‘Avariella,’ she said, placing her knitting down next to the jam jar that contained her spare eyeball. ‘How lovely.’
Aunt Maude never went anywhere without her spare eyeball – she said she liked to know what was creeping up behind her. Yep, Aunt Maude was most definitely a bit short in the marble department. She wasn’t always like this. She was once a great sorceress. But something happened to her before I was born. Something nobody ever talks about.
‘Avariella,’ she repeated. ‘Avariella umbrella. Hold on a minute while I find me teeth.’
That was another one of Maude’s things, as Dad called them. She only ever wore her teeth when she had company – she was worried she was going to wear them out.
‘Come in, come in,’ she said, scooping her dentures out of a crystal tumbler that was sitting on the side table. ‘What are you doing hanging around in the doorway looking guilty?’
As mad as Maude was, she was strangely with it when it came to some things. ‘Auntie,’ I said, ‘can I ask you something?’
‘Ask away, but if you want to know why your dad’s such a plonker, I have no idea.’
Like I said, with it.
‘No,’ I laughed. ‘It’s about—’
‘Hold on. Aren’t you going to say hello to Tyson?’
Tyson is Aunt Maude’s pet teabag. He’s the reason she got so angry with Dad she moved out of the castle and into the caravan. While everyone else went along with the teabag thing, Dad tried to make her see a doctor.
‘Hello, Tyson,’ I said, leaning into his cage.
Tyson was sitting in his miniature deckchair, a tiny bobble hat resting precariously on top of his perforated pyramid head.
‘He’s a bit quiet today,’ Maude said. ‘Do you think he looks off-colour?’
Tyson looked like he always did. Like a tea bag.
‘Maybe he’s worn himself out on the hamster wheel,’ I said.
Maude poked Tyson with her knitting needle. ‘That’ll be it. Cage was creaking most of the night, now I think about it. Biscuit?’
‘No thank you.’
‘Are you sure? I’ve got some lovely digestives – I’ve licked the chocolate off but the biscuity bit’s going spare.’
‘Erg, thanks, but it’s nearly teatime.’
‘Is it?’ Maude adjusted the elastic on her floppy-brimmed, retro bathing cap and sat back down. ‘Hope it tastes better than lunch. That lemon sorbet was as bitter as Cook herself.’
‘Anyway,’ I continued. ‘It’s about—’
‘Spit it out, child. It’s nearly teatime.’
Maude’s short-term memory wasn’t always the best, though Dad said her forgetfulness was selective. I sat down on the ladybird pouffe beside her and opened the fairy tale book.
‘It’s about this book – remember it? You used to read it to me at bedtime.’
‘Oh yes, I miss our story times,’ she said wistfully. ‘But I’m not coming back in that castle until your father apologizes to Tyson.’
‘So, the book.’ I ran my finger over the frayed binding. ‘It looks like some of the pages have been torn out.’
‘Of course they have. They were about her.’
‘Her?’
‘Yes, her.’
‘Who’s “her”?’
‘She’s the one we don’t talk about; the one they sent away.’
I rubbed my chin. ‘If we don’t talk about her, why is she in a storybook?’
‘Don’t be smart with me, missy. Everyone knows we mustn’t talk about her.’ Aunt Maude glanced over at her eyeball. She licked her lips. ‘But woe betide us if we forget her.’
‘But who is she?’ Maude was obviously getting mixed up again.
‘Got marshmallow in your ears, girl? I told you, we don’t talk about her. We mustn’t talk about her or the place she was sent. Now shush, my eyeball’s itching.’
In the jar on the table, the eyeball pulsed.
‘Any second now,’ said Maude.
Footsteps sounded on the wooden veranda.
‘Open the door, will you, child?’
Emergency. Emergency. I am two minutes late for dinner. I repeat, this is a national emergency. The future of Biscotti is at risk! Or at least you’d think it was, the way Bertie was acting.
‘Hurry, Avariella!’ he said, folding his arms across his podgy belly and refusing to come inside the caravan. ‘You know how Father hates to be kept waiting.’
‘Your father needs to get a grip,’ Aunt Maude said, appearing in the doorway behind me. ‘Now come here and give your old auntie a kiss.’
‘I’m afraid I’m too old for that sort of frivolity.’ Bertie smoothed down his green velvet knickerbockers.
‘Oh my word, eight years old and already a stuck-up pickle-bottom like your father.’
‘Bye, Aunt Maude.’ I pulled Bertie away before he had a chance to respond. Pickle-Bottom versus the Toothless Digestive-licker was not a battle I wanted to witness.
Clear of the decking, Bertie wriggled free.
‘Aunt Maude is getting worse,’ he said, sounding exactly like Dad. ‘Pickle-bottom – how vulgar. Have you been there in the caravan with her all day?’
‘Not quite.’
‘What a shame to miss the celebrations. It was such tremendous fun, Avariella. Dad even allowed me to cut the ribbon when he declared the truffle hog race open.’
Woopy-doo! I sometimes wondered if Bertie was really my brother. I couldn’t stand all that royal stuff. I nodded and stared up at the castle. The second sun was sinking behind the Central Tower, sending an orange glow over the smooth stone.
‘Oh, and I had an exquisite Viennese marshmallow whirl,’ Bertie continued. ‘Just the slightest dusting of icing sugar, so it didn’t make a mess of my fingers.’
Viennese whirls – now that was more like it. I hoped we were having something nice for tea . . .
Whatever we were having, it was being served with a double helping of bad temper. Dad practically exploded when he saw the fairy tale book under my arm.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘Aunt Maude. She used to read it to me when I was little.’
‘What?’ Dad’s voice was so ridiculously high he sounded like a pixie caught in a mousetrap. ‘I thought we’d finally done away with these ridiculous artefacts. Had I known Maude was filling your head with this poppycock, I’d have evicted her from the castle myself.’
‘But what if it isn’t poppycock?’ I said. ‘What if the Other World in the story is real? Maude seemed to think—’
‘Maude thinks that wretched teabag is alive! I’ll hear no more of these ridiculous fairy tales.’ Dad waved his hand at the grand piano, nodding in approval as the lid magically lifted and the tinkle of classical music filled the room. ‘High culture, this is where your interests should lie. We must not delay your exploration of the finer arts of Biscotti a moment longer.’
Mum yawned. She fiddled with the peacock-feather comb slide in her hair and nodded at Periwinkle. The butler returned her nod, his black toupee slipping forward. He jerked his head back and flicked the hairpiece into place. Coat-tails flapping, he pushed the platinum serving trolley towards the table and lifted the lid on the silver platter. Banoffee burgers. Yum.
Dad poked at his burger with his pearl-handled fork. ‘Thankfully,’ he continued, ‘this latest misdemeanour is most timely. Why just today, the Duke of Devilridge advised me of a most excellent governess: Mademoiselle Hornet-Boules—’
‘Mademoiselle Hornet-Boules.’ Mum pulled a funny face. ‘She sounds delightful, dear.’
Dad ignored Mum, drumming his fingers on the polished banqueting table while Periwinkle fetched him a glass of water from the life-sized mermaid fountain.
‘The mademoiselle has tutored all the duke’s daughters,’ he continued. ‘But with his youngest, Veronica, now a debutante, she seeks a new position. And what an opportunity. Would you believe she wrote the definitive guide to princess etiquette?’
‘Oh, her, Mrs
Expectations.’ Mum stuck her nose in the air and pulled a snooty face.
Even goody-goody Bertie smirked at this.
‘This is no joke. As you know, I have always been a fan of the mademoiselle’s teaching.’
‘As we know indeed, hey, sweetie.’ Mum nudged my foot under the table.
‘No wonder the children disrespect me, Sophia.’ Dad gave Mum the finger wag. His cheeks were so red they were practically sizzling. ‘I will take it no more. Good old-fashioned discipline, that’s what’s needed here.’
Troll poop, this was so not the moment for Doreen and Jeb to burst into the room and give Dad more ammunition. Doreen bleated and charged at the serving trolley, gold-dusted cherries and profiteroles spraying across the carpet. Periwinkle calmly took his white serving gloves off and placed them on the side table. He dug around in the pocket of his black dress trousers and took out a packet of sarsaparilla logs. Doreen’s nose twitched. She left the profiterole she was licking and ran at Periwinkle, butting him in the shin.
Periwinkle sighed. ‘What have I told you about being gentle, Doreen?’ Wiping her muzzle with his tea towel, he picked her up. ‘You too, Sir Jeffrey Bobbersons. Come along.’
Dad pushed his plate away. ‘Need I say more? This whole household is out of control.’
‘Oh, it’s just a bit of chocolate, Bertrand.’
‘No! It is not just a bit of chocolate. I will hear no more of this matter. I will be sending for Mademoiselle Hornet-Boules as soon as dinner is over.’
Mum’s expression changed. ‘But I’ve already found a new governess – Miss Summer’s due to start next week.’
‘I am sorry if you have wasted your efforts, but Avariella requires a stricter hand. There are certain—’
‘Expectations.’ Mum’s voice was sad as she completed Dad’s sentence, the glance she gave me even sadder. ‘Well, be this on your own head, Bertrand, because a caged bird wants nothing more but to fly.’
Too right, Mum. Couldn’t have put it better myself. That was it – I was definitely going back to see Ethan and ride on one of those funny bicycles tomorrow. This Hornet-Boules sounded like a complete nightmare. I had to go and take my fun while I still could.
Ethan didn’t seem to recognize me. Maybe it was my PE kit? I didn’t know what else to put on, and the purple pleated skirt didn’t seem that different from the short skirts I’d seen the girls here wearing. Thinking about it, the pink-and-gold striped vest with the fluffy unicorn on it probably was a bit out there, but what’s a princess from another world supposed to do?
Talking of unicorns, that’s how I got here. No, not on the back of one, you numpty! By rubbing the unicorn emblem on the fire grate. OK, I admit it, I had to spit on my fingers again to get it to work, but once the emblem was wet it was a straightforward portal transfer back to Camden. And back to Ethan. Now all I needed to do was get his attention. He seemed to be looking everywhere except at me.
‘Ethan! Can you hear me?’
Still nothing. I knew I should have brought Jeb, but I was worried he’d wander off when I was on the BMX.
‘Ethan. Mr Ethan! It’s me – Ava. I’ve come to have a go on your BMX bike.’
Finally! Ethan shrugged and rode slowly over to the gate, pausing to thump fists with one of the wheely-boarders. He must have been riding his BMX really fast because his cheeks were nearly as red as his T-shirt.
‘Hi, Ethan,’ I said. ‘I’m back!’
‘So I see.’ Ethan smiled and got off his bike.
I waved at the wheely-boarders. They seemed very interested in what we were doing. The girl with her BMX was there too. She was staring at me with her mouth open.
‘OK, I did promise.’ Ethan nodded towards the far end of the park. ‘Let’s go over by the play area. You need to learn the rules of the bowl before I take you in there.’
Rules? Why did there always have to be rules? I looked over at the wheely-boarders. They were still staring.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ethan said. ‘They’re all right – just nosy. I think they were meerkats in a former life.’ He stood up on his tippy toes with his hands in front of his chest like he was holding a horse’s reins and pinched his lips together.
‘I’m not worried.’
‘Good,’ he laughed, ‘good.’
OK, between you, me and the witch’s gatepost, I had been kind of worried when Ethan didn’t come straight over. I thought he might have been ignoring me, that he didn’t really think I’d come back. But if he was making jokes about fairy-tale creatures like meerkats, he must want to be my friend. Mustn’t he?
Ethan scrunched up his face. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to try and blend in a bit, though,’ he said apologetically.
I chewed at my fingernails. Being like the other kids is all I’ve ever wanted, but it’s not exactly easy when you’re a princess.
‘Never mind,’ Ethan said. ‘You’re your own person, sweet. So, do you want to take the bike?’
Did I! It was all I’d been thinking about for the last twenty-four hours.
‘Ava?’
‘Sorry.’ I took the bike from Ethan.
‘Don’t be frightened. Everyone falls off at first – you just have to learn how to fall.’
‘Erg, OK.’ Ethan seemed to have me confused with the world’s biggest wussy knickers. ‘So how do I start it?’
‘Start it? You have ridden a bike before, haven’t you?’
I shook my head.
Ethan took off his helmet and ruffled his dirty-blond hair. It was messy and straight and stood up from his head like a bird’s nest. ‘Here, you best take this. We’ve got a lot of work to do.’
I reached for the helmet, my hand shaking. I mean, Ethan really needed to work on his coaching technique.
‘Right then, Ava. We best start off on the grass. Next time, wear jeans or something so it doesn’t hurt as much when you come off.’
Hurt. There he goes again. I mean, Mr Motivation or what . . . And what in the name of the good goblin are jeans?
Riding a BMX wasn’t as easy as I thought. It was a bit like getting on a unicorn – you actually have to learn how to ride the thing. Not that I’ve ever ridden a unicorn either. Doreen was far too small and Dad would never allow me near a wild one. But anyway, that’s not the point. The point is, don’t judge me. How was I supposed to know balancing a bike took practice?
‘Come on, Ava.’ Ethan grabbed hold of the bike seat. ‘You’re so close. Let’s go, one more time.’
‘OK.’ I smiled – a princess is not expected to give up when things don’t go her way – but inside I wanted to cry. This was like the zillionth time I’d tried to ride the bike. I was so tired, I’d have slept whether there was a pea under my mattress or not.
‘Same as last time,’ Ethan said. ‘I’ll hold the seat, and once you get moving I’ll let go.’
I braced myself. My elbow was still throbbing from where I’d fallen off earlier. Ethan said I needed elbow and knee pads, but as we didn’t have any I’d just have to try harder not to fall off.
‘Ready?’
I nodded.
Ethan grabbed the back of the seat. ‘OK. Three. Two. One. Go!’
I lifted my foot on to the pedal and pushed down. The bike began to move.
‘Pedal,’ he shouted, running along behind me. ‘Pedal!’
Like, yay, oh yay with unicorn bells on! I was doing it. I was riding a BMX bike. Ethan had let go and I was racing along the path. The hairs on my arms rose – I don’t know whether it was the breeze or the excitement – but every bit of me felt alive. I turned the handlebars and the bike did exactly what I wanted.
Oh my giddy goblin, this was even better than my potato sack. I picked up speed and zoomed towards the dog-walking area. I felt strong and free. No guilt, no fear, no compromise. Nobody yelling at me, telling me I was rubbish. No expectations. Just me and the bike—
Aaggghh! A swamp rat ran in front of me and started yapping at my ankles. I pulled back on the brake, but the bike
slipped and I fell.
‘I think Elvis likes you.’ A woman wearing black shiny trousers and a leather jacket scooped up the ratty thing and kissed him on the nose. No wonder he was angry – the only fur on his scrawny grey body was a greased orange quiff. He whimpered and licked the woman’s face. He wasn’t a rat, after all; he was an Apollonian mountain terrier, although they probably didn’t call them that here.
‘I hope you didn’t hurt him.’
‘Hurt him?’ What planet was this woman on? I touched my throbbing elbow, blood dripping through my fingers.
‘Don’t worry, he seems OK,’ she continued.
I looked down at the floor. Maybe if I ignored her, she’d get bored and go away . . . oh my giddy goblin, what in the name of the fashion fairy did she have on her feet? The heels on her black boots were so pointy you could use them as skewers.
‘Gucci, darling,’ she said, seeing me staring. ‘I never wear anything else.’ She took her sunglasses off and peered down at me. Her disapproving stare looked strangely familiar.
‘You OK?’ A breathless Ethan offered me his hand.
‘Stop fussing, boy,’ said the woman. ‘She’s fine.’ Ethan looked from me to the woman, eyebrows raised. The dog snarled at him, its eyes bulging like it was being strangled. The woman straightened its quiff. Smoothing down her trousers she nudged my foot with her pointy boot.
‘A little old to be learning how to ride a bicycle, aren’t we?’
I rubbed my goosebumped arms and looked up at the sky. I was totally freezing. The thick black cloud had come from nowhere.
‘Are you a late developer? Or perhaps your parents neglect you? That awful outfit would suggest so.’
Growling griffins, was she really still having a pop? So much for ignoring her. Sometimes a princess had to tackle things head-on.
‘My awful outfit?’ I said, crossing my arms. ‘Have you looked in the mirror lately?’
The woman smiled – her teeth as white as the snow-topped peaks of the Apollonian Mountains and perfectly straight. ‘Oh, I’m just teasing you, darling,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Mama and Papa love you in their own way.’
Princess BMX Page 3