‘Come with me,’ she said, pulling me in.
‘Please, ma’am, I am a girl – and I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s all been a terrible mistake,’ I said. ‘I just want to go home.’
‘So where is your home?’ she asked.
I could hardly expect her to believe my two homes were more than a hundred years in the future. Mum’s flat and Dad’s house hadn’t been built yet. They hadn’t even been born. Their parents and their parents’ parents hadn’t been born either. I wondered wildly whether I had great-grandparents who might somehow recognize me as some kind of kin and take me in, but it seemed extremely unlikely.
‘Well?’ said the matron.
‘I – I don’t suppose I have a home now,’ I said.
‘Then come with me to the receiving ward,’ she said.
It was a small grim room with two large stone baths at the end.
‘Get those dirty rags off, quick sharp,’ she said.
‘But – but I – I don’t want to!’ I said feebly.
‘You need a bath. You’re filthy dirty and no doubt infested too. I can’t have you infecting all my other residents,’ she said, running the tap in one of the baths.
Shrinking with embarrassment, I took off my jeans and T-shirt and underwear. She stared at my clothes in astonishment, shaking her head, then gathered them up with the tips of her fingers and deposited them into a wicker basket.
‘So you are a girl – though why you choose to wear strange boy’s garb I’ll never know,’ she said. ‘Come on, stir yourself. Get in that bath and start scrubbing hard.’
I put one foot gingerly in the bath and shrieked.
‘It’s freezing cold!’ I gasped.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, get in and stop making such a fuss,’ she said. ‘Do you think we’ve got time to heat a bath for each new inmate? Now get a move on – there’ll be ten more coming before midnight, I’ll be bound.’
I bathed myself as quickly as I could in the terribly cold water, crouching instead of sitting, because the bottom of the bath was gritty and disgusting. The soap smelt terrible and stung my eyes.
‘Give that long matted hair a good scrubbing too,’ said the matron.
There wasn’t any shampoo so I had to wash it as best I could with the soap and then duck my head in the bathwater to rinse it out. I was given such a small frayed piece of cloth to use as a towel that I was still dripping wet when I put on the clean clothes the matron provided: a strange harsh petticoat and long scratchy drawers, a coarse grey dress and apron much too big for me and a pair of boots that didn’t fit.
‘Excuse me, I don’t think these are my size,’ I murmured, but the matron didn’t care.
‘Come with me,’ she said, pulling me along.
She led me through a nursery full of infants and small children, but she must have thought me too old for this category because she hurried me through the room. One little girl about Maudie’s age tried to clutch at my skirts, clearly wanting to be picked up and cuddled, but the matron unhooked her, tutting.
We ended up in a long bleak room full of women sitting in neat rows. Most of them were very old with white hair and toothless mouths. They were all dressed identically in institution grey.
‘There now, you can sit here until supper time,’ said the matron. ‘You will be number one hundred and twenty-one. You will sleep in that designated bed in the dormitory. Then tomorrow we will put you in the French-polishing unit. Don’t look like that! It’s really quite easy pleasant work. You will soon get used to it.’
‘But what about lessons? Won’t I go to school?’ I asked.
‘Can you read and write and figure?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Then you don’t need any lessons, do you?’ She shook her head at me and walked off briskly, out of the room.
I didn’t like her at all, but I wished she would stay even so. I was left with all these strange immobile old women and I didn’t know what to say or what to do. I crept up and down the rows, trying to find a spare chair. Did I have to find chair number one hundred and twenty-one? None of them seemed marked in any way.
One old lady nodded at me in a vaguely kindly way, so I bent down beside her.
‘Please, can you tell me where to sit?’ I whispered.
‘Sit right there, my child,’ she said, gesturing as if there were several comfortable armchairs to choose from.
‘Thank you, but where exactly?’ I said, dithering.
‘Pray join me in my humble repast,’ said the old lady, regally offering me an invisible plate.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Don’t take any notice of old Sarey, she’s totally dottled,’ said the woman beside her. She was much younger, maybe only in her thirties, but her face was hard and pinched and there were sharp lines creasing her forehead. ‘Half the old girls here are dottled,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Maybe it helps.’
‘Is it truly awful here?’ I asked.
The woman shrugged. ‘Well, it ain’t my idea of home – but I have no other,’ she said.
‘Do we have to stay here? Are we locked in?’ I asked.
‘Where are you going to go then? The gutter’s even harder than a workhouse bed, and a sight colder too,’ said the woman.
‘But – but can’t we work hard and earn enough to get our own places?’ I asked.
The woman stared at me. ‘You don’t get no earnings, missy. You work for your bed and your board.’
‘But it’s just like prison, and I haven’t done anything wrong, truly,’ I said.
‘You’re poor and you’re homeless. You don’t need to do anything wrong to qualify,’ said the woman. ‘You’ve got a lot to learn.’
‘Can’t we ever start again outside?’ I said.
‘Well, if you’re one of Matron’s favourites she might just recommend you if a job in service comes along, but you have to suck up to her something chronic, and that ain’t my way.’
‘You mean, be a maid?’
‘Well, what else could you do?’
I thought of all the different alternatives I had in my own life in the future and felt sick with despair. I looked up at the windows. I kept looking at them all that long, lonely evening as the light gradually faded.
We were led into another large bleak room with long tables and benches, where we sat in rows again, eating stale bread and drinking watery cocoa with lumps that made me shudder as I swallowed. No one talked at the table. Perhaps it wasn’t allowed. There was just the sad sound of old mouths munching their bread to pap.
Then a bell rang and all the women got up obediently and shuffled off again. There was a visit to an unspeakably disgusting privy block, queuing for ages, and then we were led off to bed, though it still wasn’t completely dark. I thought we would sleep in a great dormitory, but we each had a separate cubicle, very like a cell. Cubicle one hundred and twenty-one was so small I could touch both walls as I lay on my hard cot. There were no sheets, not even a pillow, just a dirty grey blanket.
There was no proper window, but a small air vent in the brick above my head showed a tiny patch of sky. I watched it desperately until I could see nothing but black. It was obviously well after sunset now – but I was still here, in the workhouse, in the past. I was trapped here forever.
I started crying again and someone banged on the wall. ‘Stop that snivelling! You’re keeping me awake!’
I tried to cry more quietly. I could hear several other women weeping too, and further away a baby wailed forlornly. I curled up tight, my hands over my ears, wondering how I would ever bear this dreadfully bleak life. Then it suddenly got much darker. I was tumbled out of my bed, tossed and turned in the air, and then I fell and landed with a great thump … in my own bed at home! There was Smash, sitting on the end of my bed, grinning at me.
‘Oh, Smash! Am I truly back? Oh, you’ll never believe what happened! I was stuck in the past because of my own stupid wish and it was so awful. I ended up in the workhouse! I thoug
ht I was going to have to stay there forever. How on earth did I get back?’
‘I got you back,’ said Smash, bouncing up and down. ‘We all thought you’d come back automatically after sunset so we didn’t fuss too much. I thought it might teach you a lesson, actually, as you had the cheek to call me a fool for making an accidental wish in front of the Psammead. We had great fun with those storybook kids. Cyril loved my computer, and when he saw Dad’s car in the garage he was just over the moon – Robert too. And Anthea and Jane liked all your books and stuff and tried on some of your clothes.’
‘Oh, I wish I’d been there!’
‘Don’t you start wishing again, you idiot! Anyway, they all suddenly disappeared completely at sunset and we peered all round everywhere, looking for you to come back – but you didn’t. Robbie got a bit tearful. He was sure he’d heard you wish you could stay in the past forever, see, but I told him not to worry, we’d wish you back tomorrow when we went for another picnic, but he went on worrying. You know what he’s like.’
‘What about Dad? Did he go spare? Did he phone my mum?’
‘No, he didn’t seem to notice you were missing, just like we wished, but he kept looking round and scratching his head as if he was looking for something but he couldn’t remember what. Alice didn’t seem too fussed, though, but she wouldn’t care even if I went missing. She certainly didn’t miss me tonight.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, Robbie was going on and on about you, wondering if you were all right. I started wondering too. You’re not very good at looking after yourself, are you? And then I heard my mum telling your dad that she wants to take Maudie to this children’s Fun Day in some park tomorrow, so probably we won’t be able to go to the woods and see the Psammead. Robbie was going nuts, scared you might not like being stuck way back in the past on your tod. I was getting a bit fed up too without you, actually. Your Robbie isn’t exactly a bundle of fun, is he, and Maudie’s lovely but you can’t really hold a conversation with her, can you? So I decided to get you back.’
‘But how did you do it, Smash?’
‘Simple. I waited till bedtime. Your dad was even weirder then, he kept putting his head round the door and staring at the empty bed, though the wish was so strong he still couldn’t remember he had a daughter. It was like he knew someone was missing, but he didn’t know who it was. So, I waited till he settled down in his room at last, and I reckoned Robbie had cried himself to sleep and Maudie was out like a light. I didn’t want to get them involved, so I just got dressed again and crept downstairs and found the big camping torch and pocketed the spare front-door keys from the kitchen dresser and let myself out.’
‘You went out? In the dark? By yourself?’
‘Yep!’ said Smash. ‘I went all the way to the sandpit to see if the Psammead could get you back.’
‘Oh, Smash! Weren’t you scared?’
‘Not in the slightest,’ said Smash.
‘But it’s so dangerous to go out at night by yourself. You could have been attacked.’
‘If anyone tried anything with me, I decided I’d whack them on the head with the big torch,’ said Smash. ‘It was a bit weird in the woods. I did think I might get a bit lost in the dark – but I was fine.’
‘Oh, Smash! I just can’t believe this. You risked everything to rescue me. You’re a true heroine,’ I said, and I gave her a hug.
‘Get off me, you big softie,’ said Smash, squirming, but she looked pleased.
‘And did you find the Psammead straight away?’
‘No, I had to dig in the sand for ages – but I figured it could hear me. I went on and on about you being stuck in the past and probably very scared. I said I knew the Psammead didn’t think much of me, but couldn’t he take pity on you, because you’re always so nicey-nicey – and it worked. It suddenly stuck its head out and started talking to me. It was terribly grumpy, mind, because I’d woken it up. It gave me a right telling off and said it had already given us a wish for today and did I want to exhaust it utterly. I begged it to give us tomorrow’s wish right now. I pointed out that if it would only grant me my teeny little wish it could burrow down in the sand and go back to sleep in a jiffy, whereas I’d carry on and on pestering it if it didn’t. I put in a lot of pleases and thank yous because it’s so fussy about manners, and eventually it said, “Very well.” I wished that you and I were safe back in our bedroom and it puffed itself up and then I was wibbling and wobbling all over the place in the dark until I landed right back here in the bedroom, as requested – and you did too!’
‘You are the best sister in all the world!’ I said. ‘Oh, Smash, I think I’d have died if I’d had to stay in that terrible workhouse. It was so awful. Let me tell you all about it.’
But Smash was fast asleep and snoring in less than a minute. I lay in my soft pyjamas in my clean comfortable bed, still scarcely able to believe I was back.
When Robbie came running into our room in the morning he gave a great whoop of joy as he saw me. He hugged and kissed me so enthusiastically he nearly crushed me to death. When I told him how Smash had rescued me he tried to rugby-tackle her into a hug too.
‘What do you two think you are – bears?’ said Smash. ‘Too much hugging! And if you try and kiss me, Robbie, you are dead, I’m warning you.’
Maudie was satisfyingly pleased to see me too. ‘Rosy come back!’ she kept saying.
Luckily, Dad and Alice didn’t seem to hear her. Dad still didn’t know I’d ever gone missing, but he made a big fuss of me at breakfast-time even so.
‘My Rosy-Posy,’ he said, ruffling my fringe and pulling my plaits. ‘You’re such a funny little thing. Sometimes I hardly know you’re there. You always wander off and nobody knows where you are. I can barely remember seeing you yesterday! Where did you get to?’
‘Oh, I – I expect I was stuck in some storybook,’ I said.
‘I wish you’d read more, Smash,’ said Alice. ‘Still, you do like those awful Devil Child adventure books, and I think the author, Marvel O’Kaye, is giving a talk at this special Children’s Fun Day. You’d like to go to that, wouldn’t you?’
‘No,’ said Smash. ‘I’d sooner have my own adventures.’
We got the train up to London, and then the tube to the park, which was a bit of an adventure in itself for Robbie. He was still very nervous in tubes and had to hold my hand tight all the way. But somehow it all seemed a bit tame after our London travels in the pink stretch limo when we were rich and famous.
The Fun Day wasn’t really tremendous Fun either, because we weren’t part of it – we just had to watch. Alice took Maudie to see a nursery-rhyme puppet show for the under-fives, while Dad took Smash, Robbie and me into this big marquee to listen to Marvel O’Kaye.
‘It sounds as if he writes really scary books,’ Robbie whispered to me. ‘I’d much sooner go and watch the puppets with Maudie. Shall I ask Dad?’
‘Better not,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, Robs, I’m sure Marvel O’Kaye won’t be too scary. He’ll just tell us where he gets his ideas from and how long it takes to write a book, stuff like that.’ I was quite interested, just in case I ever did write a book myself.
However, when Marvel O’Kaye came onstage he grinned at all of us in a wicked sort of way. When we’d stopped clapping, he said, ‘Hi, I’m Marvel. I write the Devil Child series, but don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you by telling you how I get my ideas or how long it takes to write one of my books. I’m going to tell you stories – and they’re going to be s-c-a-r-y!’
Almost every child in the tent squealed in delight. Robbie groaned and hunched down in his seat.
‘Now, what are you really scared of?’ Marvel asked. ‘Come on – you, little kid in the blue T-shirt. What are you frightened of?’
‘Rats!’ she squeaked.
Robbie breathed a sigh of relief.
‘I’m not frightened of rats, I like them,’ he said. ‘Fancy being frightened of lovely interesting creatures like r
ats! They’re just like big friendly mice.’
Marvel O’Kaye pointed at some other children.
‘I don’t like dentists,’ said one.
Marvel rolled his eyes.
‘I’m scared of SATs tests!’ said another.
‘Per-lease!’ said Marvel.
He pointed at our row now, looking straight at Smash.
‘What are you scared of?’ he asked.
‘Nothing!’ she said, sticking her chin up.
Then he pointed at me.
‘I’m scared of being smacked about the head and having my ears pulled,’ I said, remembering being stuck in the past.
Dad looked anguished.
‘Rosalind! You’ve never ever been smacked,’ he hissed. ‘Oh lordy, what will people think!’
Marvel O’Kaye was pointing at Robbie now.
‘What are you frightened of?’ he demanded.
‘Oh dear, we’ll be here all night now,’ said Smash.
‘I don’t like the underground very much,’ Robbie mumbled.
‘Ah! Nice one,’ said Marvel. ‘Okay, okay, I think we’ve got enough ideas for our s-c-a-r-y story.’
He started making up this story about a girl who said she wasn’t scared of anything. Smash laughed delightedly. Marvel said this girl sat some exams at school and had three big fillings at the dentist, and yet she didn’t even flinch.
‘I like this story!’ said Smash.
‘But then,’ said Marvel O’Kaye. ‘Then she had to go home on the underground.’
He described the girl going into the tube station, and down a whole series of steep escalators. He said there wasn’t anyone else there at all, which made her just a little worried, though she still wasn’t really scared. Then a tube rumbled through a nearby tunnel and as the noise faded away she heard this strange squeaking. It got louder and louder.
‘It’s going to be rats – but I don’t mind rats,’ Robbie muttered.
‘The squeaking got louder still, and the girl looked down on the track and saw a huge black rat with great yellow teeth and a very long slimy pink tail. Then she saw another and another, hideous misshapen creatures slithering and slathering below her. She told herself they couldn’t really hurt her there – until one leapt right up on the platform and bit the girl viciously on the leg.’
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