‘The raft,’ he cried, reaching out to grab hold of it but the raft, now free of its obstruction, drifted off downstream, around the bend, never to be seen again.
Goodwin pulled himself on to the bank and waited for Aluna.
‘Great. Just great,’ she grumbled. ‘All that for nothing.’ Soaking wet Aluna dragged herself out of the water and plonked on to the embankment next to the dripping pixie. ‘Told you we should have flown. I hate being wet. This is all your fault Goodwin.’ She frowned. ‘What are you laughing at?’
‘You look like a rag doll, that’s all.’
Aluna pushed her sodden hair out of her face and snapped. ‘And you look like a drowned rat that’s just floated out from an empty sewer.’ Goodwin’s corn coloured hair trailed in a wet pony tail down along the back of his chequered blazer.
Goodwin turned away before she could see his face. ‘I’m not that bad. Am I?’ He mumbled.
Aluna, realising she had hurt his feelings, decided to back pedal a bit. She leaned across to brush a wet lock of hair from his eyes and said, ‘Nah you’re okay. You know, I quite like your hair like this. You should wet it more often. This way it won’t stick up all the time.’ She grinned.
Goodwin stared at her, hardly daring to breathe.
‘I’m cold,’ she complained, rubbing her arms.
‘Stay there. I’ll fetch you something.’
Goodwin picked up a leaf that had turned almost black and draped it over her freezing shoulders.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled. ‘You’re not so bad after all, Goodwin.’
‘You’re pretty cool, yourself, Aluna.’ He smirked giving her a nudge with his elbow.
‘Of course I am,’ she smiled.
Goodwin felt guilty. He tossed some pebbles into the water and said, ‘Sorry I got you into this mess. It was a stupid idea. Don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘When my wings dry out I can fly home and change. So chill.’ Her mood shifted and her eyes clouded over. ‘Do you suppose something’s happened to Buttercup?’
‘I don’t know.’ He dropped his head between his knees. ‘I should never have listened to her.’
Aluna got to her feet. ‘No you shouldn’t have.’ She touched his shoulder. ‘But thank you all the same for trying to help my sister. You’re a good friend.’
Goodwin blushed to the roots of his hair. ‘Come on. Let’s get out of these sticky wet clothes. Your parents will be wondering where we are.’
As Aluna squeezed the last drop of water out of her coat she said, ‘I wouldn’t like to be Buttercup when she gets home.’
‘Prince Morgan won’t be too happy either, I expect,’ he grumbled.
‘You don’t like him very much do you?’
‘He just seems like a right royal pain in the ass that’s all.’ He turned to look at her, a lump gathering in his throat. ‘Now I guess you’ll get your chance to marry him.’
Aluna gave an explosive sigh. ‘Truth is, I don’t really care so much about that anymore,’ she said quietly.
‘You don’t?’ Goodwin stared at her in surprise.
‘Bringing the true seasons back to Brandydook is far more important.’ She paused. ‘It’s just that being the oldest, you get all the responsibility. You’re expected to be the good pixie all the time. Melody and Buttercup get to do whatever they like and no one says anything. I just wanted to be spoiled for a while. Be the centre of someone’s attention. You know?’
It was now or never. Goodwin had to tell her how he felt. ‘Aluna, I think – ’
But the moment was lost. ‘There you are,’ said Melody, descending to the ground before them, her wings fluttering feebly from the effort it took to fly. ‘Papa has been looking for you. Mama isn’t feeling too good.’
Chapter 10
After much ducking and running from frightening sounds, sights and smells, Buttercup found a place to hide at last in a shelter close to one of the houses. She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to keep warm. Her teeth chattered from the cold but at least she was someplace safe until daybreak. Buttercup brought out her satchel, which weighed next to nothing now that it was empty, except for the drowned roses. She held the flowers up to her nose to breathe in their scent and the comforting reminder of home, but couldn’t smell anything; they’d been destroyed by the water.
She planned to rest for just a couple more hours and then move on at first light but every now and then she would launch into a fit of sneezing and scratch her arms and legs. It wasn’t just the itch that drove Buttercup mad, it was the odour coming from inside the shelter. And hairs everywhere. It was horrible.
She jumped to her feet and shook the hairs out of her clothes.
‘I’ve had it! This place is driving me nuts.’
But just as she stepped out into the open, water burst like magic from the lawn in gigantic sprays at various points around the house. Buttercup leaped back inside the shelter. She waited for her heart to stop its frantic beating and then settled in the furthest corner to sleep out the remainder of the night.
Dawn crept over the horizon unknown to Buttercup. After the exhaustion and turmoil of the last night’s events she had slept straight through without even noticing. Doors slammed. Kids sped past on bicycles. The postman delivered his mail and mothers wheeled prams and pushchairs to the supermarket. Still Buttercup didn’t stir. She was so comfortable. Maybe it had all been a bad dream. Her bed was snug and warm. Any moment now, her mother would be calling her for breakfast. She shifted on her bed, pressed her little hand into the pillow, to make it more comfortable, when suddenly she felt her bed begin to move. Buttercup fell to the side.
Her eyes flew open in shock. A huge dog stared down at her. A long pink tongue dangled from its mouth, and it panted and made funny yip noises but it didn’t attack, just stood there watching. Buttercup wrinkled her nose in disgust at the familiar stink rising from its body and then taking care not to alert the creature to what she was doing, backed away towards the entrance. Slowly. Step by step.
Rivulets of sweat ran down her back and her legs refused to stop shaking. Buttercup had never been so frightened in all her life. Using the wall against her back as a guide, she edged out further and further. Her eyes were riveted on the creature until she was at his feet. The entrance was now almost within her grasp. If she could only get round its massive paws to make her escape but the dog only had to strike her once and it could kill her in a second.
***
The black and white collie lifted his hind leg to scratch behind its ear before regarding its prize with interest. It doesn’t look like a mouse,’ he thought but it didn’t resemble anything it’d ever seen in its life either. Wendy will like this and maybe now she’ll give me a reward and find the time to play with me again. The dog scratched its ear again. It was still sore from when Wendy pulled it last time but the dog was sure Wendy would change once she saw what he had brought for her.
***
Buttercup edged around the animal who she hoped had little interest in her. It watched her move with little interest or so she thought. Just as she was about to make a clean get-away, it picked her up with its teeth and carried her off in its mouth. Terror paralysed her. All she could do was squeak. The bobbing motion of the dog as it trotted towards the house mixed with the saliva and stink of rotting bones and meat from its breath made her want to puke. How could this be happening? She closed her eyes and prayed for the end to come quick. This was torture.
They went inside another house. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the human.
‘So this is what they look like,’ she thought.
Huge. The size of trees. In a t-shirt and cut-off jeans, the human wiggled back and forth to the sound of music from her ear plugs, patted the dog’s head and strutted past them into the kitchen. Another, thin as a bean pole with a navy dress and an apron crossed the entrance hall with several bags in each hand.
‘Shoo, Bruno. Wendy how many times have I told you about letting the dog p
lay with your dolls?’
Then there were steps, lots of them. Another human with two plaits, green skirt and stripy t-shirt much smaller than the other, ran a blue and white aeroplane back and forth along a piece of wood on one of the steps. She stopped making screeching sounds as soon as she saw the dog.
‘Gimme me that, Bruno!’ she shouted, taking a swipe at Buttercup. Bruno placed the pixie on the ground, and sat on his haunches, tongue hanging out. The dog panted, waiting for the praise that would surely come but instead the girl grabbed Buttercup and made straight for the stairs. She flung open her bedroom door and threw the little pixie on an enormous cushion surface of all different colours. Buttercup was so stiff and sick she couldn’t move. She just stared up at the enormous, round face.
‘You’re the funniest looking doll I’ve ever seen,’ babbled the girl. ‘I ‘ain’t ever seen these clothes before.’ She fiddled with the buttons on Buttercup’s tunic. ‘Hmm. You’re definitely not a Barbie. Maybe a new Brats doll. Someone must have dropped you outside.’ She put her finger up to her mouth. ‘Shh. I won’t tell if you won’t.’
To Buttercup, the words came out all mumbo jumbo. She blinked and tried to sit up but she was too weak. Coming up with an idea for some fun, Wendy went over to her shelf and brought down a wooden, two-seater aeroplane. She’d always been interested in aeroplanes ever since her daddy took her up in one when she was very little.
‘You’re just the right size,’ she giggled. Wendy adjusted Buttercup’s legs to fit into the aeroplane and plonked her down in front of the makeshift windscreen. Then the girl made plane sounds and rotated her arm around and around in a circle. Buttercup went white. Presses, dolls, posters, tea sets and board games whirled past in a blur. She was in hell. Through the windscreen of the toy she could see the mad-looking eyes of the human. Gurgling and burping. Jumping up and down.
‘Wendy, come down for your supper!’
‘Aw, but I’m playing.’
‘Come down now!’
The girl gave a grunt of annoyance and then tossed the aeroplane down on the floor. The tail end of the plane shattered with the blow to the ground. Buttercup slumped forward. The impact threw her head first through the plastic glass on to a number of soft toys scattered on the floor.
Buttercup’s eyes blazed. ‘Mean. Horrid. Human.’ She paled. She shouldn’t have opened her mouth.
Wendy whipped around at the door. ‘You said something. I know you did. Say it again.’
Buttercup kept her face blank. Ignoring her mother’s calls to come down, Wendy bent, scooped the pixie up off the floor and fired Buttercup on to the bed—she hovered over her, eyes dancing with excitement. When the pixie didn’t answer, she poked her on the tummy. Pain rocketed through Buttercup’s body but she kept still, afraid to breathe.
Wendy was sure she heard the doll speak. She wasn’t imagining things. She remained fixed on the pixie, and then looked at her wings. Tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth, she reached over and pulled the pixie’s bad wing. Buttercup lost control. Nobody touches my wings. She jerked up on the bed, slapped the girl’s hands away and babbled furiously back in her own pixie tongue.
Wendy punched the air, clapped her hands, and fell back on the bed. She kicked her legs outwards in excitement. ‘Oh wow. Wait ‘till everyone in school hears about this!’
Buttercup saw the mean look on Wendy’s face and became frightened. She tried to get up but found it difficult to move. Her tummy still hurt and she felt dizzy from the aeroplane. What will this human do with me?
The girl picked Buttercup up by the legs and stuffed her into a large jar half full with cookies, hid the jar behind a book on her bookshelf, and then ran downstairs. ‘Mummy, Daddy, guess what I found.’
Chapter 11
BRANDYDOOK
Goodwin reluctantly returned to the kingdom with renewed hope that there might be a spark between him and Aluna after all. Snow continued to fall. He’d never seen the place so crisp and white., everything stripped of its growth and most importantly life. It frightened him, more so because he was responsible. He had helped Buttercup.
The pixies were no longer gathered around the hawthorn tree but had huddled in their homes, out of sight, growing weaker with each passing minute.
‘Mama needs me Goodwin,’ said Aluna when they reached her home. She clutched his jacket. ‘Go. Do what you have to do to find my sister. Hurry. Please.’
The door shut behind her and for the first time he was all alone with just the flurry of snowflakes falling to the ground and the mournful sigh of the wind through the dead branches for company. Goodwin knew what he had to do.
He flew to the palace. His body felt heavy. His wings were beginning to lose their power but he pushed onwards. This would be his first time ever inside the palace walls. Goodwin glanced fearfully over at the garden where only one rose bush remained. He still had some time to save the kingdom, but not much. He banged on the door. Once, then three times before one of the royal guards opened it. He, like all the others, appeared drained of energy. Small but stout, his helmet almost covering his eyes the guard demanded, ‘What do you want?’
‘I must see the king and queen immediately.’
He expected a lengthy interrogation but instead the guard replied, ‘Come through. The Royal Highnesses are in the drawing room.’
Goodwin swallowed nervously and followed the guard into the palace. He barely caught a glimpse of his surroundings. His stomach felt sick at the thought of what the king would say and the punishment he would most likely receive, but it had to be done. This was his fault after all.
The guard led Goodwin into a square room. His eyes took in a black pianoforte in one corner, a cabinet woven together in wicker that stretched to a glass ceiling with a crystal chandelier, and a portrait of the prince with a large hunting bow on the far wall. Flowers normally present in abundance in the palace had wilted and died, and only twisted stems remained. The queen was pacing up and down the marble floor in a hooded blue cloak and silver slippers. King Rufus sat on a velvet armchair huddled in fur robes, his beard snow white, staring into an empty tumbler of wine and Morgan was perched by a long oak table drawing out plans of the kingdom to help the guards in their search for the missing pixie. Much to Goodwin’s irritation the prince didn’t even glance up when he entered the room. It was just typical of him. Utter snob.
‘This pixie has something he wishes to speak to you about, Your Highnesses,’ the guard announced in a deep voice.
Tulip’s head snapped up, she stopped her pacing, crossed the room, and placed her hand over his. ‘Tell me, kind pixie, do you know where she is?’
Goodwin was shocked at how pale and sickly his Queen looked. There was a sheen on her forehead, dark circles ringed her eyes and her once luscious copper hair fell almost white to her shoulders. He felt ill and wanted at that very moment to run away and not face the consequences of his actions, but instead he took a deep breath and bowed.
‘I’m…I’m afraid you will not find Pixie Buttercup in this kingdom…’ he began.
‘What the devil do you mean pixie?’ Rufus sputtered. Prince Morgan’s head shot up. His eyes looked haunted.
Goodwin fell to his knees. ‘Please forgive me Your Highness,’ he said, looking at the Prince. ‘This is all my fault.’
‘Get up pixie,’ Morgan commanded. An edge had crept in to his voice. Goodwin did as he was told. ‘Now explain yourself this minute or I will have you thrown out.’
The pixie told the prince and his parents how Buttercup had felt about the marriage and that she needed time to get away to think about her decision.
The queen stared at him in disappointment, tears in her eyes. King Rufus said nothing for a moment. Prince Morgan fixed cold eyes upon the pixie.
‘Please forgive Buttercup, Your Majesty,’ Goodwin begged the prince, ‘she didn’t mean any harm, it came as a big shock to her to be chosen and – ’
‘How dare she,’ the king sputtered, finally findin
g his voice, ‘reject our son! He is the prince!’
Queen Tulip started to pace again. ‘The important thing now is to get her back.’ She glanced at the pixie. ‘Tell me again exactly what happened.’
Goodwin recounted his tale in detail, finishing with the stream and the river beyond.
‘She can’t have gone far,’ said the king.
‘I fear something may have happened to her,’ said Goodwin. ‘Aluna Hickleberry and I tried to find her. We went downstream the same way Buttercup did but couldn’t get very far because of the raging currents from the adjoining river.’
‘Oh my,’ the queen gasped. ‘She could be hurt.’
‘Not to mention the stone gone forever,’ the king muttered. He put his hand to his chest. ‘This is even worse than I thought.’
Morgan tapped his fingers on the table, taking everything in.
‘What about the guards, Your Majesties?’ asked Goodwin. ‘Maybe they could venture out past the kingdom to find her?’
‘They haven’t returned,’ she whispered.
‘I instructed them not to return until she was found,’ groaned the king. He reached out to touch his wife’s arm to stop her pacing. ‘Come, you’re making me dizzy.’ She stopped walking and took the seat to his left. ‘This is indeed a crisis,’ he said.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Goodwin cried. ‘If only I’d said nothing at all then we wouldn’t be in danger of losing Brandydook.’
Queen Tulip bent her head on her arm and wept.
‘Leave us,’ commanded the king.
Goodwin bowed and went back out the way he had come.
‘Come, my dear, the guards will have the foresight to venture outside the kingdom,’ he said patting his wife’s arm, ‘they’ll return her to us, you’ll see.’
Tulip lifted her head and turned to her husband. Her eyes were tight with anxiety. ‘But if they don’t? What shall we do Rufus? Time is running out. Soon Brandydook will be no more and we will cease to exist.’
Escaping the Prince (Bedlam in Brandydook Book 1) Page 5