The buggy suddenly fell over. Pixie had got bored during my long lecture and had managed to wriggle out of the straps. She’d made a bolt for freedom and tipped it up. She started yelling hard. I picked her up and held her.
‘Where does it hurt, Pixie?’ I said, feeling her arms and legs.
‘Everywhere!’ Pixie roared.
When I punched and prodded each bit, she didn’t roar harder, so I decided she was more or less OK.
‘Right then,’ I said, stuffing her back into the buggy and reloading it with the bulging bags. ‘Off we go.’
I wasn’t quite sure where we were going to. We had to make a secret camp somewhere, but I didn’t know which spot to pick. I was tired out already and it was much harder work pushing the buggy over grass, but it wouldn’t make sense to make our camp near the park entrance, where so many people might spot us.
‘The magic garden, the magic garden!’ Bliss cried.
I knew there’d be lots of hiding places there. We’d already hidden beneath the willow tree, but that was just playing a game. The willow fronds weren’t thick enough. We’d be on plain view to everyone. Anyway, there were too many people circling the pond and feeding the ducks. We’d be found in five minutes. There were hundreds of big bushes all over the magic garden. We could creep under one and crouch there but we couldn’t stay crouched permanently. No, the magic garden wasn’t the right place for us.
‘We’re not going to the magic garden straight away,’ I said. ‘We’ll go there later, Bliss, after we’ve found a camp and hidden all our things.
‘We could camp back in that playground,’ said Baxter. ‘I could be the boss guy and live at the top of the slide.’
‘Baxter, a children’s playground isn’t the best place to hide. Like, there would be other children there.’
‘I’ll tell them to shove off. I’ll be the boss, see.’
‘No, we need a really secret place, where no one else in the park goes. Away from the car park and the playgrounds.’ I looked all around again. ‘Let’s go that way,’ I said, pointing to a yellowy sandy path in the opposite direction to the hill. At least it would be easier to push the buggy along it.
‘Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow-sand road,’ I said, singing the song from The Wizard of Oz. I did a little skippy dance to the tune. ‘Come on, Bliss, Baxter, you’ve all seen the film.’
They hopped and skipped too, and Pixie drummed her heels in the buggy. Baxter picked up a fallen branch and waved it dangerously in the air, conducting us.
‘We’re not off to see any real wizard, are we?’ said Bliss.
‘No wizards whatsoever. Just us. We’re going to find a very special secret place to make our camp.’
‘That’s easy-peasy,’ said Baxter. ‘This will be a good camp!’ he said, whacking a very tall tree with his stick. ‘We’ll camp right up in the branches, and when anyone comes near we’ll see them and shoot them, bang bang bang.’
‘So how are we all going to get up in this tree, Baxter?’
‘Climb up, stupid,’ said Baxter.
He tried to demonstrate. He clearly saw himself shinning up like a little monkey after coconuts. He looked extremely puzzled when he couldn’t even get as far as the first branch. He tried again and again, while we waited patiently, and then he lost his temper and started kicking the tree, as if it was being deliberately awkward.
‘Oh, Baxter, stop it! You’re not hurting the tree, you’re hurting yourself.’
‘You shut up,’ he shouted and started kicking me too.
‘You’re being silly. Ouch, you’re hurting me now. Look, you’ve been clever and found a branch. Let’s all find branches too and maybe we can stick them in the ground and put the tablecloth over them so it’s like a little tent . . . ?’ My voice tailed away. I’d been just like Baxter. I’d pictured us in a cosy tent in the middle of this beautiful park, but I hadn’t thought exactly how it was all going to work.
I tried sticking Baxter’s branch into the earth. I couldn’t get it to stand upright – and anyway, the tablecloth wasn’t anywhere near big enough when I held it out.
‘That’s a stupid idea,’ said Baxter. ‘That’s not a tent!’ He snatched his branch back and poked at the tablecloth contemptuously.
‘Don’t, Baxter! You’ll tear our tent,’ said Bliss, trying to rescue the tablecloth.
‘Oh, let him tear it. It’s not going to work anyway,’ I said. ‘I don’t know how to make a proper tent.’
‘Perhaps with the blankets?’ said Bliss, gathering them up and flapping them.
‘Yes, but how?’ I said.
A dog came running up off his lead and started barking eagerly.
‘No! Go away! Help!’ Bliss shrieked. She flapped harder, which only made him more excited.
‘It’s OK, Bliss, just stand still, he won’t hurt you, he’s only little,’ I said – but she was too scared to listen and ran away up the grassy bank.
‘Hey, silly doggy, play with me, not her,’ said Baxter, waving the tablecloth at the dog.
The dog darted backwards and forwards joyfully, convinced this was a wonderful new game.
A youngish woman in jeans came striding towards us, whistling.
‘Hey, Sammy! Down, boy! I’m sorry, kids, he’s just having fun. He won’t hurt you,’ she called.
‘He’s lovely, aren’t you, Sammy?’ said Baxter, holding the tablecloth towards him enticingly and then flicking it away.
Sammy leaped up, caught the edge in his teeth and rolled on the ground with it, wrapping himself inside.
‘He’s like a big sausage roll!’ Baxter said, roaring with laughter, totally over his temper tantrum.
‘He is a sausage, my Sammy,’ said the woman. ‘Oh dear, is that your picnic cloth? I’m so sorry. Your mother will be furious.’
‘She won’t mind. It’s only an old cloth,’ I said quickly.
‘Out you come, Sammy,’ said the woman, scrabbling for him. He jumped free, his paws bicycling in the air, and then he made a mad dash for the buggy. Pixie squealed excitedly, but he wasn’t after her, he was after the food bag.
‘Oi, don’t you dare! You’re not golloping up the picnic too, bad boy,’ said the woman. She clipped the lead on his collar and then fished in her jeans pocket. She brought out three pound coins and held them out to me. ‘Here, buy yourself some ice cream for after the picnic.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ I said.
‘Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!’ said Pixie happily.
‘Sammy can come and play with us any time,’ said Baxter.
The woman strode off, with Sammy leaping around at her heels.
‘I like that lady,’ said Baxter. ‘Give me my pound then, Lily.’
‘I’ll look after the money. Pity she didn’t see Bliss too – we’ll have to share three ice creams between four,’ I said, looking round. ‘Where is she? Bliss, it’s OK, you can come back, the dog’s gone now.’
I couldn’t see any sign of her.
‘Bliss! Bliss!’ I ran up the grassy slope and still couldn’t see her. Had she kept on running? She was only little, but she could run fast, especially if she was in a blind panic. Why hadn’t I gone after her straight away?
‘Oh, Bliss, please, come here, you’re scaring me!’ I shouted.
‘Silly Bliss,’ said Baxter, but he was peering around too, nibbling his lip.
‘Where’s she gone, Baxter? Did you see which way she went?’
He shrugged. ‘Over there? Or up by those trees? I don’t know! She’s so silly,’ he said. ‘I’ll find her.’
‘No, don’t you go off too. Honestly! I think I need to strap all three of you into the buggy so I can keep you safe.’
‘They’d squash me! Can we have ice cream now?’ said Pixie, not the slightest bit concerned about her missing sister.
‘After we’ve found Bliss. Look, you sit still in your buggy like a good girl and guard all the bags, OK? Baxter, you come with me.’
I took his h
and and we went searching for Bliss.
‘Please, Bliss! Come back! The dog’s gone. Please come back,’ I shouted, blundering through the trees, knee-deep in ferns.
‘I haven’t gone away!’ said Bliss.
Baxter and I started, spinning round. We’d both heard her, we were sure of that – but where was she? She’d sounded as if she was right beside us, but she was nowhere to be seen.
‘Bliss?’
‘Hello!’ she said.
I peered down in the bracken, wondering if she could be hiding there.
‘No, I’m here, look!’ she said, giggling.
It sounded like she was in the huge old tree beside us, but we still couldn’t see her. Baxter jumped for the first branch, hauled himself up – and then started laughing. Bliss laughed too. I climbed up after him – and there was Bliss, standing triumphantly in the totally hollow tree.
‘Wow! Make room for me!’ said Baxter, and he jumped down beside her.
There was much less room for me, but I slithered down too. As long as I crouched down a little I was totally invisible to any passers-by.
‘You clever girl, Bliss!’ I said, kissing the top of her head. ‘You’ve found us the perfect hiding place.’
We dragged Pixie and the buggy and the bags to the hollow tree. We could just about stuff Pixie in beside us. She found it great fun, wriggling and squealing, butting her hard little head against my tummy.
‘No, no, Pixie. When we’re here in the tree we have to keep quiet,’ I said. ‘And we’ll have to find a hiding place for your buggy or people will get suspicious.’
I clambered out of the tree again, collapsed the buggy, and hid it as best I could in the ferns. I hid the food bag in the ferns too, but I needed the blankets and the pillows in the tree with us. I padded the floor of the hollow trunk with ferns and then arranged the blankets and pillows on top to make a cosy nest.
‘Now, let’s all try curling up to see if we’ll be able to sleep here,’ I said.
We had to curl very carefully, and I ended up with Pixie’s head in my lap, Bliss’s elbow in my ribs and Baxter’s feet kicking my bottom, but it was just about possible. I struggled up and did my best to hang the torn tablecloth above us, hooking the plastic onto little twiggy parts of the tree. It worked wonderfully.
‘We’ve got a roof !’ said Pixie. ‘Clever Lily.’
‘No, clever, clever Bliss for finding our tree,’ I said, hugging her.
‘I didn’t know I was finding it. I just climbed up a bit to get away from the scary dog and saw the big hole and jumped inside,’ said Bliss.
‘Now can we have ice cream?’ said Pixie.
I decided to risk leaving our stuff hidden there. It was so much easier walking along without lugging all the bags too, and we didn’t have to stick to the sandy path as we’d left the pushchair behind. We could ramble up and down hills and run through the bracken and dodge up and down the molehills. Pixie ran happily too, not whining to be carried.
‘Ice cream, ice cream!’ she sang to herself.
There seemed no point trailing all the way back to the park entrance for our ice creams. I was sure there’d be another van further on in the park. We walked on, playing a Baxter game that we were robbers on the run from the police and mustn’t be caught. It was a brilliant way of making the kids cautious, hiding in the bracken whenever any dog-walkers or runners came near us. Baxter turned his branch into a gun and shot anyone he didn’t like the look of.
‘We’re not really robbers, are we?’ Bliss whispered to me.
‘Of course not.’
‘And we’re not really going to get ice cream, are we?’
‘Oh yes we are. Real ice creams. Look!’ I jangled the coins in my pocket. ‘That lady with the Sammy dog, she gave them to me.’
‘For you and Baxter and Pixie?’
‘But we’ll share with you, silly.’
‘Because I found the tree house?’
‘Because you’re our Bliss.’
Bliss gave a little skip. ‘I do like it here, with you. Maybe – maybe we could always stay here, just us?’
‘What, never ever go back?’ I said, thinking she was just playing.
‘Never ever.’
‘What about school?’
‘I absolutely hate school. They tease me.’
‘They tease me too,’ I said. ‘But I say mean stuff back and that usually shuts them up.’
‘Baxter hits them. But they still don’t shut up,’ said Bliss. ‘I want to live here in the park and never go to school.’
‘What about Mum?’ I said.
Bliss fidgeted, scraping her trainer in the sand. ‘Maybe she could live here too,’ she said at last.
‘Oh, get real! Mum couldn’t walk all round the park in her huge heels – and she couldn’t manage without a mirror and all her make-up and stuff. And she wouldn’t give up her comfy bed. You know Mum, she’s hopeless, she can’t manage without most things.’
‘She can manage without us,’ said Bliss.
We walked on hand in hand, thinking about Mum.
‘I wonder if she’s having a really great time?’ I said. ‘She was so different those last two days, after she met this Gordon. Really happy and funny and lovely.’
‘I think you’re her favourite,’ said Bliss.
‘No I’m not,’ I said, though I couldn’t help being pleased.
‘Yes, you are, because you’re the eldest. Or Pixie’s her favourite because she’s the littlest. Or Baxter because he’s the only boy. I’m not her favourite because I’m not anything.’
‘You’re Bliss and you’re blissful and you’re my favourite,’ I said. ‘You’re so much my favourite you can have all my ice cream.’
I was beginning to wonder if the only ice-cream place was right back at the entrance of the park after all, when we saw a mum with her two little boys and they all had big whippy ice creams.
‘Ice cream,’ said Pixie, looking like she was going to snatch a cone right out of a little boy’s hand.
The mum smiled, but her boys looked nervous. It was too late to hide so I decided to be bold.
‘Excuse me, could you tell me where you got your ice creams from?’ I asked.
‘We got them from the Lodge right over there,’ said the mum, pointing up through the trees.
‘Oh, brilliant,’ I said.
‘Are you kids OK? You have got a grown-up with you, haven’t you?’
‘Oh yes, we’ve got our mum, but – she’s – she’s over there.’ I nodded at some bushes.
The mum stared in that direction too.
‘Oh, don’t look, please. She’s doing a quick wee,’ I said, inspired. ‘She’ll be ever so embarrassed if she sees you’re looking.’
‘Oh dear! I understand,’ said the mum, giggling. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll go off this way. Bye bye then.’
Pixie made a sudden lunge at the smallest boy but I managed to grab her by the wrist before she could touch his ice cream. He started snivelling all the same, which encouraged the mum to hurry off.
‘Pixie, you’re so naughty! You frightened him,’ I said.
‘I wanted the ice cream!’ she wailed, her own lip quivering.
‘It was his ice cream, not yours. We’ll get you your own cone in two minutes. Now come on.’
‘You were dead brilliant, Lily,’ said Baxter, chuckling. ‘Saying that about our mum having a wee! What made you think of that?’
‘It just came into my head,’ I said proudly.
‘Can I say that next time? No, can I say my dad’s having a wee? No, even better, can I say my dad’s having—’
‘Stop it! No, we’re not going to talk to anyone else if we can help it,’ I said firmly.
‘Ice cream for Pixie!’ Pixie said imperiously.
We went up the hill towards a long fence enclosing an enormous garden.
‘Is it the magic garden with all the rosy flowers?’ said Bliss.
‘I think this is a different garden,’ I said
. ‘Look, here’s the gate in.’
The grassy bank was overgrown with weeds, but when we started going up a long trail of stone steps we saw shrubs and heather planted out like a proper garden. There were white tables and chairs with people sitting at them eating meals – but no ice cream. We walked into the big café, peering in awe at all the food on display, such different things – hot meals bubbling in metal containers, salads and sandwiches in glass cabinets, cakes set out on plates so you could just grab a slice. I had to hold Pixie and Baxter’s hands. We’d eaten out heaps of times, but just in McDonald’s, where you always knew what you were getting.
‘I’ll have some pie and chips and that big fat sandwich and the cake, all of it, and a bottle of beer,’ said Baxter.
‘We’re having ice creams, silly, not a proper meal,’ I said. ‘Come on, maybe you get ice cream outside.’
We went through the café and out the other side, raced across the neat green lawn, out of the gates – and there was the ice-cream hut!
‘Ice cream, ice cream!’ Pixie squealed, and Baxter and Bliss danced up and down.
‘How much are the smallest cones, please?’ I asked the ice-cream man.
‘A pound each – one twenty with a chocolate flake,’ he said.
‘Can I have three small cones then – no chocolate,’ I said regretfully, digging in my pocket for the money.
The ice-cream man was peering at us.
‘Don’t you mean four? Or isn’t the little kiddie big enough for ice cream?’
‘I’m big! I’m very big, and I want a big ice cream!’ said Pixie indignantly.
‘We’ve only got three pounds between us,’ I explained, handing the coins to him.
‘Oh dear, so who’s going without?’ said the ice-cream man.
‘Her!’ said Baxter and Pixie, pointing to poor Bliss.
‘No, she’s not! We’ll all share,’ I said.
‘There’s a nice big sister,’ he said. He made one, two, three, four white swirly ice creams and squirted chocolate sauce all over them.
‘There you are,’ he said. He nodded at Pixie. ‘Watch you don’t make too much of a mess, very big girl.’