The Phredde Collection (31 page)

The lollipop forest was all shadows and moonlight. (I had a feeling every night was moonlit in Phaeryland.) The yellow brick road glowed in the dimness, and the lollipops shone an eerie reddish purple through the trees.

‘That way,’ said Phredde, pointing through the forest.

‘No, that way,’ said Bruce.

‘I think it’s over there,’ I said.

Well, anyway, to cut a
really
long story short, we went my way, then Phredde’s way, then it turned out Bruce was right, and
eventually
(I learnt that word in spelling last term—I was the only kid except for Amelia who got it right first time) there was the glade. And there was Snow White too, on her bed or table or bier or whatever it was. (A bier isn’t stuff you drink. I looked it up when
eventually
we got home.)

‘Well, go on,’ whispered Phredde. It was a bit spooky in that forest, to tell the truth. You felt you
had
to whisper. ‘Kiss her!’

‘No way!’ said Bruce. ‘You promised we’d investigate first!’

‘I didn’t promise!’ whispered Phredde hotly. ‘
You
said…’

‘Sh…shush up!’ I ordered. (Like I’ve said, you can’t use even sort of bad language in Phaeryland.) ‘Phredde, you find a twig or something and we’ll prise her mouth open.’

‘Why?’ asked Phredde.

‘To see if there’s any poisoned apple in there, of course!’ I told her.

Phredde went off to pick up a twig, and Bruce and I walked (well, I walked and he hopped) over to the bier. It was even spookier than the forest. I mean, okay, we knew she was just asleep, but even so…

I peered over her. ‘I can’t see any bit of apple,’ I said.

Bruce shook his head. ‘If you could see it Grumpy and the others would have seen it too.’

‘Here,’ said Phredde as she handed me the twig.

Well, this was
really
gruesome, but anyway, I sort of prised Snow White’s mouth open and we peered in.

Lots of strong, white teeth (she must really be good with her toothbrush). One tongue, a bit furry, but after all she’d been asleep awhile. But no apple. I stepped back.

‘You’ll have to kiss her,’ I informed Bruce.

‘And you’d better change back into a phaery prince too,’ added Phredde.

‘What!’ yelled Bruce, so loudly that a bird in one of the lollipop trees woke up and began going
tweet, tweet, tweet
.

‘Well, you have to be a prince, not a frog,’ said Phredde reasonably.

Bruce appealed to me. ‘I don’t, do I?’ he demanded.

I thought about it. To be really honest, I’ve always wondered what Bruce would look like if he weren’t a frog.

‘How about Phredde and I cover our eyes?’ I suggested.

‘You won’t peek?’ demanded Bruce suspiciously.

I crossed my fingers behind my back. ‘You don’t think we’d peek, do you?’

‘Yes,’ said Bruce.

Phredde sniffed. ‘Of course we won’t peek,’ she said. ‘Why would we want to?’

I uncrossed my fingers. After all, I hadn’t lied. I just hadn’t said anything when Phredde said…well, you know what I’m saying.

Phredde covered her face with her hands. So did I.

PING! I opened my fingers a little just as Bruce bent over and…

‘Hey, what on earth is going on?’ Snow White sat up and blinked indignantly at Bruce.

PING! Suddenly Bruce was a frog again.

‘Did you kiss her? Did you kiss her?’ demanded Phredde.

Snow White wiped her mouth. ‘Of course he didn’t kiss me,’ she said.

‘I shook her hand,’ said Bruce. ‘And look!’ he pointed.

I looked. There on the ground was a computer mouse, small and grey and innocent-looking.

‘Wow!’ said Phredde. ‘I bet that’s a poisoned Apple Macintosh mouse! And when Bruce shook her hand he dislodged it!’

‘And I know just who poisoned it,’ said Snow White grimly. ‘Help me up, kids! This means war!’

‘Swords and knights and cannons and stuff?’ I asked hopefully. ‘Hey, I know some really good ninja moves! Maybe I could…’

‘No, corporate war!’ said Snow White firmly, brushing a few dead leaves and cobwebs off her skirt. ‘We’re going to get that new program on the market pronto and totally undercut my stepmother’s entire price range! Then we’ll see whose magic mirror says they’ve got the best software on the market!’

She looked us up and down briefly. ‘Well, thank you kids,’ she said briskly. ‘I really do appreciate this, but I have to get to work. But if you ever have any computer glitches, here’s my email address.’ She handed us each a card. ‘Don’t hesitate to let me know and I’ll get one of my best people on to it immediately.’

‘Er, thanks,’ I said, putting the card into my pocket. I’d been sort of hoping for gold and jewels or something, but then Phredde can always magic gold and jewels up for me, and good computer advice could be
really
useful.

‘Ciao!’ said Snow White, and hurried off through the forest.

‘Hey!’ I called after her. ‘Your seven partners are at the Phaery Queen’s wedding. You want us to tell them where you are?’

‘Tell them I want to see them in the boardroom! Pronto!’ yelled Snow White, and disappeared into the gloom.

So we went back to the wedding.

Mum and Dad were still dancing close together with this soppy look on their faces, and so were Phredde’s and Bruce’s parents. I sidled up to the seven short computer software engineers and whispered what had happened.

Grumpy’s eyes brightened. ‘Hot diggetty!’ he yelled. ‘Come on guys! Hi ho, hi ho, a-programming we’ll go!’

They raced out of the marquee, past the elf musicians and the dancers.

‘Ummm.’

I turned round. Mordred stood behind us, staring at Phredde. ‘Ummm,’ he said again.

‘Hi,’ said Phredde. She glanced at me, and winked. ‘You want to dance?’ she asked Mordred kindly.

Mordred blushed so red he looked like a prawn kebab. ‘Ummm,’ he said happily, as Phredde hauled him off to the dance floor.

I looked at Bruce. There was something I needed to confess. ‘Er, Bruce,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Bruce, looking hungrily round the marquee lights. ‘You know, the trouble with Phaeryland is that there are never any flies hanging round the roast meat! Or even any moths around the lights! Now, back home on a warm night like this there’d be blowies and a few mosquitoes…’

‘Look,’ I said, ‘I have to tell you something.’

‘What?’ asked Bruce.

‘You know back in the forest, when you changed out of being a frog?’

‘Yep,’ said Bruce.

‘I peeked,’ I said.

‘Oh,’ said Bruce.

He was silent for a minute. Then he said, ‘What did you think?’

‘Oh,’ I said carelessly. ‘You look alright.’

We stared at each other for a minute. Then Bruce said, ‘I don’t suppose you want to dance?’

‘Alright,’ I said again.

So we did.

You know something? It was fun. I think Bruce even forgot about his embarrassing trousers and velvet shirt, and I sort of forgot he was a frog. I mean, he was just Bruce and we were friends and the music was cool, even if it was old fashioned and played by elves sitting cross-legged on mushrooms.

‘You know, Bruce,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ said Bruce, gazing hopefully up into the night sky in case a leftover giant vampire mosquito was buzzing around.

‘You know those ghouls that invaded your parents’ castle?’

‘Yeah,’ said Bruce.

‘Was it a really terrible battle?’

Bruce stared at me in the light from all the tapers and candles and stuff. ‘Battle? There wasn’t any battle.’

‘But you said the ghouls invaded…er, Bruce?’

‘Yeah?’ said Bruce.

‘What
are
ghouls?’

‘They’re sort of grungy grey things. They eat dead bodies.’

‘Oh, how horrible!’ I said. ‘Did they try to kill you all so they could gnaw your bones?’

‘No, of course not,’ said Bruce. ‘Ghouls are really tiny. I mean, you just have to tread on them and they go
squish
, but there was this real plague of them and they kept dragging in these dead rats and mice and cockroaches and things and the whole place smelt
awful
no matter how much air freshener Mum used, and Mum said she couldn’t stand it any more. So we left.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘No battle?’

‘Nope,’ said Bruce.

‘No swords and…and knights on horseback and archers and…’

‘Nope,’ said Bruce. ‘We did get the pest exterminators in. But you know what ghouls are like. Well, I suppose you don’t. But you just get rid of one lot and another lot move in. Dad wanted to put up sticky traps but Mum said no, she’d had it with ghouls.’

‘Oh,’ I said again. ‘I was thinking we could get the troll and Prince Peanut and The Phaery Daffodil and Mordred and the seven software engineers and everyone, and go and hunt the ghouls out, and reclaim your castle and…’

‘Well, actually,’ said Bruce, ‘Mum says she never wants to see the castle again. She’d rather have TV and wall-to-wall fitted carpet and a supermarket and a video bar down the road. And…er,’ he glanced at me, ‘I really like living where we are now. But thanks anyway.’

‘But wasn’t she upset when you had to leave?’ I asked.

Bruce gave a froggy shrug. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. But she’s really happy now. Hey, is that a fly on that prince’s head?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s a hat with a really small feather in it.’

‘I’ll just go and check it out,’ said Bruce hungrily, and hopped off.

So I went and found Jessica the bogeyman (sorry, bogeyperson) and let her shout ‘Boo!’ at me a few hundred times while I finished off the moonlight and roses ice cream with pistachios and honeycomb.

And by that time the Phaery Queen’s wedding was just about over…

You know something? It was good to be home.

Our castle was just like we’d left it, except for a few bones Mark had left in the grand hallway. (They looked a bit like Persian kitten bones to me, but Mark said no, they were just fried chicken, he and the boys had had a night out on the prowl.)

Your own home has a certain smell about it, doesn’t it? Sort of an old-familiar-sofas-and-kitchen-cupboards-and-piranhas-in-the-moat sort of smell.

It was great to be back into routine too, and just do normal things, like make my bed and veg out with a book on the battlements and feed Mark’s pet rat to the piranhas (no, I didn’t really, I just told him I did) and wipe up the slobber from Dad’s pet sloth and take the boa constrictor for a walk, or a slither anyway. It was even good to see Mark, but don’t tell him I said so.

Gark (our butler)
⁶
made a special giant apple pie to welcome us back, and then we all watched this really cool ninja video (it was my choice) and then I went to bed.

‘Night, Prune Face!’ shouted Mark.

‘Night, Dog’s Breath!’ I yelled back.

I snuggled up under my doona and counted the stars through the window. Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four…

‘Goodnight, Pru,’ said Dad from the door.

‘Did you have a good time in Phaeryland?’ asked Mum.

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ I said. ‘How about you?’

‘It was alright,’ said Dad. ‘Pity we missed the football though.’

‘Don’t
ever
mention glass slippers to me again!’ said Mum. ‘I’m still hobbling. Thank goodness for ugh boots. But, yes,’ she glanced at Dad, ‘it was fun.’

I waited till they’d both kissed me goodnight, then I said, ‘Hey, Dad, Mum…?’

‘What?’ said Dad a bit warily. ‘Pru, if you’re wondering what to give me for Christmas, a nice pair of socks is quite…’

‘No, nothing like that,’ I said. (I’d decided what to give him for Christmas ages ago. It’s sort of gigantic and it’s South American, but you’ll have to wait to see what it is, just like Dad.)
⁷
‘I just thought—would you and Mum ever leave Australia?’

‘What, for a holiday?’ asked Dad.

‘No, I mean for good.’

Dad looked at Mum. ‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Mum slowly. ‘We wouldn’t want to. But if…oh, I don’t know, if there was a war, or you or Mark were in danger here, or couldn’t get a good education or something, well, yes, we might go. But it’s not going to happen, Prudence, so don’t worry about it.’

‘I’m not worried,’ I said. ‘I was just thinking, that’s all. It’d be pretty hard to leave your own country, wouldn’t it? Even if it was Phaeryland?’

‘Yeah,’ said Dad gently. ‘It’d be pretty hard.’

‘It’d be hard to be different from everyone else too, wouldn’t it?’ I added. ‘Even if it was sort of really cool different.’

‘Yeah,’ said Dad again.

They tiptoed out then (well, actually, they didn’t, ’cause Mum’s ugh boots were too big for her and went sort of
clomp, clomp, clomp
, especially with all the bandaids on her blisters, and Dad couldn’t tiptoe if a horde of vampire ghosts were hunting him, but that’s how parents are supposed to leave your room after they’ve kissed you goodnight).

And I tried to go to sleep.

I couldn’t, though. My mind was too full of phaeries and trolls and handsome princes. And I thought how different they all were from me, and then I thought that maybe all of us are different, in our own ways, and maybe none of us is really better or worse than anyone else, just different…

And then I thought, fruitcakes! (Some of Phaeryland had rubbed off on me.) Don’t be a soft little marshmallow, Prudence! Of
course
some people are better than others! I’m a heck of a lot better than Amelia, ’cause I don’t boast and say what a genius I am
(Amelia a genius? Huh!), and Bruce is much,
much
nicer than Prince Peanut, and Phredde is better than just about anyone else I know and I’m glad she’s my best friend in the universe…

…and then I went to sleep.

P.S. Phredde got an invitation to Mordred’s Temple of Gloom display at the end of term. She said it was really cool, but somehow I wasn’t really interested. Now if it had been the Fangosaurus on display…but that’s another story…
⁸