The Royal Family

by Colin Thompson

  But things change with time, and it had been months since Satanella had pooed indoors. She even had her own spell to open the back door whenever she wanted to go out, and instead of going right in the middle of the lawn she now went and hid in the bushes.

  ‘Though if they think I’m going to bury it with my own feet,’ she said to no one in particular, ‘they can forget it.’

  The stopping-being-a-dog feeling continued to grow, but Satanella kept it to herself. And then one day, as she came back from her daily walk around the town, she realised that she had not stopped to sniff a tree or a lamppost even once. The strong smells had still called out to her as she passed them, but they had lost their magnetic attraction. Not one of them, not even the tree outside Goldie’s house, had excited her.8

  ‘Right,’ she said. ‘That’s it. Time for a change.’

  Ignoring the small birds that teased her every morning as she walked across the main courtyard, Satanella went up the main steps and back into the castle. She found her parents in the library, where they were performing spells to turn all the rubbish books into really good books, using Nerlin’s speciality of making sure that every single book contained at least twenty-seven references to bacon.

  ‘Mother, Father,’ Satanella said, ‘I have made a decision. I want you to change me into a person.’

  Nerlin was delighted. So was Mordonna, though she was slightly cautious.

  ‘Now you’re absolutely sure about this, darling?’ Mordonna said.

  ‘Well, if she doesn’t like it, you can always change her back into a dog,’ said Nerlin, showing once again that he knew nothing about the finer points of magic.

  ‘No, sweetheart,’ said Mordonna. ‘One of the fundamental laws of magic is that whilst you can change into different species, you can only be any particular species once. So, Satanella, in your case, if you don’t like being a person, you won’t be able to change back into a dog.’9

  ‘Oh,’ said Satanella. ‘Well, that’s all right. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want to be a dog anymore.’

  ‘She could always change into a cat if she doesn’t like being a person,’ said Nerlin.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Or a hamster,’ Nerlin added.

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Or a weevil.’

  ‘Mmm, yes.’

  ‘Or, umm …’

  ‘Yes, yes, we get the point,’ said Mordonna.

  ‘I know that,’ said Satanella. ‘But I’ve decided I want to be a person.’

  ‘You’re absolutely sure?’ Mordonna asked.

  ‘Yes, definitely.’

  Satanella asked if she could choose certain things before she changed, like her hair colour or the size of her bottom or if she could have a spare arm.

  ‘No,’ said Mordonna. ‘They’re controlled by your genes.’

  ‘But I wouldn’t want my hair to be like what it is now,’ said Satanella. ‘All wiry and shedding everywhere and full of fleas and earth. Actually, I wouldn’t mind the fleas. They’re quite tasty.’

  ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ Mordonna reassured her. ‘That’s dog hair. You will have person hair, probably like mine, though not as lovely, of course.’

  And that made Mordonna think. Supposing Satanella turned out to be more beautiful than her? Whilst she definitely didn’t want a daughter who was ugly or lumpy or both – after all, what would the neighbours say? – she didn’t want Satanella to be more desirable and gorgeous than she was.

  Maybe I could do a little spell to make her nose have a bump in it or give her a slight limp? Mordonna thought.

  ‘Oh, and by the way, Mother,’ Satanella said, ‘don’t go doing sneaky little spells to make my nose have a bump in it or give me a bit of a limp or anything like that.’

  ‘As if I would, darling, my own daughter,’ Mordonna said.

  Nerlin suggested that they gather the family together to tell them what was going to happen. So it was agreed that they would all meet just before midnight by the lily pond in the secret garden at the back of the castle.

  ‘Not the secret garden everyone knows about,’ said Nerlin, ‘but the secret, secret one that only the family can get into.’

  As midnight approached, Mordonna did the Get-Rid-Of-All-The-Clouds-And-Make-It-A-Full-Moon Spell and the secret, secret garden was bathed in a beautiful eerie blue light.

  ‘Ooh, look at that lovely beam of beautiful eerie blue light,’ Simple Townsfolk said as he and his wife walked home from the pub. ‘I bet our beloved royal family are in their secret, secret garden a-doin’ of some clever magic.’

  ‘Ooh arr, I bet you’re right,’ said Mrs Simple Townsfolk. ‘Maybe they’re changing that dog they keep sayin’ is their daughter into a real person.’

  ‘Don’t be ridickerlus,’ Simple Townsfolk replied. ‘You been a-drinkin’ too much of that nettle cider.’

  What Simple Townsfolk didn’t realise was that Mrs Simple Townsfolk had second sight, which is like ordinary sight without using your eyes.

  ‘Is everyone here?’ said Mordonna, when everyone was there.

  ‘Yes,’ said everyone.

  Mordonna explained what was going to happen.

  ‘First of all,’ she said, ‘we’d better take your collar off.’

  ‘Couldn’t I keep it? I’ve had it forever and I thought it would make a great belt,’ said Satanella.

  ‘Well, it might, darling, but if you measure your neck I think you’ll find your waist is going to be a bit bigger than that.’

  ‘Don’t you dare do a Fat Spell on me, Mother,’ said Satanella.

  Mordonna was quite tempted, but reluctantly decided against giving her daughter any defects. After all, Satanella was a witch and there was no way of knowing how powerful her magic or temper could be after she’d changed from being a dog.

  Once her collar was off, Mordonna told her daughter to get inside a big paper bag.

  ‘No way,’ said Satanella. ‘I want to see exactly what you’re doing.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Mordonna.

  ‘Absolutely. Come on, get on with it,’ said Satanella.

  ‘So you’re quite happy for everyone to see you wearing exactly the same as what you’re wearing now?’

  ‘Mother, I am not wearing anything,’ Satanella snapped before figuring it out. ‘Oh umm, yes, well,’ she said, and climbed into the paper bag.

  Mordonna picked up her best wand – not the one that could make Vegemite taste nice, which of course was a pretty powerful device, but the really powerful one that could change bank managers into real human beings.

  She had one last read of the spell, shut the book, closed her eyes and began to chant an ancient witches’ chant that came from before the dawn of time and sent shivers down the spine of anyone or anything that heard it, even worms that haven’t got spines.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say abracadabra?’ Satanella called from inside the paper bag.

  ‘No, darling, no one says that in real life,’ said Mordonna. ‘It’s just something humans say in pantomimes.’

  ‘Oh, say it, please,’ said Satanella.

  ‘But I don’t need to,’ Mordonna explained. ‘It doesn’t do anything. It’s just a silly made-up human word.’

  ‘Oh, go on.’

  ‘OK, OK, if you insist. Abracadabra, abracadabra.’

  Nothing happened.

  ‘And the other bit,’ said Satanella.

  ‘Other bit?’ Mordonna said.

  ‘Kalamazam, kalamazoo,’ Satanella said. ‘Go on. You have to say all of it.’

  Mordonna looked up at the moon, sighed, took a deep breath and shouted:

  ‘ABRACADABRA, ABRACADABRA,

  KALAMAZAM, KALAMAZOO!’

  Three sparrows that had been sleeping on a nearby branch turned into Christmas puddings and landed on the ground with a soft thud. In the castle kitchen, three Christmas puddings that had been sitting on a shelf in the puddings larder turned into three rather nice digital cameras.

  A
nd somewhere in Belgium a taxi turned into a side street.

  Mordonna returned to her wailing.

  Inside the paper bag Satanella wriggled, and then she began to giggle the sort of giggle someone who is very ticklish would do.

  ‘Ahh, ooooohhhh, ahh, oh, oh, oh,’ she said followed by lots more giggles, cries of ‘stop it’, more giggles and a lot of wriggling.

  A wet patch appeared in the bottom of the bag, and suddenly a human-looking foot covered in beautiful smooth skin with no sign of a single curly black dog’s hair anywhere poked through the soggy paper.

  ‘Are you all right, little sister?’ said Valla.

  ‘Phew,’ said Satanella, and the paper bag collapsed in a heap and stopped moving.

  ‘The trouble was,’ said an incredibly beautiful head as it popped out of the crumpled bag, ‘that the bits of me that were still a hairy dog kept tickling the bits of me that weren’t.’

  ‘And are there any hairy dog bits left now?’ said Mordonna, hoping there were so that her eldest daughter would be a bit of a freak. If the rest of Satanella was as gorgeous as her foot and her head, then Mordonna would most definitely not be the most beautiful witch in creation anymore.

  ‘No, Mother. You will be delighted to hear that I am totally covered in gorgeous from head to toe,’ said Satanella, knowing full well that her mother would be the opposite of delighted.

  ‘But then,’ Satanella added, ‘how could I be otherwise, with such a stunning beauty as my mother?’

  This, of course, made Mordonna happy and angry at the same time, which was exactly what Satanella knew would happen. Betty handed her sister some clothes, and a couple of minutes later Satanella climbed out of the remains of the bag.

  She was, as Mordonna had dreaded, staggeringly beautiful, not just beautiful to witches and wizards, but beautiful like a human movie-star dressed up as a witch.

  ‘WOW!’ everyone said, thought, cursed and/or muttered.

  Betty took Satanella inside the castle and up to her bedroom, where there was a full-length mirror. On their way they passed thirteen castle servants, all of whom fell immediately in love with her.

  ‘WOW!’ said Satanella. ‘How hot am I?’

  ‘Extremely,’ said Betty. ‘Mother is going to be so furious.’

  ‘I know,’ Satanella giggled. ‘Bonus!’

  Now, you might think that Betty would be jealous of her far more beautiful sister, but she wasn’t. Betty had always been very pretty herself in a totally non-witch way and was delighted to have a lovely big sister to do sister things with.

  Satanella had been fine as a dog, but after ten minutes of throwing sticks and red rubber balls, there wasn’t much else they could do together. Betty did have her human friend Ffiona, but even Ffiona’s own mother – a very old-fashioned person who thought cardigans were exciting – had to admit her daughter was a bit nerdy. Ffiona would never go down to the shops and try out all the lipsticks and perfumes like other girls.

  And anyway, Betty had her one true love, Prince Bert, who had eyes for no one else.10 But there were problems with Prince Bert:

  Apart from several strange creatures covered in sticky fur and gravy, Prince Bert was the first person Betty had ever been in love with and, as everyone knows, your First True Love is NEVER going to last more than a month/week/day/hour/minute or second.11

  Like lots of young people in love for the first time, Betty had told EVERYONE about Prince Bert and now she was having second/third/fourth and fifth doubts, which she was feeling a bit embarrassed to admit.

  Betty knew that she could do MUCH BETTER than Bert.

  Bert knew he would never end up with anyone remotely as brilliant as Betty.12

  Lots more stuff.

  ‘You know what I’d like to do?’ said Satanella. ‘I’d like to go down to the shops and try out all the lipsticks and perfumes and all the clothes, especially the ones our mother is too old to wear.’

  ‘Great idea,’ said Betty. ‘But first, there’s something we need to sort out.’

  ‘What?’

  And, with perfect timing, there was a scratch at the door.

  ‘OMG!’ said Satanella. ‘Tristram.’13

  ‘Yeah, Tristram Jolyon De-Vere Creak,’ said Betty. ‘Your boyfriend.’

  ‘Well, no, er, umm, not really,’ said Satanella, thinking that now she was a staggeringly beautiful witch, she would probably have her choice of every unattached wizard in the universe. ‘I mean, we only just met recently, you know. It’s never a good idea to rush into things.’

  ‘I only met Prince Bert a few days ago too, but I know he is THE one and we will be together for, like, ever and ever,’ said Betty, trying very hard to ignore the little voice inside her head that was saying yeah, right! in the sort of voice that really meant NOT!

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Satanella, ‘but it’s different for me. I mean, for a start, I’m older than you and when I met Tristram we were both dogs, and all dogs care about is what each other smells like. They don’t care about the important things in life, like being tall and handsome and cool.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt Mother could change Tristram into a wizard,’ said Betty. ‘And I expect he’d be just as gorgeous as you, so you’d still be perfect for each other.’

  ‘Yeah, well,’ said Satanella, ‘I think I’ll just wait for a bit. And don’t you dare say anything to Mother.’

  But outside the door, little Tristram Jolyon De-Vere Creak had heard every word and was heartbroken. When he realised that dogs couldn’t cry like humans and wizards, he was even more heartbroken. His tail, which had been wagging with sheer happiness since he had first met Satanella, drooped between his legs like a wet dishcloth.14 He let out a tiny whimper and slunk away.

  I shall leave and no one will ever see me again, he said to himself. Not that they’d care. I would go and join the Foreign Legion if I knew what that was. And then, when everyone realises I’ve gone – if they ever do – they’ll discover why, and they’ll all hate Satanella and she will be so full of guilt she will pine away and die of a broken heart.

  ‘But what about Tristram?’ said Betty back in the room. ‘He’ll be heartbroken.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ said Satanella. ‘He’s a dog. The first lamppost he sniffs, he’ll forget all about me.’

  My sister may look like a very beautiful witch, thought Betty, but she is still as shallow and uncaring as a saluki.

  No one noticed the small miserable dog as he slipped through the shadows and out of Castle Twilight into the damp little alleys of Dreary.

  This is where I belong, Tristram thought, in the neglected alleys with the dustbins.

  A scraggy black cat hissed at him, but he was too sad to respond.

  ‘Hey, mongrel, I hissed at you,’ the cat said.15 ‘Aren’t you going to chase me up a tree?’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Tristram.

  ‘Whatever?’ said the cat and hissed again.

  Tristram tripped over a stick and fell face-first into a puddle. He lay there thinking it was no more than he deserved. The cat sat down beside him and stared at him.

  ‘Something tells me,’ the cat said, ‘that you are not the happiest puppy in the basket. It’s not because I hissed at you, is it? I didn’t do it to upset you. It’s just what cats do to dogs. It’s tradition. It’s expected of us.’

  ‘No, it’s not that,’ said Tristram.

  ‘So, what is it then?’ the cat asked. ‘Lost your red rubber ball?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘No one loves me,’ said Tristram.

  Something told the cat that Tristram Jolyon De-Vere Creak was not your average dog. Your average dog usually has at least one person who loves them and, quite often, lots of people who do. That’s what dogs are for, to make people happy.16

  ‘What is your name, dog?’

  ‘Tristram Jolyon De-Vere Creak,’ said Tristram Jolyon De-Vere Creak.

  ‘No, seriously,’ the cat said, laughing.

  Tristram go
t out of the puddle and told the cat his story.

  ‘Wow,’ said the cat. ‘So you’re a real prince. Delighted to meet you. I am Flapwig.’

  ‘And you laughed at my name?’ said Tristram. ‘Yes, I’m a prince. Fat lot of good that’s done me, hasn’t it?’

  ‘And the girl you loved, the princess Satanella Flood, who I have had the honour and pleasure of being chased up many trees by, has now changed into a person?’ Flapwig asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But she won’t get her mother to change you?’

  ‘No,’ said Tristram.

  ‘Well, I reckon even if you got another witch to change you – which you probably could – you’d be mad to still want her after the way she treated you,’ said Flapwig.

  ‘I know,’ Tristram whimpered. ‘But I love her.’

  ‘Now that’s something I’m sure I can help with,’ said Flapwig. ‘Follow me.’

  She led Tristram across town through a network of dark half-hidden alleyways, where no one could see them.

  Finally, they came to the edge of Dreary, where the houses ended and the landscape changed to scrub and wasteland. Crumbling away amongst the greenery was a group of derelict buildings that had been abandoned after the evil King Quatorze had been deposed. It had been the secret place where the King and his cronies had hidden their enemies away and tortured them with feathers dipped in Vegemight.17

  The roofs had fallen in, the windows and doors had been smashed to pieces and plants were gradually swallowing what was left. Now the ruins were home to a colony of stray cats.18

  A large ginger tom emerged from a doorway and approached them.

  ‘Hey, Flapwig, you know the rules,’ he said. ‘We’re not allowed to bring any outsiders here unless they’re edible.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know all that,’ said Flapwig. ‘But this isn’t your average stupid dog. This is a wizard – a royal prince, even.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said the ginger tom. ‘And I’m the Lord High Chancellor of Bogwater.’

  ‘I’m quite prepared to believe that you come from a place called Bogwater,’ said Flapwig. ‘It suits you. Nevertheless, this small dog before you is a real royal prince and a real wizard.’