The Phredde Collection (6 page)

As Mr Olsen said, one of the great things about being a vampire and living so long is all the dances you get to know.

And then they took a break in their coffins for a while and we kept on dancing and then the fireworks began…and these were magic fireworks…

Well, I said it was great, didn’t I? The best birthday ever, in fact. Except for Phredde’s.

But that’s a REALLY different story.

‘Dragon guts!’ yelled Phredde.

I blinked.

‘Buckets of snot! Busted lizard brains…’

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong?’

Phredde glared at me. I’d never seen her so upset before.

‘It’s Mum,’ she exclaimed. ‘She keeps ruining my life! You know what she wants me to do now?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘She wants me to go to Phaeryland!’

‘What? To live!’ I was worried. I mean Phredde’s my best friend. I wanted her to stay right here!

‘No, for my birthday!
Phaeries always go to fairyland for their birthday,’
mimicked Phredde in a ‘goody goody gum drops lets all have fun, kiddies’ sort of voice.

I hauled myself up into the tree and sat next to her. This was Phredde’s favourite tree—it’s a beautiful crab-apple, but bigger than any crab-apple tree I’ve ever seen. It has flowers all year round as well as tiny
apples, which I don’t
think
most crab-apples do, but then I’m not too interested in trees.

The crab-apple tree grows in the middle of the school grounds. I think it was always there—though, you know, it’s funny, I just can’t quite remember it being there before Phredde arrived.

‘What’s wrong with Phaeryland?’ I asked. ‘It’d be great.’

Phredde glared at me. ‘Shows how much you know,’ she said bitterly. ‘Who does Mum think I am? A baby? Off to Phaeryland…’ She muttered in a little-kiddie voice,
‘Let’s all pop off to Phaeryland…
Why doesn’t Mum realise I’m getting too old for that sort of thing now?’

‘I think Phaeryland sounds sort of interesting,’ I said. I’d never even been to Surfer’s Paradise, much less Ruritania or Phaeryland. Some people just don’t know when they’re well off.

‘You go then, if you think it sounds so great,’ muttered Phredde.

‘I’d like to,’ I said.

Phredde really looked at me then. ‘You mean it?’ she demanded.

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ve never been to Phaeryland. I mean I’ve heard about it, but that was all in little-kid picture books. It’d be fun to see what it’s really like.’

‘What it’s really like is…well, you’ll find out,’ Phredde muttered darkly. Her wings calmed down a bit (they always flutter when she’s upset).

‘It wouldn’t be so bad if you came too,’ she said. ‘It’s just…oh, why can’t Mum realise we’re in a new country now? We don’t always have to be doing things the old way! Not on my birthday!’

‘Hey, we’ll have fun!’ I said.

I was getting really excited now. Heck, the one time we went to Sydney (and let’s face it, Sydney isn’t a patch on Phaeryland) I got so carsick on the way that I hardly even noticed the Opera House—it’s a bit hard to notice much if your head’s in a paper bag—and now I was going to another country. (I suppose Phaeryland counts as a different country. Different, anyway.)

‘We always have fun,’ I told her.

‘Not in Phaeryland,’ muttered Phredde.

I asked Gurgle to wake me really early on Phredde’s birthday.

The sun was just peering through my window when he stuck his head in. But then, whatever time you wake up in our castle the sun is just starting to peer through your window. It seems to go along with living in a magic castle.

‘Gargle argle gragle goo,’ said Gurgle.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Yeah, it’s okay. I really am awake now.’

Gurgle withdrew to set out my muesli and mango juice in the breakfast room.

Personally, I could have done without all the fuss and just slurped down breakfast in the kitchen like we always used to do, but Mum says you have to do things properly when you live in a castle. Anyway, the breakfast room has great vaulted ceilings, and wide windows that look out over the rose gardens (Gurgle’s wife, Gark, has looked after those—except for when the jaguar was prowling around—ever since Mum was too generous with the manure. I mean, you should just SEE what too much manure does to magic roses…) and down to Tootsie’s paddock and stable.

Despite the fuss, it’s not bad having breakfast there.

Mum wandered down just as I was finishing my mango juice smoothie (from fresh mangoes; it’s always mango season when you live in a castle).

Mum was wearing her daggy old tracksuit that makes her look like she’s got two bottoms (maybe next Christmas I should get her a new dressing gown instead of the sea serpent for the moat that I was going to get Phredde to conjure up for her. Some presents are better than magic, though a sea serpent in the moat would be pretty cool.)

‘Schlomphff,’ muttered Mum. Mum’s never at her best at dawn.

Gurgle handed her a cup of coffee. Mum took a sip, and then another one. ‘Scmmmfffp,’ she said. Then she took another sip and said, ‘Thank you, Gurgle.’

She yawned and pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said to me. ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘I was too excited to sleep much.’

Mum nodded, and drained half her coffee, then held it out for Gurgle to refill. (Mum drinks too much coffee. I made a mental note to ask Phredde for some of that stuff her mum drinks for breakfast—it’s made of rose petals, sunbeams and primroses—to see if Mum’d like it.)

‘Have you had enough breakfast?’ Mum was almost awake now.

‘Sure, Mum.’

‘You don’t want to get hungry on the way. Maybe you should have some toast as well.’

‘Mum, I’m only going to Phaeryland, not the moon. They’ll have stuff to eat in Phaeryland.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Mum doubtfully. Mum always thinks I’m going to keel over from starvation.

She stared at me blearily, as though she’d just got me in focus. ‘You’re not wearing
that,
are you?’

I nodded, because my mouth was full of muesli and Mum always told me not to speak with my mouth full.

‘Don’t you think a dress would be better for Phaeryland?’ Mum was wide awake now.

‘Mum, these are my best jeans!’

‘Yes, Prudence, I know. But your best dress—’

‘Mum! That dress is out of the dark ages!’ And it is. Mum bought it for me for her cousin Delia’s wedding. It’s got lace on the sleeves, for Pete’s sake.

‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Mum regretfully. ‘Now, have you got a hat?’

‘Mum I don’t NEED a hat. Not in Phaeryland.’

‘But the weather forecast said the UV level would be—’

‘Mum, they don’t have UV levels in Phaeryland. The Phaery Queen wouldn’t allow it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Sure I’m sure. Phredde’s mum told me. No one ever gets skin cancer in Phaeryland.’

‘Maybe I should just ring Diffy and make sure.’ Mum’s hand sort of moved towards the phone.

‘Mum, I promise. I’m not going to get skin cancer in Phaeryland. Thanks, Gurgle,’ as he took my plate and mug. ‘That was great.’

‘Gargle, argle, gah,’ said Gurgle.

‘Yeah, thanks, I’ll have a great time,’ I agreed. ‘Mum, I’ve got to go.’

Mum tried frantically to think of something else to stress about. I suppose it’s not every day your only daughter flies off to Phaeryland.

‘Have you got your carsickness tablets?’

‘Mum, we’re not going by car. You can’t drive to Phaeryland.’

‘And you’ve remembered Ethereal’s present?’ Mum was trying really, really hard to find something else to worry about.

‘Of course I have,’ I said.

I’d had it for days. It was three colours of hair gel. I’d been saving up for it for weeks.

I’d wanted to give Phredde a rock band—a really
big
one with at least four guitar players and proper amplifiers and everything that she could keep in her bedroom—but when I asked her mum if she could conjure one up for me, she sort of shuddered a bit and said, ‘Sorry Prudence, it’s beyond my powers.’

I didn’t think
anything
was beyond her powers, but that just shows you how little I know about magic.

So there I was, bright and early, and full of muesli, and sort of burping mango juice (maybe Mum’s right and it is too rich to have at breakfast) marching across the drawbridge to Phredde’s.

I looked around in case Uncle Mordred had come back. He’d been a dragon last time I met him, swooping all around the towers and diving in the moat, but he hadn’t been around for months. I really liked Uncle Mordred and I was hoping he’d be back for the birthday party.

Phredde’s dad let me in. (Phredde’s family doesn’t have a butler. I don’t suppose you need one when you can magic everything for yourself.)

He didn’t actually pull the door open—after all, it’s a big door and he’s only phaery size, even if he is bigger than Phredde.

The door just opened by itself and closed behind me, but I knew he’d done it…and there I was in the front hall with the suits of armour and the stuffed ogre (I’ll tell you about that one some time), and the Persian carpet, with flowers and animals and stuff on it that really move if you look at it close enough.

‘Come in, come in.’ Phredde’s dad smiled.

He had a nice smile, a bit like Phredde’s, and these dark eyes that sort of slither upwards at the corners like all phaery’s have (well, all the ones I’ve met anyway), and a thin, pointy nose, but he has much solider wings than Phredde—more like butterfly wings.

(Mum says Phredde’s wings are like gossamer, but when I asked what gossamer was she just said to look it up in the dictionary, which I did, and it was no use
at all—
you try it…)

He’s got an American accent, too, which sounds a bit odd in a phaery from Ruritania who lives in Australia, but he said that when he was at school his English teacher had been an American phaery on an exchange trip.

I was a bit shy of Phredde’s dad to tell the truth. I’d only met him once before, and that was last Christmas. (He gave me this incredible, jewelled saddle for my unicorn—it has emeralds and rubies on it). He’s away a lot on business. He works for some politician as a magical advisor.

(When I told Dad what Phredde’s dad did for a living he just snorted and said, ‘I wondered how those snakes got into power…’ But Mum told him to hush and stay off politics. She said that with unemployment the way it is, you can’t always be choosey about the
job you take, especially if you’re in a new country like Phredde’s family.)

‘Where’s Phredde, er, Ethereal?’ I asked.

‘Up in her room getting into her party clothes. Her mother’s with her.’

He really did have a nice smile. ‘Do you know the way through the castle? I could conjure up a guide if you like. A wolf…or a rock star perhaps.’

‘No, that’s alright, thanks. I know the way.’

I could have kicked myself as soon as I said it, because it would have been really great to meet a rock star, but I
did
know the way, even though the castle is enormous and, anyway, I was too excited about Phaeryland to really concentrate on a rock star.

Phredde’s door was closed but I could hear Phredde’s shriek way down the corridor. ‘Mum,
no! What
do you think I am?’

And then Phredde’s mum saying something back, sort of slow and firm, just like Mum gets when she’s ticked off at me.

So I knocked on the door and yelled, ‘It’s me!’

…and the door opened (magic again, of course. No one was anywhere near it) and there was Phredde…

I just stood there. And I stared and I stared. I’d never even
thought
Phredde could look like that.

The joggers were gone. The nose stud was gone too. Even her hair was different.

In their place were twinkling silver slippers and an elegant, long ball dress that looked like it had been made out of sunbeams, and probably had, with pearls sewn in long strings down the front and all along the edges, and her hair flowed in long, golden waves down her back. (It had been as short as a pet dog’s, and bright
pink, the day before, but I suppose magic hairdressing can be useful.) There was a tiara nestled into the top of it with diamonds the same colour as her dress.

It looked really great. But it didn’t look like Phredde.

Phredde glared at me from under the tiara.

‘If you say one word…’ she threatened. ‘Just one word!’

‘Who, me? I didn’t say anything,’ I said. ‘Happy birthday.’

‘Thanks,’ said Phredde sourly.

‘I brought you a present.’

Phredde cheered up at that.

‘Hey, let’s have a look at it. Oh wow!’ She held up the hair gel in delight. ‘Just what I always wanted! Hair gel! Green and purple and, wow, black too!’

I grinned back. Phredde’s lucky being blonde. Colours show up really well in her hair. (My hair is carrot red, and let me tell you, if you put a black streak through my hair it just looks like I fell in the rubbish bin.)

‘Look, Mum!’ offered Phredde.

‘Very nice,’ said Phredde’s mum. ‘But you can’t wear it today.’ She glanced over to me. ‘It’s good to see you, Prudence,’ she said. ‘But you’d better hurry and get changed if we’re not going to be late.’

‘Get changed? Me?’

I looked down at my jeans (they were perfectly clean) and my joggers. I’d worn my best T-shirt too, the one that says, ‘Don’t panic’, on the front, and on the back says, ‘Who’s panicking?’.

‘You look very nice, Prudence dear,’ soothed Phredde’s mum. ‘But you need something a little special for Phaeryland.’

So there I was, ten minutes later, with my hair magicked in great waves down my back. I had thought she might make me blonde, too, but she left it red. (I wanted to ask her if she’d change it to shiny black just for the day, but she was too busy making me look respectable).