Gribblebob's Book of Unpleasant Goblins

by David Ashby

  “Wow,” said Nils, “that was awesome.”

  “Incredible,” said Anna, thinking of the timid boy she had seen bullied by Mandy Musgrave.

  “I-I don’t really know what happened,” said Bengt sheepishly. “I just thought about what Jack Broadsword might do or say, and all that poured out.”

  William grinned. “That is exactly what my friend Jack Broadsword would have said and done.” He held out his hand and Bengt gave him the book. “And now we need to get this book to a proper book-keeper.”

  CHAPTER 43

  As they made their way down the high street, back to the school library, they passed The Tartan Teapot again. Had it really only been a little over an hour ago that they’d passed it the other way? So much had happened. The tea shop was empty of customers now. Mr Broadchip was just leaving, his newspaper tucked under his arm, the crossword happily completed for another day. Frasier McCurdey was bidding him goodbye when he noticed the strange band of companions walking by.

  “Heather in the highlands!” he exclaimed. “Here they come again. Up and down. Back and forth. All outside my café with their swords and their sabres and their sassiness. Taunting me, they are. Taunting me.”

  Hearing his raised voice, Isla came to the door. The confused family of four were waiting at the bus stop across the street. They shrunk back together at the sound of the loud Scottish voice, to avoid attracting his attention. They had only gone into the café for something to drink, but the crazed owner had somehow got them to order four leek and potato soups, two bread and butter puddings, a raspberry tart and a slice of clootie dumpling. Enough was enough.

  “Not again, Dad,” said Isla. “Didn’t we just speak about this? Find your happy place. Zonal breathing, remember?”

  “Don’t you start with all that happy-clappy nonsense again. I know when I’m being provoked.” He narrowed his eyes and stared intently at the group as they walked by. The children shrunk into themselves, avoiding his gaze, William nodded his head at Isla and unleashed that smile, Dimple sniffed around for ginger-snap crumbs, only the very top of his head missing now, and Gribblebob glowered at Mr McCurdey, who flicked his eyes at Dimple.

  “You should get that dog looked at,” he said.

  “Oh, mind your own bedstead,” Gribblebob snapped. “It’s your weak-as-whimsy badcurrant juice that needs cooking at.”

  “Right. You cheeky…” began the café owner, starting out the door, but his daughter held on to his arm, pulling him back from the doorway.

  “Dad,” said Isla. “Dad, what are we going to do with you?” And she watched the back of William Wynn’s head once more, as he walked down the road, wondering if she was ever going to see him again. There was something about him…

  “Let’s not walk this way any more today,” said Nils, his hand in Anna’s. “I don’t think poor Mr McCurdey could take it.”

  Gribblebob snorted.

  “That one couldn’t bake a bunny on a biscuit,” he said, and Anna and Nils looked at each other and shrugged again.

  “William,” said Bengt. “Back in the museum, when I went up against Mara, all the things I said… somehow I just knew what to say. It was like they were in me, just waiting to be released. I really felt like a pure-hearted warrior. I really felt like… like I was Jack Broadsword, or he was me, or something.”

  “He’s one of them, ain’t he?” said Gribblebob to William.

  “One of what?” asked Bengt, worried.

  William sighed.

  “There are True Dreamers on both sides of the veil. When the veil first appeared, families were split asunder, broken up. So it meant that, even on your side of the veil, the old-blood families existed and carried on. As the years went by, in a world without magic and spells and—”

  “Dragon poo,” interjected the goblin, but William ignored him and continued.

  “In such a world, it was easy to lose touch with who you really were. But True Dreamers remained close to the veil, even though they didn’t know it.”

  “And there are some fuzzy spots,” Gribblebob added, “where the veil is weak and wobbly.”

  “And so, some people,” William took over again, “True Dreamers like you, when they are near such places, whisperings and flutterings get through. You hear things, pick things up from the other side, without even realizing it.”

  “So I’ve been picking things up from your world. All my made-up names? My stories?”

  William nodded. “And also I think that, due to some odd quirk in the veil-magic, you and Jack are connected, entwined, part of each other.”

  “Bit of a mist tree,” said Gribblebob, scratching the back of his head. “Well, actually, more like two trees sharing the same roots.” He paused and looked up at Bengt. “You True Dreamers ain’t magic, but you feel it. You are sucky-table to it.”

  “Uh, susceptible?” Bengt raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Pre-slicely. And when magic is on the move, when things in the dreamworld are wild and woolly, then True Dreamers are needed.”

  William gave Bengt a warm look. “Yes, when The Book of All Tomorrow’s Dreams was taken and there was trouble in the air, it stirred things up. And there must have been some benefit to be had by you and Jack coming together, for a little while at least. It wasn’t only Jack’s warrior spirit that defeated Mara. It was your pure heart. Jack fought in the Sapphire Wars: he’s done things a warrior needs to do, seen things that a soldier sees. Those dark things could have been a weakness when facing Mara. She could have turned them back on Jack. It was a weakness you didn’t have. When you came together, it opened up both you and Jack. You feel him more now, and I daresay he feels you more.”

  Bengt was quiet for a few seconds, taking everything in, before saying: “So when the Grey Lady said Jack had been here, on this side of the veil, for a very long time…”

  “She meant that a part of Jack has always been in you, and a part of you in him,” William said, nodding, “so there was no real sign of him having crossed over. He was always here, in you.”

  “I’d love to meet him one day,” said Bengt.

  “You know, I’m not sure if that would work,” said William, scratching his cheek. “I’m not sure if you two could actually be together in the same place, at the same time. The link you have seems to be so strong, so powerful, I wonder if it might not cause problems if you were ever to meet.”

  “The veil is a rumplestillyskin thing at times,” said Gribblebob wisely. “Ain’t not nobody can really make shed nor sail out of it.”

  “But do you think Jack’s safe? Do you think he’s okay back on your side of the veil?” asked Bengt.

  “I’m sure of it.” William smiled kindly. “But look, we’re here.”

  And indeed, they were now standing outside the school library again.

  CHAPTER 44

  As Gribblebob tied up Dimple outside the library, he gave him the very last lick of ginger-snap crumbs he had in his pocket, and the dog’s whole head shimmered into view.

  “There’s my beautiful boy,” Gribblebob said, tickling Dimple’s ears.

  “He just looks like a normal dog,” said Nils, sounding slightly disappointed.

  “What did you expect? Tusks and horns? He’s a shadowdog, not a ruddy warthound, you know.”

  “Do warthounds have tusks and horns, then?” asked Anna, intrigued.

  “Come on, let’s go inside and see how Omeria is faring,” said William, before Gribblebob could answer.

  Inside the library, Ms Toureau seemed much better. She was walking around, albeit a little stiffly, picking up books here and there, but you could barely see the marks on her face now. When they entered, she let out a huge sigh and closed her eyes for a moment.

  “I am so relieved to see all of you, so relieved.”

  “Ms Toureau,” said Anna, moving towards the librarian. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, sweet.” She nodded. “Your brother chose that book of protection wisely. In a few days, I’ll be perfec
tly fine again, which is more than I can say of my poor library.” She looked sadly around the devastated room.

  “How on earth are you going to explain all this to Mr Cobbister?” asked Bengt.

  “Hmm. I haven’t had time to think about it. Electrical power surge? Air conditioning explosion causing an indoor tornado? Overdue book maybe?” She tilted her head quizzically to one side and grinned broadly at the children. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Bookworms,” blurted Gribblebob. “Tell him it was bookworms that done it. Big snakey ones.”

  “Well,” she said, raising one eyebrow at the goblin, “perhaps.”

  “But most of the books look okay, anyway,” said Nils. “That’s good news.”

  “Books endure, sweet,” said the librarian, nodding in agreement. “Books endure.”

  “Talking of books that endure…” said William, taking a step forward and holding out The Book of All Tomorrow’s Dreams. “I think we need a bookkeeper to take care of this.”

  Omeria Toureau took the heavy tome from William with both hands and held it tight to her chest.

  “Thank you, Mr Wynn.” After holding it close to her for some seconds, she ran one hand gently down the spine of the book, and then over the thick cover, where the spilled tears from the first vial had left a ragged scar. “Yes, this one has had a narrow escape today, to be sure.”

  “Will you see that it gets back to where it belongs?” asked William.

  “Of course,” replied Omeria. “But aren’t you crossing back across the veil yourself?”

  “I am, but I have something much more important to return.”

  William turned to Bengt and held out his hand, nodding towards the broadsword that the boy still carried at his side. “May I?”

  Bengt handed over the sword to William, feeling a little bit sad to be letting go of it.

  “Thank you, young sir. I need to get this back safe to our… mutual friend,” he explained, and he winked at Bengt.

  “Are you absolutely certain you don’t wish to return the book yourself, Mr Wynn?” questioned Ms Toureau. “I’m sure that the”—she looked over at the children and chose her words carefully—“powers-that-be… would be extremely grateful to have the book returned safely.”

  William sighed. “True, very true.” He turned the broadsword over in his hands, looking down at it, feeling the weight of it, feeling Jack in it. “But some things are worth more than gratitude and reward.” He looked up at Omeria. “No, thank you, fair lady. You return the book. I want to make haste and place this back in the hand it belongs.”

  “Careful of the Court of Naughtiness,” said Nils. “You don’t want to be carved into a statue.”

  “A statue?” said William in surprise, and looked over at Gribblebob. “Have you been telling your tall tales again, Bobblehead?”

  Nils and Anna laughed, and Bengt wondered what they were going on about.

  “What about Hobley Brown?” he asked.

  “Yeah, what about that flimming grimblesnort?” grumbled Gribblebob.

  “He’ll pay his dues,” William said sternly.

  “And Mara?” asked Anna.

  “She’s around, she’s out there. Mara’s angry and resentful. But she lost the chance to get her full power back, so… so… so that’s all there is to say about that. And now, I must be on my way.”

  “But aren’t we going to break the veil?” said Nils. “I want to see what it’s like.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Anna. “We must go now, after hearing all about it. You promised.” She looked over at Gribblebob.

  “Young fella-me-lad’s hand is all mended. Me book is back in its right and proper. No treason for you to go now.”

  “But…” began Anna.

  “What about you, Ms Toureau?” asked Nils. “Can’t we go with you when you take the book back?”

  The librarian shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t think that’s an awfully good idea.”

  “Tell you what,” sighed Gribblebob. “I got me some extra chapters in me book now, so I’ll need to break the veil with it one day soon and take it with me to get the Great Goblin to sort it out. If you don’t make too much of a fuzz out of it, maybe I might see fit to bring you with me on a little sneaky-snakey visit.”

  “Gribblebob…” warned William.

  “Mr Gribble…” echoed Ms Toureau.

  “Well, we’ll see-saw.”

  Anna and Nils looked at each other. Without having to say anything, they both understood that keeping quiet now was probably their best bet of one day taking a trip with the goblin.

  Instead, Anna only said, “Nils, it must be well past nine o’clock now—we should get home before Mum and Dad get back or we’ll have a lot of explaining to do, and I don’t think I’d know where to start.”

  And so, with that, they said their goodbyes and parted, with Mr Cobbister the caretaker blissfully unaware of the unholy mess that lay waiting for him in the library the following day.

  CHAPTER 45

  Jack Broadsword had slept for what seemed a very long and very deep time. He woke with a start and a gasp. He reached for his sword, and it wasn’t there. What trickery was this? He jumped up from under the tree and felt dizzy. He reached out a hand to steady himself. He had broken the veil, hadn’t he? That hadn’t been a dream. With that trickster ex-friend of his, William Wynn. And they had been in a school library, and it had felt wrong and scary and…

  “Hello, Jack.”

  He looked up and William Wynn was standing there, by the clearing. He gave that full-beam smile of his.

  “You’re looking a little worse for wear, Jack. And you seem to be missing something.” He held up his hand, and in it was Jack’s treasured broadsword.

  “How?…”

  “Do I have a story to tell you, my friend.” As William walked towards Jack, holding out the sword to him hilt first, his smile changed slightly and he said, with real longing and pleading in his voice, “We are still friends, aren’t we, Jack?”

  Jack Broadsword reached for the sword, paused and looked into William’s eyes. And he felt something within him that had been missing for a while, something from a deeper “him”, something powerful that healed old wounds and opened new doors.

  Jack reached out and took hold of the sword’s hilt. “Friends, William?” he replied. “We’re not friends.”

  William froze, still holding the shaft of the sword.

  Then Jack gently pulled the sword to him, and as William released his grip, Jack carried on speaking: “We’re family.”

  William smiled then, and it wasn’t his normal, full-force, everyday smile; it was a smile that bubbled out from deep in his heart and lit his face with sunshine and warmth. William blinked away a tear and sat down next to Jack on the soft, warm grass.

  “Well, I knew you couldn’t go on resisting my charming nature for too long, Jack,” he said, winking, and Jack Broadsword shook his head and laughed.

  CHAPTER 46

  The next day, at lunchtime, Bengt was walking with Anna in the school cafeteria, each carrying a tray. He liked her, she seemed kind and warm, and they certainly had a lot to talk about. On their way to lunch they’d had to go by Mr Cobbister the caretaker’s room, and they’d looked at each other knowingly as they saw the sign he had pinned to his door:

  IN LIBRARY FOR FORESEEABLE FUTURE.

  Oh dear.

  As they walked to find a place at a table, they had to go past Mandy and her giggling gang.

  “Well, look who it isn’t,” she sneered. “Benny Butt’n’hole.” Her entourage cheered and laughed. “And it looks like he’s gone and got himself a girlfriend—little Pippi Longstocking there.” Again, the laughter broke out. “What is it then, has she got a thing for stupid-name losers or does she just feel sorry for you?”

  “Oh, do be quiet, Mandy,” snapped Anna.

  “Ooooh,” pantomimed Mandy. “Little Benny’s got a bodyguard girlfriend. Sweet!”

  Bengt stopped walk
ing, and Anna, next to him, could feel his body tense.

  “He doesn’t need a bodyguard,” said Anna loudly and with real passion. Mandy and her gang sniggered, and Mandy was about to say something else, when Bengt turned sharply and took a few steps towards where she was sitting. Mandy Musgrave seemed taken aback that Bengt was actually going to say something to her.

  “What? Got something to say for yourself, have you, Benny-boy?”

  Bengt stood directly in front of Mandy’s table and said nothing; he just looked at her. Anna felt that he was looking at Mandy in rather the same way he’d been looking at Hobley Brown the day before, and she actually found herself being just a little concerned for Mandy. But not too much.

  “What? What is it, weirdo?” the bully said. “Are you going to ask me out too?” Her gang laughed, but to be honest she was feeling a bit creeped out by the way he was looking at her.

  “Mandy Musgrave,” he finally said, and sighed. “Mandy, Mandy Musgrave.” He shook his head sadly from side to side. There were a few scattered chuckles, but most of Mandy’s table were really surprised and wondering what was going on.

  “Spit it out, then,” she said. “Or I’ll spit it out for you.”

  Which actually didn’t mean anything, if you thought about it.

  “Do you know, Mandy, why you’re such a bully? Do you understand why you need to be nasty and rude to people who are quieter and smaller than you? Why you need to be horrible to people who don’t stand up to you?”

  “Move along, A-butt-thong, you’re boring me,” she said, but she looked a little worried.

  “It’s because somewhere you’re empty inside. It’s because somehow you’re much more scared and lonely than you can ever let on. It’s because somehow you don’t feel loved, or looked at, or liked, or cared for, or somehow you don’t even feel anything. And it’s only by hitting out, by saying horrible things to people, that you get to feel anything, that you actually feel you matter.”