Elephants Don't Sit on Cars

by David Henry Wilson

  ‘Are you sleepy yet?’ asked the soft voice.

  ‘No,’ said Jeremy James, ‘but I’m hungry.’

  The babysitter went into the kitchen and came back with a plate of cakes and biscuits which were cakier and biskier than any of the old cakes and biscuits Jeremy James was given for tea.

  ‘Would you like one of these?’ asked the babysitter, and Jeremy James proceeded to like rather more than one of these, and the babysitter never said a word.

  ‘Now what would you like to do?’ asked the babysitter, when Jeremy James had finished the cakes and biscuits.

  Nobody had ever before asked Jeremy James what he would like to do. He’d been told what he ought to like to do, and he’d been told what he had to do, and he’d been told what he shouldn’t have done – but what he would like to do, that was something quite new. It needed to be thought about very carefully, and so he sat in his chair, licking the chocolate ring round his mouth, and thought about it very carefully. What would he really like to do? With the whole world suddenly open to him, with everything allowed, with a choice that was his and his alone . . . what would he like to do?

  ‘I’d like to play hide-and-seek,’ said Jeremy James, and the pearly gates of paradise opened before him. ‘Hide-and-seek,’ he said, ‘that’s what I’d like to do.’

  ‘All right,’ said the babysitter, ‘who’s going to hide, you or me?’

  ‘I’ll hide,’ said Jeremy James, ‘and you must close your eyes and count up to a hundred. And you mustn’t open your eyes, because that’s called cheating.’

  And so the babysitter closed her eyes, and Jeremy James tiptoed upstairs and crept into Mummy and Daddy’s room and dived into Mummy and Daddy’s bed, which he wasn’t ever supposed to dive into, but which it was all right to dive into now, because he was playing hide-and-seek with the babysitter, and that was official. And it was lovely and soft and warm in Mummy and Daddy’s bed, even though Mummy and Daddy weren’t in it, and Jeremy James curled up and listened for the footsteps of the babysitter. Thump, thump she came up the stairs, and Jeremy James giggled because she’d never think of looking in Mummy and Daddy’s bedroom, and thump thump came the steps, straight into Mummy and Daddy’s bedroom, on went the light, and ‘Caught you!’ said the babysitter, and ‘That’s not fair!’ said Jeremy James. ‘You cheated! You opened your eyes!’

  ‘I heard you laughing!’ said the babysitter.

  ‘Well it’s not fair,’ said Jeremy James. ‘You weren’t supposed to listen.’

  But the babysitter had listened, and the babysitter had caught him, and now, she insisted, it was her turn to hide and Jeremy James would have to look for her, and he must close his eyes and count up to a hundred.

  ‘Well I can’t,’ said Jeremy James, ‘I can only count up to twenty-ten, so there!’

  But Jeremy James did close his eyes. Then the babysitter left the room, and Jeremy James opened his eyes again, because after all if it was fair for her to listen then it was fair for him to look. So he tiptoed to the door, peeped out, and saw the babysitter disappearing into the bathroom.

  ‘Nineteen, twenty, twenty-ten, a hundred,’ said Jeremy James, ‘and here I come.’ And he went straight to the bathroom, opened the door, said, ‘Caught you!’ and then looked for the babysitter. But there was no babysitter to be seen. ‘Oh!’ said Jeremy James, and went out of the bathroom. ‘That’s funny,’ said Jeremy James. Then he looked in the bathroom again, but there was still no babysitter.

  ‘Where are you?’ said Jeremy James.

  He had a good look in the bath, but she was definitely not in it, and he had a look in the bathroom stool, but she wasn’t in that either. And she wasn’t in the airing cupboard and she wasn’t down the lavatory.

  ‘I know where you are,’ said Jeremy James, but that didn’t make the babysitter appear either. ‘I don’t know where you are,’ said Jeremy James. ‘Where are you?’ said Jeremy James. And then he went out on to the landing, into Mummy and Daddy’s room, into his own room, into the guest room, and he opened all the cupboards and all the drawers, and he looked in all the beds, and he looked under all the beds, and he looked behind all the beds . . . but there was still no babysitter. And he decided that hide-and-seek really wasn’t so much fun after all, and it would be better to play something else, and the babysitter was cheating and it only went to prove that you couldn’t play proper games with girls, even if they were official girls like the babysitter.

  ‘Where are you?’ he said. ‘Come out, I don’t want to play any more, I give up, it’s a silly game . . .’ etc. etc. and at last the babysitter came into view as she stepped out from behind the bathroom door.

  ‘Caught you!’ said Jeremy James, but he wasn’t really convinced of that himself. ‘Anyway, that was a silly place to hide . . . it’s not fair to hide there . . . it’s my turn . . . you must close your eyes . . .’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to play hide-and-seek any more,’ said the babysitter.

  ‘Well, just once more,’ said Jeremy James. ‘I’ll hide and you count up to a hundred. And you mustn’t open your eyes.’

  So the babysitter went back into the bathroom and closed her eyes, and Jeremy James padded downstairs, thinking very very hard. This time he’d find a really good place to hide, somewhere she’d never think of looking, the best hiding place anyone had ever found in the whole world. But where?

  Jeremy James crept into the kitchen. Where?

  Jeremy James looked at the kitchen windows. Jeremy James looked at the kitchen door. Jeremy James opened the kitchen door, giggled, stepped out into the twilit garden, and softly closed the kitchen door behind him. Then ever so quietly he tiptoed across the lawn, opened the door to Daddy’s tool shed, squeezed in, and closed the door again. She’d never find him here, and that was a fact. Jeremy James giggled. She could open her eyes now, and she could listen if she wanted to – but she wouldn’t find him.

  Jeremy James curled up in a deckchair, and pulled an old rug over himself. It wasn’t as soft or as warm as Mummy and Daddy’s bed, but it was quite soft and it was quite warm, and it was rather cosy in the tool shed, and she’d certainly never find him there, and hide-and-seek was a nice game after all, and she wasn’t bad company for a girl, and she was a lot better than some of the babysitters that had looked after him, and she had a quiet voice, and . . . and . . . and . . . Jeremy James fell fast asleep.

  A lot of things happened that night. First of all, Mummy and Daddy came home from the ‘do’ much earlier than expected. They came home because they’d had a phone call from the babysitter, who’d sounded very upset and rather frightened. Then there were some policemen who came in a big blue car, and they came because they’d had a phone call from Daddy, who’d sounded very upset and rather frightened. And some of the neighbours came to the house, because Mummy had knocked on their doors, and Mummy had sounded very upset and rather frightened. But Jeremy James didn’t know about all this, because he was fast asleep, minding his own business in Daddy’s tool shed. It wasn’t until he was carried into the house in the arms of a great big policeman with a red face and a bristling moustache that Jeremy James began to take notice of all the activity around him, but even then he was very sleepy and couldn’t quite make up his mind whether the policeman was real or just part of a funny dream. Then he was passed across to Daddy’s arms and he heard Mummy’s voice, and he opened his eyes wide because it sounded as if Mummy was crying. And it really was Mummy and she really was crying, and he really was in Daddy’s arms, and there really was a great big policeman there, and lots of other people were there, too, and over in a corner was the babysitter, and she looked as if she was crying as well.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ said Jeremy James. ‘You didn’t find me, did you?’

  Then the policeman with the red face and bristling moustache said he’d like a word with Daddy, and Daddy said maybe Jeremy James had better go to bed, and so Jeremy James was passed to Mummy, and Mummy carried him up the stairs to his bed, tucked him in
, looked at him for a very long time, and then kissed him goodnight.

  ‘Mummy,’ said Jeremy James, ‘I had ever such a nice time with the babysitter. Can she come here again to look after me?’

  ‘Hmmph,’ said Mummy. ‘Well as a matter of fact, I don’t think she will be coming again, Jeremy James.’

  ‘Oh Mummy, why not?’ said Jeremy James.

  ‘Because . . .’ said Mummy, ‘. . . because she’s not very good at hide-and-seek, that’s why.’

  And Mummy was right because the babysitter didn’t come again. And Daddy put a lock on the tool shed, which was something he’d been meaning to do for ages.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A Death in the Family

  Great-Aunt Maud was dead. She was Mummy’s Great-Aunt Maud, which made her Jeremy James’s Great-Great-Aunt Maud, but Jeremy James didn’t know her anyway, so as far as he was concerned, it didn’t matter whether she was Great, Great-Great, or Not-So-Great. What was much more impressive was the fact that she was ninety-two when she died.

  ‘Ninety-two!’ said Jeremy James, when he heard the news. ‘But that’s enormously old! That’s hundreds of years old! That’s even older than Daddy!’

  Mummy held the letter in her hand, and shed a few tears.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re crying about,’ said Daddy. ‘We never could stand her. She was a silly old woman.’

  ‘But she’s dead,’ said Mummy.

  ‘Well then, she’s a dead silly old woman,’ said Daddy. ‘Look at all the trouble she caused before we got married.’

  ‘That’s all in the past,’ said Mummy. ‘And you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt the dead as much as it hurts the living,’ said Daddy, ‘and that’s a fact.’

  The funeral was on Saturday. Daddy said he would stay at home and look after Jeremy James, but Mummy said he wouldn’t and Jeremy James would have to go as well. Then Daddy said he wouldn’t go whatever happened, and Mummy said he was being childish, and Daddy said it was a matter of principle, and Mummy said it was a matter of football, and Daddy proved it wasn’t a matter of football by saying all right, he’d go, but only under some sort of umbrella called protest. And so on Saturday Jeremy James was suddenly face to face with a Mummy and Daddy who really didn’t look like Mummy and Daddy at all. Mummy had on a black hat and a black dress and black stockings and black shoes, and Jeremy James asked her if she was going to sweep chimneys and Mummy said no she wasn’t, and Daddy laughed. As for Daddy, he was wearing a dark grey suit, a black tie, and shoes that shone like glass.

  ‘Is that really you, Daddy?’ asked Jeremy James, and Daddy said he didn’t think it was, and Mummy laughed. Then Mummy said they shouldn’t be making jokes on a day like today, and Daddy said today was as good as any other day. Then Mummy dressed Jeremy James up in a smart grey suit he didn’t even know he had, and off they drove to the funeral.

  ‘You might have cleaned the car,’ said Mummy.

  ‘Weren’t enough teardrops in the bucket,’ said Daddy.

  There were a few teardrops at the funeral, though. Melissa, Aunt Janet’s little girl, kept stamping her foot and saying she wanted her dolly, and Aunt Janet told her off, which brought forth a whole flood of tears, but no dolly. Otherwise it was a very dull funeral, and the man who stood near the hole in the ground reading bits out of a book had the sort of voice that could put even dead people to sleep. The only interesting moment came when they lifted up a big wooden box and lowered it into the hole in the ground. It was a beautiful, shiny box, which looked very heavy and could have held at least a thousand bars of chocolate and two thousand soldiers.

  ‘Daddy,’ said Jeremy James, ‘what’s in the box?’

  ‘Great-Aunt Maud,’ said Daddy, and put his fingers on his lips.

  ‘But what’s she doing in there?’ said Jeremy James.

  ‘Being dead,’ said Daddy. ‘Now keep quiet.’

  ‘Well,’ said Jeremy James, ‘if she’s not going to wake up, what does she need that box for?’

  ‘That’s enough, Jeremy James!’ said Mummy, in her that’s-enough voice.

  Jeremy James would have liked to ask whether perhaps he could have the box since Great-Aunt Maud wouldn’t be needing it any more, but when Mummy put on her that’s-enough voice, that was enough.

  After the funeral everyone drove to Uncle Jack and Aunt Janet’s house, where they found lots and lots of lovely things to eat: sandwiches full of egg and cheese and lettuce and ham, cakes full of chocolate and cream and jam, biscuits, fruit, orange juice . . .

  ‘Gosh!’ said Jeremy James, ‘this is a nice party!’

  ‘Now you go and play with Melissa,’ said Mummy.

  ‘Oh I don’t want to play with her,’ said Jeremy James, ‘I want to stay here by the table and eat all—’

  ‘Off you go,’ said Mummy.

  But before Jeremy James could off-you-go even if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t, he found himself face to waistcoat with a very, very, very old man whose tree-root hand came to rest upon his head, and whose watery blue eyes came to rest, one on his face and one round about his right shoulder. ‘So this is your little boy, eh?’ said a high creaky-door voice.

  ‘That’s right, Uncle Albert. This is Jeremy James. Jeremy James, this is your Great-Uncle Albert.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Jeremy James. ‘You must be very old.’

  ‘How old do you think I am?’ said Great-Uncle Albert.

  ‘Oh you must be at least a hundred,’ said Jeremy James.

  ‘Hmmph,’ said Great-Uncle Albert, ‘well I’m not that old, thank you very much.’

  ‘How old are you then?’ said Jeremy James.

  ‘Jeremy James!’ said Mummy.

  ‘That’s all right, my dear,’ said Great-Uncle Albert, ‘if the boy wants to know how old I am, I’ll tell him how old I am, if I can remember how old I am. Let’s see now, I was born in . . .’ Great-Uncle Albert mumbled and muttered a sort of magic spell like ‘O three seventy take away worple and add what you first thought of’ and moved his tree-root down to Jeremy James’s shoulder. ‘Seventy-one!’ he said, ‘that’s how old I am. Seventy-one!’

  ‘Gosh!’ said Jeremy James, ‘you are old. You must be almost as old as Great-Aunt Maud.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Great-Uncle Albert. ‘I couldn’t be as old as her, because she was my mother.’

  ‘You . . . you haven’t got a mother, have you?’ said Jeremy James, eyes as wide as jam tarts.

  ‘Not now,’ said Great-Uncle Albert.

  ‘You look much too old to have a mother,’ said Jeremy James, ‘and that’s a fact. Anyway, now that your mother’s dead, she won’t be needing her box any more, will she?’

  ‘What box?’ asked Great-Uncle Albert, proving yet again that grown-ups never even notice the most important things in life.

  ‘The box they threw away this afternoon,’ said Jeremy James. ‘With her in it.’

  ‘Jeremy James,’ said Mummy, ‘I think you should go and play with Melissa now, dear. That’s enough chatter for today.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Off you go, dear.’

  ‘I wanted—’

  ‘And here’s a nice piece of cream cake for you. Now go and play with Melissa.’

  And Jeremy James found his mouth full to overflowing with cake, and he just couldn’t say another word.

  ‘What was that about a box?’ he heard Great-Uncle Albert say.

  ‘No idea,’ said Mummy, ‘you know how children talk.’

  Jeremy James would have explained it to Great-Uncle Albert, but with a mouth full of cake, a chocolate biscuit in one hand and Mummy’s hand in his other hand, he simply didn’t have the chance to. Grown-ups are like that sometimes – when there’s a really interesting subject to talk about, they tell you to keep quiet. But Mummy did give him a lot more cream cakes and chocolate biscuits, and he didn’t have to play with Melissa after all because Melissa was sick and had to go up to her room, and when they were leaving, Uncle
Jack pressed fifty pence into his hand and said, ‘Here you are Jeremy James, buy yourself some sweets with that.’ And when Great-Uncle Albert also gave him fifty pence (proving once more that uncles are full of good ideas), he knew for certain that this was the best party he’d ever been to.

  ‘Mummy,’ he said as Daddy angrily hooted the crowds of people walking in the road outside the football stadium, ‘I do like funerals. I hope someone else dies soon, so we can go to another one. Maybe Great-Uncle Albert’ll die soon – he looks old enough.’

  ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say, dear,’ said Mummy. ‘You mustn’t wish people would die.’

  ‘What happened?’ said Daddy through the window to a red-faced man with a moustache who was just overtaking the car.

  ‘Lost,’ said the red-faced man. ‘Four-nil.’

  ‘Hmmph,’ said Daddy. ‘Four-nil. The manager should kick ’em all out. Except he’d probably miss as well.’

  ‘That’s not a very nice thing to say,’ said Jeremy James – but Daddy didn’t seem to hear, and Mummy was suddenly coughing into her handkerchief.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Birth in the Family

  Mummy wasn’t well. Mummy hadn’t been well for ages. Jeremy James thought she must have eaten an enormous number of sweets to be sick for such a long time, but Mummy only smiled and said it wasn’t sweets at all. But Mummy’s tummy was getting so big that Jeremy James didn’t see what else it could possibly be, and he told Daddy what he thought, and Daddy only smiled and said the same as Mummy. And then Daddy looked at Mummy, and Mummy looked at Daddy, and they both smiled, and nodded, and then Mummy said to Jeremy James: