Four Children and It

  ‘Smash! Stop it! You’ll kill him!’ I shouted. ‘And don’t get glass all over the floor – Maudie’s got bare feet!’

  ‘He tried to kill me!’ said Smash, outraged. ‘I was just having a peep at him, tapping away on his laptop on his lounger, and then he looked up and saw me and I practically wet myself, the expression on his face was so funny – but then he took aim and chucked his wretched laptop at me. Look, I’m still bleeding!’ Smash pointed to her forehead. ‘I was so stunned – literally – that I just sort of flopped forward and he grabbed hold of me, and pulled me in here, and tied me up with his horrible dressing gown and then you’ll never ever guess what he did, the total creep.’

  ‘What? What did he do?’

  ‘He went and phoned a newspaper! He’s selling me for thousands of pounds!’ Smash shouted, aiming the vase again.

  ‘No! Don’t! That’s a Lalique vase, for God’s sake. Listen, I don’t want to harm you – any of you. I can’t believe this! What the hell are you, some kind of aliens? I just want to keep you safe. You’re mine, I saw you first.’

  ‘Of course we’re not yours, you stupid man!’ I said, rushing to Smash and trying to undo the dressing-gown cord.

  ‘Leave her! You’re staying, all of you. You’re my story!’ said the man. He seized hold of me and tried to push me to the ground.

  ‘Don’t you dare touch my sister!’ Robbie shouted, and he punched the man in the chest. He was trying to be fierce, but his fist was small and made no impression at all.

  ‘Hit him where it hurts!’ Smash yelled.

  I tried to scratch the man’s face but he grabbed hold of my hand, bending all the fingers back, making me scream. Robbie twisted round and kicked him hard between the legs. I don’t know if he was deliberately aiming there or whether it was sheer luck, but the man doubled up, making a weird Ooomph noise.

  ‘Quick, quick!’ I said, struggling with the cord again. ‘Let’s all get out of here.’

  I gave one last frantic tug and then the knot loosened. Smash jumped up, gave the man another kick herself, and grabbed Maudie. Robbie and I clutched hands and then we all ran out of the room, back on to the balcony.

  ‘Noooo!’ the man wailed behind us.

  ‘Yes!’ we shouted, and then we stepped up into the air, spread our wings and flew away.

  We flew back along the river. Even Smash had lost her taste for further adventures now. Her wings had lost a lot of feathers in her struggle with the horrible man, and some were crumpled and sticking out at painful angles. Maudie was tired now, so we had to take turns carrying her again. My fingers were hurting a lot and I still felt sick with shock. Robbie was the only one of us who had suddenly got his second wind.

  ‘Did you see the way I kicked the man, wham, bash, bonk? He just dropped like a stone. I overpowered him totally, didn’t I, even though he was much bigger than me. I saved you, Ros, and you, Smash, and Maudie too. I saved you all!’

  I let him exaggerate for a while, but by the time we were halfway home we were all heartily sick of his boasting. And then it started to rain. We discovered that you get much wetter up in the air than you do down on the ground. It’s bad enough being soaked to the skin, but it’s far worse having sopping-wet feathers. Because our wings weighed so much more now, our heads hung down and our shoulders hunched, and it was a terrible effort to fly on doggedly. It was so dark because of the rain that it was difficult to gauge time. I didn’t think it could possibly be near sunset, but I started to worry all the same. What if our wings suddenly disappeared when we were here in mid-air? Would we plummet downwards?

  We tried flying very low, just in case, but this wasn’t practical. People kept looking up and spotting us and screaming.

  It was easier when we’d passed all the built-up areas and were flying over woods. Very few people were walking there in the pouring rain. There were so many woods and commons and wild patches of land. I started to wonder if we’d manage to find our own Oxshott woods ever again. But Smash seemed to have her own inner satellite navigation system hard-wired into her head. She led us back, back, back, until we suddenly saw the yellow of our sandpit underneath us.

  ‘There!’ she said, and we flew down and landed in a tangled heap in the sand. All our beautiful wings were crumpled now, hanging like damp curtains from our backs, moulting feathers as we moved.

  Dad and Alice saw us and waved vaguely and dreamily, but seemingly couldn’t see our wings. It was still pouring with rain, but they sat together under the trees, their hair plastered to their heads, rain running down their noses and dripping on to their chins. Smash stood up wearily, spread her tattered wings, and flew right over to Alice, circling her several times. Alice didn’t even blink.

  Smash flew back and squatted in the sandpit with us.

  ‘It’s like she couldn’t even see me,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Yes, she’s in a kind of trance. It’s the Psammead magic – you know that,’ I said.

  ‘She’s like that even when she’s not in a trance. Except when she’s nagging at me. And so is my dad. It’s like he’s in a trance all the time now he’s met this flipping girl. One measly sentence of email, that’s all I get. It must have taken him a minute at the most.’

  ‘Oh, stop it. Cheer up. Look, we’ve had the most simply amazing day, flying around, all because of your special wish,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, but I’m getting a bit sick of it now. Let’s wake the sleeping beauties and go home,’ said Smash.

  ‘We’ll have to wait till the wings fall off,’ said Robbie. ‘I know they can’t see them, but everyone else can. They’ll try to catch us and sell us to the papers, just like that horrible man in the flats.’

  ‘Well, surely it’s way past sunset by now. It’s raining so hard you can’t see any sun. Hey, Mr Psammead!’ She flopped down with her chin in the sand. ‘Are you there? It’s me, Smash, the shouty one. I’m soaking wet and I’ve been bonked on the head and I haven’t had any tea at all. I want to go home. Can’t you make an exception just once and pop out and grant us one more teeny-weeny wish. We just want our wretched wings to fall off.’

  ‘You’re not ever going to get it to come out now, not when it’s pouring with rain. The Psammead hates water. He’ll have burrowed way, way down to get away from it,’ I told her.

  ‘He’ll be giving an Australian boy a wish now,’ said Robbie. ‘Hey, that’s an idea! Maybe we can all wish to go to Australia tomorrow. I’d simply love to see some kangaroos and koala bears.’

  ‘I think they’re just in special zoos and play-parks now,’ I said. ‘And it’s my wish next. I’m going to try to make it special for all of us, seeing as it’s our last wish. Only I don’t quite know what it’ll be yet. Flying will be hard to beat,’ I added politely, for Smash’s benefit.

  ‘I’m fed up with flying,’ she said. ‘Here, Rosalind, give my wings a real tug. Maybe we can just pull them off.’

  I tried pulling them as hard as I could. Smash yelled in pain.

  ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you,’ I said.

  ‘No, it’s okay. Try harder,’ she said.

  It was no use. The wings seemed as much part of her as her arms and legs.

  ‘Perhaps we’re stuck with them forever now,’ Smash said gloomily, opening and shutting her wings, spraying the rest of us with raindrops. ‘How will we ever get clothes that fit over them? And it’s going to be a real struggle getting through doors, and we’re never going to fit into bed properly. We’ll never be able to go out without causing a riot – though that might be quite good fun.’

  ‘You didn’t look as if you were having fun tied up to that table. Good job I came along and rescued you,’ said Robbie. ‘Did you see the way I hit that man and I punched him and I kicked him – kerpow, bash, bang!’

  ‘Shut up, Robbie. You’ve told us too many times already,’ I said.

  It didn’t stop him telling us again, so Smash and I rolled him in the sand to stop him. We started fighting in a silly, giggling, sog
gy sort of fashion, all of us clumsily weighed down with our wings. Maudie climbed on top of all of us, bouncing about, jumping on us as if we were a human trampoline. Then she tumbled down abruptly and we huddled up in a heap. We were suddenly light and free. Our wings had gone at last!

  ‘Mum, Dave, let’s go home!’ said Smash.

  Dad and Alice stared at us. They plucked at their wet clothes, and then scrambled to their feet. Dad looked at his watch and shook his head, unable to believe the time he saw there. They hurried us home, taking turns to carry Maudie, checking on us three constantly, feeling terrible that they’d kept us out in the rain unfed most of the day without realizing.

  When we got home, there were steaming baths and hot chocolate and baked potatoes, and it all felt very cosy. Dad switched on the news on television as we were going up to bed.

  ‘You’ll never guess what,’ he said, when he came up to say goodnight. ‘There have been sightings of four so-called aliens all over Surrey – children with great big wings. You guys didn’t see anything like that while we were in the woods? They might have passed right over our heads.’

  ‘It was probably some stupid stunt, Dave,’ said Smash.

  ‘Yes, although goodness knows how it was done. Do you know something even weirder? There was some very blurry footage of one of these flying creatures. Someone said they’d caught one for a few minutes but then it escaped. It was screaming and shouting and spitting like anything. It looked a little like you! I couldn’t help laughing. I bet you’d like to fly, wouldn’t you, Smash?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Smash. ‘In fact I really think it wouldn’t be that much fun at all.’

  We were too tired to get up early and plead for a breakfast picnic, even though it was our last day together and we wanted to make the most of our wish.

  We very nearly didn’t get a lunchtime picnic, because Dad and Alice tried very hard to take us on a proper day out.

  ‘You can’t want to go off to that very same sandpit spot again,’ said Dad. ‘We were there all day yesterday.’

  ‘We love it there, Dad. Please, please, let’s go back there,’ I said.

  ‘Well, what’s your mum going to think when you go back home tomorrow and she asks what you’ve done and you say “Oh, we went to the same boring old woods day after day after day, rain or shine”?’

  ‘We won’t say that at all, Dad,’ I said. ‘We’ll say we went to the woods, and we all had fantastic picnics together, and then Robbie and Smash and Maudie and I played in the sandpit and we had the best holiday ever.’

  ‘Oh, Rosy-Posy,’ said Dad, giving me a hug.

  Alice looked pleased too, and tried even harder with our last picnic. She made tiny cream-cheese and smoked-salmon bagels, barbecued chicken wings, and a selection of bite-sized sandwiches: egg mayonnaise with tomatoes, crayfish and rocket, Brie and apricot, and turkey and cranberry sauce. We had a French apple pie with tangy cream, and a big bag of red and yellow cheeses. We drank freshly squeezed orange juice and Dad and Alice had a bottle of lemonade – but it smelt like wine.

  ‘We need something chocolatey too,’ said Alice. ‘Could you be an angel and make your special chocolate crispy cakes, Robbie?’

  While Robbie was happily complying, Smash got me to one side.

  ‘What are you going to wish for?’ she asked.

  ‘Well … I haven’t properly decided yet. I want it to be something we all want – and I want it to be something that won’t go wrong.’ I started chewing my thumbnail anxiously. ‘Only I can’t think what, exactly.’

  I expected Smash to sigh at me impatiently and tell me I was hopeless, but to my great astonishment she suddenly threw her arms round me. In my shock I bit hard on my own thumb, but I decided not to make a fuss.

  ‘You’ll think of something, Ros. You’re good at that,’ Smash said. ‘And even if you don’t we’ve had lots of amazing wishes – especially mine – and we’ve all had a great time together. I agree with you – this has truly been the best holiday ever.’

  ‘Oh, Smash!’ I said, hugging her back.

  ‘Right, that’s enough mushy stuff,’ Smash said quickly. ‘Let’s go and scrape the leftover chocolate out of Robbie’s mixing bowl.’

  Maudie had got there before us and was happily licking, chocolate all round her mouth and cheeks and chin.

  ‘Maudie’s not really supposed to have chocolate,’ said Alice. ‘Still, I don’t suppose it matters just this once.’

  ‘She’s turned into a little chocolate flake herself,’ said Smash, picking Maudie up.

  ‘Then me want ice cream!’ said Maudie, making us all laugh.

  Maudie must have thought of her dropped ice cream yesterday, because she clamoured desperately for a Whippy when she saw an ice-cream van on the way to the woods, but Alice wouldn’t hear of it.

  We ate our splendid picnic appreciatively.

  ‘Three cheers for Alice and her wonderful picnics,’ said Dad, raising his glass.

  ‘Hurray, hurray, hurray,’ we said, a little awkwardly.

  ‘And one little cheer for me and my chocolate crispy cakes,’ said Robbie.

  ‘May we go and play our game now?’ I asked.

  ‘Monkey!’ said Maudie, grinning. Alice had wiped all round her face with a damp flannel, but she still managed to have smears of chocolate on her nose, like new little freckles.

  ‘Yes, go and play your funny monkey game,’ said Dad fondly.

  We walked to the sandpit, Smash and Robbie looking at me expectantly. I kept trying to think of something wonderful – and yet I’d learnt to second-guess the Psammead and knew it had a way of making everything turn out to have a down side.

  ‘Have you decided yet, Ros?’ asked Smash.

  ‘No!’ I wailed, as we started digging.

  ‘Could you perhaps ask the Psammead’s advice?’ Robbie suggested. He had his lion with him and was making him dig too with his little plastic paws.

  ‘I could try, but I think I read in one of my E. Nesbit books that the Psammead never ever gives advice,’ I said.

  ‘It’s so weird to think it’s in those other books. I wish I was in a book like Robert,’ said Robbie.

  ‘Maybe we will be one day,’ said Smash. She looked at me. ‘You turned out to be a children’s writer when we were rich and famous so you’d better write the book, Rosalind.’

  ‘I could never really write a whole book,’ I said, but my heart started thumping at the thought. It was also thumping with effort. We’d dug quite deep into the sandpit now, but without uncovering a furry paw or a bat ear.

  ‘Where are you, Psammead?’ said Smash, digging energetically.

  ‘Monkey, Monkey?’ said Maudie, scrabbling in the sand.

  We dug and dug and dug without any luck.

  ‘We really will be in Australia at this rate,’ Robbie panted.

  ‘You don’t think he’s actually gone, do you?’ I said, sitting back on my heels.

  ‘To Australia?’

  ‘To anywhere. Or someone else might have dug him up and taken him. Because he’s never been this far down before.’

  ‘Oh, I do hope he’s still here,’ said Robbie. ‘It would be awful if we can’t say goodbye.’ He lay down in the big hole we’d dug. ‘Please come and see us one last time, Psammead!’ he called.

  ‘We’d just like one more wish!’ said Smash. ‘Though if you could manage a few more for me next week that would be good too.’

  ‘Dear Psammead, please, please come and see us, even if it’s just to say goodbye,’ I said.

  ‘Monkey! Monkey, Monkey, Monkey!’ Maudie called.

  There was a sudden little eruption deep down in the sand. An eye stalk peeped out and regarded us crossly – then another.

  ‘Oh, Psammead, it’s you!’ I said.

  The Psammead’s wrinkled little face emerged, its ears quivering.

  ‘Of course it’s me. Who else would it be? I am the sole resident of this sandpit. Woe betide any rabbits or rodents who attempt to burr
ow in beside me,’ said the Psammead, easing its whole self out of the sand. It stretched and yawned enormously, its eyes twitching on their delicate stalks. ‘Oh dear, I’m still so sleepy. Why did you come digging at my door so insistently? Have I to perform yet another wish? Wish-wish-wish-wish. You’re never satisfied.’

  ‘We’re very nearly satisfied, dear Psammead. You’ve been tremendously kind and obliging. I know it’s a bit of a cheek, but we were wondering if we could have just one last wish,’ I said.

  ‘Well, so long as it’s just the one,’ said the Psammead. ‘Then I think I’ll hibernate for a while. I had to dig far down yesterday to avoid that loathsome torrential rain. Excuse me, my whiskers are quivering at the thought. I very nearly got a drenching. But when I was eventually enveloped in wondrous dry sand an unusual lassitude came over me. I’m worn out with all this daily wishing. I need to rest and recuperate.’

  ‘Yes, we quite understand, dear Mr Psammead,’ said Robbie, giving it a sympathetic stroke.

  ‘Just one more wish then?’ said Smash. ‘Dear, kind, sweet, extra-generous Mr Psammead.’

  The Psammead rocked backwards and forwards on its back paws, idly scratching its furry tummy. Its eyes swivelled round, taking us all in.

  ‘Just one last wish,’ it said eventually.

  ‘Hurray!’ Smash cried, making the Psammead jump and flap its ears in protest.

  ‘Will you kindly stop shouting right in my ear? I have very superior sensitive hearing and it is therefore extremely painful.’

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Smash whispered. She nudged me. ‘Hurry up and wish, Rosalind.’

  ‘Yes, go on, Ros,’ said Robbie.

  ‘Wish, wish, wish,’ said Maudie.

  They all looked at me. The Psammead drummed its fingers on its fur impatiently.

  I swallowed, struggling. ‘I – I wondered – it seems incredibly greedy, but could we …?’

  ‘Spit it out, Ros!’ said Smash.

  ‘Would it be possible for us each to have our heart’s desire?’ I said.