Of course, I’m not really going to get Dad a dozen dumb penguins or a few tonnes of krill for his birthday. For one thing, the piranhas in the moat would eat them. (If it takes a school of piranhas ten minutes to skeletonise a cow, I wonder how long it takes them to eat a penguin? Now THAT’s the sort of maths problem they ought to give us at school!) And anyway, I think presents should be a surprise. You should have SEEN Dad’s face when I gave him Dribbles!
‘Surprised, Dad?’ I’d asked him.
And he muttered, ‘Er…yes, Pru. You could say that. Stunned might be a better word.’
Maybe Dad would like a polar bear—even if they do come from the Arctic rather than the Antarctic. Both are icy places, after all…He could keep the bear in his bathroom—after Phredde PINGS! the bathroom a bit bigger and puts in some really good giant icebergs, of course.
Anyway, Dribbles is a great-looking sloth—well, as much as a long, fat, hairy thing that slobbers all the time can be great looking. But she does need a lot of grooming.
Apart from that, she isn’t any trouble at all, except for wiping up her slobber. I mean, sloths don’t really do much. I suppose that’s why they’re called sloths.
All Dribbles does is lie on the shelf in the kitchen where Mum used to keep her cookbooks (until they got too soggy—I suppose Dribbles thinks the shelf is a tree branch) and slobbers gently into the bucket Mum put underneath her after Gark complained that Dribbles had flooded the kitchen a couple of times. Of course, sometimes she does move a bit, so the slobber misses the bucket but, like I said, apart from that she’s no trouble at all!
Anyway, Dribbles was dribbling, I was munching, Mum was crosswording and Dad was sort of sighing in the way he does a lot lately, when Mark said happily, ‘It’s full moon tonight!’
Mum looked up from her crossword. ‘Does that mean you’re going out?’ she asked hopefully.
Last time it was full moon and Mark changed into a werewolf, he had a bunch of his mates over. What with all the tail-sniffing, lifting their legs on Mum’s geraniums, howling on the battlements till 2 a.m., burying their bones under Mum’s roses AND the smell in the Great Hall where someone did SOMETHING on the carpet that it’s not polite to mention…well, I could see why Mum was hoping they’d all go to some other werewolf’s place tonight.
Mark refilled his bowl with muesli. ‘Yeah, we’re all going over to Pete’s place,’ he said.
‘Are Pete’s parents werewolves too?’ I asked.
Before Mark had started growing the all-over type of whiskers every full moon, I’d thought that a person had to have werewolf parents to be a werewolf. But, as it turns out, being a werewolf can be passed down from a different part of the family tree altogether. (We studied all about it in Science last year.)
‘Yeah,’ said Mark, still wolfing down the muesli, except not literally of course, because he wouldn’t turn into a wolf till the moon rose tonight.
‘They’ve got this really cool house. Doggy flaps in every door so you don’t have to bother with the handles, and every month Pete’s dad orders a whole truckload of bones and buries them down the backyard so that they’ll be really ripe and stinking by the time the full moon comes round. I mean, it’s really cool.’
‘Yuk,’ I said.
Mark gave me a condescending big-brother-to-little-sister look. ‘You just don’t understand about werewolfing,’ he said. ‘And you know the really best thing about Pete’s place?’
‘What?’ I asked cautiously.
‘The people next door have just bought a pair of corgi puppies!’
‘Oh, how sweet,’ said Mum. ‘You’re going to let the little corgis play with you and share your bones.’
Mark grinned. ‘No way. They’re going to be dessert!’
‘Mark!’ shrieked Mum. ‘You wouldn’t!’
Mark gathered up his empty bowl and patted her head on the way out to the kitchen. ‘Just joking, Mum,’ he said.
Huh. I wasn’t so sure. Brothers!
Anyway, on Saturday afternoon I did my homework so that I’d be free to go out on my pirate ship with Phredde on Sunday. Then I helped Mum plump up the cushions in the living room and put out little bowls of peanuts, rice crackers and dog biscuits on the coffee table because Great Uncle Ron was coming over for dinner.
Uncle Ron often comes over to our place—especially during the full moon, when he is due to turn into a werewolf. Wolves like company, and I think Uncle Ron has been a bit lonely since his wife died.
Uncle Ron’s son, my cousin Jason, is a werewolf too, but unlike Uncle Ron, he’s keen on seeing how many lamp poles he can lift his leg on, and chasing cars, and all the other stuff that young werewolves are interested in.
So, Uncle Ron would come over to our place and we’d have dinner. Then, when the moon rose, he’d turn into a werewolf and Mum would scratch behind his ears while we watched one of these old black and white videos that Mum, Dad and Uncle Ron like so much (though it beats me why leaving all the colour out of a movie makes it so special). Then Mum and Dad would have a cup of something while Uncle Ron crunched a few bones out on the terrace. After that, Dad would clip on Uncle Ron’s leash (just in case anyone got a bit nervous at seeing a giant grey wolf on the prowl) and walk him home.
Just a nice, normal, family evening.
For once, though, I wasn’t going to have to sit through a whole Saturday night in black and white, with peanuts and dog biscuits, because it was Bruce’s birthday party.
‘Just tell me again where this party is supposed to be,’ declared Mum, fishing one of Mark’s bones out from under the sofa.
‘It’s on this really cool, totally giant lily pond in the garden of Bruce’s castle,’ I told her for the ten thousandth time.
‘But won’t the lilies collapse under your weight?’ demanded Mum worriedly.
‘No, Mum,’ I said patiently. ‘They’re magic waterlilies.’
‘And his parents will be there all the time?’
‘No, Mum! That’s the whole point!’
‘But what if—’ began Mum.
‘It’ll all be magically protected!’ I interrupted, before Mum could start imagining stuff, like: what if a mob of psychopathic axe murderers crashes the party, or what if there’s an earthquake and we’re all swallowed up into a hole in the ground—you know the sort of stuff mothers go on about. ‘It’s a magic castle for Pete’s sake! What can happen to us in a magic castle?’
Luckily, before Mum could come up with a hundred things that might happen, the phone rang. Mum answered it.
‘Hello?’ she said. ‘It’s Uncle Ron,’ she said to me with her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Ron, how are you?’
There was a pause while she listened, and then she said, ‘Oh, what a pity Prudence won’t be here tonight. I’m sure she’d have loved to meet him…’
Another pause, while I made frantic gestures that meant, ‘Hey, consult me, would you, before you say I’d like to meet someone!’ and Mum made, ‘Go away, I’m talking!’ gestures back.
Then Mum said, ‘She’s going to a birthday party. Look, how about she takes little Tobias with her? I’m sure Prudence won’t mind…’
My gestures were so frantic now that I was about to become airborne, but, of course, Mum took no notice whatsoever.
‘No, I’m sure they won’t mind that he’s a werewolf,’ said Mum carelessly. ‘In fact, the boy who’s having the party is a frog—well, actually, he’s a phaery prince who’s turned himself into a frog—so they quite understand about things like that. See you soon, then.’
‘Mum!!!!’ I shrieked as she put the phone down.
‘Now, don’t you take that tone with me, Prudence,’ said Mum. ‘Or you won’t be going to this party at all.’
‘But Mum!’ I howled.
‘Uncle Ron’s wife’s grand-nephew Tobias is staying with him for a few days. Tobias is just a few years younger than you and doesn’t know anyone here. Surely, taking him to the party is not too much to ask.’
‘B
ut Mum, he’s a werewolf!’
‘Your own brother is a werewolf, Prudence!’ said Mum sharply.
‘But Mum, phaeries are a…a bit nervous of werewolves!’
‘Sheer prejudice,’ said Mum, as if she hadn’t been nervous of werewolves too before she found out her son was one.
‘It’s not prejudice at all! It’s big sharp teeth and…’
‘That will be all, Prudence!’ declared Mum.
Well, I know what that tone of voice meant. So, I went off to get changed.
Well, anyway, come five o’clock, there I was, waiting on our castle drawbridge for Phredde and her mum, the Phaery Splendifera, to come and pick me up on their magic carpet. (I could have just gone on the bus, of course, but it’s more fun to arrive at a party with a friend, and the Phaery Splendifera said it’s much easier to find a magic castle if you travel there on a magic carpet. Also, a magic carpet is way cooler than a bus, especially the way the Phaery Splendifera flies it.)
‘Have you got your hanky?’ demanded Mum.
‘Yes, Mum,’ I said.
‘And you won’t let anyone else give you a lift home?’
‘No, Mum,’ I said. (Did she really think that if this crazy guy with a chainsaw whispered, ‘Hey, little girl, would you like a lift home?’ I was going to say, ‘Yes, please!’?)
‘And you won’t…geeeeaaawwwwphhhhh,’ shrieked Mum, holding onto the castle gates in an effort not to be blown away by the wave of displaced air that arrived ahead of the Phaery Splendifera’s magic carpet.
‘Hi, everyone!’ yelled the Phaery Splendifera.
‘Grawwwfffff,’ said Mum, trying to straighten her head.
‘Sorry about that! I miscalculated the landing!’ called the Phaery Splendifera. ‘Hop aboard, Prudence!’
‘Hi, Phredde,’ I said, seating myself next to her. ‘I like your skirt!’
As a matter of fact, this was the first time I had ever seen Phredde wear a skirt voluntarily. It was a really great one—golden leather with fang marks on it.
‘It’s gryphon skin,’ muttered Phredde. ‘Mum had a fit. She says I’m too young to wear leather.’
I wrinkled my nose at her sympathetically. ‘Mothers!’ I whispered.
‘Yeah,’ Phredde whispered back.
‘And we’ll have her home by eleven!’ promised the Phaery Splendifera. ‘Now, girls, hold tight!’
Well, I’d been on a magic carpet with the Phaery Splendifera before, so believe me, I was already hanging on so tightly that my knuckles were white. (Someone should really invent seat belts for magic carpets!)
Then we were off.
‘Whoooppeee!’ sang the Phaery Splendifera as we roared down our driveway.
‘Mum, look out for the electric wires!’ shrieked Phredde.
‘There’s no need to yell, Ethereal, I can see them perfectly well…ooops, sorry about that,’ yelled the Phaery Splendifera. ‘I didn’t see that stroller…I’d better reverse and see if that baby’s alright.’
Whap zam whooosh and back we went, zapping over a bicyclist and this kid on a skateboard. (There was no need AT ALL for him to make that gesture at us! We hardly touched him.)
The Phaery Splendifera peered over the edge of the carpet at the baby in its stroller.
‘Bufferfly! Big bufferfly!’ yelled the baby, pointing up at us.
‘Dumb kid,’ muttered Phredde.
‘Glooop,’ said the kid’s mum. She looked kind of white.
‘Sorry about that!’ beamed the Phaery Splendifera, ‘Glad there’s no harm done! We’ll just be on our way…’
‘Hey look at that enormous dog over there!’ said Phredde suddenly. ‘It looks just like a wolf!’
I followed Phredde’s gaze. She was right. The dog was almost as big as Uncle Ron, with golden-brown fur and a long wolf-like muzzle. It was peering at us, but then so was everyone else in the street, as if they’d never seen a couple of phaeries (and me, of course) on a magic carpet before.
‘I almost forgot!’ I yelled. ‘That’ll be my sort-of-cousin, Tobias!’
‘Who’s Tobias?’ asked Phredde.
‘He’s my Great Uncle Ron’s wife’s grand-nephew. He’s a werewolf,’ I explained. ‘And Mum wanted me to take him to the party with us tonight!’ I finished.
‘Well, of course he must come to the party,’ said the Phaery Splendifera, looking a bit nervously at the wolf. ‘He’s…er…he’s a very big werewolf isn’t he?’
I nodded. ‘But I’m sure he’s quite safe,’ I assured her. ‘I mean, as Uncle Ron says, a good bloke makes a good werewolf. Hey, Tobias! Over here!’
The wolf blinked at us.
‘I’m Prudence!’ I yelled. ‘Come on! We’re going to the party!’
The wolf seemed to make up its mind. It trotted across the road, then leapt up onto the carpet beside me and sat down on its haunches.
‘Hi, Tobias,’ I said. ‘This is my best friend Phredde, and this is her mother the Phaery Splendifera.’
‘Hi, Tobias,’ said Phredde, inching behind me just a bit.
‘Glad to meet you, Tobias,’ said the Phaery Splendifera. ‘Er…let’s get to the party really quickly, shall we?’
‘Woof,’ said sort-of-cousin Tobias.
I sighed. ‘Just ignore him,’ I said. ‘My brother Mark does this sometimes when he’s a werewolf, too. Just refuses to speak English…’
‘Grrrowfff,’ sort-of-cousin Tobias said, with a great gust of dog’s breath, as he lay down beside me.
‘Hang on!’ yelled the Phaery Splendifera, accelerating again.
Sort-of-cousin Tobias howled.
Well, I’ve never got anywhere so quickly since the last time the Phaery Splendifera broke the sound barrier. One second, we were there in the middle of the footpath, and the next, zap woooshh poweee, we were at Bruce’s lily pond.
It was great.
The lily pond was about as big as our school hall, with all these giant, round lily leaves (naturally), enormous pink and white waterlily flowers and this really cool magic lighting, so it looked almost as bright as day, even though it was starting to get dark. There was also the coolest looking rock band I’ve ever seen—all wearing gorilla suits. Maybe they really were gorillas, come to think of it, as this was an enchanted lily pond.
Our entire class was there, dancing on the lily pads—which looked quite firm, so there was no need for Mum to stress about drowning at all. In the middle of it all, Bruce was leaping about, croaking and generally frogging around.
I told you, it was great.
‘Bye, Mum!’ yelled Phredde, hopping off the magic carpet.
‘Thank you for the lift,’ I said politely, sliding off too.
‘Woof,’ said sort-of-cousin Tobias as he followed me, just as Bruce leapt up to greet us.
‘Hi!’ he croaked happily.
‘Happy birthday!’ I shrieked above the noise.
‘Happy birthday!’ yelled Phredde.
‘Thanks,’ croaked Bruce. He glanced suspiciously at Tobias.
‘Er…this is my sort-of-cousin, Tobias,’ I said. ‘Mum…er…suggested he come.’ I gave Bruce a look that said ‘Well, you know what mums are like’.
Bruce gave me a sympathetic look back. ‘Sure. Welcome!’ he said to sort-of-cousin Tobias, then hopped just a little bit further away from Tobias’s fangs. ‘Er…feel free to join in the dancing! He’s very…big isn’t he?’ he whispered to me.
‘Poor kid probably had an early growth spurt,’ I whispered back. ‘You know, like that really tall kid in Year Three.’
‘Er, I suppose so,’ whispered Bruce. He looked at sort-of-cousin Tobias a bit dubiously.
‘Woof!’ said sort-of-cousin Tobias, gazing at the dancers with interest. He scratched his ear with his back leg for a moment, then leapt out onto a lily pad and was lost amongst the dancers.
‘Sorry about that,’ I said to Bruce. ‘Here. Happy birthday.’ I handed him his present.
‘Wow thanks!’ said Bruce, grasping it in his damp, froggy, f
inger pads. He pulled at the wrapping paper. ‘Hey, thanks!’ he added as he saw what it was.
‘I made them myself,’ I said.
‘Great!’ said Bruce.
‘They’re chocolate-coated,’ I pointed out.
‘I can see,’ said Bruce.
‘I spent days catching them,’ I added. ‘And Mum helped me to roll them in melted chocolate.’
Bruce glanced down at his jar of chocolate-coated caterpillars. ‘It’s a really great present.’
‘And this is from me,’ said Phredde handing it to him. ‘It’s a book about mosquitoes.’
‘Yum!’ said Bruce. ‘My favourite snack food. Got any recipes in it?’ He lowered his voice. ‘Hey, you know what Amelia gave me?’
We shook our heads.
‘A pair of socks!’
‘Yuk!’ said Phredde, fluttering her wings smugly. ‘Who ever heard of a frog wearing socks? How stupid can you get?’ She gazed over at the musicians and her wings started beating in time to the music. ‘Come on, Pru!’ she said. ‘Let’s dance!’
Well, it was great. If you’ve never tried dancing on giant waterlilies that are floating in a magic frog pond, you should have a go! The lily pads sort of bounce up and down, not quite at the same time as you do (undulating, I think it’s called), and it’s really cool leaping from leaf to leaf, and even cooler when someone misses a leaf and falls in. Except, of course, as it was a magic pond, no one fell in very far, and they were dry as soon as we’d hauled them out again. (Like I told Mum, it was perfectly safe).
And there was Bruce, leaping around, sometimes on this lily pad and sometimes on that one, and there were the musicians, playing as fast as their furry arms could manage, and there was sort-of-cousin Tobias…
‘You know!’ I yelled to Phredde over the noise of the music. ‘Cousin Tobias doesn’t seem to be joining in at all! He’s just sitting on his haunches with his tongue hanging out, staring at people!’
Phredde finished a complicated move that involved a free-fall double somersault with a final, wild zoom upwards. She gazed at sort-of-cousin Tobias. ‘He looks hungry,’ she decided.
The Phredde Collection Page 66