The Phredde Collection

by Jackie French

  ‘Knock-knock,’ I said.

  There was a pause. Then,’Who’s there?’

  ‘Twip,’ I said.

  ‘Twip who?’

  ‘Thanks for the twain twip,’ I said. ‘Thanks for everything, Knock-knock.’

  I wondered if there was any way the ghosts could help me to my feet. I supposed Jack could haul me up by my hair, or Annie by my underpants. It seemed easier just to struggle up by myself.

  So I did.

  What now? I thought. When your hands and ankles are handcuffed and you’re in a deserted ghost house, you don’t have many options.

  Sleep was out. YOU try sleeping all tied up. So was dancing, learning to play the harp and playing Scrabble. I couldn’t even ring Mum. Even if I could have worked out how to push the numbers with handcuffed hands, Mr Nahsti still had Mum’s mobile which was presumably all slimed up now.

  I wondered if Mum would be angry. Then I decided I was just too tired to think about that now.

  Finally I inched along the corridor and into the living room, where I collapsed on the big sofa and tried to make myself comfortable.

  None of the ghosts was able to turn on the DVD player. None of them had been into videos or DVDs when they were alive, nor TV either, not enough to be able to turn them on now they were ghosts. But Cookie fed me spaghetti Bolognese—with a spoon, in case you were wondering, like a little kid. He wasn’t able to clean up the splodges on my T-shirt though. And Annie pulled down my trakkie daks for me when I had to hop into the bathroom—it turned out she could do other clothes, not just underpants. Then she let me choose some new ones so cool Amelia would freeze with jealousy. A thong! Hah! Then the Rolling Pebbles sang for me until I very nicely asked them not to, and Knock-knock told jokes till the others told him to shut up.

  Then Uncle Carbuncle and I talked.

  Not about anything much, to be honest. Just school stuff—EVERY conversation with an adult starts with how you like school, even when they’re a ghost. But after that we got on to life generally, and death particularly, and how each of the ghosts had died, which made me a bit thoughtful actually and determined to be careful not to eat sushi that had been out of the fridge too long, to wear sunscreen, and avoid plugging my electric guitar into an overloaded circuit board or juggling jellyfish.

  It was the first person-to-person, serious long conversation I’d had with an adult. Usually it’s just Mum and Dad’s friends being polite, or teachers telling you to follow your dreams (huh, I dreamed of a toe-chomping oyster last week and there’s no way I’m going to follow THAT dream). It was funny, I sort of got an idea of what it was going to be like when all my friends were adults and me too, and maybe one day I’d have a conversation with a kid like me.

  You think of things like that, I suppose, when you’re chained up in a haunted mansion with a ghost.

  Finally I did sleep a bit, though the cramps in my arms and legs kept waking me up. Willie curled up next to me with his comforting doggie smell. I woke up once, from a nightmare that my arms and legs had fallen off and Mr Nahsti was eating them for breakfast. When I woke up again, my arms and legs hurt so much that I wished they WOULD fall off.

  But outside it was daytime. The dawn chorus was singing away in the trees.

  The house was mine.

  …

  Mum and Dad banged on the door two minutes later.

  ‘Prudence!’ yelled Mum. ‘Prudence, answer me! Are you all right!’

  ‘Where are you?’ shouted Dad.

  They must have been waiting around the corner for dawn, so they could arrive as soon as I’d legally stayed the night by myself.

  Willie began barking madly and jumping all over my tummy, which, as he was a ghost, just felt a bit tickly.

  ‘I’m in here!’ I called out. ‘And I’m fine.’ Well, fine-ish, I thought, if you didn’t count the handcuffs and the pain in my legs and all the bruises.

  ‘Then open the door!’ shouted Dad.

  I considered trying to jump down the corridor again. But my arms and legs were yelling ‘No way’ at me. And the rest of me agreed with them.

  ‘Can’t right now!’ I called back. ‘I’m a bit tied up at the moment.’ (That joke was getting pretty stale but I couldn’t think of another one.) ‘But there’s an open window in here.’

  ‘In where?’ demanded Mum.

  ‘The living room. Go round the house and past the petunias and…’

  They found the right window finally. Dad climbed through and gasped a bit when he found me all tied up and bruised, then gasped a bit more when he found out he couldn’t unlock the handcuffs, and Mum was yelling through the window at the same time for him to open the door and…

  Well, the rest is pretty boring. Painful too, as it took a lot of tugging for Dad to finally realise he couldn’t just pull my handcuffs off. (Don’t parents EVER watch useful stuff on TV?)

  Finally Mum drove over to Mr Nahsti’s place and grabbed the keys and got him to sign a statement saying I’d ‘fulfilled all the conditions in Uncle Carbuncle’s will’ (with the pen in his mouth, as he was still gummed up). Then she sliced through the slime around his arms and legs, just enough for him to struggle into the shower to wash the rest off, then raced back to the mansion and unlocked my ankle and handcuffs and helped massage the cramps out of my arms and legs so I could walk again.

  And then I burst into tears. Don’t ask me why, I just did, maybe because of what MIGHT have happened. And Willie snuffled round me and licked my face and I had to explain about him being a ghost dog to Mum and Dad and about Uncle Carbuncle and all the other ghosts…

  It’s funny, a year ago I’d have made up some story for Mum and Dad, like Phredde and Bruce and I had been playing dress-ups and the handcuffs had slipped shut, just so they wouldn’t worry. But this time I told them the whole story—and you know something? Mum didn’t faint and Dad just said, ‘Well done, Prudence’ a few times. And I realised that maybe parents are tougher and can cope with things better than I thought.

  They had to meet Uncle Carbuncle after that.

  We couldn’t see him of course, because it was daytime. But the air sort of shivered a bit, then shivered a bit more, and got really cold again, and I guessed all the other ghosts had come in behind him. Willie was squatting at Dad’s feet—I could see a faint yellow pond around Dad’s shoe, though luckily Dad didn’t notice.

  ‘I don’t know how I can ever thank you,’ said Uncle Carbuncle’s ghostly voice.

  ‘It was nothing,’ I said awkwardly. Actually it had been a whole lot, but what are you supposed to say to something like that?

  ‘I wish there was some way I COULD thank you,’ said Uncle Carbuncle. ‘But,’ he added sadly, ‘there isn’t much you can do when you’re a ghost.’

  ‘Wuff,’ barked Willie, and hopped up into my arms. Funny, he was feeling more and more solid every time he did that.

  I bent down and kissed his nose, which was okay because I couldn’t get any dog germs from a ghost. ‘I’m going to miss you,’ I said to him.

  ‘Wuff,’ barked Willie again and licked my chin. I even felt the slobber that time too.

  ‘Take him,’ said Uncle Carbuncle suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Take Willie. As a reward for all you’ve done. He loves you anyway,’ he added.

  ‘Wuff,’ agreed Willie.

  I turned to Mum. ‘Mum, please…?’

  ‘But you know you can’t have a puppy,’ said Mum helplessly. ‘You know what your brother is like with puppies! Even if he promises not to eat him, he’ll terrify the poor little thing!’

  ‘But this is a ghost puppy!’ I reminded her. ‘Mark CAN’T eat Willie. I bet even a werewolf can’t eat a ghost.’

  ‘Please,’ said Uncle Carbuncle. ‘It would mean such a lot to me to know that I was able to thank your daughter. Even if I am just a ghost,’ he added.

  I wondered if ghosts could cry. Because Uncle Carbuncle’s voice sounded all choked up and funny.

  ‘Of
course Pru can take Willie home,’ said Mum gently. ‘It’ll be nice to have a puppy around the castle again.’

  ‘Especially one who can’t chew up the chair legs,’ added Dad.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Uncle Carbuncle sincerely. ‘If it hadn’t been for her, we’d be homeless. It isn’t easy being a ghost sometimes,’ he added.

  I’d been thinking a bit about that during the long night.

  ‘I’ve had an idea,’ I said.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Uncle Carbuncle.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dad a bit nervously.

  ‘How about we turn this place into a ghost house? A REAL ghost house. I mean, if people—most people—can get used to phaeries and vampires maybe they can get used to ghosts too. And they could come here to…to get ghostly haircuts or eat one of Cookie’s lunches or have a ride in a really truly ghost train. And it would stop you being bored…’

  ‘It might even make a bit of money too,’ said Dad thoughtfully.

  ‘Which we’d give to Prudence,’ said Uncle Carbuncle firmly. ‘Ghosts don’t need money.’

  ‘I could give their underpants a makeover!’ said Annie excitedly. ‘You won’t believe the ideas I’ve got for new underpants!’

  ‘Girlfriend, you’re a genius,’ said Jack.

  ‘Menus! I have to plan menus!’ said Cookie. ‘Mate, this is going to be the most exciting thing that’s happened in all my life. Or death,’ he added.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Uncle Carbuncle again, softly. Suddenly I wished he wasn’t quite so ghostly so I could give him a hug. And Cookie and Annie and Jack and Knock-knock…

  ‘Wuff,’ barked Willie. I bent down and scratched behind his ear, then thought, well, if a ghost dog can feel his ear being scratched maybe other ghosts can feel a hug.

  And I was right.

  Chapter 19

  Things are Always Flat when an Adventure Ends

  Where was I? Oh yes, hugging a houseful of ghosts. I’d sort of had enough after that. Mum and Dad drove me home to our castle, with Willie on my lap.

  I was too tired even to check what the piranhas in the moat were skeletonising—which just shows you how exhausted I was, because that’s one of the first things I do every day when I come home from school. (You’d be AMAZED at the things that fall in our moat. I’d swear one of those skeletons was a diprotodont.)

  So I went to bed, with Willie curled up at my feet—at least I think he was, because it’s a bit hard to tell with a ghost. I even slept a bit, because, after all, I hadn’t had much sleep the last two nights. Then I had unpacked my bag and put away my underpants (Annie had made me seven new pairs, with enough frills and lace to keep me scratching all week), and had lunch, and showed Willie around the castle and…well, nothing much.

  I was feeling a bit flat, to be honest. All that adventure had keyed me up, and even though I was glad it was over, it just didn’t feel right doing nothing after so much had happened. I missed Phredde and Bruce too. I wondered what they were doing, and that got me thinking.

  What WAS going to happen when the three of us grew up? Grown-ups ask you that ALL the time—‘Have you thought what you want to do after school? What are you going to study at uni?’ And I’d thought of lots of things, but I’d never once thought that my friends mightn’t be with me.

  What DID I want to do when I left school? I knew you were supposed to work out what it is you really enjoy. Well, I liked rescuing Ancient Egyptian princes6 and exploring the world 100,000 years ago7 and reforming cannibal phaeries.8 But none of those added up to the sort of job you see advertised in the paper.

  I couldn’t even get into adventures like that without my friends to PING! them up.

  Or could I, I wondered. I’d managed the adventure of the haunted mansion all by myself.

  ‘Wuff,’ said Willie confidently as he peed near a potted palm, as though to say, ‘You’re my mistress and I think you can do anything.’

  What did a ghost puppy know? But I felt better for the bark of confidence. ‘Come on, Willie,’ I said. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

  We went up onto the castle battlements and wandered around them. I stared down at the world below. It was a pretty good world, I thought. And even if I wasn’t magic, maybe I could do something to make it even better. Maybe, when I was a ghost, I’d be able to touch the whole world, not just underpants and food, because I loved it all.

  PING!

  ‘Hi!’ It was Phredde.

  There was another PING! and Bruce plopped down beside her.

  I stared at them. They looked just the same—Phredde in her usual silver and purple shorts and T-shirt and Bruce all googly and frog-like. Of course there was no reason why they shouldn’t have looked just the same. But I’d been through such a lot that I felt different, so I thought they should look different too somehow.

  ‘How did last night go?’ asked Bruce, gazing round for any passing flies. (Mark leaves his bones up on the battlements and they bring lots of flies.)

  ‘It was okay,’ I said.

  I wasn’t keeping secrets from them, honest. Well, okay, I was, but only so they didn’t feel bad about leaving me to face Mr Nahsti on my own.

  ‘So the mansion’s yours?’ asked Phredde casually. A bit too casually, I thought. I mean, when your best friend inherits a mansion you should be a bit excited for her! Phredde looked like her mind was on something else entirely.

  ‘Sort of,’ I said. I looked at them curiously. Maybe there WAS something different about them, I thought. An excited something. A ‘we’re trying to be polite but there’s something really GREAT going on that you don’t know about’ sort of excited.

  ‘What have you two been doing?’ I asked sharply.

  ‘Us? Well…’ began Bruce.

  PING!

  A grandfather clock hovered in the air above us. (Phaeries don’t bother with watches). Phredde glanced at it. ‘It’s nearly four o’clock! Bruce, we’re going to be late!’

  ‘Late for what?’ I demanded. ‘And don’t give me any of that bumph about homework! What are you two—’

  PING!

  I was speaking to thin air. Bruce and Phredde had vanished again.

  …

  I felt tears starting to make a freeway down my nose. I’d saved the ghosts, I’d survived a runaway ghost train, and I sort of had my very own mansion, with lake and graveyard, not to mention a doodle pup called Willie and the coolest new underpants in the universe. But I still wanted my friends!

  Not to get me into adventures—and out of them. But because they were my friends!

  They HAD been keeping something from me. Just because I was a human, not a phaery. And…

  PING!

  Suddenly Phredde was back. But the purple pants and T-shirt had gone. So had her green and silver hair. This Phredde wore a gold ball gown, all lace and velvet. Her hair was done up like in those old movies about French kings. She even had glass slippers on her feet.

  Phredde hates glass slippers!

  ‘Phredde!’ I demanded. ‘What’s this all about?’

  ‘Well,’ began Phredde.

  PING!

  Bruce popped into the space beside us.

  I stared. He was wearing red knee breeches, which looked weird on a frog—though, come to think of it, they’d look pretty weird on anyone. And a red velvet hat with a feather and a gold shirt open at the front to show a red silk scarf thing.

  ‘Come on!’ he ordered. ‘We’ll be late!’

  ‘Look, what’s going on?’ I insisted.

  ‘No time for all that now!’ cried Phredde.

  PING!

  Suddenly I was in a ball dress too, but mine was pink and silver, and even though I hate pink—well, mostly—this was so super gorgeously wonderful it wasn’t really pink at all.

  I touched my head. Yep. Another late-night TV sort of hairstyle, which I suspected looked a lot better with the long blonde hair Jack had given me than it would have done with my own short brown stuff.

  I lifted my skirt a couple of c
entimetres. Glass slippers too! Magic ones, the sort you can walk in without them cracking, so your toes aren’t amputated and left bleeding behind you. And gloves, for Pete’s sake! Elbow-length gloves!

  ‘Look, you two,’ I squawked. ‘Tell me what this is about at once or I’ll—’

  PING!

  Suddenly we were in Phaeryland.

  * * *

  6See Phredde and the Purple Pyramid.

  7See Phredde and the Leopard-skin Librarian.

  8See Phredde and the Temple of Gloom.

  Chapter 20

  A Surprise in Phaeryland

  It smelled like fairy bread and lemonade. There were green hills—really green, like a little kid had coloured them in—and flowers everywhere, pink and blue and purple and red and yellow. Lollipops hung from the trees and a few lamingtons as well, pink ones and chocolate. There was a road made of yellow bricks, all higgledy-piggledy (they’ve never heard of bitumen in Phaeryland). And in front of us was the palace of the Phaery Queen.

  I’d been there before, of course, when Phredde let off the stink bomb9 and at the Phaery Queen’s wedding.10 Just in case you haven’t taken one of the Phaeryland tours yet (the Phaery Queen is really into tourism these days) just imagine every fairytale castle you’ve ever seen in a book or a movie. Now multiply by 100. And add a ‘Why not visit our souvenir shop’ signpost.

  But why had we come here now?

  ‘Phredde, Bruce…’ I began. But they ignored me.

  ‘Come on!’ yelled Phredde. ‘We were supposed to be there, like, five minutes ago!’ She raced up the stairs to the palace.

  ‘WHERE are we supposed to be?’ I roared, clumping after her. (Glass slippers, even magic ones, take some getting used to.)

  They continued to ignore me.

  Up the stairs we ran. They were magic stairs, so even though we went higher and higher it wasn’t like climbing at all. Which was a good thing as I didn’t think I could have managed the stairs AND my slippers.

  Tan-tan-tarraaaaa!

  At the top of the steps a row of trumpeters lifted their thingummies (long thin trumpets with sort of tea towels hanging down—you must have seen them in movies) and blew these long blasts, like they’d never heard of playing a tune or something you could dance to.