Lavender? Grandma’s meteorite was wrapped up with lavender, and what was it she said? I wished for a baby brother to play with.
Surely not – surely she didn’t take Eric’s dad? I stand with my mouth open, trying to form a sentence. ‘So—’
But Eric interrupts. ‘Jolly good, Dad, don’t think Tom needs to know all this.’ His voice squeaks with embarrassment.
‘Of course not, that’s in the past, and now we look to the future – are we ready to signal?’ Eric’s dad’s hopping from foot to foot, gazing at the sky. Then he rushes over to an extension lead coming out of the roof trap. It’s got twelve of those old yellowy plug sockets jammed in anyhow, and from those thirty or so more plugs, leading to the heap of wires at the side of the roof. It looks completely lethal.
His finger hovers over the little red switch.
I hold my breath.
Snap.
For just over half a minute, six lines of lights radiate out across the town, down to the sea, so that the roof looks like the control tower of a major international airport.
‘Woah!’ says Jacob.
‘Oh, heavens!’ cries Eric’s dad, leaping in the centre. He crashes into a line of washing, and pants and socks float across the tinfoil. I step back – I don’t want him to knock me flying – and I catch a whiff of something.
‘What’s that smell?’ I whisper to Eric.
We turn, just in time to see a flame leap from the tangle of plugs, followed by a loud bang, and then we’re plunged into darkness.
Chapter 28
We leave Eric trying to persuade his dad that without the lights, the aliens probably won’t land, and that Eric might not be going with them if they do as he’d quite like to finish his education. His dad looks a bit gutted.
I take Jacob back down through the dark house and wait for Eric on the doorstep.
‘So that’s sorted, is it, Superboy? Snot Face has done the calculations, and we’ve got the all-clear to save the planet?’
He doesn’t really fit in my pocket any more, but he’s still small enough to squeeze to death. ‘You haven’t grown yet. You could spend the rest of your life in a devil suit, six inches tall.’
‘Jupiter could spend the rest of our short lives in your sister’s bedroom, only six inches across. You’ve got to find it, hope it grows and stick it back up where it’s supposed to be. Let’s face it, Genius, that’s a lot of hoping.’
I stare up at the sky.
‘You don’t know how to put it back, though, do you?’
I shake my head. He’s horribly right. ‘Got any ideas?’
Jacob laughs. ‘Oh – I love this, asking me for advice. Shame we’ll all be dead before I get to tell anyone.’
We stumble down the street. Eric’s panting hard. He’s got his laptop weighing him down and I don’t think he’s used to this much exercise, but I need him with me. He’s the only person I know who’s remotely capable of putting Jupiter back where it should be.
‘If we can get Jupiter back in the right place, really soon,’ says Eric, ‘all the shooting stars’ll stop. The asteroids’ll go back to where they came from.’
‘Sure?’
‘100%.’
‘100%?’ I ask.
‘1000%,’ says Eric.
We’re nearly back at the model village and this time I can see the glow from Tilly’s bedroom. I hope that’s not the planet. It’s been nearly three days – so how big will it be now? A tennis ball, a football? Maybe even a space hopper.
The garage door’s open. Dad’s hammering on the door of the disappearing cabinet. There are rabbits bouncing around his feet. ‘Laura? Laura? Can you hear me? I’ll try this one.’
‘Dad?’
‘I’ve lost your mum inside. We can’t find the proper door. Give me a hand.’ He looks a bit desperate.
‘I’d love to, Dad – but we’re on a mission. Back soon.’
Grandma’s still sitting there on the landing, knitting. She’s knitting a chessboard now. Tilly’s door’s shut.
Grandma looks up. ‘Hello, Tom, Eric.’
‘Is Tilly back?’ I ask.
She peers at my pocket. ‘Jacob. My, haven’t you grown. Yes, she is back, but she sneaked in while I was trying to help your father find your mother in the disappearing cabinet. Your mother seems to have properly disappeared. And now Tilly’s locked herself in.’
I hammer on the door.
‘Tilly – let me in. I know what you took – but I don’t think you know what it is.’
‘What is it she’s got, dear?’ asks Grandma.
‘Nothing much.’
Jacob jabs me in the neck.
‘Ow – no, really, nothing much.’
‘Go away,’ shouts Tilly. ‘I’m having fun and I don’t want you wrecking it.’
‘Tilly – please.’
‘There’s a password.’
‘Please?’ I shout.
‘No.’
‘Abracadabra,’ calls Grandma.
‘Halloween,’ says Eric.
‘Woodland Friends?’ I say.
‘No, no, no.’
‘Shazam, what is it that they say at the pantomime?’ says Grandma. ‘Open sesame.’
‘Doctor Who!’ I shout, grabbing the TV pages from Grandma’s knitting bag. I take them apart and slip a sheet under the door.
‘Rumplestiltskin.’
‘Guinea pig, hamsters.’ I lift Jacob up and put him on the door handle. ‘Dressing up, wings, wands, sparkly crowny things.’
‘What am I doing here?’ whispers Jacob.
I point into the lock, at the shiny end of the key. ‘Push it out.’
‘Aladdin!’ yells Grandma.
‘No and utterly, no.’
‘Please,’ I say.
‘You’ve already said that; and it’s wrong.’
Jacob’s reaching around inside the lock. He waves his hands at us, as if we should shout louder, so we do.
‘CINDERELLA,’ yells Grandma, really loudly.
‘FAIRY,’ I scream.
‘E = MC squared,’ shouts Eric.
We all stare at him.
‘Theory of relativity,’ says Eric, looking at the floor.
‘Oooooh,’ says Jacob, his leg deep in the keyhole.
Ping. The key falls from the lock on to the newspaper and quick as a flash I pull it under the door.
‘Very clever, I’m sure,’ says Grandma, taking the key from me and slipping it past Jacob’s leg, into the lock.
The door opens.
Oh!
Chapter 29
I was prepared for the idea that Jupiter would have grown. I was expecting something the size of a basketball. But this?
‘Wow,’ says Eric.
‘Oh my word,’ says Grandma, sinking on to the bed.
‘Go away,’ says Tilly. ‘It’s mine, and I want you all to go away.’
We stand there, staring. Even Jacob stops with his mouth open, gazing at the giant ball. It’s an Eric tall and an Eric wide. Spinning like the display in the jeweller’s in the high street, but there’s no glitter any more – instead it’s sort of smoking, like hot brown soup.
‘Tilly,’ says Grandma. ‘What is it?’
Tilly doesn’t say anything, but points at me.
Grandma stares at me. ‘Tom?’
I shrug – what else can I do? And then, when Grandma goes on staring, I say, ‘Jupiter. It’s Jupiter.’
For a moment, I think she’s going to have a heart attack. ‘Tom,’ she says. ‘Tom. What have you done?’
‘I shrank it. Three days ago.’
‘No! I can’t believe you’re that stupid.’
‘But, Grandma, I didn’t know. It was the first thing I clicked on.’
‘You should have told me.’
CRACK.
The planet groans and almost doubles in size. Now it’s a Dad tall and a Dad wide.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ shouts Tilly. ‘It’s wrecking my room.’
‘
S’not my fault!’ I shout.
‘Yes it is,’ says Tilly. ‘It’s all your fault.’
‘Oh, goody goody, are you two going to have a fight? I love a good fight.’
‘Who said that?’ Tilly, who’s been looking for a sulking spot on the other side of the room, sees Jacob.
‘Oh, wow, a living doll.’ She leaps forward and grabs him from the floor. ‘It’s a real doll, just you wait. You can live with Toots in the Spangle Palace. And I’ve got some clothes for you.’
‘No, stop her!’
‘Oh! Shush, Jacob, can’t you see it’s a crisis?’ says Grandma.
Eric picks his way over the scattered Woodland Friends, until his fingers are an inch from the planet’s surface. ‘Wow!’ He’s gazing at it. ‘Wow.’
‘Don’t. It’ll burn you,’ I say.
‘One hundred and sixty degrees below freezing,’ he says in answer, his voice full of hushed wonder. ‘It’s incredible. It’s marvellous.’
‘Probably . . .’
‘I never thought . . . I mean, we’re standing in the presence of an ancient and wonderful thing, something that’s reached out to man for as long as man’s been on the planet.’
‘Eric, you’re beginning to sound like your father,’ says Grandma.
‘Sorry . . . There are sixty-four moons, you know. Look – there, see.’
Something about the size of a ping-pong ball whizzes past my nose.
‘It takes a little under ten hours to rotate.’
‘Help! Snot Face, Model Village, help!’
I turn to look for Jacob, but there’s this cracking noise, and the whole thing grows again, taking a chunk out of the ceiling.
‘Yow!’ screams Tilly, and grabs Jacob to her chest. She’s jammed him into a pair of mauve flared trousers, and a velveteen jacket. He’s trying to get his teeth round her finger, but Tilly’s used to hamsters. There’s no way she’ll let him bite her.
I look at the planet, huge, and I look at the door, tiny. Then I look at our team.
We’re all useless. We’ve got a lippy miniature devil, my stupid sister, an old lady and Eric.
Together
Everyone
Achieves
More.
TEAM. Well, it doesn’t work with planets.
And it occurs to me, that no one – ever in the history of the world – has had to deal with this problem.
There’s another cracking sound and Jupiter grows again, but there’s nowhere for it to go now, just the ceiling.
We all step back a pace.
CRACK.
The planet swells again and we step back another pace.
There’s a kind of gap showing underneath, but the top’s gone right up into the roof space. I can see a blue suitcase revolving on the top.
It ought to be funny, but it isn’t.
Half the planet’s in the room, and half’s in the attic. It’s broken right through the rafters; all that’s holding it in is the roof itself.
Eric picks up a pair of fairy wings from the floor and pokes Jupiter. It rolls and bounces like a tennis ball on water. ‘Helium,’ he says. ‘It’s trying to get out.’
A second later, and I’ve got one foot on Eric’s head the other on one of Grandma’s travelling trunks and I’m tearing slates off the roof and chucking them into the garden.
‘Thing is,’ shouts Eric. ‘We don’t want it to take off. It needs to be launched.’
‘What do you mean?’ I say, tipping a bird’s nest out of the gutter. ‘How do we launch a thing this big?’
‘No idea – but don’t let it get away. We can’t leave it bumbling along over Earth, it might end up in the wrong place.’
I climb up above Jupiter, and look dismally at the beams holding the slates up. I’d need to get rid of at least two beams to make a hole big enough to put it through, and that would only work if the planet didn’t have another growing spurt.
‘Have you got a saw, Grandma?’
‘Your dad’s got it, for the disappearing box – for goodness’ sake, Tom, hurry up. If it gets any bigger it’ll destroy the whole house.’
How on earth am I supposed to do this?
I push against the beams. I can’t possibly do anything with these, they’re rock hard.
I stare up at the fountains of shooting stars breaking overhead and put my thumb and middle finger together.
Yes.
Yes. I can sort this out.
I climb out on to the roof slates. It’s horribly high, but I try not to think about that. The planet’s nudging the beams, bouncing against them.
I stand back from the beams as far as I can.
Click
Click
And for good measure. Click.
Three small bars of wood lie in the palm of my hand.
Yes!
But the planet’s trying to get out now – it’s as if it’s alive, trying to find a way through the gap. So I put my foot on it. It’s the only thing I can do.
‘Help!’ I shout.
‘Tom?’ calls Eric. ‘Is it free? Could it float away?’
‘Almost,’ I say, watching the sole of my shoe crack in the sub-zero temperature and wondering how long I can stand here. ‘I need something to hold it with, before my foot falls off.’
‘Hang on there.’ Eric stuffs Tilly’s cuddly penguin up through the hole. It’s about the same height as Grandma, in lime green. ‘Use this to hold it, and we’ll get blankets – and ropes.’
I jam the penguin on top of the planet and clamp it down with my frozen shoe . . . Ice crystals form on the green fluff and creep towards my foot. There’s about a beak left before the ice reaches me. I look down through the hole for Eric. But all I can see is Jacob being dressed by Tilly. He’s now about the size of a large baby, and he’s wearing one of Tilly’s pink babygros.
‘HELP!’ I shout down the hole.
Jacob looks up at me, mournfully. ‘I would if I could,’ he says. His little arms flap on either side, he’s powerless against her. I almost feel sorry for him.
‘Here,’ calls Eric. ‘Take this.’ He pushes something through the rafters. ‘I’ll come round to the front of the house.’
‘Is that my fairy bedspread you’re destroying, Tom?’ Tilly’s voice floats up.
I sling the bedspread over the penguin and the planet. Four ropes hang down from the corners. Jupiter drops slightly, as if the weight of the blanket is just enough to stop it flying away. I throw the ropes over the front of the house.
Phew.
CRACK.
As if someone’s just pumped it full of fresh helium, the planet bounces back up at me.
NO!
I press both my hands into Tilly’s fairy bedspread, and they sink into the surface. It feels utterly strange, like a vast lump of frozen candyfloss. Swelling, frozen candyfloss.
‘Hurry up!’ I shout.
There’s shouting and banging and screams from Tilly and doors slamming below and then Eric yells up at me from the garden. ‘We’ve got a ladder – hang on!’
The ropes stretch and the planet starts to slide neatly out of the attic and over the last few shattered tiles. It teeters on the edge of the roof.
‘Woah!’ shouts Eric. ‘That’s big – that’s mega big.’
He’s right. The planet’s grown massively in the last few minutes and is now about the size of a small hot air balloon. It’s pulling upwards like a hot air balloon too, but we don’t have any of those net things that they hang over balloons, or a handy basket or a licence to fly large round things over Devon.
My arms ache from pushing it downwards, and the bedspread’s starting to crack from the cold.
‘MOO!’
Eric, Grandma and a random cow stare up at me. Eric and Grandma hang on to the ropes, but Grandma’s feet have already left the ground.
There’s shouting, and a squeal from Tilly, and Jacob rushes out into the garden, the torn babygro flapping around his feet. He grabs the end of another rope and immediately hi
s feet bounce over the miniature war memorial.
We need more help or more weight.
Mum and Dad?
But Mum’s stuck in the disappearing cabinet, and Dad’s crashing about trying to get her out.
I look down. ‘Tilly!’
Her face appears through the hole. ‘What!’
‘Get a blanket from the sofa and hand it up to me, quick.’
‘No. I’m tidying my bedroom.’
‘Come on, Tilly, please.’
‘What’s it worth?’
‘Tilly!’ shouts Grandma from below. ‘Go and get the big quilt off my bed. Now!’
‘Hey!’ shouts Jacob. ‘My feet are off the ground. I’m flying!’
There’s an age of silence and then I hear thumping from the room below and Tilly opens her window. She’s got Grandma’s giant patchwork quilt. She won’t hurry; she’s sulking, I can tell from the way she moves. She’s gazing out at Jacob like he was the sweetie she lost.
CRACK.
The planet swells again, and my feet bounce on the roof.
‘Tilly! Hand it up here.’
‘No!’
CRACK.
‘Please.’
‘I won’t. You’re silly,’ and she pulls her head back in and goes back into her room.
‘Jacob!’ I shout at him. ‘Do something, please.’
‘What?’
‘She loves you. She thinks you’re a giant baby – do something.’
‘You’ve got to be joking. Why would I do that?’
‘Because you might just want to do the right thing. Because you might want to play a part in saving the planet?’
There’s a long silence while we pant and tug and scrabble, trying to hold Jupiter in check.
‘Because that would make me a nicer person?’
‘It would.’
I can practically hear his brain working.
‘Cooee – Tilly, you help us with the blanket, and I promise you can play with me afterwards.’ And then he mutters, ‘I’ll kill you for this.’
‘Really?’ says Tilly and throws open her window again.
‘Come on, let’s put the blankets on the big sparkly ball, and then when we’ve put it back into space, you can tuck me into bed.’
‘I know it’s Jupiter, stupid,’ says Tilly. ‘But if you’ll really play with me, afterwards?’
Shrunk! Page 8