‘You what?’ said Smash.
‘I know it sounds a weird wish. I found it in a book of fairy stories,’ I said.
‘Oh, typical,’ said Smash. ‘How is that going to work if it’s part of a flipping fairy story?’
‘Would you mind holding your tongue, Miss Shouty Person,’ said the Psammead. ‘I think fairy stories are eminently suitable, as I am indeed a sand-fairy. I think it’s an admirable wish, Rosalind.’
‘But what is our heart’s desire?’ said Smash.
‘I thought the Psammead could maybe work it out itself, as it’s so magic and all-powerful,’ I said.
‘Exactly,’ said the Psammead, preening.
Then it hopped nimbly right up to me and put its strange monkey fingers on my temples. Its ancient eyes focused on me, staring directly into mine. I felt as if it was looking right inside my head and learning what was there. Then it backed away and did the same to Robbie. The Psammead moved on to Smash reluctantly. She giggled and fidgeted as it took hold of her.
‘Be still!’ it commanded, and she sat suddenly rigid, biting her lip.
I wondered for an awful moment if the Psammead was cursing her, turning her into a statue to teach her a terrible lesson, but when it backed away from her she blinked and rubbed her eyes. The Psammead hopped over to Maudie, inspecting her carefully first to make sure she wasn’t too damp or sticky. It put its wrinkled face close to hers and gently laid its paws on her forehead. Maudie wasn’t the slightest bit overawed, like us. She pursed her lips and gave it a big kiss, hugging it enthusiastically.
‘Lovely Monkey!’ she said.
The Psammead wriggled and squirmed.
‘You’re quite a lovely small child,’ it muttered, and then it backed away from her, wiping its paws.
It stood contemplating us for a few seconds, its little eyes very dark and beady on the end of their strange stalks. Then it started puffing itself up.
We watched as it got fatter and fatter and fatter, larger than we’d ever seen it before. Its eyes twitched, its ears pulled taut, its paws extended at full stretch. It stood there, swaying with effort, a pulsating puffball. Then it suddenly collapsed down into a small shrunken creature, still quivering with effort. It crawled to the centre of the sandpit and started digging. It paused, halfway into the sand.
‘Goodbye,’ it said, in a tremulous voice.
‘Goodbye, dear Psammead,’ I said. ‘And thank you so, so much.’
‘We will see you again, won’t we?’ Robbie asked anxiously. ‘After you’ve hibernated yourself back to full health?’
The Psammead mumbled something, but it was scrabbling so hard we couldn’t quite hear what it said. It gave one last scrabble and disappeared entirely.
‘Was that a yes?’ said Smash.
‘It might have been,’ I said.
‘I do hope it was a yes,’ said Robbie.
‘Monkey gone!’ said Maudie, holding out her arms as if she were trying to snatch him back.
We all looked at the empty sand. Then we looked at each other. We waited. And nothing at all happened.
‘Well?’ said Smash. ‘Is that it?’
‘I – I suppose so,’ I said.
‘But where’s the magic?’ said Robbie.
‘Where Monkey?’ said Maudie.
‘Monkey’s gone now, darling. Look, all gone,’ said Smash, patting the sand. ‘And it looks like all the magic has gone with him!’
‘But we saw him puff up like crazy,’ said Robbie. ‘He really was wishing for us.’
‘Wishing what?’ said Smash.
‘Whatever our heart’s desire is,’ I said.
‘Well, it hasn’t worked, has it, because you all know I want to be rich and famous, and so that’s my heart’s desire. Yet there’s no sign of that bodyguard and the limo and all those crowds of fans,’ said Smash. She took a deep breath and sang, ‘I’m just an angry girl.’ Her voice sounded thin and reedy.
‘No sign of any voice either,’ said Robbie unkindly.
‘What about you, Tree Boy? Go on, have a go at climbing. That’s your heart’s desire, isn’t it?’
‘I’m not sure now,’ said Robbie, but he stood up and went to the nearest tree. He stared up at its length and spat on his hands.
‘Careful, Robbie!’ I said.
He leapt for the first branch – and missed.
‘Whoops,’ said Smash. ‘And what about you, Rosalind?’ She scrabbled in my jacket pocket for my book. ‘Is this your own first novel?’
I couldn’t help looking at it with mad hopefulness – but it was my crumpled dog-eared copy of Five Children and It. I flicked open the pages and found a drawing of Anthea, Jane, Cyril, Robert and the Lamb. I stroked Anthea’s hair as if I were brushing it.
‘Maybe the Psammead thinks my heart’s desire is to meet Anthea again?’ I said. ‘Perhaps she’ll come back to our time?’
We all looked around but there was no sign of any of the book children.
‘They’ve all gone away,’ Maudie sang softly.
‘Oh no, please don’t have wished those nursery-rhyme nutters back! That would really do my head in,’ said Smash.
We looked around us again, but couldn’t see any of them, not a cat or a sneezing child or a black-and-white girl clutching a kettle.
‘What a waste of a wish,’ said Smash.
‘Monkey, Monkey,’ said Maudie.
‘Maybe that’s it!’ I said. ‘Maybe that’s what we all desired? To see the Psammead again!’
‘I bet that’s right,’ said Robbie. ‘Oh, clever Ros! So next time we come and stay with Dad and Alice we can see it all over again and have lots more wishes.’
‘Well, we could have done with one more right this minute,’ said Smash. ‘What are we going to do now?’
‘Play Monkey!’ said Maudie.
So we invented as many monkey games as we could think of. We played Catch the Monkey, which was just an ordinary chasing game, with all of us taking turns to catch Maudie the Monkey, and tickle her each time. Then we played Monkey Goes Round the Sandpit, which is self-explanatory and made us all very hot and dizzy. Then we played pretending to be a monkey. We scratched ourselves and jumped about making ooh-ooh-ooh monkey noises. Then we sat down exhausted and played I Went Along the Road and Saw a Monkey.
‘I went along the road and saw a monkey and a little kitten,’ I said, and pointed at Robbie to go next.
‘I went along the road and saw a monkey and a little kitten and a big roaring lion,’ said Robbie, pointing to Smash.
‘I went along the road and saw a monkey and a little kitten and a big roaring lion and a rock star playing a guitar,’ said Smash. She pointed at Maudie. We all had to help her, chanting it along with her.
‘I went along the road and saw a monkey and a little kitten and a big roaring lion and a rock star playing a guitar – and an ice cream!’ said Maudie.
We carried on and on and on until the list was ridiculously long and Maudie and Robbie had long ago dropped out, but Smash and I wouldn’t give up, gabbling great long lists of nonsense until we dissolved into giggles.
‘I won!’ said Smash.
‘Rubbish, I won!’ I said.
So we started another game of I Went Along the Road and Saw a Monkey, laughing helplessly. Smash invented a rude version of the game which made us laugh even more.
‘This is weird,’ said Smash breathlessly. ‘We’re having almost as much fun as if we’d had a proper wish.’
‘Maybe that’s the wish then? Our heart’s desire is for us all to play together and have fun,’ I said, trying not to be too disappointed. ‘That’s the way it would work out at the end of a Victorian storybook. The children would all be taught a moral lesson and learn to like each other and make their own amusements.’
‘Those Victorian storybooks sound horribly preachy and dull,’ said Smash. ‘And if that’s the case it’s a bit of a waste of a wish, because we do that anyway. Play and like each other and have fun.’
&nbs
p; ‘You don’t like me very much,’ said Robbie.
‘Oh, you’re okay – in small doses. In fact I could honestly say you might even be my favourite brother,’ said Smash, tickling him.
She didn’t have any other brothers, but Robbie still seemed delighted with the compliment and squealed happily. Then we all had a tickling contest. It was most fun tickling Maudie because she went into peal after peal of laughter if you tickled her, rolling around helplessly, bright red in the face. I got a little anxious about her, but when I made the others stop she cried, ‘More! More tickle! More, more, more!’
‘It sounds like you guys are having great fun,’ Dad called.
‘Watch out for Maudie, though. She’ll wet herself if you’re not careful!’ said Alice.
They were clearly not in their usual trance – and when a lot of black clouds clustered above us they started gathering up the picnic things.
‘Come on, you lot, it looks like it’s going to pour again. We don’t want to get soaked to the skin like yesterday. Let’s go home,’ said Dad.
I paused by the sandpit. I patted it smooth and tidy with the palm of my hand. Then I wrote with a twig:
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING. R. I. P.
‘Who’s Rip?’ said Robbie.
‘It’s what people put on gravestones. The Psammead’s not dead, Rosalind,’ said Smash.
‘Yes, I know, it’s just resting, and R. I. P. means Rest in Peace, and that’s what I want it to do,’ I said. I gave the sand another little pat, as if I were stroking the Psammead itself.
Then we walked back through the woods together. There was an ice-cream van tinkling away at the end of the road. Maudie jumped up and down and went ‘Please! Please! Please!’
‘No, Maudie, don’t be silly. You don’t want a nasty cold ice cream full of chemicals,’ said Alice, which was silly of her, because it was clear Maudie wanted one desperately.
‘Please, Mum, let her have one. She was so upset when she dropped hers yesterday and I think it was maybe my fault,’ said Smash, without thinking.
‘Maudie had an ice cream yesterday?’ said Alice.
‘Well, no, that’s the point. Look, let me buy one for her. Let me buy all of you an ice cream,’ said Smash as a diversionary tactic.
Alice looked like she still wanted to argue, but Dad said quickly, ‘I think that’s a brilliant idea, Smash. How kind of you.’
So we all had an ice cream as we walked home. Smash made sure Maudie’s was the biggest ice cream of all, with raspberry sauce and rainbow sprinkles. Maudie nuzzled into it, her eyes shining. She got tired of it long before it was finished, but it gave her a good ten minutes of exquisite pleasure.
‘Do you think ice cream was maybe Maudie’s heart’s desire?’ Smash asked me.
‘Maybe,’ I said.
‘Well, lucky her, because she’s had it now and it can’t get taken away from her after sunset, unless she’s sick, and I don’t think the Psammead would be that mean, not to Maudie,’ said Smash. ‘I think it might be very mean to me, though. It doesn’t like me at all.’
‘Yes, it does. I don’t know why you always say that. It just doesn’t like you shouting,’ I said.
‘Anyway, I can’t see how it would ever give me my heart’s desire, seeing as I’ve already had it. You can’t get better than a gig at the O2 arena,’ said Smash.
‘You were truly great that day,’ I said loyally.
‘Yes, I was, wasn’t I?’ said Smash. ‘I wish everyone could have seen me.’
‘You had thousands of people seeing you, silly.’
‘Yes, but not people like … like my dad. Or my mum. Or even your dad,’ said Smash. She paused. ‘He doesn’t like me either.’
‘Yes, he does.’
‘No, he doesn’t. I catch him looking at me sometimes, and it’s as if he’s wondering how his lovely little Alice could possibly have such a dreadful difficult daughter,’ said Smash. ‘What am I going to do next week when you and Robbie are gone?’
‘You can play with Maudie. Don’t you dare say she doesn’t like you, because you know perfectly well you’re her favourite,’ I said. ‘She loves her Smash-Smash.’
‘Smash-Smash!’ said Maudie, and she ran to hold Smash’s hand. Maudie was still covered in ice cream and very sticky indeed, but Smash picked her up and gave her a piggyback all the way home.
‘You kids had better start packing,’ said Dad. ‘You don’t want to leave it all to the morning – we’ll be in a bit of a rush. Can you phone your mum, Rosalind, and tell her I’m aiming to get you home about lunchtime tomorrow?’
I phoned Mum. She didn’t answer for ages and then when she did, there was so much noise her end we could hardly hear each other.
‘Where are you now, Mum?’
‘Oh, we’re all in this pub, celebrating the end of our course,’ said Mum.
‘You’re in a pub in the afternoon?’ I said.
Mum giggled. ‘Don’t sound so disapproving, darling.’
‘I’m not, it’s just I’d have thought you’d go out celebrating this evening.’
‘Oh, we’ve got a party this evening. It’s going to be great fun,’ said Mum.
‘So you’ve liked your course, Mum?’ I asked.
‘I’ve had the best time ever,’ said Mum. Then she paused. ‘I mean, the best time I could ever have without you two. But you said you were having a good time at Dad’s this holiday?’
‘Yes, the best ever,’ I said.
‘I’m so glad. And Robbie’s okay too? Can I have a little word with him?’
I called Robbie to the phone. I could hear Mum asking him what he’d done this holiday.
‘We had lots and lots of picnics – really super picnics with heaps of different yummy things to eat, not just sandwiches,’ said Robbie.
Alice was busy washing Maudie’s face and hands, but I think she heard because she went pink and smiled.
Mum was asking Robbie what else he’d done.
‘Oh, heaps and heaps,’ he said. ‘I climbed some trees and I looked after all my animals and I did lots of cooking. Alice lets me make my chocolate crispy cakes. She says they’re her favourites.’
He wasn’t being tactful.
‘Better tell Mum you miss her,’ I mouthed at him.
‘Oh, I do miss you, Mum,’ said Robbie. ‘Alice is very nice but she’s not one bit as lovely as you, Mum.’
I think Alice heard, but she didn’t seem to mind. ‘You can make more chocolate crispy cakes for our tea, Robbie,’ she said. ‘And maybe we could make some biscuits? How would you like to make a gingerbread man?’
‘Could I possibly make a gingerbread lion?’ asked Robbie.
‘Well, we’ll have a go,’ said Alice. She nodded at Smash and me. ‘Come on, you girls. Let’s all make gingerbread animals.’
Dad said he had some shopping to do so he went out, while we all baked. Alice didn’t have special animal-shaped cutters, so our gingerbread lions and elephants and gorillas and giraffes spread into strange new species with bloated bodies – though they tasted very good. Maudie joined in too, making a round blob with paws sticking out of its sides. It had funny little stick-on eyes and a big raisin smile.
‘Oh, darling, that’s so lovely,’ said Alice. ‘What is it?’
‘Monkey!’ said Maudie proudly.
Alice took photographs of all our lumpy gingerbread animals. She took photos of us too. She took several more of Smash playing with Maudie. Smash groaned and pulled silly faces.
‘Stop messing about, Smash. Smile properly,’ said Alice.
‘What are you taking a photo of me for, Mum? Just take Maudie. I’ll only spoil it.’
‘No, you won’t. I want a photo of my two girls,’ said Alice. ‘I’ll take one of you two together, then one of all four of you, and then one of you just by yourself. You can download it on to your computer and send it to your dad.’
‘As if he cares,’ said Smash – but she stopped pulling faces and gave Maudie a hug as Alice
snapped away. Before Alice took the last photo, Smash quickly ran her hands through her hair and sucked in her stomach and smiled earnestly at the camera.
‘There, you look great, Smash, see,’ said Alice, showing her the little Smash image in the camera.
‘No, I don’t. I look awful!’ Smash protested, but she looked pleased even so.
She went to get her computer.
‘I’m going to download them all. I want to keep them,’ said Smash. ‘I’m not going to bother sending any to Dad. He’s clearly not fussed about me. He hasn’t sent an email for days and days and … ooh!’
‘What?’
‘He has, he has! He’s sent me an email – oh my God, it’s a whole page.’ She read it all the way through, her eyes shining.
‘Happy now?’ said Alice.
‘He says he’s having a great time – but he’s missing me,’ said Smash.
‘Well, of course he is,’ said Alice. ‘I miss you terribly when you’re not here.’
Smash stared at her.
‘You are such a dreadful fibber, Mum,’ she said, pretending to punch Alice on the arm.
‘I’m not fibbing,’ said Alice, putting her arm round Smash.
For a split second they leant against each other and hugged. Then Smash wrinkled her nose and said, ‘Yuck, Mum, do you have to wear that rosy perfume? It gets right up my nose.’
Alice tucked Smash’s hair behind her ears appraisingly and said, ‘I do wish you’d let me have your hair styled properly – you look such a mophead.’
They looked at each other and laughed. Smash went off to write an immensely long email back to her dad, Robbie lined up all his animals for a grand race across the carpet and Maudie snuggled up to Alice for a storytelling session. Alice patiently read The Tiger Who Came to Tea five times in a row, and Robbie lent Maudie his tiger so she could act it out.
I wandered off and flicked through all my books, but I couldn’t seem to settle to any of them. I loved Anthea and Jane, especially now, and I also liked Bobbie and Phyllis; I cared about Pauline, Petrova and Posy; I admired Sara Crewe; I felt sorry for Mary Lennox; I felt like a fifth sister to Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy – but for once I didn’t feel like immersing myself in their lives. My own life had become just as dramatic and exciting as any storybook.
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