by Valija Zinck
‘No? That’s strange,’ mused her father. ‘I definitely got through to someone . . .’
‘Oh!’ Penelope realized, suddenly, ‘They were my friend Pete’s! That’s why he heard your voice in his head!’
Penelope’s dad smiled. ‘Simon told me you were wearing trainers that were too big for you – I suppose I should’ve guessed they weren’t yours. But Seller took the shoelace off me almost immediately. First Simon tried to bring me Lucia’s scarf, the one with the roses on, but that all went pear-shaped. He managed to bring it most of the way through the swamp forest, but then someone picked it up.’
Penelope bit her lip. ‘That was me,’ she said in a small voice, grimacing apologetically at the cellar spider. ‘I didn’t know Simon was sitting under it.’
‘Well, why should you?’ Leo looked at her affectionately, slipping Simon back into his pocket. ‘The amazing thing is, he only just came back today with Lucia’s scarf and one of your hairs. I could never have guessed that you were virtually under my nose at the time. But how on earth did you manage to find me?’
37
Together
Penelope took her father’s hand and slowly told him everything as the fields rolled past the bus window. She told him about the grey envelopes full of sand, about her anger, about her plan to dye her hair, plant creeper corms in his garden and give him a piece of her mind. She told him how she had followed Seller, how she’d used the Anti-Eye to sneak behind the tractor, and how she’d crept along the hedge to the well where Leo was being held. She told him who had given her the wonderful Anti-Eye, too, about Gina. Everything was flying out of her mouth in a torrent now. She told him how Granny Elizabeth had given her the Alpha Regius book, and that she could do hearing-before-hearing, that her tongue clicked, that it always rained on her birthday but the rain wasn’t really wet, and that she could float – or rather, that she had been able to, but now it wasn’t working any more, which she thought was probably because of the ash paste.
She told him about the road, how it had saved her life, and that G. E. was on a rest cure at the moment and her mum was with her, and that her best friend with the blue shoelaces was called Pete, and that his father had been very rich, but soon wouldn’t be any more. She talked about the school trips and biology experiments, and homework and herb-picking, about dreams and tears, bike rides and films, tooth gaps and bruised knees, about the time when she swallowed a pearl, about dancing, igloos, Christmas, thunderstorms, and how happy she was that he was back, and that he must never go away again . . .
Penelope couldn’t stop talking. She wanted to speak on and on, and never stop. For more than ten years she hadn’t been able to say anything to her father, and now she wanted to catch up, to tell him every single thing she’d done in that time, everything she knew, and wanted to know. She wanted to explain, and tell, and share, and the tears began to run down her face, and she started to tremble, and . . .
Leo Gardener pulled her to him and held her tightly.
‘It’s all right, Penny, my little one. I’m here now, and no one will ever separate us again.’
He stroked her dyed-brown hair, and she grew calmer, breathing deeply. Silently, she pressed her head against his chest and listened to his heart beating firmly and evenly. Her nose dripped, and she fumbled for a tissue. The bus took a sharp bend.
‘I need some refreshment after all that,’ she muttered to herself, opening her backpack. She split the last cheese roll, and passed half to her father. She poured apple tea into the thermos cup and sipped it. The tea was hot and mild and sweet.
When the bus reached their stop, Leo said goodbye to the driver and promised he’d be at football training again soon. Penelope started to unlock her bike, then paused suddenly. A faint tingling sensation was racing down her neck and spine. Suspicion spread within her, growing and swirling and finally becoming a certainty.
‘They’re already there,’ she whispered. ‘They’re already at our house.’
‘What? Are you sure?’ Leo tensed – and then paused, nodding as if he felt it too. ‘Then, then . . .’
Penelope saw fear in his eyes.
‘. . . then now we’ll give them what for!’ she finished his sentence. ‘You wait here, and I’ll slip over to the dragon house—’
‘Are you crazy? I’m not letting you go down there on your own!’
‘But you have to,’ Penelope said, calmly. ‘They’ll be able to sense you. They won’t be able to sense me because I’m wearing the grey paste. So I’m going to nip home, grab Coco and meet you back here in twenty minutes at the latest. And then they’ll really see some fire-red magic!’ She grinned up at her father.
Leo Gardener hesitated, his expression torn between hope and uncertainty. Penelope could tell that he would have preferred a different plan; that he wished he was stronger, and wanted it to be him protecting his child, not the other way round. Penelope took his hand. ‘I’m Penelope Gardener and I’m your daughter. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve inherited a lot from you, and I’d like to learn a lot more – so I’m not going to let them take you from us again! ‘
He swallowed quickly and smiled, a little crookedly. At last he nodded, pulled Penelope to him and kissed her on the forehead.
Penelope raced off down the hill – on foot, because she had to be stealthy. As the beech tree came into view, she climbed down the little embankment, then ran along parallel to the road, stooping down and camouflaged by the scrub.
Zuck! Zuck!
Penelope jumped. The tingling sensation was even clearer now. She had been right – they were already at the house. Cautiously, she peered through the leaves of the bushes and spotted the silver-grey car, partially hidden in a haystack next to the dragon house. Do they think we’re blind? thought Penelope. Seller and Platell had covered the car so sloppily with the hay that even from a distance you could tell it was empty. She looked all around, but couldn’t see anyone. Did that mean Seller and Platell were already in the house?
Penelope had reached the herb bushes. She crawled closer to the dragon house, remaining undercover. The front door was shut, as usual, and the windows were all undamaged – at least on this side. Where were those guys?
Suddenly there was a rattle above the steps. Coco nudged her way through the cat flap in the front door and stuck her nose in the air. Penelope’s heart gave a leap. You good, smart cat, she thought, feeling a warmth blossoming in her chest.
‘Come here,’ she whispered, but Coco didn’t seem to hear her. She remained where she was, her face tilted upwards, sniffing the air.
‘Come on, Coco, please,’ said Penelope, a little louder. The cat still didn’t seem to hear her, but she came a few paces down the steps. Penelope crawled cautiously nearer. All of a sudden Coco jumped, and started to retrace her footsteps back into the house. No, she couldn’t! No, Coco, not back inside!
Penelope ran. Coco was halfway through the cat flap when Penelope caught up with her and yanked her back outside. The cat mewed in protest, but Penelope pressed her to her chest. ‘It’s all right, Coco.’ She turned to run down the sand track with the cat in her arms and slammed into thin air as if it were a stone wall.
The wall of air grabbed Penelope and spoke. ‘Well, well, who have we here?’
Seller! He was still invisible! Tractor Man emerged from the bike shed, a scornful sneer on his mouth.
‘If we’ve got her,’ he said, ‘that means we’ve got Daddykins too.’
At that moment, Coco raked her claws across Seller’s invisible face – clearly he wasn’t invisible to cats! Seller screamed loudly, and Penelope felt his grip loosen around her arm. She yanked herself free, leapt over the nearest bush and raced across the meadow. She held the hissing cat in her arms and felt new strength flow through her.
Platell started after her. He was faster and gained on her quickly, his footsteps thumping in the meadow grass. He was reaching a hand out to grab her when Penelope whispered into Coco’s ear: ‘Thank you for your
power! He’s at the bus stop.’ Then she let go of the cat and tore off towards the swamp forest.
38
Sunk
Running through a swamp forest isn’t exactly safe – Penelope knew that. But she didn’t have much choice – and on the plus side, she was forcing Seller and Platell to run through the swamp forest too. She had to concentrate on sticking to the path. If she could just divert the pair of them for long enough . . . Coco wasn’t exactly the fastest runner on the block any more, especially up the steep hill to the bus stop.
At a moss-covered tree the narrow path divided into two. Penelope raced for the left-hand fork, skidding on a slick of mud over a root. She heard laughter.
‘Go on, run!’ shouted Platell. ‘Yeah, run the lungs out of your body. You won’t get away!’ But his voice was a little distance behind, echoing through the trees, and Penelope realized she had built a decent lead. After another few moments, she risked a glance over her shoulder – but to her surprise, Platell had stopped running. He was walking. She didn’t understand . . . but as he laughed out loud, and as Penelope glanced ahead again, she saw why: in the middle of the road stood Seller. Well, his shoes stood there, anyway – and his head was floating in the air.
Penelope stopped running and stood rooted to the spot. She was trapped.
Platell was walking over to her at a leisurely pace: he had all time in the world. His prey could no longer escape him, and Penelope could tell he was savouring every moment. She bit her lip, her heart hammering – half from the run and half from the fear flooding her body with adrenaline. No! She couldn’t let herself be captured! If they had her, they could use her to blackmail her dad, and she just couldn’t let that happen. Her father had suffered for long enough and she wouldn’t allow him to suffer again.
She breathed out, and a deep peace washed over her. My power’s almost run out, she realized, but Coco left me a little. I hope it’ll be enough.
Seller’s head was bobbing in her direction, and Platell had smug satisfaction written all over his face. Penelope stayed very still as they drew closer and closer, feeling the soles of her feet tingle. Before the men reached her, she whispered two words under her breath, then took a large step down from the path – straight on to the surface of the swamp.
And she didn’t sink!
She ran, tearing along the surface of the swamp. Well, not exactly along the surface, but a millimetre over it – only the sharpest of eyes would have noticed that. Soon she had vanished from the pair’s sight between ragged giant leaves, and was relieved when she reached firm ground and stopped. Running in the air had never been easy.
‘Come on! After her, the ground’s holding!’ shouted Platell, and the two men dashed after Penelope. The swamp slopped, the smacking noise resounding through the forest. Penelope watched through the leaves as Seller tried to turn back. Too late – they were already sinking! Platell rowed his arms comically, bending his body backwards in an attempt to break free of the sucking mud . . . but the mire had them firmly in its clutches. Penelope knew the swamp mud would already be creeping under their clothes, cold and wet. And the more they thrashed, the deeper they sank. Platell was chest-deep, Seller right up to his invisible neck. Penelope frowned. If they didn’t stop thrashing about, they might be in serious trouble! She turned and started to float carefully back towards the pair. The two men were screaming now. What should she do?
There was a rush of air above her. The treetops leant gently to the side, and like a red dragon, Leo Gardener rushed downwards and landed on the swamp at her side. He held his arms in the air, a dazzling light radiating from his hands. It was so bright that Penelope shielded her eyes with her arm.
‘Mesoll vargerwno!’ her father shouted, his voice deafening. The light rays were directed on the two heads in the swamp. The mud bubbled, there was a hissing sound, and then something seemed to rip, sending a glowing mud fountain shooting up to the treetops. Then all was quiet.
‘Wonderful, really wonderful,’ chuckled Seller. Suddenly he had a strong American accent!
‘So this is Europe!’ said Platell.
‘Come along, Penelope,’ her father said quietly. ‘We need to call the swamp forest rescue service straight away and let them know that two American tourists are lost.’
‘What?’ exclaimed Penelope incredulously. ‘But that’s Seller and Platell!’
‘That’s as may be – but they now believe themselves to be Mr Scott from Arkansas and Mr Portway from Ohio, who are here on a relaxing break from their stressful businesses in the ironing board industry. European wellness excursions, swamp bathing inclusive. In Ohio they think of that as the ultimate in revitalization.’
Penelope stared at her father. ‘What have you done with them?’
‘I’ve let them forget.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve let them forget who they are. “Mr Scott” and “Mr Portway” won’t give me any trouble in future,’ said Leo. ‘And peace is what I need above all else, as I’m planning to spend a lot of time with my daughter and my wife.’ He smiled down at Penelope. ‘Come on, we need to ring for help before those two sink without a trace.’
He took Penelope firmly by the hand, and together they made their way home.
39
Lucia andLeo
Dusk was falling by the time Lucia Gardener arrived at the dragon house. She was tired after the long journey from the coast and was looking forward to a long, hot shower and, of course, to seeing her daughter again. It was a warm evening and she wasn’t surprised to see Penelope sitting on the porch steps – but what on earth had happened to her hair?
‘Penelope? What’s all this?’ asked Mrs Gardener, without so much as a ‘Hello’.
‘My hair, you mean? It’s called Icelandic Earth Brown. I thought I’d try something new.’ Penelope smiled.
‘But you can’t just . . . I mean, you really should have discussed this with me beforehand,’ said Mrs Gardener, vexed. She started to walk past Penelope.
‘Stop! You can’t go in yet. I need to talk to you first.’ Penelope stood up and barred her path.
‘Penelope, please. I’m really not in the mood to play any of your little games right now. I’ve just travelled hundreds of miles and I’m absolutely shattered. And you’re sitting here, you’ve dyed your hair brown without my permission, and now you don’t even want to let me into the house. Would you like to tell me what’s going on, please?’
‘We’ve got a visitor.’
‘A visitor? Who?’ Mrs Gardener’s expression was grim. A guest was the last thing she needed right now. Who, for goodness’ sake, would be so impolite as to come so late in the evening – and without being invited at that?
‘It’s someone you know well, someone you like,’ began Penelope. ‘Please, Mum, sit down on the steps for a minute, will you?’
Finally Mrs Gardener surrendered. ‘OK, fine,’ she said wearily, and lowered herself beside Penelope.
‘Actually, he’s not really a visitor at all. He belongs to us. The person inside is someone who’s very important to us. He’s been separated from us for a long time, but not because he wanted to be – he was forced into it. There was nothing he could do. He wasn’t the one who wrote that letter, and it wasn’t him who was sending the grey envelopes either. He’s been imprisoned and locked up all these years, Mum, and he’s missed us desperately. But today he managed to escape. Dad’s back. He’s here with us again.’
Mrs Gardener stared at her daughter, scarcely able to take in what Penelope was saying. But Penelope was looking back at her with a peculiar, piercing expression, and her eyes were shining.
‘Go in, Mum. Dad’s waiting for you. Only, don’t be frightened – he’s looking pretty thin.’ Penelope stood up and put her hand on the door latch.
Mrs Gardener stood up too, but made no move to go into the house. She opened her mouth, her jaw trembling, breathing fast.
‘But he was . . . I mean, he . . . he . . .’
Penelope sh
ook her head wordlessly, and her mother pressed her lips together. She looked at the sky, she looked at the trees of the swamp forest, she looked into Penelope’s eyes again. Then she nodded slightly, took the latch out of her daughter’s hand and opened the door.
Penelope blew her cheeks out and sat back down on the steps. She looked up at the evening sky, too; the blue dusk was descending quickly, and a bright star hovered over the swamp forest. The cat flap rattled. Coco marched outside and nudged Penelope’s stomach with her nose. Penelope stroked her soft grey fur.
‘Isn’t there anything for you to eat in there?’ she asked. ‘Come on, let’s go for a little walk. I need to go and get my bike.’
Penelope and Coco wandered up to the bus stop together. Suddenly there was a soft jingling sound, as though someone was jolting over the paving slabs on a bicycle. Penelope looked up. At the top of the hill she saw a handlebar blinking in the twilight, then the rest of her bicycle rolled into view. It rode up to her, completely on its own, with only the slightest of wobbles.
‘AFTER A DAY LIKE THAT, YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE TO STRUGGLE UP THE HILL AGAIN,’ the road rumbled, bringing the bike to a standstill in front of Penelope.
‘Thank you.’ Penelope took hold of the bike just in time to stop it tipping over. ‘So you’re speaking to me again?’
‘I’VE BEEN SPEAKING TO YOU ALL THIS TIME, BUT YOU DIDN’T SEEM TO BE INTERESTED. I’M GLAD YOU’VE COME TO YOUR SENSES AGAIN.’
‘Oh!’ exclaimed Penelope indignantly. ‘So now it’s my fault?’
‘WELL, IF I WAS TO COLOUR MY TAR, PERHAPS I WOULDN’T BE ABLE TO HEAR THINGS ANY MORE EITHER,’ boomed the road. ‘AND I HAVEN’T GOT A CAT TO HELP ME OUT IF I GET INTO HOT WATER. AND NOW I BID YOU GOODNIGHT.’ The voice faded to a distant echo, then fell silent.
‘GOOOOODNIGHT TO YOU TOOOOOO,’ Penelope boomed back. She laid her jumper in the basket of her bike, lifted Coco into it and pushed to the sand track, then down to the house. She was so tired that she almost fell asleep mid-step, but at the same time she felt vibrantly alive and full of joy as she lifted the latch to go indoors, where both her parents were waiting for her.