum, Dad, Margareta and me, and Dad read us the story about the angry bull and the boy with the red pants.’ She giggles. Actually giggles! ‘It was so funny. We laughed until we cried. And Daddy . . . well, Dad said he hadn’t felt so happy in years. And Mum too.’
‘That’s wonderful, Gerda,’ says Dad. His eyes are soft and gooey.
Gerda nods. ‘It feels like something magical has happened. At first, I think the books just reminded my dad of his childhood. But now they’ve reminded him how to be happy. How to smile and laugh and use kind words and hug. And his happiness makes us all happy.’ She wipes something from her eye. ‘And now we’re going to read stories together every night because Dad says it’s good for us.’
Gerda gives a smile that sparkles even more than the pink sequined heart on her T-shirt. I can’t help smiling back.
But then Willemina reaches into her pocket and my heart sinks. Like a stone in a koi pond.
Don’t do it, Willemina. Don’t pull grubs from your pocket. Not in front of Gerda!
Too late. Willemina pulls out a handful of grubs. They’re fat and brown and squirmy.
Gerda stares, but Willemina doesn’t seem to notice. She holds them out to the hedgehogs and they gobble. Greedily. Noisily. Like hungry wolves.
Willemina looks up, smiling. But the moment she realises that Gerda has been watching, the smile slips from her face. Her eyes bulge behind her glasses. And I think she stops breathing.
I swallow. So hard that it makes a sound.
‘Grubs!’ gasps Gerda.
Willemina’s bottom lip quivers and she waits. I know she’s waiting. Because I am too.
We’re waiting for Gerda to snicker and narrow her eyes and sneer, ‘Grub Girl!’
We wait . . . and wait . . . and wait . . .
‘They love grubs!’ shouts Gerda. She sounds just like Nat. Just like Dad.
Gerda giggles. And then she says, ‘I know where to find more of those. Bucket loads. The hedgehogs can have a feast. Come on, I’ll show you.’
CHAPTER 17
Sludge and grubs and double trouble
We’re going on an outing with Gerda!
Dad thinks it’s a great idea.
I’m not so sure.
I slip my sandals over my sock puppets. Gerda can’t take her eyes off the flapping tongues on my toes, but she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even smirk. Still, I’m uneasy. I’m waiting for something bad to happen.
Nat slides his bare feet into his clogs and straightens his eyepatch. ‘Ready!’ he sings.
‘Maaaa!’ says Daisy. Just a moment ago, he was on top of the bookshelf. Now he’s on the floor.
‘Huh! How’d he get down?’ asks Gerda.
‘He flew,’ says Nat. ‘See his wings?’
Gerda nods. As though she truly believes. ‘It must be fun having a flying lamb,’ she says. Then she leads us out of the bookshop, the pink lights on her sneakers flashing all the way.
Nat stares lovingly after Gerda. He’s probably thinking about asking her to marry him.
Willemina keeps her distance. She’s like me. She doesn’t trust Gerda.
Willemina, Nat and Daisy take the tandem bicycle. Willemina steers. Daisy travels in the basket, which we’ve taken from the big bike.
Gerda and I ride together on Flossy, Gerda at the front.
I’m peering at the back of Gerda’s head. There’s something small and round stuck in her beautiful golden hair. I gasp. It’s a Daisy poop pellet! It must have fallen down from the bookshelf. Should I pull it out or leave it?
I giggle. I’ll leave it.
‘I love horses,’ says Gerda.
‘Me too,’ I whisper. It feels strange to have something in common with Gerda and I almost feel bad about the poop.
Almost.
We ride out of the village to where the main canal widens and willows droop over the water. We stop in a meadow and set Flossy and Daisy free. Gerda guides us along the soft grassy b
anks, but I lag behind. Gerda’s pushed me into the canal once. I’m not falling for that again.
Willemina keeps at an even safer distance, way back behind me.
Gerda stops, drops to her knees and begins digging. Nat helps.
‘There!’ shouts Nat. ‘Grubs! Chocolate for hedgehogs!’
‘Chocolate for hedgehogs,’ Gerda echoes. She smiles over at us. ‘Come on.’
I’m too scared to say no. Willemina too. We kneel on the grass and dig. We’re soon covered in sludge and our bucket is filling with grubs.
We start to relax and we’re even chatting with Gerda. About hedgehogs and horses, termites and tulips, origami and salami.
‘What are you doing?’
I look up and see four new children standing around us with their bikes. Two girls. Two boys.
Gerda smiles. They’re her friends.
Willemina blinks up at them through her thick glasses. She freezes, her hands full of sludge and grubs.
A cold lump grows in my tummy.
Has Gerda planned this? Has she organised her friends to arrive just when Willemina is up to her armpits in grubs and grime? I don’t know how she’s managed it, but here we are.
‘What are you doing?’ one of the girls asks again.
‘Digging for grubs,’ says Gerda. ‘To feed Mim and Nat’s hedgehogs.’
I frown at her, waiting for the punchline. The nasty joke. The name calling.
But it doesn’t come.
‘Can we help?’ asks the other girl.
Gerda shrugs. ‘You’ll have to ask Willemina. It’s her idea. She’s the one who knows all about bugs and grubs and which ones hedgehogs like best.’
Willemina stares up at them, her hands still full of squirmy grubs.
‘Please?’ asks one of the boys. He’s the kind boy who wanted to include Willemina in the skipping game last week.
Mim and the Baffling Bully Page 6
