Willemina nods.
All four children drop to their knees and start digging and scooping grubs into their hands.
‘Urgh, they’re disgusting,’ says one of the girls.
‘I love them!’ shouts the kind boy.
‘Me too!’ shouts Nat.
‘Hedgehogs are my favourite animal,’ says the girl closest to me. ‘Can we come back to your bookshop and help feed them? Please? We’ll be really gentle, I promise.’
I look at Gerda. She gives a tiny nod.
‘You’ll have to ask Willemina,’ I say. ‘It’s her idea.’
‘Willemina?’ asks the girl. ‘Please? Will you let us join in?’
Willemina’s eyes bulge so much that I think they might pop her glasses off. She can’t believe what she’s hearing.
‘Willemina?’ I ask.
Willemina smiles and nods so hard that her big red bow flaps about on her head like fairy wings. ‘Of course you can!’ she cries. ‘All of you. The more the merrier.’
We ride home in a long, giggly line. Willemina and me on Flossy with a bucket full of grubs. Our four new friends, Pieter, Dirk, Isabella and Sofie, on their bikes. Nat, Daisy and Gerda on the tandem. Nat has convinced Gerda that he should ride at the front. He still can’t see properly with his eyepatch covering one eye and he still can’t steer. They wibble and wobble, and Gerda screams and giggles and laughs so hard that she gets the hiccups.
We bumble through the caravan and down the stairs into the bookshop.
‘Wow!’ says Pieter. ‘It’s much bigger than it looks from the outside.’
Dirk, Isabella and Sofie all nod.
Willemina leads everyone to the corner where the hedgehogs are nesting in their dictionary pages. They waddle out, smiling and sniffing at the air.
Isabella quivers with excitement. ‘I love hedgehogs!’ she squeals and hugs Willemina.
Together, Isabella and Willemina feed the hedgehogs. Then we all take a turn. The hedgehogs eat until they’re full, then roll around on the floor cushions, smiling as we tickle their bulging bellies.
The last customer leaves the bookshop and Dad says, ‘How about some popcorn?’ He hangs a pot over the open fire, then pours in a dash of oil and a heap of popping corn.
‘Don’t forget the lid,’ says Dirk.
‘The lid?’ Dad shakes his head. ‘There’s no fun in that.’
The first corn pops and flies out of the fireplace.
‘Maaaa!’ Daisy leaps on it and wolfs it down.
Three more corns pop and fly out. Two land on a rug, but Gerda catches the third in her mouth.
‘Brilliant!’ cries Willemina.
Gerda giggles and curtsies.
Then all the corn starts popping at once, flying from the pot, shooting across the bookshop. Everyone’s diving after it, grabbing and gobbling, giggling and shouting, having the best time ever.
And right at the middle of it all, shining, is Willemina.
CHAPTER 18
The right book after all
‘It’s time,’ says Dad the next afternoon.
I nod.
Coco flies over to my shoulder. ‘Awk!’
The hedgehogs snuffle at the air and disappear into the ruffled pages of their dictionary.
The tiny bat stretches his wings, then wraps them snugly around his body.
We take one last look at the soaring bookshelves and walk up the rickety staircase. Nat, Daisy, Dad, Coco and me.
We’ve barely stepped into the caravan when the gap in the shelves closes behind us.
A little blob of sadness slips into my heart.
I knew we’d leave. We always do. When the books have worked their magic, it’s time to move on. I just didn’t imagine it would be so soon.
But then I think of Willemina going home yesterday, her pockets full of popcorn, her heart full of happiness. I smile. The Big Book of Creepy-Crawly Things was the right book for Willemina after all. It didn’t change her. Not one jot. Because Willemina didn’t need changing. She just needed a little bit of help in gathering friends around her once more. And the book did just that. It taught Willemina about the grubs that she collected for the hedgehogs, which led us on the outing with Gerda, which brought more friends along, which ended with us all back at the bookshop, having a popcorn party!
‘Magic,’ I whisper.
CHAPTER 19
Pink flashing fairy lights
Flossy plods through the village, along an avenue of trees and out into the countryside. Nat and I sit on the bench at the front of the caravan, Dad holding the reins beside us. We travel through fields full of pink tulips and others full of green grass and happy cows. It all looks very familiar and when we stop, I realise why. We’re at Casper’s farm!
‘Welcome! Welcome!’ Casper rushes over and lifts Nat, then me, down from the caravan. Before long, we are surrounded by friends. Casper and his mother. Willemina, Herbert and Nora. Franz and Elke. Our newest friends, Pieter, Dirk, Isabella and Sofie. The pretty blonde woman with Ralf, her three-legged dog. And Gerda with her mum and dad and sister, Margareta.
‘We couldn’t let you leave without a party!’ shouts Casper.
We play hide-and-seek, disappearing in the long grass and beneath the weeping willows. We frolic with the lambs in the barn. We row on the canal in leaky, old boats.
Dad brings out his bubble-blowing invention and soon we are chasing giant bubbles as they drift on the breeze, between the cows, around the buildings. One bubble attaches itself to a sail of the windmill. It spins through the air, wobbling and shimmering, until — BLOOP — it pops.
I stare up at the windmill. Its sails are not like the sails of a ship. They’re made of timber grids — a criss-cross pattern with holes all through.
I watch another bubble as it floats past my head.
I watch the windmill sails as they sweep around.
I run into the barn and return with a wide, soft broom. I dunk it into the bucket of bubble-blowing liquid and brush it across a windmill sail as it passes low to the ground, filling the square holes with shiny, thick liquid.
The sail sweeps through the air and as it does, bubbles bulge from the holes, bigger and bigger, until — BLOOP, BLOOP, BLOOP — they slip free. All at once, there are dozens of giant bubbles wobbling and shimmering and drifting through the air.
Nat, Gerda and Willemina join in. We paint sail after sail and soon there are hundreds of bubbles, blooping from the windmill, floating out across the meadows, kissing tulips and daisies and fences and willows and cows.
‘It’s like a dream,’ whispers Willemina at my side. ‘The most beautiful dream ever.’
And I know she’s not just talking about the bubbles.
The sun sets and the farm twinkles all over with fairy lights. Pink flashing fairy lights.
‘I love pink flashing lights!’ shouts Nat.
‘I know,’ says Gerda. ‘That’s why we brought them along.’
We picnic on rollmops, sausages, brown bread with holey cheese, white bread with chocolate sprinkles, appelflaps and stroopwafels, all washed down with rich buttermilk. And just when we think we cannot eat another bite, Ruben brings out the biggest chocolate cake I have ever seen — eight layers with cream on top.
When everyone is silent because our mouths are full of cake, Ruben says, ‘I’d like to recite a poem. I wrote it last night . . .
‘A book opens.
‘A memory flickers,
‘And lights a fire of happiness.’
He stops. There’s a long silence as we all wait for more.
But then Gerda rushes forward and wraps her arms around Ruben. ‘Well done, Daddy!’ she cries.
That’s it.
Dad starts clapping, then we all join in.
‘Who else has a poem?’ asks Casper.
Nobody, I hope. That one was terrible. Ruben should stick to poems about cakes.
‘I’ve got a story!’ shouts Nat. ‘It’s called The Emperor’s Bare Bottom. One uponce a tim
e, there was a very fat, bare bottom that wobbled like jelly, and it had a crack as wide as a canal, and it made a sound like —’
‘Maaaa!’ Daisy forces his way onto the picnic blanket and gobbles the last slice of cake. It’s awfully rude, but probably not as rude as the rest of Nat’s story.
Dad gets to his feet. He looks around, smiling and rubbing his hands. ‘Aaaah . . . this has been grand. Thank you. But we really must be . . . well, you know . . .’
I take Nat’s hand and we stand by Dad.
Franz steps forward and presses a beautiful yellow sheep tea cosy into my free hand.
‘But it’s so precious!’ I cry. ‘Your first ever tea cosy.’
Elke slips her arm through Franz’s. ‘We’ll knit another one,’ she says. ‘Together.’
Now Willemina is before us, smiling. She pulls a pair of round red glasses from her pocket. One of the lenses is missing, the other cracked. ‘They’re my old ones,’ she says and hands the glasses to Nat.
‘Red O’s joined at the middle!’ shouts Nat. ‘I love them so much!’ He flings himself at Willemina and hugs her. ‘I love you so much, Willemina!’
‘Me too,’ she whispers.
When Nat lets go, Willemina gives me a piece of paper. ‘You should read it now, Mim. Because I want you to know, but it’s hard to say it out loud.’
So I read it.
Dear Mim,
You are the best friend ever. I hope one day you are dangling upside down from a bridge and I get to come to your rescue. Well, I don’t really want you to be dangling upside down from a bridge because that would mean someone had stolen your backpack and hung it in an awkward spot, and that’s really annoying. And also dangerous, because you could slip and fall in the water. But what I mean is, I hope I get to do something really super brilliantly good and important for you because you have done something really super brilliantly good and important for me, and I’ll love you forever, my friend.
Willemina X
It’s sweet and funny and kind and beautiful. Just like Willemina.
It’s treasure.
I slip it into my pocket and whisper, ‘Best letter ever. It’s going in my word collection.’
We hug, and the dangly end of Willemina’s ribbon tickles my nose, and I sneeze. All over her hair. And then, when she steps back, I do another one. ‘Achoo!’ Harder and wetter, this time all over her glasses.
‘Best friend ever,’ whispers Willemina, squinting at me through the droplets.
Flossy plods out of the farm and along the road. Dad, Nat and I sit side by side on the roof, staring up at the stars.
Casper’s farm and the pink fairy lights are out of sight when Nat yells, ‘Daisy! We forgot Daisy!’
We look back and see Daisy, small and white, running down the road after us.
‘Stop, Flossy! Stop!’ shouts Nat. ‘He’ll never catch up!’
But Flossy plods on.
‘Whoa, Flossy!’ calls Dad.
But still she plods on.
‘Maaaa!’ bleats Daisy. He gallops like a racehorse and his fairy wings flap. As we watch, he rises up off the ground and flies through the air. Truly flies!
‘Maaaa!’ Daisy bleats down at us. He circles the caravan, once, twice, three times, then lands on the roof between Nat and me. ‘Maaaa!’
‘Good boy!’ sings Nat.
‘Huh,’ says Dad. ‘Just like that cow we saw jumping over the moon.’
‘Dad,’ I moan. ‘That didn’t really happen. It was something we read in my nursery rhyme book.’
He narrows his eyes. ‘Are you sure about that, Mim?’
I think about it for a moment.
I look at Daisy.
No. I’m not sure. It’s hard to tell with books and real life. The line is not as clear as you think.
The End
Acknowledgements
Thank you, Chren Byng, my publisher, for tossing ideas back and forth with me until the travelling bookshop was turned into something enchanting and book-worthy. We have worked (and played) together on sixteen books now, with more to come, and it has been a delight every step of the way.
Thank you, Eddie (Kate) Burnitt, my editor, for helping me make this book the best it can be. You are a genius.
Thank you, Cheryl Orsini, for bringing my words alive with your beautiful artwork. There is so much joy and charm in every picture.
Thank you, Jane Novak, my agent, for your ongoing support and faith in my work.
Thank you, my dear friend Ellen Randall, for allowing me to use your childhood story-starter, ‘One uponce a time’, for Nat’s stories. It’s so very sweet of you, the original one-uponce-a-timer, to share the joy!
And thank you to all those creative people who own and manage quirky, cosy, welcoming bookshops. Thank you for understanding that a great bookshop is a refuge, a treasure trove, a secret garden, a warm hug and much, much more. You have inspired this story. You inspire and nurture many.
Look out for Mim’s next adventure, coming to a bookshop near you in 2022.
About the Author
KATRINA NANNESTAD is an Australian author. She grew up in country NSW in a neighbourhood stuffed full of happy children. Her adult years have been spent raising boys, teaching, daydreaming and pursuing her love of stories.
Katrina celebrates family, friendship and belonging in her writing. She also loves creating stories that bring joy or hope to other people’s lives.
Katrina now lives in central Victoria with her husband, a silly whippet called Olive and a naughty magpie called Otto.
www.katrinanannestad.com
Also by Katrina Nannestad
The Red Dirt Diaries series
Red Dirt Diary
Red Dirt Diary: Blue about Love
Red Dirt Diary: Blue’s News
The Olive of Groves series
Olive of Groves
Olive of Groves and the Great Slurp of Time
Olive of Groves and the Right Royal Romp
The Lottie Perkins series
Lottie Perkins, Movie Star
Lottie Perkins, Ballerina
Lottie Perkins, Pop Singer
Lottie Perkins, Fashion Designer
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer series
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Rome
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Provence
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Lucerne
Bungaloo Creek
The Girl Who Brought Mischief
We Are Wolves
Rabbit, Soldier, Angel, Thief
Olive of Groves
Olive has always dreamed of attending boarding school, but Mrs Groves’ Boarding School for Naughty Boys, Talking Animals and Circus Performers is not what she expected! A charming series that will keep you giggling, gasping and sighing with delight.
The Girl, the Dog and the Writer
He’s the world’s vaguest novelist. She’s a shy and unusual child. Together, they’re travelling the world, one book at a time. Read this delicious series about family, friendship and finding yourself!
Red Dirt Diaries
Blue Weston’s life is spiralling out of control. Her parents are sending her to boarding school next year. Her twin brothers are building pig chariots. Her best friend has become boy-crazy. And then there’s the drought . . . Check out this hilarious and heart-warming series now!
Copyright
The ABC ‘Wave’ device is a trademark of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation and is used under licence by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia.
HarperCollinsPublishers
Australia • Brazil • Canada • France • Germany • Holland • Hungary
India • Italy • Japan • Mexico • New Zealand • Poland • Spain
Sweden • Switzerland • United Kingdom • United States of America
First published in Australia in 2021
by HarperCollinsChildren’sBooks
a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
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br /> ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Text copyright © Katrina Nannestad 2021
Illustrations copyright © Cheryl Orsini 2021
The rights of Katrina Nannestad and Cheryl Orsini to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia
ISBN 978 0 7333 4165 6 (paperback)
ISBN 978 1 4607 1366 2 (ebook)
Cover design by Shirley Tran, HarperCollins Design Studio
Cover illustrations by Cheryl Orsini
Author photograph by Rebecca Rocks
Mim and the Baffling Bully Page 7