by Edrei Cullen
Ella sighed a deep sigh and made her way sleepily to the kitchen in search of a glass of water, her long feet thumping softly on the carpet. The fading smell of Granny’s perfume hanging in the air did nothing whatsoever to lift her broken spirits.
Suddenly she stopped, stock-still. Someone was in the living room. Music was playing on Granny’s old record player.
She tiptoed up to the living-room door. Her hair rose up on its ends. Her ears prickled. Her heart thumped. Edging towards the door, she pushed it open.
Her father stood by the fire, swaying in time to the music. She hadn’t seen him this close up in years. Even in the shadows, the flames illuminated the utter desolation in his face. It was a look of such loneliness and sorrow that it made Ella catch her breath. Her frustration and exhaustion seemed suddenly unimportant in the face of such grief, and all she could feel was compassion. As she watched him, she could almost forgive him for not wanting her.
And then he turned and saw her. His mouth fell open, and he froze on the spot, like a deer in headlights. Ella stepped discreetly back into the darkness of the corridor, then turned and fled. Taking the stairs two at a time, she ran to her room, threw herself on her bed and finally, mercifully, burst into tears.
She cried for her lost mother and her brothers. She cried for her father, so sad and alone, so unable to love her, no matter how special a Flitterwig she might be. She cried for Granny and Grandpa, frozen and shrunk, and now goodness only knew where. She cried and cried until exhaustion took her and she drifted into a heavy-hearted sleep.
In her dreams Ella found herself falling. She was spinning, spinning through the air at a million miles an hour, through a dark, earthy tunnel. But even though she was falling fast, it seemed that she was falling slowly. The itch in her ears and the burn in her shoulderblades were stronger than ever before.
As she fell, bright, colourful scenes unfolded in little alcoves fashioned out of the earth, like plays in a theatre. In one alcove a family sat in front of a fire, a mother and a father, a girl and two boys, drinking hot cocoa and watching a movie on television. In another, a woman stared restlessly out of a window, watching the rain fall.
Ella realised that she was falling past memories. For there in one alcove was Jasper, the dog they had had when they were very young. One of her brothers threw a ball over his head and Jasper ran this way and that in his efforts to catch it. In another alcove she saw a little girl with wild long hair careering downhill on a bicycle towards the bottom of a garden – a garden she recognised as her own. Oh, and there were her parents. They were laughing together about something, and it made her feel warm to see their pleasure. But now she fell past an alcove that held three coffins in a room, where the air was so cold she felt as though she were falling past a glacier.
Ella was now spinning so fast that she felt dizzy, and the pain of something trying to burst out of her shoulderblades was excruciating. All the time she kept zooming, zooming down this hole of memories, faster and faster, until the images became a multicoloured blur.
Just as she tried to reach out and grab the sides of the tunnel to slow herself, the fall ended, and she landed on a patch of grass outside the front door of a house that she had definitely seen somewhere before.
The door opened.
Ella’s mother stood at the threshold.
‘Mum?’ Ella mouthed.
Her mother smiled at her and reached out a hand. Ella stood up, unsteady on her feet, and walked towards her. Her mother pulled her close, hugged her tightly, and then held Ella away from her and looked her over, smiling. Ella’s insides were rain and her heart was sunshine.
As Ella dreamed, her father tiptoed into her room and watched her sleeping body. Leaning over, he touched her shoulder lightly.
And whether it was in her dreams or in reality, and whether it was her mother or her father who spoke the words, a voice echoed in her head.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ the voice said. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
chapter 22
love & lunacy
In the morning Ella woke to find Dixon standing on her chest, the effects of Trogglitis thankfully all but worn off. Clearly the Montgomery brand of lollipop contained fewer chemicals than the average sweetie. Unable to hide her relief, she picked him up and squeezed him tightly against her, aware that this was the first time she’d ever actually given someone a hug. A long sleep had done her the world of good, for her mood felt much improved.
‘Oooh, stop it, flop it, mop it,’ Dixon yelled into her T-shirt, giggling and kicking his legs about. ‘Can’t breathe, heave!’
She let him go and patted him down, and just as she sat back feeling rather proud of herself for giving her first cuddle, a swarm of dewdroplets appeared out of nowhere, fussing about her head, kissing her cheeks, splashing moisture on her face and tipping another silver note into her lap. Ella read it quickly to herself.
You found forgiveness in your heart.
Such mercy plays
A major part,
Beside your gumption
And goodwill, in showing us
Your Clearheart skills.
Now, quickly, quickly
Go and find the animals
To ease your mind.
Then find us waiting in the dark.
He’ll guide you to us.
Fly your path.
‘Oh goody, another riddle,’ said Dixon. ‘Clever Ella!’ He paused, and then, smiling at her with his gentle eyes and doing a little jig, he added, ‘I’m rather fond of you too, poo, by the way, but you didn’t need to squishify me!’ He stood with a leg on either side of her nose, staring down at her. Ella went cross-eyed.
‘I’ve rushed up, hushed up, to remind you that we have Serious Elf Business to fulfil!’ Dixon said. ‘Remember, December? Because I thought you might have forgotten, seeing as you were so sulky, skulky last night.’ The pixie chuckled and did an imitation of Ella feeling sorry for herself.
Ella pushed him off her face and scrambled out of bed.
‘Stop it!’ she said, shy but smiling.
A quarter of an hour later she was marching down the hill towards the animal enclosure, explaining to a flummoxed Dixon sitting on her shoulder that she needed to find out why Truffles the baby giraffe had been following her last night.
‘There’s something in this morning’s riddle, too,’ she added, ‘that mentions the animals. I think they might have some information about Granny and Grandpa. Don’t ask me why, but I do.’
Mr P, who had just finished mucking out the animals’ stalls, leaned on his rake and watched her approach. As she came closer, he slipped around the back of the building.
Ella went inside the enclosure, sat cross-legged on the straw, and pulled the tiny piece of silver paper out of her pocket. Dixon sat cross-legged beside her. A turtle climbed out of a tub of water. A llama, an alpaca, Noughts and Crosses, a cow, a pig, a chimpanzee, a baby giraffe and a donkey gathered about, staring, as she cleared her throat and addressed them.
‘Hi, animals,’ she said uncertainly. ‘And hello Truffles,’ she said sympathetically to the giraffe. ‘I’m sorry about last night.’
She waited for some sort of reply. The pig oinked. Ella smiled politely. He oinked again. If he was trying to tell her something, and she suspected he was, she couldn’t understand him. And then the enclosure erupted with the sounds of baying and oinking and chattering and barking.
Ella raised a hand for silence, holding the silver note up high. ‘I received this riddle this morning, and I think you guys might be able to help me. It tells me to come and see you. To ease my mind.’
The animals surveyed Ella, their eyes uncomprehending but sympathetic. Truffles bent right over and nuzzled into her armpit, butting against the side of her body.
‘Oh my goodness, what’s happened to you?’ she cried, noticing for the first time that his mouth was terribly swollen.
The cow mooed. Noughts barked. Crosses woofed. The pig oinked.
&
nbsp; Not understanding a single sound, Ella looked down at Dixon. His face was bright red and his shoulders were shuddering. He rolled over backwards and covered his mouth to stop himself laughing out loud.
‘What?’ Ella said, glaring at him.
‘Well, bell, smell,’ Dixon said, recovering himself and standing up. ‘You clearly can’t understand what they are saying to you in Animumble, and they don’t speak English, so you have no idea what’s going on, do you?’ The pixie collapsed laughing again.
Ella tried to give him an ‘I’m-very-disappointed-with-you-Dixon’ stare because she couldn’t for the life of her see what was even remotely funny about this stupid situation.
At this point every animal in the enclosure began to make a noise, sending a cacophony of sounds into the rafters.
Dixon jumped onto the top of Ella’s head. ‘Okay, hush up!’ he yelled in Animumble, his arms stretched out wide. ‘One at a time, please, and I will translate as best I can. Although my own Animumble is not quite as good as a goblin’s, of course.’
The turtle began, speaking very quietly.
‘Right,’ said Dixon. ‘Thank you for that, Daisy.’ He peered over Ella’s forehead, using strands of her hair to keep him from tipping off her head. ‘From what I can gather, on the night your grandparents disappeared, Daisy was taking a break from her tank and drying off in the garden. She noticed a number of strangers prowling about.’
The llama interrupted.
‘This is Arnold,’ Dixon explained to Ella in English. ‘Your grandfather calls him Walter, and he wishes he wouldn’t.’
It was Ella’s turn to laugh now. This was ridiculous! Dixon scowled.
The llama continued to speak.
‘I see,’ Dixon said, translating for Ella when the llama paused for breath. ‘So it would appear that one of the strangers came down to the animal enclosure and cast a spell upon it, making it look as though it were on fire, and that is what lured your grandparents out of the house. Mouse.’ Dixon’s face was squeezed into a knot with the effort of trying not to do too much rhyming when there was so much talking to be done.
Molly, the chimpanzee, could control herself no longer. From the expressiveness in her face as she made her unintelligible sounds, Ella could tell that the story was becoming more and more compelling. She strained to understand, but she couldn’t make out a single word of Animumble. It was so frustrating.
‘Right,’ Dixon said, jumping off Ella’s head when Molly had finished, and looking up at her. ‘Might, bite, trite, light, fight!’ he declared, unable to contain himself any longer. ‘So your grandparents were kidnapped by…’ But he didn’t get a chance to translate any more, because Truffles started to cough violently.
Two minuscule bits of something fell out of his mouth and onto the straw.
Mr P, watching through the wooden slats of the wall, blinked repeatedly, his freckled face all concentration.
Ella picked up the bits and looked at them, her eyes widening. ‘It’s Granny and Grandpa!’ she cried, holding them right up in front of her face. She looked at Truffles and then back at the miniature remnants of her grandparents. ‘Have you had them hidden in your mouth all this time?’ she asked him.
Dixon scaled all two-and-a-bit metres of the giraffe’s height and translated in Animumble in his ear.
Truffles murmured something in reply.
‘He has,’ said Dixon, hanging off Truffles’ long neck. ‘As soon as your grandparents were Shrinkified and frozen he gobbled them up and ran away, while the other animals covered for him. Chased by laser bolts of white dust, he was. He hasn’t been able to eat since, and he’s absolutely starving. Fancy that, fat!’
The animals began to speak all at once again, and Molly ran forward with half a banana. She offered it to Truffles, who devoured it immediately.
Ella cradled the manikins in her hand. Her grandparents had been turned into mantelpiece ornaments, and it was all her fault. The two people who had been constant in her life. The two people who had never rejected her. She thanked them for always being there, and whispered under her breath, ‘I love you.’ A tear slid down her cheek, hitting Granny on her miniature head.
As the tear fell on Granny’s soft white hair, Ella’s own hair flared up fiercely. Her ears began to burn and her shoulderblades felt as if they were on fire.
Mr P watched silently, wondering whether or not he should come forward to comfort the child.
And then something extraordinary happened.
Mr P stumbled back from his hiding place.
It couldn’t be!
If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes…
He turned and ran up the hill as fast as his legs would carry him (which was pretty fast indeed) to a barrel of water he kept in the back yard for emergencies. Without even removing his shoes, he dived into it at once.
Moments later Mr P was in Blackfriars, London, dripping wet. In ten more minutes he was standing in an everyday kind of office, before a tall, grey-haired man with translucent skin, pointed ears and deep, kind eyes. This man was Samuel, co-chairman of the Flitterwig Rooniun, and a most powerful Elven Flitterwig in his own right.
Mr P’s damp hair stood up on end, bright white, as if he’d just been electrocuted in a snowstorm.
‘I am sorry, sir, to come to you like this,’ he was saying to Samuel. ‘I know my Protectee has forsaken all contact with the Rooniun, and I should do the same, but I fear her granddaughter is in grave danger. I believe Saul, your co-chairman of the Flitterwig Rooniun, has betrayed the Ban and formed an alliance with the Grand Duke of Magus.’
Samuel put his hand up to silence Mr P. ‘I know who Saul is, thank you, Mr Phossilworth. I work with him every day.’
Mr P blushed.
Samuel waved away his embarrassment. ‘You know we cannot talk of such activities. The Rooniun has honoured the Ban, more or less, since its inception. I refer specifically to Clause 341.’
Samuel looked at a document on the table before him and tweaked his ear. The document slid itself over to Mr P and folded back its pages to the appropriate paragraph. Samuel peered at the upside-down words and read, aloud:
‘It is decreed that there will be no public communication regarding breaches involving illegal Flitterwig and Magical contact of any kind.’ He looked at Mr P. ‘I realise that there have already been breaches. There will be more to come. You know that I cannot speak to you of such things. But now that you have brought it up, I must remind you that Saul has tried and failed to form alliances with Magus in the past. The Duke, too, has tried to make contact with the Flitterwigs over the years. All have come to nothing.’
‘But they tried to take Ella Montgomery’s grandparents hostage,’ said Mr P, looking respectfully down at his feet.
‘I know this too,’ said Samuel. ‘You will notice, however, that in spite of the dangers, your Protectee, Manna Mallallooka Chetwode, has not broken her silence. You should honour her resolution in this regard.’
There was a knock at the door, and a spritely lady entered the room. ‘Mr Samuel, sir,’ she said, ‘we have an imp with a broken wing found close to the motorway near Windsor. She has been taken to the hospital for treatment. Bamboozlement to follow tomorrow at ten if that’s all right with you.’
Samuel nodded.
As Mr P opened his mouth to speak, there was another knock at the door. This time a short man with a heavily lined face entered.
‘Today’s report for you, sir,’ he said. ‘We have a gnome caught with the remains of a chocolate bar in Bognor Regis. Seems to be in preliminary stages of Trogglitis. Should be fine by morning. We’re keeping an eye on him.’ The man passed Samuel a document and left the room.
‘Sir,’ said Mr P, taking the opportunity before anyone else knocked on the door. ‘There is something else you need to know.’
Samuel looked up, his eyes mildly curious. ‘Yes?’
‘Ella has found her grandparents,’ said Mr P.
‘That news hadn’t reached me
yet,’ said Samuel, raising an eyebrow. ‘Well, if this is true, it is a blessing. Where were they found?’
‘It would seem that a baby giraffe, a pet belonging to Mr Montgomery senior, was harbouring them in his mouth. The grandparents had been been Shrinkified and frozen by intruders, but the other animals caused a diversion before they could make away with them, and Truffles gobbled them up before anyone knew what was what. No amount of spells or threatening could compel the animals to hand the grandparents over, apparently, so the intruders gave up and went home.’
Samuel nodded. ‘A somewhat anticlimactic rescue story, I suppose, but there we have it.’ He smiled to himself. ‘Funny old world,’ he said.
‘Sir. That’s not the end of it,’ Mr P continued.
Samuel raised his other eyebrow. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Sir, I – I saw Ella Stretchify her grandparents back to full size.’
Samuel’s finger, about to scratch his nose, stopped in mid air. ‘You saw what?’ he said, his voice suddenly a rumble of thunder.
‘I swear to you, sir, I saw her Stretchify her grandparents.’ Mr P fiddled with his cap. ‘She wept, and when her tears landed on the Shrinkified objects, they Stretchified!’
Samuel sat in silence for a long while, staring at the wall. Eventually he turned to Mr P. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked. ‘For if what you say is true, then the time of the Prophecy has indeed come. The time of the Flitterwig child who can perform magic no other Flitterwig can. She must be the Clearheart. The days of the Ban are coming to an end.’ He raised his head. ‘I will take you at your word, Mr Phossilworth. You are an honourable Protector who deserves respect. We must act swiftly. There can be no turning back.’
Ella still didn’t understand what had happened. One minute she was sitting on the floor of the animal enclosure, feeling responsible for what had happened to her grandparents and realising that being a Flitterwig meant nothing if she didn’t have her loved ones in her life. The next she was crying (again, which was just so embarrassing, because, honestly, Ella never cried normally) all over the manikins. And then, before she had a chance to wipe her nose, they started to grow and grow and grow until with a whoosh and a swoop and a creaking groan, Granny and Grandpa were standing in front of her, full-sized, alive, and completely confused.