Glubbslyme

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘I suppose I’d better take you back to your pond now,’ Rebecca teased.

  Glubbslyme looked alarmed.

  ‘I ought not embark on a long journey with a full stomach.’

  ‘So when shall I take you?’

  ‘I did not state categorically that I must be returned,’ said Glubbslyme. ‘I merely stated that my powers are wasted with you. I feel them withering within me. I shall lack the power to put a simple hex on someone soon. Come along, child, have you no enemies?’

  ‘I do,’ said Rebecca darkly.

  ‘Then let us hex them forthwith,’ said Glubbslyme, flexing his four limbs in preparation. ‘Name all the persons.’

  ‘There’s only one person actually,’ said Rebecca. ‘Her name’s Mandy.’

  ‘Her other names?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Glubbslyme sighed. ‘We must endeavour to be specific lest we hex all Mandys within fifty miles. What are this particular Mandy’s characteristics?’

  ‘She’s pretty and she’s very nasty and she’s got new black shoes with high heels.’

  ‘That will suffice. Halt, hapless child, so winsome, wicked, and well-shod. We are about to put a hex upon you.’

  ‘Just a little jokey hex Glubbslyme. Give her the hiccups or a boil on her bottom. Nothing serious,’ said Rebecca.

  She started the chant of seven Glubbslymes but she felt a bit anxious. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all. That was the trouble. It was a bad idea. Bad magic.

  ‘Stop it, Glubbslyme. Stop your eyes revolving. I’ve changed my mind!’ Rebecca shouted.

  But it was too late.

  The slugs were crawling all over Mandy. They wriggled up her arms and down her legs into her new shiny shoes. They spiralled up her neck and glided across her glossy pink lips. Rebecca screamed and tried to pick them off Mandy but she was whirled away by a sudden tempest. She floated helplessly up in the air while she watched poor Mandy writhing down below. She ran to the pond to try to wash the slugs away but someone had tied Mandy’s thumbs to the heels of her new shoes. She hurled herself into the pond but she didn’t come up.

  ‘Help! Help! Mandy’s drowning and it’s all my fault!’ Rebecca screamed.

  ‘Hey, hey! Wake up, poppet, you’re having a nasty dream. It’s all right, Dad’s here.’

  Rebecca woke up and found herself sobbing in Dad’s arms. He sat on the edge of her bed and rocked her as if she were a baby.

  ‘Oh Dad, what am I going to do? Poor Mandy,’ Rebecca sobbed.

  ‘There now. It was just a dream,’ said Dad.

  ‘I let him put a hex on her,’ Rebecca wailed.

  ‘Come on, pet, you’re still half asleep,’ said Dad.

  ‘No I’m not. Oh Dad, you don’t understand,’ said Rebecca in despair.

  She had tried so hard to get Glubbslyme to remove the hex but he insisted it was impossible.

  ‘What is done cannot be undone,’ he had snapped. ‘What ails you, child? I thought you detested this girl? Have a little resolution if you please.’

  Glubbslyme had retired to the greenhouse, sulking. Rebecca had spent a very miserable afternoon and evening, worrying.

  ‘What’s up, pet? Can’t you tell me?’ Dad said now, tucking her up. ‘You’ve been very quiet and odd today. It’s not because I got cross with you about that old shopping bag, is it?’

  Rebecca had washed it out as best she could but it was still in a pretty disgusting condition when Dad came across it in the cupboard. (She had had to throw her pillow straight in the dustbin). Dad had got very angry when Rebecca failed to give him an adequate explanation for the state of the shopping bag.

  ‘No Dad,’ Rebecca mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t notice she no longer had a pillow.

  ‘Then what is it? What was all that about a hex? Have you been making up some imaginary game and it’s started to get too real and scary?’ said Dad.

  ‘Sort of,’ said Rebecca unhappily.

  ‘I suppose it’s because you’re left on your own such a lot,’ said Dad, sighing. ‘I don’t know what to do about these silly old holidays. I can’t get any more time off work. I wonder about advertising for some nice lady to look after you?’

  ‘A babysitter?’ said Rebecca indignantly. ‘I’m not a baby! I’m all right, Dad. I like being by myself.’

  ‘Why don’t you play with Sarah more?’

  ‘She doesn’t want to play with me,’ Rebecca mumbled.

  ‘Of course she does! You two are best friends, aren’t you?’

  ‘She’s got another friend now. Mandy,’ said Rebecca, and she started crying again.

  ‘Ah!’ said Dad, thinking he’d got to the bottom of things at last. ‘You were mumbling Mandy when you were still dreaming. I see. I don’t suppose you hit it off with this Mandy, right?’

  Rebecca nodded and cried harder.

  ‘You girls! Why can’t you all be friends together? How about inviting Sarah and Mandy over to play tomorrow? Do something that’s really fun together. Why don’t you buy a cake mix and make fairy cakes, you like doing that?’

  ‘Mandy won’t want to come, Dad.’

  ‘Of course she will. You try asking her.’

  ‘I’m not sure she’ll be able to come.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because – because . . . I’m scared she might be ill,’ wailed Rebecca. ‘She might be covered in warts or worse – and it’s all my fault.’

  Dad didn’t seem to think this likely. He told Rebecca she was still half asleep. He yawned, because he felt half asleep himself, gave her a kiss goodnight and went back to his own bed.

  Rebecca was not half asleep. She was wide awake. She lay tossing and turning, unable to rest her head, unable to rest at all. When it started to get light at long last, she thought she heard a croak from the bottom of the garden. Rebecca couldn’t wait any longer. She crept downstairs and out into the garden. The dew was so thick she had to paddle through the grass. Her bedroom slippers were never going to be the same again.

  She found Glubbslyme just curling up at the bottom of his pot for a dawn snooze, after a night’s sluggorging. (The last of the Baker plague). He was not very pleased to be disturbed.

  ‘I’m sorry, Glubbslyme, but I’m desperate,’ said Rebecca, and she started to cry.

  ‘Desperate?’ said Glubbslyme drily. ‘Is the house aflame? Have cut-throats seized your father? Are soldiers running amok through the streets? If so, I will assist. If not, desist.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Rebecca, and she cried harder.

  Glubbslyme sighed irritably, but when she went on crying he emerged from his pot.

  ‘Desist,’ he said, but much more gently.

  ‘I’m so worried about Mandy,’ Rebecca howled. ‘I keep having nightmares about her.’

  ‘What is done cannot be undone,’ Glubbslyme repeated, but he sounded as if he might be wavering. ‘Unless . . .’

  ‘Unless?’ said Rebecca, holding her breath.

  ‘I cannot null my hex but possibly I can try to heal the creature.’

  ‘Oh please do! How will you do that?’

  ‘With great toil and endeavour,’ said Glubbslyme, and he yawned. ‘I will have my nap and attend to the matter after breakfast.’

  ‘Oh Glubbslyme, couldn’t you do it now? Please? Please?’

  ‘If you absolutely insist,’ said Glubbslyme. ‘Then I must gather as many herbs of healing as I can. I am sure you are fussing unnecessarily. I expect the child merely has a mild gripe or a pustular boil or two. One cannot make specifications when casting a hex but under your lily-livered jurisdiction my powers are paltry.’

  ‘I do hope so,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘I will provide cures for the most obvious diseases and we will hope for the best. Alas, even so it will not be simple. Your garden lacks even the commonest herbs. Your choleric neighbour has scarce better selection, for all he be so proud of his flowers. I can use a red rose to bind and cool, a sprig of lavender for pains in the head, and
an ivy leaf to heal green wounds but all those garish newfangled flowers are no use whatever. I needs must hunt further afield.’ Glubbslyme sighed again and looked longingly at his pot.

  ‘You are noble, Glubbslyme,’ Rebecca said quickly.

  ‘I am indeed,’ agreed Glubbslyme. ‘You must not be idle whilst I am gathering, child. You must fashion a sweet image of this Mandy girl, thinking sweet thoughts of her all the time.’

  ‘That’s going to be very difficult,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘I told you there is no fun or frolic to be had from good magic,’ said Glubbslyme. ‘Well, we must away to our separate tasks.’

  Rebecca couldn’t get started on her task straightaway because she had to have breakfast with Dad first. Dad was still worried about her nightmare. He chatted to her all through their cornflakes instead of reading his newspaper. He said he might be able to take a few days off work at the end of the month so they could go away for a little holiday together.

  ‘Would you like that, pet?’

  Rebecca wondered about Glubbslyme. She could hardly pack him in her suitcase and yet she was sure he’d be terribly offended if she left him behind.

  ‘Mm,’ she said. ‘Or we could just have a few days out, couldn’t we, Dad. You know, we could go to the park and see the witch’s pond.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Dad.

  ‘I love that witch’s pond,’ said Rebecca loudly, just in case Glubbslyme was lurking anywhere near the kitchen window.

  She wondered what Dad would say if he knew she’d become a sort of witch. Then he’d really have something to worry about.

  ‘Meanwhile, do ring Sarah. And this Mandy. Ask them round. Look, here’s some money so you can buy some bits and pieces from the supermarket. Cake mix. And some chocolates or sweets – whatever you want. Try and leave me with a bit of change though, eh?’

  ‘Mm,’ said Rebecca.

  When Dad had gone to work she did go down to the shops. She didn’t buy cake mix but she did buy a large Yorkie bar, two Cadbury’s Flakes, two Milky Ways, two Licorice Chews, one Turkish Delight, a packet of fruit gums and a strip of Wrigley’s Spearmint.

  It took Rebecca a very long time to make the sweet image of Mandy. It wasn’t the making of the image that was difficult. That was good fun, although it was terrible playing with all those chocolate bars and sweets and not allowing herself a single nibble. She put all but one of the red fruit gums to one side, but they were for Glubbslyme, to divert him from any future blood sucking desires. She did give the chewing gum a lick, but that was just to make it sticky enough to bind all the bits on to the big Yorkie bar body.

  She used the two Cadbury’s Flakes for arms, and the yellow twist of wrapper at the end made acceptable hands. The Milky Ways were the legs and she cut the Licorice Chews into marvellous miniature high-heeled shoes. It was quite tricky sticking them on to the Milky Way legs because the chewing gum wouldn’t always stick but she managed it in the end. She spent ages decorating the Turkish Delight head with yellow and orange fruit gum curls and great gummy green eyes. She used just one red for a mouth, and stuck big black gum buttons all down the Yorkie for extra decoration. It was an excellent sweet image – but the sweet thoughts were a problem.

  Rebecca badly wanted Mandy to get better but somehow it was still difficult to think sweet things about her. Every time she determinedly summoned up a sweet thought about Mandy she would hear a rude voice shouting ‘Parrot-face’ and the sweet thought would become very sour indeed. Rebecca couldn’t manage very many sweet thoughts at all about the horrid healthy Mandy so she tried imagining her very sad and sick in bed, too pale and poorly to whisper a single ‘Parrot-face.’ Rebecca pictured herself in a starched nurse’s outfit, soothing Mandy’s fevered brow, smiling at her oh-so-sweetly. And as she imagined this touching sick-bed scene she stuck all the sweets together and fashioned a true sweet image of Mandy.

  It was a very fragile image so she edged it into an old shoe box, and even stuck a few leftover gums on the lid to make it suitably decorative. Then she carried it very carefully down to the greenhouse to wait for Glubbslyme.

  It was a long wait. She glanced guiltily out of the window at Mr Baker’s garden. It was completely slug free now but it would be a while before the new perfect plants had grown enough to hide the old nibbled ones. Why hadn’t she learnt her lesson over the plague of slugs? How could she have been silly enough to put a hex on Mandy?

  She kept taking the lid off the box and peering at the sweet image. The box wasn’t such a good idea after all. It had started to remind her of a coffin.

  Rebecca was crying when Glubbslyme eventually staggered into the greenhouse, struggling with a great bouquet of greenery twice his own size.

  ‘Are they all herbs, Glubbslyme?’ asked Rebecca.

  They looked like a lot of very ordinary weeds but Glubbslyme laid them out lovingly, as if they were the rarest of roses.

  ‘I have here All Heal and Balm, Licorice and Lung Wort, Scabious and Scurvy Grass, Thorough Wax and Treacle Mustard,’ said Glubbslyme, and as he spoke he stretched each herb into strips, arranging half one way, half the other. ‘Flax Weed and Flea Wort, Fennel and Feverfew, Camomile and Chickweed, Pimpernel and Pennyroyal,’ he muttered, and he started nimbly weaving them together. Rebecca had once made a very similar little mat out of strips of coloured paper when she was in the first year of the Infants. ‘Where is the waxen image?’

  ‘Wax?’ said Rebecca.

  She showed him her sweet image anxiously.

  Glubbslyme seemed surprised. ‘My Rebecca did used to make her images out of candle wax.’

  ‘But you said a sweet image.’

  ‘An image that is sweet, child. Pleasing to the senses, beautiful to the eye – not luscious to the taste.’ He flicked out his tongue and licked appreciatively. ‘But I dare say it will suffice.’ He licked again.

  ‘Don’t muck it up, Glubbslyme, I spent ages getting those fruit gums to stick. Here, I’ve kept some for you.’

  Glubbslyme sucked his favourite blood red raspberry gums while he finished his herb weaving. He muttered a few magical sounding words, dribbling gum juice down his chin, and then carefully wrapped the herbs round the sweet image like a little shawl.

  ‘Attend, ailing Mandy. Thus you are soothed with sweet thoughts, healed with fragrant herbs. There!’ he said, swallowing the last gum and giving a great yawn. ‘And now I am going to my pot. I do not wish to be disturbed.’

  ‘But is that all that happens? Don’t we have to say some more or do some more?’ Rebecca asked anxiously.

  ‘I do not know about you, but I feel I have done more than is sufficient,’ snapped Glubbslyme, hopping into his flower pot.

  ‘But will Mandy be better now? Have we removed the hex?’ Rebecca persisted.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Glubbslyme.

  ‘Only possibly!’

  ‘Probably,’ said Glubbslyme, nestling under his grass cuttings and closing his bulbous eyes.

  Rebecca crept out of the green-house with the cardboard box containing the image. She went into the house and sat looking at it. She didn’t feel like watching television or reading a book or playing a game. She couldn’t think of anything else but Mandy.

  After sitting and staring for the longest ten minutes of her life she got up and walked out of the house, still carrying the box. She walked down the path and along the road, past the shops, over the road at the crossing, down the alleyway and up the lane. It was the way she always went to Sarah’s house. Only she wasn’t going there to see Sarah this time. She was going to the house next door to see Mandy.

  Rebecca stood at Mandy’s front door for several seconds, and when she rang the bell her hand was shaking. Mandy’s mother came to the door. She wore pinker lipstick than Mandy and even higher heels.

  ‘Yes, dear?’ she said, smiling.

  Rebecca felt wonderfully relieved. If Mandy had died – or was covered in pustular boils – then surely her mother wouldn’t be smiling.

 
‘Hello. I – I’m Rebecca. Mandy’s friend. Well, sort of friend of her friend. I was just wondering. Can Mandy come and play?’

  ‘Well, no dear, I’m afraid she can’t. She’s in bed.’

  Terror seized Rebecca and shook her hard.

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’

  ‘Oh, nothing too serious. She tripped over in her new shoes yesterday and took a nasty tumble. She’s all right, but she’s twisted her ankle and so I thought she ought to stay in bed and rest it for a couple of days.’

  ‘Oh poor Mandy. I’m so sorry,’ said Rebecca fervently.

  Mandy’s mother seemed very touched by such unexpected sympathy for her daughter.

  ‘Don’t look so upset, dear, she’ll be better soon,’ she said. ‘Here, come in and say hello to her, I’m sure she’d like to see you. What’s your name, pet? You haven’t been round to play before, have you?’

  ‘I’m Rebecca,’ said Rebecca.

  ‘Here’s Rebecca come round to see how you are,’ Mandy’s mother called as they went up the stairs together.

  ‘Who?’ Mandy shouted rudely.

  She didn’t sound as if she was in terrible pain. And she didn’t look as if she was either. When Mandy’s mother opened her bedroom door they caught Mandy out of bed playing with her My Little Ponies. She was making them gallop across a fence on her fluffy bedroom rug. Mandy was galloping too but as soon as she saw her mother she groaned and started limping dramatically.

  ‘Oh dear, is it playing you up, sweetheart? You really shouldn’t be out of bed, you know. Here’s Rebecca, pet.’

  ‘What are you doing here, Parrot-Face?’ said Mandy.

  Rebecca was starting to wonder the same thing. But it was still such a relief to see that Mandy really was all right that she managed a smile.

  ‘I’ve just come to say hello. Don’t worry, I’m not staying.’

  ‘Well, you can if you want,’ said Mandy. ‘I’m bored stiff stuck here by myself. Where’s Sarah? Did she tell you about my bad ankle?’