Their argument was interrupted by a knock at the door.
Peter could see by looking through the peephole that it was none other than the Big, Bad Wolf.
‘It’s the Wolf!’ hissed Peter. ‘But don’t worry. He’ll no get in.’
‘Good afternoon, little pigs,’ called the Wolf, whose big ears gave him no trouble in hearing their conversation. ‘Do, please, let me in.’
‘No by the hair on oor chinny-chin-chins, by the way!’ the pigs replied.
‘I see,’ said the Wolf. ‘Then you have none but yourselves to blame when I huff, and I puff, and I blow your house down!’
And he huffed! And he puffed! And he blew the house down!
Two little pigs emerged from the wreckage.
‘What was that you were saying aboot stick hooses?’ asked Percy.
When Ella came ‘home’, she was exhausted, and scrubbing the ceiling was the last thing on her mind.
Reaching her bedroom, she found her mattress and bedclothes were gone, just as Kara had threatened.
Lying down on the metal springs of her bed, she cried herself to sleep.
CHAPTER 4
The taxi let Snowy off several hundred yards from where he was going. Jill had been adamant that no one else should see where he went.
‘But how should I know where to go?’ said Snowy.
‘Just go where your feet take you,’ said Jill. ‘Trust me, anyone who needs to find this place will.’
Snowy felt so stupid. He felt tricked. He felt alone. More than that, he felt afraid, because he may have been simply led to a secluded spot to be murdered.
With that chilling thought, he picked up a large stick …
How would he find his way in the dark? He was reasonably certain he was somewhere in Calderglen Country Park. Could he just follow the road back the way the taxi had come? It could be miles. Would that take him to the road where he could get the Number 20 bus back to Glasgow?
His gut feeling that Jill had been telling the truth was still with him … but had he simply been blinded by her beauty?
Suddenly, the dark colours of the night seemed to warp around him in a way he could not quite explain; as though he had stepped into a bubble and out of reality as he knew it.
An old granite house stood in front of him where none had been before.
‘This must be the place,’ he said to himself, knocking tentatively at the door.
The gnarled, hunch-backed hag who opened the creaking door had greenish-grey, flaking, leathery skin, one giant red eye the size of a cricket ball, and one tiny black one the size of a raisin. An unfashionable bonnet partially concealed hair that looked like copper wire, and her clothes were beige and torn.
‘What dae ye want?’ she snarled.
‘I, um …’ Snowy hardly knew how to respond. He decided to stick rigidly to the script. ‘Jill sent me.’
‘Oh,’ said the creature. ‘Suppose ye best come in.’
She led him to a damp, dark living area with rubbish, clothes and dirty dishes strewn over the floor.
Four further creatures crowded round him.
‘These are my family,’ said the one who had answered the door. ‘This is Glaikit.’
Glaikit was a big, hairy man, with close-set eyes, seeming in his posture more ape than man. He had a bulbous, green nose and pointy teeth.
‘This is Dagger.’
Dagger seemed like a normal – if oddly dressed and slightly pale – human being … until he took his hands out from behind his back, to reveal that they were not hands at all but sharp knives.
Dagger approached Snowy, sniffed him, and with a horrid, disdainful grimace, declared, ‘Human!’
Snowy flinched.
‘Forgive Dagger,’ said the strangest of them all, a green-skinned creature who might have been a reptile but for walking upright. He had yellow eyes and two great nostrils where one would expect to see a nose. ‘Years of isolation from what you would call normal people has had a right queer effect on us a’. In his case, it’s eroded his manners! I am known as Dragonman, which I find delightfully quaint!’
Dragonman extended a scaly hand, which Snowy shook tentatively.
‘This is Nono,’ said the hag.
Nono was a short creature with no discernable facial features other than his huge, oval eyes. His head spun round and round independently of his body and he cried, ‘Nonononononononononononononononononononono!’
‘He does that when he gets excited. Ye get used to it. And me … I’m Crabbit. We don’t mind being called the Freaks, the Mutants, the Mutant Freaks, the Five Freaks, the Five Mutants or the Five Mutant Freaks.’
‘It’s a pleasure,’ said Snowy, swallowing hard. ‘I’m Snowy, by the way.’
‘Whatever,’ said Crabbit. ‘See Jill? We owe her everything. Whatever, whoever is after ye, it won’t find ye here, but keep this close to you, just in case.’ She flung him a crystal ball. ‘When that glows red-hot, it means that danger is near. Jill gied us that and it’s never let us doon, probably because danger’s never been near.’
She then kicked a time-battered two-seat sofa, causing dust to rise from it. ‘You sleep here. Don’t get up in the middle of the night, don’t leave the lavvy seat up, and don’t – whatever ye do, don’t – tidy up!’
‘Are you alright?’ Jack asked his sister. ‘You’re looking a bit … glum.’
‘Just thinking aboot Ella,’ said Jill, sadly. ‘She’s having a really hard time of it. I just wish … I just wish there was something we could dae for her, you know? Make her life a wee bit easier …’ Suddenly she grinned. ‘Maybe there is!’
She flicked her mobile phone out and quickly poked in a number. ‘Oh, hi, Aunt Heather, it’s Jill here … Och, cannae complain. Listen, is my Fairy Godmaw aboot?’
‘Good afternoon, and welcome to The Reggie King Show,’ King said to the camera. He was wearing a hard hat and had to speak up over the roar of diggers and drills.
‘We’ve got quite a special show for you today, as we can reveal exclusively that a team of scientists believes it has found the elusive treasure of the Scottish pirate, Robert MacGuffin, under an ordinary courtyard of Glasgow’s Easterhouse estate.
‘I’m joined now by pirate expert Colin McGarth. Colin, even I can feel the palpable excitement in the air at this time. I can only imagine what it must be doing to you.’
McGarth looked as if he didn’t know whether to jump up and down or lie down. He made jerky hand-gestures as he spoke, and his eyes were bulging with excitement. ‘Yes, Reggie, I … we’ve been searching for this treasure for many, many years, and most people have been highly sceptical about its existence … but, you just never know! Last week I was on your show saying “maybe someday”, and today … well, someday is today. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world, and it’s just … it’s just indescribable. That’s the only word to describe it.’
With a click, King’s face appeared on the old black and white TV in the Freaks’ living room.
‘And if you’ve just joined us,’ King was saying, ‘this is The Big Dig, live with The Reggie King Show, where we reckon there’s a good chance we’re actually going to find the MacGuffin pirate’s treasure!’
‘That’s him,’ said Snowy. ‘That’s the man who wants to kill me.’
‘Really?’ said Crabbit. ‘Why?’
‘And I think any minute now …’ King was saying.
‘He thinks I’m better looking than him, apparently.’
The crane on the screen was pulling up something large and heavy from a deep hole in the ground. ‘Yes, we definitely have something,’ said King.
Crabbit snorted. ‘All normals look the same to me.’
‘Well, this is an historic occasion,’ said King.
‘A historic occasion!’ Crabbit growled at the screen. ‘H is a consonant! I really hate that.’
‘As you can see,’ King went on, ‘that’s definitely a chest of some kind … Colin, what are your thoughts at this time?’
‘I’m just … speechless,’ said McGarth.
‘Couldn’t have put it better myself,’ said King. ‘You’re watching The Big Dig live with The Reggie King Show, and we have unearthed something quite substantial …’
‘Look at him with his hard hat,’ remarked Snowy. ‘He looks like Bob the Builder!’
Snowy could have never anticipated the Freaks’ reaction to his off-the-cuff witticism; they howled and roared with laughter (all except Nono, who spun his head faster than ever, crying, ‘Nononononononononononono!’ with the tone and rhythm of laughter).
Snowy wondered for a moment if they were being sarcastic, but they seemed genuine.
When the laughter had died down, Snowy said, ‘It wasn’t that funny …’ which started the laughter off all over again.
‘We haven’t laughed like that since we moved in here!’ cried Crabbit, slapping his shoulder. ‘But this doesnae mean we like you.’
This is it, thought King. This is the moment I was born for.
‘And now, this historic moment, the moment we’ve all been waiting for, is here. The chest, thought to contain the treasure of the pirate MacGuffin, has been exhumed, and we’re about to open it and take a look inside. Colin, what are your thoughts at this time?’
Colin McGarth seemed to be having trouble breathing. ‘Please,’ he breathed. ‘Just open it!’
King laughed. ‘Well, Colin McGarth can’t wait and I certainly can’t blame him. I’m sure it’s the same for you at home …’
The mahogany chest was as solid as the day it had been buried. It was the size of a baby’s cot, decorated with elegant carvings of ships and weapons, and held shut by a rusty lock.
King carelessly inserted a wrench and tore open the box which had been shut for 260 years.
What did he see?
It took his mind a moment to catch up with his vision.
His eyes were almost burned by sun’s reflection on the contents of the chest.
There was gold.
There was silver.
There were precious jewels sparkling loudly in every imaginable colour.
‘Well,’ said King, ‘There you have it. The lost treasure of Robert MacGuffin, unearthed live on The Reggie King Show. Never, in my wildest imagination, could I have envisioned a sight like this. Colin, what are your thoughts at this time?’
Colin McGarth was speechless.
‘Well,’ said King, trying to keep it going. ‘I think the next step is to … get an inventory together and try and get some idea the value of this treasure. I imagine it will be quite a lot.’
‘Priceless,’ whispered McGarth.
‘So, Colin,’ said King, ‘what are your thoughts at this historic moment?’
‘We found it!’ McGarth roared, punching the air.
‘Yes,’ said King. ‘We have, indeed, found it. You’re watching The Big Dig live with The Reggie King Show, and if you’ve just joined us, you’re watching history in the making, because we have just unearthed the pirate’s treasure, right here in Easterhouse. Isn’t that magnificent?’
He moved forward, as though to touch the treasure … but before he got the chance, a great, booming voice came from within the shaft that had been dug.
‘WHO IS IT THAT WAD DAUR LAY THEIR HAUNDS ON MY TREASURE?’
King unplugged his microphone and hissed to his assistant, ‘Whoever’s messing aboot, get them to knock it off. This is live on air!’ He plugged in his microphone and turned to camera. ‘Ah … we seem to be experiencing technical difficulties, I apologise for any reduction of your viewing pleasure …’
‘I’M NAE TECHNICAL DIFFICULTY,’ boomed the voice. ‘I’M THE GHAIST O’ RAB MACGUFFIN … AND YOU, REGINALD KING, WHO SET THE BIG BAD WOLF ON TWA INNOCENT PIGS TO LAY YER GREEDY WEE FINGERS ON MY TREASURE … I KEN WEEL WHO YOU ARE!’
A queer, purplish mist rose from the great big hole in the ground. When it cleared, there stood – all seven feet of him – a see-through spectre of Robert MacGuffin. His black, greasy hair stuck out in all directions; half his face was missing from the wounds of battle; when he spoke, his beard parted to reveal blood-stained teeth, for he was well known for rending his victims’ flesh from bone with no other weapon. He wore the ragged clothes of a prisoner and there was a noose around his neck.
‘YOU, KING, ARE A WORSE SCOUNDREL THAN ONY I SAILED THE SEAS WI’! AND I’VE SAILED WI’ SOME UNCO WICKED MEN, I TELL YE! YOU, REGINALD KING, ARE A WORM! AND YE’LL NAE BE TACKING MY TREASURE FOR YER AIN PATHETIC NOTION O’ GLORY! YOU THAT’S NEVER KNOWN THE BURN O’ A CUTLASS OR MUSKET BALL UNDER YER SKIN, THAT WOULDNAE HAE A CLUE WHAT GLORY IS REALLY ABOOT!’
His roar conjured a vicious wind and a cutlass appeared in his ghostly hand, whose blade he thrust into King’s body. Like the ghost, it was insubstantial and caused Reggie no injury, but the shiver it sent through him, as if his insides were suddenly made of snow, reduced King to a quivering wreck on the ground.
The spectre turned to the glistening treasure. ‘AYE,’ he said with a ghostly sigh. ‘WAD THAT NO JUST GAR YER WEE HEART BURST WI’ THE BEAUTY O’ IT? NAE WONDER YE’D GANG TO SIC LENGTHS. BUT I FOUCHT, AYE, AND EVEN DIED FOR THAT, AND NAE LIVING HAUND SHALL TOUCH IT WHEN I’M DEID!’
With that, he brought his sword down upon the treasure chest. There was a flash of light, a rush of wind, then ghost and treasure were gone.
‘Well, er …’ King dragged himself to his feet and shook himself off, trying not to show what misery and terror had just overcome him. ‘We don’t know quite what just happened here on The Big Dig live, and of course we will keep you informed as soon as we know anything. Here’s Caroline with the weather.’
In a dingy, poorly lit pub, beyond the reach of the smoking ban, the Big, Bad Wolf was meeting with his latest client.
‘It’s a dynamic and innovative scheme, which would be worth a lot to the local economy, and …’
‘You’re boring me,’ the Wolf sharply interrupted the human. ‘If you would be so kind … just tell me my part. It’s all I need to know.’
‘There’s a house – home to three little pigs – right where we want to put our supermarket. Our ideal solution would be for the pigs to move out and us to knock the house down. We’ve offered them a very generous cash settlement, but they don’t seem at all interested in money. I can’t understand it!’
‘Well, pigs are well-known for being pig-headed,’ said the Wolf. ‘Am I to understand that you are soliciting me to … use my powers of persuasion to change the pigs’ minds about moving?’
‘We would be most appreciative if you could achieve this, yes.’
The Wolf grinned hungrily. ‘I, as you may have noticed, am not a pig. I’m very interested in money. You’re aware of my rates?’
‘Yes.’
‘I won’t be talked down in price.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of trying.’
‘Then we have an accord?’
‘Yes, we do.’
The Wolf chuckled to himself.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked the businessman.
‘Oh, nothing much. It’s just that I’ve been dealing rather a lot with pigs of late. It’s an extraordinary coincidence.’
‘KING IN GHOST HOAX CONFUSION.’ King read the headline and threw the newspaper angrily at the mirror. ‘ITC TO PROBE KING SHOW SPOOK HOAX.’ He threw another paper. ‘WHO YA GONNA CALL? NOT REGGIE!’
‘Actually, that last one is rather amusing,’ said the mirror.
‘You didnae tell me I was liable to be attacked by the actual ghost of Robert MacGuffin!’
‘You didnae ask.’ Even with its lack of shoulders, the twisted face in the mirror managed to shrug.
‘Not funny,’ growled King. ‘I’m not in a good mood. I’m still deeply shaken. That ghostly sword passing through me …’ He shuddered, almost as though it were happening again.
‘Poor baby,’ said the mirror.
‘I need cheering up,’ insisted King, ‘and I know just what will do the trick
! So tell me … who’s the bonniest man in Glesga?’
The mirror hesitated. ‘Er … technically, you.’
‘What do you mean, technically?’ King exploded.
‘Well, the young Snowy White, who is bonnier than you, is now living with some genetic misfits in Calderglen Country Park, East Kilbride. So you see, you are the bonniest man in Glasgow … but not the Greater Glasgow area.’
‘I meant the bonniest living man,’ sighed King. ‘White is dead. His heart is in my fridge!’
‘That’s a coo’s heart, ya mong!’ spat the mirror. ‘You’ve been duped.’
A silence as cold as death descended.
‘White lives?’
‘White lives.’
‘No!’ screamed the TV star. ‘No! It cannae be!’ He pointed an accusing finger. ‘You assured me that McCinder would deliver!’
‘Hey, I can see everything, but I cannae foresee everything,’ said the mirror. ‘Based on what we knew at the time, manipulating the McCinder wimp was your best chance.’
‘I’m gonnae go to Calderglen right now and rip his pretty wee heart oot mysel’!’
‘An excellent plan, Mr King … with just one tiny drawback.’
‘Drawback? Don’t you talk to me aboot drawbacks! I don’t want to hear aboot drawbacks!’
‘No one does, Mr King,’ said the mirror, with infuriating calm. ‘But where drawbacks exist, you’d have to be a right numpty no to prefer the ones you know aboot.’
King’s usually attractive features were turning all sorts of shades of purple. ‘What is this drawback, then?’
‘My omniscience has almost no limits,’ said the mirror, ‘however, sometimes a cloaking spell can prove a barrier. The home of the Freaks, whose hospitality your elusive rival is enjoying, is shrouded in some very powerful cloaking magic, which prevents any from finding it who do not seek it for the “right” reasons. It will take me some time to break through.’
‘Magic, you say?’ King stroked his chin. ‘Oh, I think I can see the chubby little fingerprints of my dear Jillipoos all over this!’
Glasgow Fairytale Page 4