Billy and Old Smoko

by Jack Lasenby

  “‘This one’s just right!’ she said, climbed into the smallest one and fell asleep.

  “Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” said the little boy.

  “A bit,” Harrietta nodded.

  “Maybe the hut was owned by seven enormous dog-scoffing boar pigs,” said Johnny Bryce, hopefully.

  Old Smoko looked at Billy, but he was sitting thinking and saying nothing.

  Harrietta nodded and went on with her story. “The owners came home. Seven of them – dwarfs. ‘Who’s been eating my tucker?’ asked the first dwarf, the second dwarf, and so on all the way down to the seventh.”

  “Just the same,” said the little boy. “Only seven.”

  “Snow White woke, told them her story, and the dwarfs said she could stay, but she must be careful: the wicked queen might come looking for her.

  “For another seven years, Snow White looked after the hut and did their cooking, while they worked their gold mine under the Kaimais,” said Harrietta.

  “You made up that bit,” said Phil Ellery.

  “Yeah, I reckon your imagination is running away with you,” said Johnny Bryce.

  “Do you want to hear this story or not?” said Harrietta, and the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement got up, walked across, and sat on her lap. He stuck his finger in his mouth and looked up at Harrietta. Peggy and Maggie smiled at each other, and Harrietta went on.

  “One morning, the wicked queen looked in the mirror, kissed her reflection, and said,

  ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall

  Who is most beautiful of all?’

  “And the mirror said back to her,

  ‘The princess is the most beautiful of all.’

  “‘She can’t be!’ screamed the queen. ‘I ate her lungs and liver.…’

  “But the mirror smiled and showed Snow White waving goodbye to the seven dwarfs as they left with their lunches for the gold mine under the Kaimais.”

  “What did they have on their sandwiches?” asked the little boy.

  “Roast pork and crackling,” Harrietta told him, and everyone nodded.

  “What about apple sauce?”

  “All this happened a long time ago before the Maoris brought the first apple trees to New Zealand,” Harrietta told the little boy.

  “Enraged at seeing Snow White alive, the queen spat into the mirror which spat back and said:

  ‘White, red, and black, slim and tall,

  Snow White is most beautiful of all!’

  “‘Faugh!’ screeched the queen. ‘I’ll torture that huntsman and chop off his head!’ but the huntsman had run away and got a job on the chain at Horotiu.”

  “The freezing works,” said Johnny Bryce.

  Harrietta nodded. “The queen remembered her daughter liked to wear pretty things, so she disguised herself as an old pedlar man, filled a pack with ribbons, bright clothes, and bits and pieces, and whistled the huntsman’s pig dogs.

  “At first, they thought the huntsman was back and they were going pig hunting. They bounced around barking, then smelt the queen, and crawled inside their kennels.

  “‘Show me where you took the princess,’ the queen told them, ‘or I’ll hang you in your own collars!’

  “They knew she meant it, so gave in and showed her where they had killed the Captain Cooker. She looked at the carcass and realised where the lungs and liver had come from. Then they showed her the saddle and the hookgrass gully the other side of the watershed. Under the pongas down the hookgrass gully, the wicked queen picked up Snow White’s sign and followed her tracks down the creek, down the stream, down the river.

  “She came to a belt of lacebarks starry with white flowers like a sprinkle of snow. ‘Bah!’ said the queen and shoved them apart. She was standing on the edge of the clearing.

  “It was a sunny March morning,” said Harrietta, “Snow White was sweeping out the ponga hut with a tea-tree broom and singing in a loud flat voice. She had pretty bad taste in music, which was a shame for somebody so lovely.

  “The wicked queen, of course, had a true voice and good taste, so when she heard The Sound of Music sung flat, she knew she had found her hated daughter. She ground her teeth, stuck her fingers in her ears, and bared her teeth in a terrible smile.

  “As Snow White shook the mat out the door, she saw an old pedlar carrying a packful of ribbons and bright clothes, and with his fingers stuck in his ears. Much as she enjoyed singing, she stopped at once, for she knew it gave others great pain. The dwarfs had left her some gold to do the shopping with, so she bought them each a pocket-knife for a present, and a bodice for herself.

  “‘Put it on over the top of your blouse,’ said the disguised queen, ‘and I’ll lace it up for you.’ She did – so tight that Snow White fell on the ground, unable to breathe, while the wicked queen ran screeching with laughter: ‘Craw! Craw! Craw!’ all the way up the river, up the stream, up the creek, past the pongas, up the hookgrass gully, up and over the watershed, through the saddle, and down through the bush to her castle and said:

  ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall

  Who is most beautiful of all?’

  “She was panting a bit, but she heard the mirror say back to her,

  ‘The queen is the most beautiful of all.’

  “The dwarfs came home singing in their tuneful voices, and found Snow White unconscious. They cut the tight lacing with their new pocket knives, and she got her breath back. ‘You must never buy anything from pedlars,’ they told her.

  “A few days later, the wicked queen asked the mirror the same question, and again it said Snow White was the most beautiful of all. ‘Faugh!’ said the queen, and disguised herself as the Rawleighs Man.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Why Snow White Was Pleased to See the Rawleighs Man, Why It Was Lucky that the Prince Was a Bit Clumsy, and Why the Wicked Queen Danced Like a Mad Catherine Wheel.

  “Disguised as the Rawleighs Man, the wicked queen filled a suitcase with brushes and combs and scissors and hand cream and cold cream and face cream and lipsticks and rouge and hand-mirrors and hair-pins and nail polish and beads and rings and gewgaws and knick-knacks, and strode through the bush, through the saddle, over the watershed, down the creek, the stream, and the river, down to the little ponga hut.

  “Snow White hadn’t been able to brush or comb her hair since she’d run away so, when she saw the Rawleighs Man’s suitcase, her head felt itchy. ‘Am I pleased to see you!’ she said. ‘Have you got any kootie combs?’ She forgot she wasn’t supposed to talk to pedlars, and she bought hair brushes for each of the seven dwarfs.

  “‘What about a little something for yourself? This brush and comb set suits you. Try it!’ Made of paua shell, the comb shone blue and green and silver as the Rawleighs Man held it out. Snow White took it, put it in her hair, and fell to the floor. The teeth of the comb were poisoned.”

  “She better not be dead!” said Johnny Bryce, and the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement began to cry. Harrietta whispered something in his ear, he stopped crying, and she went on with her story.

  “‘Hreech! Hreech! Hreech!’ Shrieking her terrible laugh, the wicked queen ran up the river, up the stream, up the creek, through the pongas, up the hookgrass gully, up and over the watershed, through the saddle, and down through the bush to the castle where the mirror told her she was the most beautiful of all.

  “Luckily, the seven dwarfs had a squabble at work and came home early to ask Snow White which of them was right. They found her lying unconscious, pulled the paua shell comb out of her hair, and she opened her eyes at once.

  “‘You must not buy anything from anyone selling gewgaws and knick-knacks again,’ the dwarfs told her. ‘Not even if it is the Rawleighs Man.’

  “But the mirror soon told the wicked queen that Snow White was the most beautiful. ‘Craw! Craw! Craw!’ she squawked. ‘This time, I’ll have to be more cunning.…’ She dressed herself in a sack, rolled in the mud, and pretended she was a poor old fruit picker, carry
ing a basket of apples to market.

  “Fortunately, Snow White wouldn’t let her in. ‘I promised not to buy any gewgaws or knick-knacks from anyone, not even the Rawleighs Man,’ she said through a crack in the split totara door.

  “‘Do I look like the Rawleighs Man?’ asked the old fruit picker. ‘And I’m not selling gewgaws and knick-knacks.’ She held up a beautiful apple, red on one side, and white on the other, and said, ‘I’m a poor old fruit picker, and I haven’t a penny in the world, but because you are so beautiful, I will give you this beautiful apple.’ She knew Snow White couldn’t help looking through the crack in the door. And she knew that Snow White was a bit greedy when it came to lovely, ripe, red apples.”

  Johnny Bryce lay with his head down, pretending to be looking at something crawling between the grass stems, but Harrietta knew he was listening. She went on.

  “Snow White’s curiosity got the better of her. She put her eye closer to the crack in the door and licked her lips. As the old crone turned it by its black stalk, one side of the apple shone red as blood, the other white as snow.

  “‘I’ll eat the white side, and give you the lovely ripe red side,’ said the poor old fruit picker. She bit the white side and juice dribbled down her chin. ‘Mmm!’ she said and licked it up. ‘Delicious!’

  “Snow White heard the crunch of the apple, and her mouth watered. She opened the door and took a greedy bite at the red side of the apple. It stuck in her throat, too big to go down, and she fell to the ground.

  “‘Hreech! Hreech! Hreech!’ the wicked queen ran shrieking up the river, up the stream, up the creek, under the pongas, up the hookgrass gully, up and over the watershed, through the saddle, and down through the bush to her castle where the mirror told her she was the most beautiful of all.

  “The dwarfs came home from work and found Snow White lying on the ground. Unable to waken her, they hollowed out a great crystal, as clear as gin, laid her inside, and set it in the shade under a rimu which hung down its dark weeping branches. And for seven years, Snow White lay as if asleep inside the clear crystal coffin, skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony.

  “One day, a prince came by pig hunting, saw Snow White and fell in love with her. He begged the dwarfs, offered them gold for the princess in the crystal coffin, but they shook their heads and said gruffly, ‘We have lots of gold.’ When they saw him weep, though, they knew his love was true.”

  “Eugh!” said Johnny Bryce. And Phil Ellery said, “Eugh!” too.

  “Grrr!” Old Smoko said and looked at Billy again. His eyes were fixed on Harrietta.

  “The dwarfs felt pity for the prince,” she went on, “and said he could take Snow White to his palace.

  “But the prince was a bit clumsy and, dropped the crystal coffin, while lifting it on to his horse. It hit the ground so hard, Snow White coughed, the bit of apple stuck in her throat popped out, and she woke.

  “‘Will you be my queen?’ asked the prince.”

  “Anyone could see that coming, a mile off,” said Johnny Bryce. “Next thing they’ll be smooching.…”

  “Snow White agreed to marry the prince, and they kissed.”

  “What’d I say?” said Johnny Bryce.

  “The royal dressmaker sewed a beautiful wedding dress; the royal huntsman stuck fifty dog-scoffing savage boar pigs; and the royal cook baked a huge wedding cake and roasted the fifty boar pigs with red apples in their mouths.

  “All the kings and queens around were asked to the royal wedding, including Snow White’s evil mother. Upstairs in the prince’s palace, her maids dressed her in a gown she’d had made specially to wear at the wedding – panels of silk brocade with dancing peacocks sewn in silver thread and diamonds. One maid brushed her long black hair like a dark waterfall; another put on her gold crown; and the wicked queen stood tall and still before the mirror she’d brought all the way from her own castle.

  ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall

  Who is most beautiful of all?’

  “The mirror gulped and said,

  ‘The most beautiful of all

  Is the princess downstairs in the hall.’

  “‘Faugh! Faugh! Faugh!’ The wicked queen dashed downstairs to the hall, shrieking curses: ‘Skraw! Skraw! Skraw!’ and, ‘Hyark! Hyark! Hyark!’

  “But the prince knew what was happening, and he had ordered the royal blacksmith to forge a pair of iron shoes and heat them red-hot. He picked them out of the fire with long-handled tongs and made the wicked queen shove her feet into them. She capered, danced like a mad Catherine wheel, blew away in a puff of smoke, and her curses died with her.”

  “Serves her right!” Peggy Turia said very fiercely.

  “Snow White and the prince were married. He was very happy, except when Snow White sang loudly in her flat voice excerpts from The Sound of Music as she swept out the palace. Apart from that, they lived happy ever after.”

  Harrietta looked around. “The End!” she said.

  * * *

  “Oh, that was a lovely story!” sobbed the Williams girls.

  “What flowers did Snow White carry at her wedding?” asked June.

  “Lily-of-the-valley, violets, and cream freesias,” said Harrietta.

  “Lovely! And her –?”

  “Real heavy shantung silk; her veil was old Brussels lace the prince’s mother lent her; and her train was thirty yards long and was carried by twenty little pages wearing gold coronets.”

  “Something old, something new,” said June Williams.

  “Something borrowed, something blue – the violets!” Lynda Bryce finished it for her.

  “Who gave her away?”

  “The Seven Dwarfs.”

  “How touching!” said June Williams, and all the girls had a good cry.

  They were at their loudest, when Johnny Bryce stuck out his lips, flipped them with his finger, and blew to make a rude noise.

  The Warawara girls brushed away a tear; “I do like a royal wedding!” exclaimed the youngest Williams girl; and Harrietta sat looking down at the little boy from out Soldiers Settlement, who had gone to sleep as the story ended.

  Old Smoko sighed. “A deeply moving story, Harrietta,” he said. “One which may contain the answer to our problem.”

  Billy said nothing, but smiled till Harrietta blushed.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Why Billy’s Dad’s Ribs Rang Like a Peal of Bells, the Time Before Pork Crackling Came to New Zealand, and Reading Old Smoko the Myth of Perseus and Medusa.

  Down at the shed that afternoon, Old Smoko said, “Did we not read a story in the School Journal, about a young man killing some monstrous creature called the Gorgon?”

  “Perseus,” said Billy. “He had to cut the head off Medusa, one of the Gorgons. Her face was so terrible, it would turn him to stone, so he looked at her reflection in his polished shield, as he hacked with his sword.”

  Old Smoko nodded. “The polished shield was a mirror.”

  “I suppose it was.”

  “Do you not see, Billy, that Harrietta’s story gives us the clue we have been seeking?”

  “That’s what the echo meant!” Billy exclaimed. “‘Oil the mirror, down she’ll fall.’ It must have meant my wicked stepmother. And the oil. It must be –” His words tumbled over each other. “– so all we have to do is pour some on her mirror, and that’ll fix her!

  “I don’t think I want to cut off her head though,” said Billy. “But if it’s the only way to get my mother back …”

  “Pouring the oil of wintergreen on the mirror should suffice,” Old Smoko told Billy, “without cutting off your wicked stepmother’s head.”

  “But we’ve still got to find my real mother.”

  “What do you think the echo was?”

  “You mean?”

  Old Smoko nodded. “I think the hole in the front paddock is a ventilation shaft from the mad scientist’s underground laboratory, where she is keeping prisoner your real mother and all the
others. If my theory is correct, the echo was your mother trying to speak to you.”

  “Why didn’t she say?”

  “Because the mad scientist might hear. We are going to find her, Billy! And all the others.”

  “Hooray!”

  “But before we can free them, we must get rid of all thirteen of the wicked stepmothers. Now, this is what you must do…”

  Old Smoko finished milking the cows, while Billy practised what he had to do.

  His stepmother kept looking in the mirror that night, sniffing the air, and snarling, “Where’s that stink coming from I thought I told you no oil of wintergreen!”

  For one moment, Billy thought of the bottle of liniment, where Old Smoko had hidden it, then he emptied his mind by playing with the dry acorn shell his wicked stepmother had given him for tea.

  He rolled it off his plate, pushed it over the side of the table, caught it between his toes, and shoved it under the lino. His stepmother looked at his empty plate.

  “Did you see what that boy did he swallowed that lovely acorn shell without so much as chewing it what’s the use of cooking the boy a tasty meal if he’s just going to gulp it down anyway?”

  “You know you’re supposed to chew your tucker,” his father said weakly, “or your innards will kick up bobsy-die. It stands to reason.” And he started to whistle “Home On the Range”, but the evil stepmother screamed, “Faugh faugh can I smell oil of wintergreen?”

  “There’s not a bottle on the farm,” said Billy’s dad.

  “Well it’s coming from somewhere I’ll find it and when I do somebody’s gonna suffer for it I can tell you that!”

  Sniffing, slamming, Billy’s wicked stepmother rampaged through the house. She put a box on a chair, poked her head through the manhole into the ceiling, and snorted in the space under the corrugated iron. She lifted the lino in the kitchen, snuffled under there, and found a couple of old puha leaves and the dry brown acorn shell.