‘I bet Snow White saw through that one,’ chortled Bruce.
‘No. She bit one of the apples…’
‘This girl is dumb!’ snorted Phredde.
‘And fell into this deep sleep like she was dead. So the dwarves put her on this bier…’ I indicated the bed/table.
‘They didn’t bury her? Errk! She’d go all maggotty and turn into a skeleton and…’
‘But she wasn’t really dead! She was asleep! And look!’ I waved a hand towards the sleeping Snow White. ‘See? No maggots!’
Bruce peered over at her hopefully. ‘No, you’re right,’ he decided. ‘Pity about that. A nice fat maggot can be really tasty…’
‘
Bruce
!’ yelled Phredde. She looked at Snow White thoughtfully. ‘So these seven dwarves have just left the poor girl outside where the birds could do their business all over her! I think those dwarves sound pretty dumb too,’ decided Phredde. ‘Surely they had a spare bedroom they could stash her in.’
‘Anyway!’ I yelled. ‘Here she is.’ I indicated the sleeping woman beside us.
Phredde examined her. ‘I don’t think she’s the fairest of all,’ she pointed out. ‘Julia Roberts is much more…’
‘I told you, the stepmother really needs to upgrade her mirror,’ said Bruce. ‘One of those Pentium models, with…’
‘But what are we going to do about her?’ I roared.
Phredde and Bruce stared at me. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, we can’t just leave her here!’
‘We could lug her back to the Sweet Pea Guesthouse,’ suggested Bruce. ‘I’m sure they’ve got a room for her there.’
I shook my head. ‘Can you just imagine what our parents would say if we come home carting a dead princess! We’d be grounded for
years
!’
‘You have a point,’ said Bruce. He looked at Snow White with interest. ‘You know, dead bodies attract flies, too,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘We…’
‘Bruce!’ I roared.
‘Er, I’m sorry,’ said Bruce. ‘I was letting my stomach take over there.’
‘You keep your tummy under control,’ I said. ‘Anyway, like I said, she’s not really dead. She’s just asleep. So—let us be quite clear about this—there won’t be any maggots or flies around her whatsoever! She’s just going to sleep till this handsome prince rides by and kisses her…’
‘Oh, yuk!’ cried Phredde. ‘He kisses a dead body! He’s a pervert!’
‘But she’s only asleep,’ I protested.
‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know that. Oh, yuk. Yuk!’ Phredde made vomiting noises.
Bruce took a careful hop backwards, just in case Snow White should start sleepwalking and accidentally kiss him. (I keep forgetting he’s a handsome prince. Well, a prince, anyway. It’s hard to tell if someone’s handsome when they’re a frog—although he is a pretty nice-looking frog.) ‘What happens then?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Well, Snow White and the handsome prince get married and live happily ever after.’
‘That’s horrible!’ cried Phredde. ‘You mean she marries this pervert who goes round kissing dead bodies? We have to save her!’
‘How? We’d need a handsome prince to wake her up…’ I stopped. I looked at Phredde. Both of us looked at Bruce.
‘Oh, no you don’t.’ Bruce hopped back even further in alarm.
‘But you’re a handsome prince,’ I said. ‘Or you would be if you weren’t a frog.’
‘I
like
being a frog!’ said Bruce. ‘Anyway, I’m not going around kissing any stray princesses.’
‘But then she’ll wake up!’
‘Yeah! And want to marry me! No, thanks. Anyway, how would I explain that at school, having this princess hanging around wanting to marry me?’
Well, I could have pointed out that any princess waking up and seeing Bruce’s froggy mouth—not to mention his big, bulging eyes and damp skin—peering over her would run shrieking into the lollipop forest. I mean,
no way
was any princess going to fall for Bruce, even if she had been living with seven short gentlemen and doing their washing and ironing for ever so long.
‘I think we should just leave her here,’ decided Bruce.
‘But…’
‘She looks perfectly happy,’ argued Bruce. ‘And you said she lived happily ever after, so what’s the problem? If we interfere we might cause all sorts of trouble.’
‘I suppose,’ I said regretfully.
‘But marrying a prince!’ wailed Phredde.
‘It can’t be all that bad,’ I said feebly.
‘Poor girl.’ Phredde looked sympathetically down at her. ‘I bet she doesn’t know any better. Raised in a palace, then stuck in a house in the forest washing and scrubbing with seven male chauvinist dwarves. I bet they never even made their own beds! She’s never had any fun…’ She brightened. ‘I know!’ There was a sudden PING! and she was gone.
‘What the…’ I began, then…
PING! And Phredde was back. ‘Got them,’ she yelled, waving a fistful of paper.
‘Got what?’ I enquired.
Phredde shoved the papers into Snow White’s warm, still hand. ‘A uni handbook and enrolment form, a pamphlet on the top ten night clubs, an adventure holiday guidebook and a copy of
Feminism and the Mastery of Nature
by DrVal Plumwood.’
‘Er…’ I said.
‘Don’t you see?’ said Phredde excitedly. ‘This pervert prince’ll kiss her and she’ll wake up and she’ll read all that stuff and she’ll tell him to get fruitcaked!’
‘But what if she still decides to marry him?’ demanded Bruce.
‘Well, at least she’ll have had a choice,’ said Phredde heatedly.
‘But…’ began Bruce.
‘Alright!’ I yelled. ‘We’ve solved the problem of Snow White! So let’s drop the subject! What do we do now?’
‘Have lunch?’ suggested Bruce.
‘It’s not lunch time yet.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘It’s only eleven o’clock.’
‘But I’m hungry!’ protested Bruce.
‘So am I,’ I admitted. ‘This saving princesses from handsome princes is hard work. How about we go
back to the chocolate and walnut slice cottage? We could have a quick nibble, and…’
‘No!’ chorused Phredde and Bruce, sharing one of their secret looks again.
I was getting sick of this. ‘Look,’ I demanded, ‘what’s wrong with having a bite of some dear old lady’s chocolate and walnut slice cottage? You said you felt like a snack, and…’
‘Well, it’s…’ began Phredde.
‘It’s like this…’ began Bruce, then stopped.
I put my hands on my hips. ‘Go on,’ I said.
‘It’s…er…just not a good idea,’ said Phredde.
‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said Bruce. ‘It’s not a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘It just isn’t,’ said Phredde. ‘Er…you might get indigestion.’
‘Me? I can eat six pineapple and sausage pizzas at a sitting!’
‘You’ll spoil your lunch,’ added Bruce quickly but not convincingly.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘What’s all this about? What are you two hiding?’
‘Us? Nothing,’ said Phredde.
‘Yeah, nothing,’ said Bruce.
I looked from one to the other. I was starting to feel really upset, if you want to know the truth. I mean, after all Phredde and I have been through together, and Bruce and I too, like being chased by that ancient Egyptian mummy
4
…I hadn’t thought either of them would keep a secret from me.
It must be because I was just a normal human, I decided, and not a phaery too. Just because I couldn’t
fly, and PING! things up, they thought I wasn’t as good as they were—especially here in Phaeryland.
Which made me feel really bad.
And mean.
And upset.
But there was no way I was going to let either Phredde or Bruce see that.
‘Well, who cares?’ I said airily. ‘Let’s do something else, then.’
‘Like what?’ asked Phredde, looking relieved. Bruce looked happier too.
‘How about we…we go scout around for other trees? I mean, if these trees have lollipops on them maybe there’s a grove of…of tomato-sandwich trees, or celery-stuffed-with-cream-cheese trees.’
‘But sandwiches don’t grow on…’ began Phredde.
Bruce waved her to silence. ‘That’s a
great
idea,’ he said, a bit too enthusiastically, giving Phredde a warning glance. ‘Don’t you think so, Phredde?’ His look said, ‘Let’s just go along with it in case she starts asking questions again!’
‘Oh,’ said Phredde. ‘Oh, yeah. That’s a great idea.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well, how about you go that way, and Bruce, you go that way, and I’ll scout around
that
way, and we’ll meet here in…’ I checked my watch, ‘about twenty minutes.’
‘Why can’t we all go together?’ asked Phredde.
‘We’ll cover more ground separately,’ I said. ‘Who knows what we might find? Maybe there’s even a pineapple-and-sausage-pizza tree!’
Bruce and Phredde exchanged glances again. ‘Fine by me,’ said Bruce.
‘But you don’t have a watch,’ Phredde pointed out.
PING! A watch appeared on Bruce’s slimy wrist.
‘I do now,’ he said. ‘Okay, we meet back here at…’ he looked at his new watch, ‘11.23 precisely.’
Phredde looked at me worriedly. ‘You won’t go too far away, will you?’ she asked me a bit anxiously.
‘Nah. Just through those trees a little way,’ I said. ‘If I see any ferocious little bunny rabbits I’ll shriek. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ said Phredde. She still didn’t sound convinced.
‘See you in twenty minutes.’ I turned my back and made my way through the lollipop trees.
Three minutes later I stopped, and tiptoed back again. I peered round a lollipop tree. Phredde and Bruce were still in the middle of the glade. Bruce was saying something—I bet it was ‘Look, just let her go and cool off for a while’—and Phredde was arguing, but finally Bruce leapt off one way and Phredde trotted off another way and I was alone with my thoughts.
They weren’t nice thoughts either. Not Phaeryland thoughts at all.
How could they! No matter what the secret was, surely they could trust me! Or didn’t they think I was good enough, just because I was a human?
‘Blooming phaeries,’ I muttered to myself (I was nearly in tears, to tell the truth). No, make that ‘fairies’! Fruitcaking fairies! Always thinking they were better than other people just because they could PING! up whatever they wanted, and fly, and they lived in castles…
I sniffed three times and wiped my eyes. ‘Well,’ I muttered to myself, ‘I’ll show them! They can keep their silly secrets! I’ll find out what it’s all about without them!’
It was something to do with the chocolate and walnut slice cottage…or gingerbread cottage…or
whatever it was. All I had to do was go back there and scout around. And if I went really quickly I’d be back in twenty minutes and then I could say, just sort of casually, ‘Hey, you know that chocolate and walnut slice cottage? Well, I went back there and I discovered the dragon in the carport…’ Or the mutant giant butterfly or whatever it was they were afraid of (being Phaeryland it couldn’t be too bad, whatever it was).
Then
they’d be sorry, I thought.
Then
they’d see that even though I was a normal, everyday sort of kid, I was
more
than capable of ferreting out any silly phaery secrets!
Huh! I thought. Make that
fairy
secrets! I stomped off.
It didn’t take long to get back to the yellow brick road, or to the cottage either. The sun was almost overhead now (I bet it was smiling down at me, too, with a silly Phaeryland grin, but I had a feeling that even in Phaeryland staring at the sun might send you blind, so I didn’t like to check).
Little heat waves were rising up from the yellow brick road, and the lollipop trees were drooping in the heat. Even the birds had stopped
tweet, tweet, tweeting
. In fact, the only sound was the rumbling of my tummy.
A bit of chocolate and walnut slice was getting to sound really good. Maybe I’d leave a few chocolaty crumbs on my T-shirt just to show Phredde and Bruce…
‘Why, it’s the little human girl!’ said the sweet little old lady, bobbing up from behind her hedge again and
smiling all over her sweet, wrinkled apple face. ‘Welcome, dearie! Welcome to my lamington cottage!’
I blinked. Sure enough, the house was all chocolate icing now, with little flecks of coconut speckled all over it. There was even a hint of cream filling at the windowsills.
‘Er…isn’t it a chocolate and walnut slice cottage?’ I enquired dubiously.
‘Oh, no, dearie.’ The sweet little old lady’s smile grew even wider. ‘It’s a yummy lamington cottage! See!’
Well, after all, I thought, this was Phaeryland. And lamingtons are okay, though to be honest I’d rather have had a slice of watermelon. But I didn’t feel like asking her to change it yet again, because after all it must be a lot of trouble to change your house from gingerbread to chocolate and walnut slice and then to lamingtons, even if you
are
a phaery. And anyway, a watermelon house would drip sticky juice all over you and the seeds would fall in your hair.
So all I said was, ‘It…er…looks very nice.’
‘It’s a delicious cottage, dearie!’ said the sweet little old lady, with a sweet, sweet smile, rubbing her wrinkled hands together. ‘Won’t you come inside and try a nibble?’
‘Er, can’t I have a nibble out here?’ I asked. For some reason I was starting to feel just a
little
bit nervous, to tell the truth.
Thunder growled suddenly above me. I looked up, but there was no sign of clouds.
The sweet little old lady shook her neat, grey head. ‘Oh, no, dearie. You don’t want to nibble the
outside
of my cottage! Lamingtons turn all hard and stale in the sunlight.’
‘Is that why you have to keep changing your house all the time?’ I asked. ‘Because it gets stale?’
The thunder muttered ominously again.
The sweet little old lady blinked. ‘What? Oh, yes. Yes, that’s it! I have to keep changing my house so it doesn’t get stale. So come inside and try my lovely
fresh
lamington walls! And I’ll make you a lovely cup of honeydew nectar, too!’
Well, to be honest I was getting sick of honeydew nectar—it’s never going to replace a bottle of cola, or even orange juice, in my opinion. But if I was going to find out exactly
what
Phredde and Bruce were trying to keep from me, I’d have a better chance of ferreting it out inside.
So I said, ‘Thank you. I’d love to,’ really politely, just like Mum is always trying to get me to do, and opened the gate, just as the thunder really roared.
It was a cute garden past the hedge: lots more multicoloured flowers and grass as green as the forest glades, which is basically as green as any green colouring pencil could make it, the sort of green Mark’s goldfish tank goes if he forgets to clean it out.
There was a little crazy-paving path too, all cute and crooked, leading up to the front door, which was painted green with a big brass knocker on it. The door was ajar and I could just see the neat little kitchen beyond it, the chocolate and coconut walls, and bright yellow table and chairs—not made out of any food at all that I could tell, unless they were made of solid custard (yuk!)—and a yellow kettle on the stove.
It all looked sweet and innocent, and suddenly I was sure that whatever Phredde and Bruce were keeping from me, it had nothing to do with this dear little old
lady and her sweet little cottage, which meant I’d better get back to them before they realised I was gone and, anyway, it sounded like it was going to rain.
I turned round just as the thunder roared again. ‘Er, look, I just remembered,’ I said. ‘I’m meant to meet my friends in a few minutes, and…’
The sweet little old lady’s face fell. ‘Oh, dearie dear. Won’t you just have a teeny tiny nibble? Just a little itsy bitsy nibble?’
‘Well…’ I said. After all, she was a sweet little old lady. She was probably really lonely, and it wouldn’t take very long to just take a nibble of her kitchen walls, would it? Just a tiny little nibble…
‘Okay,’ I said. I stood back politely to let her past. ‘After you.’
‘Oh, no, dearie,’ she insisted. ‘You go first.’
‘Alright,’ I said. I pushed the door further open and stepped into the sweet yellow kitchen, and…
BANG! The door slammed behind me. BOOOOOMMMMMMMM! The thunder growled so loudly this time it rattled the jug on the stove.
‘Hey, what the…’ I began. I turned round and tried the door.
It didn’t open.
‘Heh, heh, heh, heh! Got you!’ shrieked the little old lady jubilantly from somewhere out in the garden. Suddenly she didn’t sound sweet at all. The thunder gave a little snicker too.
‘Let me out!’ I screamed.
No answer, unless you counted another evil chuckle, plus more thunder.
‘Look, I’m just a harmless kid! There’s no need to lock me up!’
Another evil chuckle, but this one was even chucklier, as though I had said something really funny. ‘I
like
human children!’ cried the sweet little old lady.
‘Then let me out!’ I screamed.
‘I like them fried…or casseroled…or roasted, especially when they’re nice and tender…’
It was about then I realised that this was no nice little old lady. In fact, I was in real trouble…
‘My friends will come looking for me soon!’ I threatened.
‘Will they, dearie?’ said the little old lady’s voice, sounding quite different now. ‘I don’t think they’ll recognise you. Not if you’ve been turned into spaghetti sauce with human meatballs, or a lovely human and mushroom pie!’
‘Oh, yes, they will!’ I announced. ‘They’ll get here before you can do a thing to me!’ But my voice didn’t sound very confident. Phredde and Bruce
would
come looking for me. But they’d think I was lost in the lollipop forest. It might be hours before they thought of looking for me here, and who knows what recipe the sweet little old, er, the not sweet at all evil phaery would have chosen to cook me in by then.
I tried the door handle again, but it wouldn’t turn. I banged on the door instead, then kicked it, but nothing happened. I ran at the door—
bang! crash!
—just like they do on TV police shows, but all I got was a bruised elbow.
I turned round. There had to be some other way out! A window perhaps? Nope. No windows. The ones I’d seen outside must have been just for show. There wasn’t even a door leading to another room.
But there was no need to panic. Absolutely no need to panic. I just had to keep my head. After all, this was just a lamington house. I could munch my way through the walls. Okay, it’d mean I probably wouldn’t be able to fit in any lunch or dinner, and would be so sick of lamingtons I’d never be able to walk past a cake shop again, but at least I’d be free.
That wall, perhaps? After all, how long could it take to munch through a lamington wall? I headed over to the wall by the stove, when suddenly, BBBOOOOOOOMMMMMM! The thunder roared again.
PING! The lamington walls were gone. The stove was gone too, and its yellow kettle. The table was gone. The chairs were gone. Even the green painted door had vanished.
In their place was darkness, thick and damp and horrid. Dimly I could see walls on either side of me—black, damp walls—and the floor looked cold and black as well.
‘Fruitcakes!’ I yelled, which wasn’t what I meant to say at all, but like I said, bad language just turns into something else in Phaeryland.
If I was still in Phaeryland.
If I wasn’t about to be eaten or tortured.
Or even worse, just left here in the darkness till I melted into a little puddle of darkness, too.
And I bet there wasn’t a lavatory here either!
‘Fruitcakes!’ I muttered again, but it came out more like ‘Mmmpphh’, ’cause I was crying too hard not to even swear.