As if on cue they heard giant footsteps and Jumbeelia’s voice. ‘Snishsnosh!’ she said.
She lifted the front off the doll’s house and started to fiddle about in the kitchen. Poppy ran down the stairs. Colette and Stephen followed more slowly.
On the kitchen table was an object which looked a bit like a very long loaf of bread. But it wasn’t crusty like bread; it was smooth, and slightly greasy-looking, and yellowish. A faint trail of steam was rising from it, and the smell was definitely not one of bread. Yet it was a smell that Colette knew very well, one of her favourite smells in fact, a mixture of salt and vinegar and …
‘Nice big chip,’ said Poppy.
‘It’s the biggest chip in the world!’ said Stephen, suddenly in a good mood, and Colette laughed.
‘Snishsnosh!’ said Jumbeelia again. Colette’s hunger delicious smell was.
The girl giant began to cut the chip into slices.
‘Watch it,’ said Stephen. ‘That’s a giant razor blade. She could be planning to carve us up with it.’ But when Jumbeelia handed out slices of the giant chip, he bit into his straight away.
‘This beats McDonald’s,’ he said.
‘It’s lucky she likes the same things as us, isn’t it?’ said Colette between mouthfuls. ‘Supposing they ate slug dumplings or something?’
‘Don’t speak too soon – what’s this?’
The girl giant had put three round dark objects on the table. They looked a bit like bun-size Christmas puddings. Colette sniffed one, then nibbled at it. It tasted familiar.
‘Nice big raisin,’ said Poppy.
As they munched away, Jumbeelia placed something else in front of them. It was a tube of toothpaste longer than the tabletop.
‘Trust her to think we want to eat toothpaste,’ said Stephen.
‘Maybe she wants to clean our teeth,’ said Colette.
They were both wrong. Jumbeelia unscrewed the lid of the tube. To the children this was the size of a large vase. She poured a few orange-coloured drops into it from a giant bottle. ‘Beely gloosh,’ she said.
They let Jumbeelia hold the toothpaste lid to their lips and tilt it while they sipped, and only a little of the drink trickled down their chins.
‘It had better not be poison,’ muttered Stephen.
‘Don’t be silly – it’s orange juice,’ said Colette. ‘But what’s she got now?’
‘Peggy line!’ cried Poppy, recognising the washing line that had been in the bag with them.
‘Iggly swisheroo,’ said Jumbeelia.
She picked up Poppy and took off her jumper.
‘All cold,’ complained Poppy as her skirt came off too, and, ‘Not bedtime,’ when Jumbeelia dressed her in a long lacy nighty. But she was delighted with the stripy football jumper which the giant girl then slipped over her head. ‘All pretty now,’ she said.
‘It looks like it’s your turn,’ said Stephen to Colette, as Jumbeelia reached out for her.
Even though the girl giant was gentle in the way she handled them, Colette felt quite nervous.
‘Just keep still and you’ll be all right,’ said Stephen.
Jumbeelia removed Colette’s clothes and coaxed her arms into a fleecy-lined purple anorak and her legs into a pair of lime green Bermuda shorts.
Stephen hooted with laughter, until Jumbeelia picked him up and dressed him in a pink ballet dress with a sticking-out skirt.
Poppy clapped her hands and said, ‘Stephen do dance!’
‘Yes, come on, Stephen – up on your points!’ said Colette, enjoying his outraged expression.
‘I can’t wear this,’ he shouted. ‘Give me some boys’ clothes.’
But Jumbeelia couldn’t understand him. In any case, she had a different plan.
Carefully, she lifted them up again, and put them down in a different part of the bedroom. The carpet here was strewn with life-size plastic farm animals, some of them upright, others lying forlornly on their sides.
Jumbeelia put Colette on a milking stool beside a plastic cow. Colette realised she was supposed to milk it, but of course no milk came from its hard pink udder.
Poppy was allowed to sit on a big carthorse. She loved this and started making clip-clop noises.
Stephen had his eye on a tractor but instead Jumbeelia gave him a bucket.
‘Stephen feed chickens,’ said Poppy.
‘I’m not throwing imaginary corn to plastic hens!’ said Stephen in disgust, and he hurled the bucket away.
‘Pecky iggly plop!’ Jumbeelia was wagging her finger at Stephen and Colette was frightened that she might decide to punish him for his bad temper.
But a sudden bleating distracted the girl giant. There, among the plastic sheep, was the real one. It was looking more dishevelled than ever, with bits of green carpet fluff mixed up in its dirty wool.
‘Iggly blebber!’ cried Jumbeelia in delight.
‘That’s let me off the hook,’ said Stephen.
‘Yes, but don’t annoy her again – you had me really worried,’ said Colette.
Something else was worrying her too. It was the fact that Jumbeelia seemed to have forgotten all about the sheep until it reappeared.
Jumbeelia picked up one of the plastic sheep and made it rub noses with the real one, as if to cheer it up. But it didn’t stop bleating.
‘Baa Lamb hungry,’ said Poppy from her carthorse.
Jumbeelia seemed to have the same idea. She started to rummage about inside a huge bag.
‘That’s the bag we were in,’ said Colette.
The girl giant produced a handful of normal-size grass from a pocket of the bag. Then she put something else down on the floor.
‘Iggly frangle,’ she said.
‘It’s a phone box,’ said Colette.
‘I bet it’s the one from the village!’ said Stephen indignantly.
‘Phone Mummy, phone Daddy,’ said Poppy, and slithered off the horse’s back.
Almost as if she understood, Jumbeelia opened the door of the phone box and popped her inside.
‘Hello, Mummy, hello, Daddy. Come here,’ Poppy said. Then her face crumpled. She dropped the telephone receiver and left it dangling.
Colette opened the door for her.
‘Mummy, Daddy not there,’ said Poppy.
‘No,’ said Colette miserably. The sight of the familiar phone box had brought back all her own homesickness.
‘I expect Mum and Dad have found the beanstalk by now,’ she told Poppy, trying to cheer her up. ‘Or else the police have. Someone will come and rescue us soon. They’re probably on their way now.’
Stephen turned on her. ‘What? You want to just wait here playing farms with Jumbo till someone rescues us?’
‘Well, you think of a way of getting down the stairs then.’
‘Ssh!’ said Jumbeelia, and the next second she had thrust them into the doll’s-house bedroom. They heard her mother come into the room.
Colette put her finger to her lips, and Stephen nodded. Even Poppy seemed to understand that the giant woman was more of a threat than the girl. Without saying a word, she lay down on the cushions inside the sardine tin, with her thumb in her mouth. ‘We might as well too,’ whispered Colette, and she and Stephen lay down on the two beds.
Within seconds, Poppy’s thumb had slipped from her mouth. She was asleep.
Colette lay awake. She didn’t know if Stephen was awake too. She didn’t dare whisper anything to him.
She felt very lonely as she lay there, half-listening to what she guessed must be a bedtime story being told in a droning voice by the giant mother. She tried not to think about her own mother and the three empty beds at home.
The light went off, and before long Colette heard a rumbling sound coming from the direction of Jumbeelia’s bed.
‘Jumbo’s asleep,’ whispered Stephen.
‘I thought you were too!’ answered Colette, relieved that he wasn’t.
‘I’ve just thought of it,’ said Stephen.
‘Of what?’
‘A railway line.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You said to think of a way to get downstairs, and I have. Remember that plastic railway track near Jumbo’s bedroom door? It’s like the one I used to have – it’s made of different sections that clip together. If we can unclip one we could use it as a slide to get from stair to stair.’
‘That’s not a bad idea, Mr Know-All,’ admitted Colette.
‘Let’s do it, then.’
‘What, now? But Poppy’s asleep.’
‘Well, let’s try it out and then wake her up if it works.’
They tiptoed out of the doll’s house, navigated their way to the railway track, and succeeded in unclipping one of the bright yellow sections. They were dragging it towards the door when an anguished, grating sound from under the bed made them jump.
‘What was that?’ whispered Colette.
The sound came again. It was loud enough to wake the whole house, and this time there was no mistaking it.
‘Oh no,’ moaned Stephen softly. ‘Shut up, Baa Lamb!’
10
Discovery
JUMBEELIA’S MOTHER, MIJ, was pottering about her bedroom when she heard a noise.
She stood still and listened. Nothing, except for the annoying drip of the bathroom tap that wouldn’t turn off properly.
Inside her, the bobbaleely kicked. He or she was already quite a lively character. Mij sat down on the bed and began thinking again about names. Woozly for a girl. (That meant cuddly.) If it was a boy, perhaps Jinjarn – kind heart.
Not that her other children had lived up to their names, she reflected sadly. Her son’s name, Zab, meant peace, but Zab was anything but peaceful. In fact, it was quite a relief when he was away at school. As for Jumbeelia, her name meant home-lover, but look how she had turned out! Her bedroom was always in a mess and she was forever wandering away from home, collecting yet more horrible dirty things.
Where had Jumbeelia been today? Mij was supposed to have a rest every afternoon – it was the doctor’s orders – but how could she rest properly if her daughter was going to run off like that?
Maybe Jumbeelia felt lonely playing by herself in the house. It wouldn’t help when Zab came home from school tomorrow; he wasn’t much of a companion for her, more of a tormentor. And how would it be once the bobbaleely was born? What if Jumbeelia felt jealous and neglected? Then she might start wandering off even more.
Mij was no animal-lover, but she did sometimes wonder if she ought to get a pet for her daughter. Zab had had a bird once, a yellow canary which his grandmother had given him, but he had never cared for it much and didn’t seem to miss it after it flew away when he left its cage open. Jumbeelia would surely be better at looking after a pet – or would she just lose interest in it? Her crazes always tended to wear off quite quickly.
Oh, children were such a worry!
Baaaa!
There it was again! The sound was coming from Jumbeelia’s bedroom.
By the light from the landing Mij saw that Jumbeelia was fast asleep. She was snoring slightly, but the noise she had heard was definitely not a snore.
Mij glanced round the room. There was no sign of any intruder.
Crunch. She had trodden on something. It was almost impossible not to tread on something in her daughter’s messy bedroom. She looked down to see what was underfoot this time. It was a section of plastic railway track.
And then something moved and she gasped.
There at her feet was a nasty-looking grubby little creature with horns. She took a step back, in horror.
Calm down, she told herself: it must be an iggly clockwork toy.
She forced herself to squat down and inspect it. The creature made the sound again, and she noticed that it was surrounded by little brown balls, like mouse droppings.
It wasn’t a toy. It was alive!
It looked – but that was ridiculous, it couldn’t be! – like a tiny sheep.
Whatever it was, it was disgusting and unhygienic, and must be disposed of without delay. Bracing herself, Mij trapped the revolting blebbery thing under an empty box. As she did so, she imagined she heard another sound, like a tiny gasp, coming from under Jumbeelia’s bed.
She listened again but all was quiet.
Now wasn’t the time to search the room, but in the morning she would force Jumbeelia to have a thorough clear-out.
Meanwhile, back to her unpleasant task. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the nasty iggly creature. Rummaging under the bed, she grasped a furry slipper. That should do the job …
Colette and Stephen watched helplessly from their hiding place under Jumbeelia’s bed as the giant mother used the slipper to sweep the sheep into the box. They saw her carry it out of the room, closing the door behind her.
They heard footsteps, and more doors opening and closing, and then, a while later, the flushing of a giant toilet.
11
The return of Zab
ZAB PULLED JUMBEELIA’S favourite scrunchy off her hair. When she tried to snatch it back he laughed. He had only been home from boarding school for half an hour and already he was being unbearable.
Mij had given them a mid-morning snack: two packets of crisps and a bowl of cherries. Jumbeelia loved cherries – not just eating them, but finding the pairs with joined-together stalks and putting them over her ears like earrings. But as soon as Zab saw her do that he snatched them off and popped them in his mouth. He had already eaten most of her crisps as well as his own.
He was stretching and twanging the scrunchy now. Jumbeelia tried again to grab it from him but he held it above his head.
She called out to her parents: ‘Mij! Pij!’
Pij, in his police uniform, popped his head round the door for a hurried ‘yahaw’ and to tell them not to fight. He was late for his shift and didn’t have time to listen to Jumbeelia’s protests.
Zab was quick to find a use for the scrunchy: as a catapult, to launch cherry stones at his sister.
Jumbeelia tried to escape from the kitchen, sneaking the last two cherries into her nearly empty crisp packet. She hoped the iggly plops would like them. But before she was out of the room Zab came after her and grabbed the crisp bag.
‘Nug! Askorp!’ Jumbeelia’s shriek brought Mij to her rescue, but it was too late to retrieve the crisps and cherries: Zab had already eaten them.
Their mother did her soothing act. She said that Zab must just be tired after his long term and the journey home, and suggested that he had a sleep. Zab shrugged, and sloped off to his room.
He was such a lazy boy, Jumbeelia thought, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain. Now she would be able to have some time on her own to play with the iggly plops; and to look for the iggly blebber, which had mysteriously disappeared during the night.
But Mij had other ideas. It was time, she announced, to tidy Jumbeelia’s bedroom. They would do it together.
Usually Jumbeelia could wriggle out of this task by putting it off to the next day. ‘Chingulay,’ she would plead. ‘Chingulay, Mij! Beesh, beesh, beesh!’ and finally Mij would cave in.
But not today. Today Mij put her foot down. She propelled Jumbeelia into her bedroom, and there she told her about the disgusting little creature she had discovered during the night.
Jumbeelia gasped. ‘O iggly blebber!’
Mij looked at her suspiciously. So Jumbeelia knew about the creature? In that case, where on earth had she found it?
Jumbeelia refused to say. Instead, she turned on Mij, distraught, demanding where the iggly blebber was now.
‘Queesh? Queesh? QUEESH?’ she shouted. But Mij didn’t reply; she just kept picking stuff off the floor and stuffing it into boxes.
Now she was over by the doll’s house. Any second and she might discover the iggly plops. Silently, Jumbeelia willed them to keep still.
Mij unhinged the front of the doll’s house.
She picked up an armchair and put it the righ
t way up. Then she clicked her tongue in disapproval as she found part of a snishsnosh on the kitchen table. She scolded Jumbeelia. There was lots of nice plastic food in the doll’s-house fridge: why did she have to play with real food?
To Jumbeelia’s relief, Mij moved away and started picking up pencils from the floor.
Jumbeelia peeped into the doll’s house. At first she couldn’t see the iggly plops but then she noticed a bit of pink ballet dress sticking out from under the sofa.
There they lay, the three of them, side by side, the iggliest one, the nice tame one, sandwiched between the wild girl and the wild boy. Good old iggly plops! They had learnt that her mother wasn’t to be trusted.
By now Mij was putting away the farm animals, which reminded Jumbeelia about the iggly blebber.
‘Queesh? Queesh? QUEESH?’ she asked again. ‘Queesh ez o iggly blebber?’
Mij still wouldn’t tell her, but this time she was more sympathetic. If Jumbeelia would just stop making such a fuss, and clear up the railway lines instead, there would be two nice surprises for her.
Feeling excited now, Jumbeelia tidied up much faster, wondering all the time what the two surprises would be.
The room was beginning to look unrecognisably neat. Mij sat down on the bed and beckoned Jumbeelia to sit beside her.
The first surprise was that Grishmij would be coming to stay in a week’s time.
‘Grishmij! Beely Grishmij!’ Jumbeelia clapped her hands. She loved her grandmother, who always seemed to have time for her. They would make blackberry jam together, and Jumbeelia could show off all her latest collections (though maybe not the iggly plops).
Mij explained the reason for Grishmij’s visit. It was to do with the new bobbaleely. The doctor had said that Mij must go into hospital a week before the bobbaleely was due, so Grishmij was coming to help Pij look after Jumbeelia.
‘Da Zab?’
‘Nug.’ Not Zab too. Zab was going to stay with Grishpij – the grandparents felt that the two children together would be too much of a handful.
This was even better news. To have Zab away from the house for a whole week of the holidays, with Grishmij all to herself!