‘It gets up my nails if I dig like that,’ said Robbie.
‘Oh, poor little diddums,’ said Smash, who didn’t have any fingernails to speak of, because she bit them so badly. She went on digging, throwing up a storm of sand all round her. Then she suddenly stopped, and gave a little scream.
‘What? What is it? Did you stub your fingers on a stone?’ I asked.
‘There’s something there!’ she said, sitting back on her legs and pointing.
‘Oh, ha ha,’ I said, because I thought this was one of her games. ‘What is it? A rotting corpse out of one of your Marvel O’Kaye horror books?’
‘It’s alive,’ said Smash. ‘It was warm and it twitched.’
‘An animal!’ said Robbie excitedly.
‘Take no notice, Robs. She’s just kidding us,’ I said.
‘No, I’m not. Look!’ said Smash, flicking sand again.
We all looked – and saw a paw. A brown furry paw with a pink pad and neat little claws. It scrabbled frantically, attempting to cover itself with sand. Smash reached out and tried to grab it.
‘Careful!’ said Robbie in such a fierce voice that Smash stopped, startled. ‘You’ll frighten it. Now, let me.’ He bent down and spoke very softly. ‘There now, little creature. It’s all right. We’re not going to hurt you. We’ll let you hide away in a minute if that’s what you want. We just want to check you’re all right, so I’ll ease the sand away here, very very carefully …’ Robbie exposed a short stout furry leg, and then rather large hindquarters.
‘Whatever is it?’ I said.
‘It’s a ginormous rat!’ said Smash.
‘No, it’s too furry,’ said Robbie.
‘I think it’s a meerkat. They bury themselves in sand,’ I said.
‘It’s too fat for a meerkat,’ said Robbie. ‘I’m not sure what it is.’
‘Pussy cat, pussy cat!’ said Maudie.
‘It hasn’t got a tail,’ said Robbie.
‘It’s got a very big bottom!’ Smash shrieked.
‘Sh! So have you,’ said Robbie. ‘Now shut up, you’re frightening it. There now, little creature. Can you come out just a tiny bit?’
The animal did its best to burrow further in, but Robbie very gently scooped the sand away from its sides and then held it firm.
‘Come on now. I promise we won’t hurt you,’ Robbie whispered.
The legs stopped scrabbling and Robbie pulled very carefully. The creature shot right out of the sand. We stared at it, amazed. It was far fatter than we’d expected. It had an extremely wrinkled face with a very disgruntled expression. Its eyes were on thin stalks and wavered about, peering at us disapprovingly from its upside-down position. Every single one of its whiskers was bristling.
‘Is it a very tubby monkey?’ said Smash. ‘Its face is all weird wrinkles, just like a monkey’s.’
‘Monkey!’ said Maudie.
‘It is a bit like a monkey, but they don’t have eyes on stalks – and it hasn’t got a tail,’ Robbie whispered. ‘I don’t really know what it is.’
‘I do!’ I squealed. ‘It’s a Psammead! It really truly has to be a Psammead, like the one in my book. It’s exactly like that. Oh please, are you a Psammead?’
‘Of course I am a Psammead,’ it said, very crossly indeed. ‘And there’s nothing wrong with my face! My wrinkles simply show my extremely distinguished age. I’ve always been considered an excellent specimen of my species. Now will you kindly turn me right side up, young man. I do not care to conduct a conversation from this ludicrous position. It puts me at a total disadvantage.’
Robbie righted the creature with trembling hands. We all stared at it, speechless, incapable of conducting any kind of conversation. Smash shook her head as if she had water in her ears.
‘Did it just speak?’ she said. She stared at Robbie and me as if we’d somehow performed a brilliant trick of ventriloquism. ‘I know it’s really you guys, pretending,’ she said uncertainly.
Maudie put her finger near the creature. Smash snatched her backwards.
‘Don’t, Maudie. It might bite!’ she shrieked.
‘I shall indeed bite if you persist with that ill-mannered, high-pitched squealing,’ it said. ‘Of course I can speak – and much more eloquently than you, Shouty-Squealy-Person. What is your name?’
‘Smash,’ she whispered.
‘Smash? Dear goodness, names have become very short and brutal in this new age. Are you a girl person or a boy person?’
‘I’m a girl – and my real name’s Samantha, but I hate it,’ Smash muttered.
‘I thought you were a girl, but your short hair and coarse trousers confused me,’ it said. The eyes on stalks wavered in Robbie’s direction.
‘And I presume you are a girl too?’
Smash sniggered.
‘No, I’m a boy,’ said Robbie. ‘I’m Robert.’
‘Well, thank you for handling me so gently, young Robert. Some children would have tugged violently.’
It waddled forward on its hind paws and shook the rest of the sand out of its fur. Maudie laughed and clapped her hands delightedly.
‘You’re a merry little person,’ it said, its small fierce face softening. Everyone always loved Maudie – even mythical creatures from storybooks.
‘She’s Maudie, our little half-sister,’ I said.
‘Half a sister?’ said the creature. ‘Do you say that because she’s half your size?’
‘No, because we’re only half related. We’ve got the same dad, but Maudie’s got a different mother,’ I said.
The Psammead waved its eyes, absorbing this. They flicked on their stalks to Smash.
‘So the shouty Smash girl is your half-sister too?’
‘No, she’s Maudie’s half-sister, because they have the same mum, Alice – but we’re just stepsisters,’ I said.
‘Hmm! Family life seems particularly complicated nowadays,’ said the Psammead.
‘Don’t you … breed?’ Robbie asked timidly.
‘Alas, I fear I am the very last of my line,’ said the Psammead. ‘Unless –’ He turned towards me, clasping his paws. ‘You, young lady with the long hair. What is your name?’
‘Rosalind.’
‘You said you read about a Psammead in a book. Perhaps I still have surviving family after all, if you have read about them.’
‘No, I rather think you’re the same Psammead. You meet five children in my book – Anthea, Jane, Cyril, Robert and the Lamb.’
‘Ah! Those children,’ said the Psammead. ‘I remember, I was particularly fond of the eldest girl, Anthea. You remind me of her a little.’
I was so delighted I blushed deep red.
‘So was that old book of hers real?’ said Smash. ‘You’re the fairy?’
The Psammead nodded complacently.
‘So I’m in a book,’ it said. ‘Does it give my complete life history?’
‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘You go right back to the time of the dinosaurs, don’t you?’
‘I do indeed. Is that what you’re going to wish for? A megatherium or an ichthyosaurus? They’ll make you a tasty dinner for a week,’ said the Psammead. ‘You’re looking a little doubtful. I can summon one up that’s freshly killed and skinned and cut into chunks if you’re squeamish about butchery.’
‘It’s very kind of you, but we don’t actually eat dinosaurs nowadays,’ I said awkwardly.
‘But we’d like to see one, a real live one! Can you summon up a Tyrannosaurus rex? They’re really cool,’ said Smash.
‘Smash, do shut up. The Psammead really can do magic spells. You can’t possibly wish for a Tyrannosaurus rex. It’s the most dangerous dinosaur of all. It would rip us apart,’ I said.
‘It wouldn’t rip me. I could climb a tree and get away easy-peasy,’ Smash said.
‘Yes, but what about us?’
Smash grinned. ‘Maybe you’d learn to climb trees too.’
‘So, you’re requesting a live Tyrannosaurus rex?’ said the Psammead, starting to puff itself
up.
‘No, no, definitely not!’ I said quickly. ‘Stop it, Smash. How can you be so stupid? What about Maudie? It would eat her up in one gollop.’
‘You’re the stupid one. Of course this tubby monkey thing can’t do real magic,’ said Smash.
‘Yes, it can. It can grant any wish you like,’ I said.
‘Really?’ said Robbie. ‘Then – then I wish – I wish I could climb trees even better than Smash!’
The Psammead took a very deep breath and then puffed itself up enormously until it was practically spherical, like a furry beach ball, its stalked eyes straining at the top. It stayed immobile for a moment and then deflated with an extraordinary hiss. It lay back weakly on the sand, clearly exhausted.
‘Oh dear! Are you all right?’ Robbie asked anxiously.
‘Has it had some kind of seizure?’ Smash demanded.
‘Poor Monkey go pop,’ said Maudie.
‘Very nearly,’ said the Psammead weakly. ‘Oh dear, oh dear, I’m out of practice. My heart’s pounding!’
‘Shall I get you some water?’ Robbie asked.
‘No! Absolutely not! I am deeply allergic to water,’ it said in alarm.
‘You can’t be allergic to water,’ said Smash. ‘I’m allergic to cats – they make me sneeze like anything.’
‘Please don’t contradict me, Smish or Smidge or whatever your name is. I am allergic to water. Just saying the dreaded word makes my whiskers quiver. I need a good sand bath. Good day.’ It started burrowing into the sand head first.
‘Oh please, don’t go – not just yet!’ Robbie begged. He flexed his arms and kicked his legs about experimentally. ‘Have you really granted my wish, Mr Psammead?’
‘Are you doubting my wish-granting abilities?’ said the Psammead, lifting his head out of the sand again, looking outraged. ‘I might be a tad rusty as I’ve been resting for many years. But I can assure you I have never yet failed in my allotted task, no matter how tedious.’
‘Can you really, really, really grant wishes?’ said Smash. ‘Then I’m going to wish for loads of money. A whole huge suitcase full of fifty-pound notes.’
‘I can’t possibly grant two wishes in one day,’ the Psammead snapped. ‘I have already strained myself to the utmost. Return in a day or two if you absolutely must, but I can do no more for a full twenty-four hours.’ It stuck its head back in the sand, scrabbled rapidly and had totally disappeared in two seconds.
‘Come back, Monkey!’ said Maudie, squatting down and poking at the sand sadly.
‘Yes, come back!’ said Smash, digging in the sand again.
‘Stop it! You must let it rest now,’ I said, grabbing hold of her hands.
‘But it’s so unfair. Why should Robbie get the wish? I was the one who found it,’ Smash said.
‘Yes, you could have wished for all of us, Robs,’ I said.
‘It’s a stupid wish anyway,’ said Smash.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Robbie, looking upset. ‘I didn’t really think. I don’t expect it will actually come true, though.’ He stood up and walked to the nearest tree, hanging his head a little foolishly.
‘Be careful, Robbie!’ I said as he spat on his hands again.
‘It won’t have really worked,’ said Robbie.
He reached for the first branch awkwardly. As soon as his fingertips touched the bark his whole body changed. He was off up the tree in a second, climbing like a little monkey, arms up, legs up, effortlessly, over and over again, higher and higher, to the very top.
‘Wow! Look at me!’ Robbie shouted, waving down from the very top of the tree.
‘Oh, Robbie, be careful!’ I called. ‘Please, please, come down now!’
‘No fear! I’m going to stay up! It’s fantastic,’ Robbie shouted, pulling on the spindly trunk so that it swayed backwards and forwards. ‘Look!’
‘Stop it! You could still fall, you idiot! Oh, come down!’ I shouted at the top of my voice. I was shouting so loudly I must have woken Dad. He came wandering over to the sandpit, yawning and rubbing his eyes.
‘Hey, pipe down, kids, you’re disturbing the peace,’ said Dad. He shook his head at me. ‘Was that you shouting, Rosalind? What are you getting in such a state about?’
I pointed upwards. Dad looked up – and then his head jerked, nearly snapping right off his neck.
‘Is that Robbie? Oh my God, he’s so high! Robbie, come down. Are you crazy? Come down this instant!’
Robbie peered down at Dad.
‘Hey, Dad, I can climb trees!’ he said. ‘Really big tall trees! I did it, easy-peasy.’
‘Yes, so I can see. But come down now. It’s very dangerous to go up so high,’ said Dad. ‘Come down, son. We can all see you’re very clever, but come down now!’
‘It’s not that clever,’ said Smash. ‘I can climb just as far. Look, I’ll show you.’
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Alice, running over and grabbing hold of her. ‘You’re staying put, young lady.’
‘Are you stuck, Robbie? Shall I come up and give you a hand?’ said Dad.
‘No, I’m not the slightest bit stuck,’ said Robbie. ‘Watch.’ He suddenly let go and leapt. We all screamed. But Robbie didn’t plummet to the ground. He flew through the air like a trapeze artist to the topmost branch of a neighbouring tree. He hung there, swinging backwards and forwards, and then clamped his legs round the trunk and flung his arms out.
‘Ta da!’ he shouted. ‘What shall I do for my next trick?’
‘Robbie, don’t! You might still fall. The Psammead’s wishes can go horribly wrong! Oh, please listen!’ I hissed.
‘Okay, okay, don’t fuss, Ros,’ said Robbie, and he started climbing down again.
This new tree was a much harder one, with very few branches, but Robbie walked himself down the trunk in a matter of moments. He jumped neatly into the sandpit, landing beautifully on the balls of his feet.
I rushed to him and hugged him tight. Dad came and hugged him too.
‘Oh, Robbie, don’t ever do that again! I just about died watching you. Don’t you realize how dangerous that is? Just one little slip and you’d be a goner,’ he said, clasping him to his chest.
‘I climbed a tree here too, Mum,’ said Smash. ‘I climbed right to the top, just like Robbie. I did it first.’
‘Then you’re very, very naughty. You could have been killed, both of you. I can’t believe you can be so stupid and irresponsible,’ said Alice, picking Maudie up. ‘What sort of an example is this to your sister? You were meant to be looking after her.’ Smash certainly wasn’t going to get any hugs out of her.
‘I still can’t quite believe it,’ said Dad, holding Robbie at arm’s length. ‘Have you always been able to climb like that?’
‘Not really,’ said Robbie truthfully. ‘But now I seem to have got the hang of it.’
‘I’ll say!’ said Dad. ‘You were amazing! I mean, it was very silly of you, because it was immensely dangerous, and I agree with Alice, a very bad example to your sisters – and yet you’ve got such skills, such balance, such strength for such a skinny little boy.’ Dad picked Robbie right up and gave him a kiss on his forehead. ‘I’m so proud of you, son,’ Dad said.
Robbie went bright pink, looking as if he was going to burst with pride.
‘I can climb trees much better than Robbie,’ Smash muttered sulkily.
Maudie started wailing for a drink, and then wailed harder because her special cup was covered in sand.
‘Come on, let’s go home,’ said Alice, starting to gather up the picnic things. ‘Give me a hand, Rosalind.’
‘Just a minute,’ I said. I ran over to the sandpit and crouched down in what I hoped was the right spot. ‘Thank you, dear Psammead,’ I whispered into the sand. ‘You’ve made Robbie so happy. But please, please, please let him stay happy. I can’t bear it if it’s all going to go wrong.’
There was no reply. I looked at the surface of the sand hopefully, but there was no sign of a furry paw. I patted the sand
even so, and retrieved Robbie’s lion, who was still roaming his Serengeti.
Robbie barely thanked me. He tossed the rest of his animals higgledly-piggledy into his paper sack, busy chatting to Dad.
‘You should have seen me climb the first tree, Dad. I did it in seconds, truly,’ he boasted. ‘Look, let me show you!’
‘No, Robbie! Simmer down, son. You mustn’t,’ said Dad, but he sounded as if he were wavering. ‘Maybe – maybe just go up a little way, no higher than my head, and I’ll stand underneath so I can catch you, okay?’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Robbie. ‘Watch then.’
He spat on his palms, leapt for the lowest branch of another tree – and missed. He very nearly bumped his head on the trunk.
‘Oh, Robs!’ I said.
‘Whoops!’ Smash shouted.
‘Watch out, Robbie,’ said Dad.
‘You’ll hurt yourself,’ said Alice.
‘Robbie go bang,’ said Maudie.
But Robbie was laughing hilariously.
‘Fooled you! I meant to do that,’ he chortled – and this time he was telling the truth.
He leapt effortlessly high in the air, caught hold of another branch and swung himself up swiftly and gracefully – then up and up and up again.
‘Not too far!’ Dad called.
‘You’re a Worry-Pop!’ Robbie called daringly, edging along a branch. Then he suddenly jumped, making us all scream again – but he clutched the branch with his hands and swung there nonchalantly, then kicked harder and swung himself right up and over the branch.
‘My goodness, did you see that?’ Dad shouted. ‘You’re better than any circus boy, son! No, you’re like a little Olympic gymnastics champion. We’re going to have to start you training straight away. You’ve got the most astonishing potential. Don’t you agree, Alice?’
‘Look, watch me! I’m sure I could do that, easy-peasy,’ said Smash.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Alice. ‘No more tree-climbing. Come down now, Robbie, and stop showing off.’
‘He’s got something to show off about,’ said Dad – and when Robbie jumped down Dad picked him up and perched him on his shoulders.
‘Here comes the champion!’ Dad shouted, panting along, bearing Robbie aloft.