The Land of Neverendings Read online

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ Mum said, ‘I promised Jo Miller I’d bring a few cakes and help out on the stall.’

  ‘So … we’re going?’

  ‘It sounds like fun,’ Mum said. ‘And I thought it would be better than staying at home and remembering.’

  *

  The bonfire party began as soon as the clear, pale sky turned deep, inky blue. It was very cold. Emily and her mother had a slight argument when Mum noticed that Emily wasn’t wearing a hat; Emily couldn’t tell her that the only warm hat she’d been able to find had belonged to Holly. They arrived early with Mum’s boxes of cakes, and the huge fire, tall as a house, had only just been lit. The air had an exciting tang of smoke and people were black outlines against the flickering orange flames.

  Maze’s mother had set up her food tables a good distance away from the fire; she was very glad to see the boxes of cakes.

  ‘These look brilliant – thanks so much! Are you sure you don’t mind doing a stint behind the stall?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Mum said, brightening up because she loved doing things like this. ‘Em, why don’t you and Maze grab something from the barbecue, before the queue gets too long?’

  Maze and Emily looked at each other. There was no point in arguing; their mothers thought they were still friends. In silence they walked off together across the uneven, lumpy grass, towards the flock of people around the barbecue. Emily had to stick close to Maze; it was very dark now and Maze had a torch. A rocket soared over them in a whoosh of stars.

  The silence between them went on for ages, until Emily couldn’t stand it.

  ‘Where’s Summer?’

  Maze was suspicious – she took a moment to check that Emily wasn’t being snide. ‘She had to stay at home. They’re having a big party.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Of course she asked me to the party,’ Maze said furiously. ‘But Mum said I had to come to this lame thing instead. To be supportive.’

  ‘Oh,’ Emily said again.

  ‘I bet you’re pleased.’

  ‘Come on, Maze! Why would I be pleased?’

  ‘Well …’ Maze was less confident without Summer. ‘Because you’re jealous.’

  ‘Maze, I didn’t send those notes. You know who sent them.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid!’ She was nervous now. ‘It’s messing with my head. You’re weird. And it’s even getting into my dreams!’

  ‘What did you dream about?’ This was hopeful; if Maze had started to have dreams about the toys, maybe she’d stop blaming Emily for the notes.

  ‘Nothing!’ Maze’s anger was edged with fear. ‘Leave me alone!’

  Emily bit back a storm of questions. They had walked into the pool of light around the barbecue and there was already a short queue. Martha’s dad waved to Emily. He wore a plastic apron that said ‘MASTER’.

  ‘Hi, Emily!’ Martha stood beside him; her apron said ‘SLAVE’. ‘Hi, Maze – burger or sausage?’

  The fireworks were getting louder now and the huge bonfire threw a confusing, flickering orange light across the crowd. A rocket screeched over their heads in a white flash. For one moment, Emily thought she saw something moving on the grass, like a flock of small animals – but when the next flash came there was nothing.

  I’m just being paranoid.

  ‘Ketchup and mustard down the end!’ Martha handed them each hot dogs smothered with fried onions. ‘Yum, don’t you love this smell? I’ve already had two of these.’

  It’s difficult to keep up an argument, or even a conversation, when you’re eating a hot dog. Emily and Maze stood together, a few feet from the barbecue, wolfing down the (fantastic) hot dogs and gazing at the fireworks, in a silence that was almost companionable. Emily sensed that Maze was getting her temper back – she had always been a pushover for barbecue food.

  Does this mean we might be friends again?

  It couldn’t ever be exactly the same between them – they had both moved on. But there was no reason why they couldn’t have a few laughs together. Emily had missed Maze’s crazy sense of humour.

  She knew all Holly’s favourite noises.

  Emily didn’t want to be the first to speak.

  But of course – she knew her so well – Maze had to do everything first. She gobbled down her hot dog long before Emily had finished hers. ‘That was gorgeous! At Summer’s they’re having chicken satay – but I’d much rather have this, wouldn’t you?’

  Something shifted between them, like an invisible wall falling down; suddenly, just like that, it was all right. If this was the old Maze, it might not be so difficult to tell her a totally far-fetched story about toys.

  Your old doll has kidnapped Martha’s bear.

  Of course it sounded ridiculous. Emily and Martha had agreed not to tell Maze anything until Martha had finished helping with the barbecue and they could do it together.

  ‘OK, I’m free now.’ Martha appeared beside them out of the darkness. ‘Let’s go to the cake stall. My mum’s doing mugs of hot chocolate.’

  ‘Stop right there!’ a weird little voice squeaked suddenly. ‘You haven’t heard our demands— Ouch – drat – I’m all tangled!’

  Something moved violently in the folds of the striped scarf around Martha’s neck.

  ‘What—?’ Maze watched, thunderstruck, as a small yellow head poked out.

  ‘Pips!’ cried Martha. ‘You’re here – you’re back!’ She grabbed her bear and held her tightly. ‘I was so worried! I thought you’d been kidnapped!’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Pippa. ‘But that’s all over. My so-called kidnappers told me their terrible story, and now I’m on their side.’ Her furry face squished into a proud smile. ‘They made me their leader and now I live with them and I showed them how to make nice curtains. Please tell Hugo I won’t be coming back to The Sycamores and I’m sorry about the top floor.’

  ‘You mean – that was you?’ Emily was surprised and uneasy; this did not sound right coming from the stitched mouth of sweet little Pippa. ‘You’re the criminal who stole the top floor of The Sycamores?’

  ‘All my things were in there and I couldn’t be bothered to pack,’ Pippa said airily. ‘I was too busy organising the demo.’

  Maze let out a strange rasping sound; the firework flashes gave Emily snapshots of her astonished face.

  And then a great shout rose up from the ground around their feet.

  ‘WHAT DO WE WANT?’

  ‘BETTER HUMANS!’

  ‘WHEN DO WE WANT THEM?’

  ‘NOW!’

  The shouting came from a large crowd of very dirty, battered rag dolls. Some of them were holding up placards that read:

  ‘NEW HAIR FOR ALL!’

  ‘WASH MY FACE!’

  ‘STUFF ME NOW!’

  Maze looked as if she might faint. She clutched Emily’s arm. ‘What is this? What’s going on?’

  ‘It’s a PROTEST MARCH!’ roared a familiar voice.

  A single bundle of rags detached itself from the filthy crowd and scuttled across the grass.

  ‘Prizzy!’ choked Maze.

  ‘Hello, Maze!’ said Prizzy.

  Nineteen

  DEMANDS

  FOR ONCE IN HER LIFE, Maze was speechless.

  ‘Prizzy, go away,’ said Emily. ‘This is a party for humans – get back to your own dimension.’

  ‘NO!’ shouted Prizzy. ‘Not until you’ve heard our DEMANDS! Now the Sturvey’s disappeared, NO ONE CAN STOP US!’

  The ragged rabble behind her broke out in angry shouts.

  ‘I don’t think anybody else can see them.’ Martha glanced around at the other humans. ‘Or hear them. Nobody seems to have noticed a thing!’

  ‘Tell them, Prizzy!’ called Pippa. ‘Don’t let the humans put you off!’

  ‘OK,’ said Prizzy. ‘Maze Miller, you have twenty-four hours to mend me!’ She waved a grubby scrap of paper. ‘Here’s my list of demands.’

  Emily bent down to take it. There was just enough light to read t
he wiggling lines of purple crayon.

  1. New HARE

  2. A new FASE that doesn’t look barmy

  3. A NEW dres

  4. Some little gold boots.

  ‘Hear hear!’ yelled someone in the crowd.

  There were shouts of ‘MEND HER!’

  ‘Things have changed in Smockeroon,’ said Pippa, wriggling impatiently in her owner’s gloved hand. ‘Now we can TALK BACK!’

  ‘Come on,’ Emily said, doing her best to sound reasonable. ‘You know Maze can’t do all that!’

  ‘Twenty-four hours,’ Prizzy repeated grimly. ‘I know how to fix that broken door. But if you don’t mend me, I’M THROWING IT WIDE OPEN!’

  The angry dolls suddenly disappeared and Pippa turned back into an ordinary stuffed toy.

  It was a normal fireworks party again. Emily, Maze and Martha stared into each other’s shocked faces.

  ‘Broken door?’ Maze whispered. ‘What’s she talking about?’

  ‘It’s quite a long story.’ Emily had never seen her former best friend so rattled, and this distracted her from thinking about the dreadful Prizzy and her demands. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I … I don’t know. How did you do that?’

  ‘You look like you’re going to pass out,’ said Martha. ‘Let’s get some hot chocolate.’

  The three of them – Martha and Emily dragging Maze between them – went over to where Martha’s mother was doing a brisk trade in her mugs of hot chocolate.

  ‘Hi, girls!’ Ruth waved to them from one of the tables outside the pub, where she had been watching the fireworks with two friends from the book club. They had just gone, leaving a crowd of wine glasses.

  Martha said, ‘I wonder if she saw anything?’

  It was a relief to sit down at the table with Ruth, who kindly moved a few glasses to make room for their mugs. Emily (with interruptions from Martha) spilled out the story of the ragged protest march and Prizzy’s terrible threat.

  Ruth listened very seriously. ‘So little Pippa’s gone over to the other side – I didn’t know toys could get Stockholm Syndrome!’ She quickly added, seeing that nobody knew what this was, ‘That’s what they call it when a kidnapped person starts to identify with their kidnappers. And as for Prizzy and her cheeky demands, I certainly didn’t know toys could be blackmailers.’

  ‘She gave us twenty-four hours,’ Emily said. ‘And then she disappeared before I could make her see that it’s totally impossible – I mean, where are we supposed to get those gold boots?’

  ‘I don’t think you should panic about the twenty-four hours,’ said Ruth. ‘Toys are rubbish at telling the time – well, look at all the trouble Hugo and Smiffy had with that cuckoo. Maze, you imagined Prison Wendy. Could she tell the time?’

  Maze had stopped looking ill. She was now in equal parts fascinated and bewildered. ‘No, she wasn’t clever enough. And anyway, I couldn’t tell the time myself back then – I was only four.’

  ‘Just as I thought.’ Ruth nodded wisely. ‘When she turns up we’ll simply tell her she’s early.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t get it,’ Maze said. ‘I don’t understand the stuff about the broken door – why is it such a big deal?’

  ‘Because the wrong things are getting into the wrong worlds,’ Ruth said. ‘Terrible silliness is about to invade the hard world, which is bad when this world is complicated and needs to be managed by people who haven’t been stuffed. But something much nastier has got into Smockeroon.’

  Emily remembered, with a chill of foreboding, the evening of the book group, and how creepy it had felt to be the only non-silly person present. ‘Is there anything we can do?’

  ‘We could try giving in to Prizzy’s demands.’ Ruth looked at Maze. ‘Bring her round to me and I’ll tidy her up a bit – that should buy us some more time.’

  ‘But I can’t,’ Maze said helplessly. ‘I don’t know where she is!’

  *

  There was no chance to search for Prison Wendy properly until after school on the following Tuesday, when Maze brought Emily and Martha back to tea at her house.

  ‘Summer’s really cross with me,’ Maze said gloomily. ‘She wanted me to come back with her today, and she wouldn’t believe any of my excuses.’

  ‘Maybe you should’ve told her the truth,’ said Martha.

  ‘She’d never listen. She thinks toys are lame. All her old toys got thrown away. Now she’s ignoring me.’

  Emily knew how this felt, and was slightly (only slightly) sorry for her. Now it was her turn for the invisible treatment. ‘It won’t take long. All we need to do is find Prizzy and give her to Ruth. How hard can it be?’

  Before Holly died, Emily had practically lived at Maze’s house. It was a shock to realise now that she hadn’t been there since the day at the end of the holidays, when Mum and Dad had sent her to Maze’s so she wouldn’t have to watch the men ripping out Holly’s chairlift.

  Maze’s mother said, as she pulled up in the drive, ‘Welcome back, Emily – we’ve missed you!’

  There was no time to feel awkward. They had already made plans.

  ‘Mum, do you mind if we go in the garage?’ Maze did her best to sound casual. ‘I swear we won’t make a mess.’

  ‘We’re looking for something,’ Martha added.

  ‘You won’t find anything there. It’s full of all the guilty rubbish I don’t know what to do with. And it’s covered with dust.’ Maze’s mother was suspicious. ‘Don’t you want to take Emily and Martha up to your room?’

  ‘In a minute. We just need to look.’

  They dumped their bags and school blazers in the hall and Maze opened the door that led into the garage. She switched on the light. The three of them stood for a moment in glum silence.

  Maze groaned. ‘This is going to be impossible.’

  It certainly did look pretty hopeless. There was no space here for even a small car. The Millers’ garage was crammed with junk – two broken lawnmowers, an old exercise bike, and boxes, boxes, boxes, piled up to the ceiling.

  And it was freezing cold. Emily shivered and hugged herself. Bluey seemed further off than ever. ‘Are you sure she’s in here?’

  ‘No! I’ve been trying and trying to remember when my old toys got put here – I think it was when the house got painted. Mum wouldn’t chuck anything out without telling me.’

  ‘You’re not thinking magically,’ said Martha. ‘Prizzy! Tell us where you are!’

  Silence.

  ‘This is stupid,’ said Maze.

  ‘Prizzy!’ Emily called, trying to sound firm (and feeling a bit of an idiot in front of Maze). ‘Stop being naughty – you’re the one who told us to come here!’

  A rude voice said, ‘NO! Hahaha!’

  She was here – a look of triumph flashed between the girls.

  ‘You have a go.’ Emily nudged Maze. ‘You’re her human. She has to listen to you.’

  ‘Er – Prizzy …’ began Maze. ‘Tell us where you are … at once!’

  ‘NO!’

  ‘Leave this to me,’ said Martha. ‘Prizzy, if you don’t come out and show yourself, how can I measure your feet for those gold boots?’

  Emily mouthed, ‘What?’

  ‘I found some gold material in the bag for the jumble sale,’ Martha whispered. ‘I’m sure Ruth can make some little boots with it – shhh!’

  There was a rustling, scuffling noise and a dirty little head suddenly appeared at the top of a teetering pile of cardboard boxes.

  ‘Gold boots!’ Prizzy’s bonkers face was filled with joy. ‘My dream has come true!’

  In a few wild leaps, she launched herself neatly into Maze’s arms.

  ‘Wow – how did you do that?’ Maze held the filthy little creature at arm’s length, and suddenly started laughing. ‘She totally ignored me, but she listened to you.’

  ‘I think Martha’s a natural toy whisperer,’ said Emily. ‘I think some people have a special talent for talking to toys. It’s something they’re just b
orn with – like a good singing voice, or blue eyes. It’s why Pippa chose her.’

  ‘Wow.’ Maze stared at her old doll and suddenly smiled. ‘I can’t take all the blame for Prizzy being so naughty. You invented at least half of her – your imagination’s a lot better than mine. Actually, I’ve missed the way you’re always making up stories.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Emily was pleased; it was good to know that Maze had not forgotten.

  ‘Summer won’t talk about anything except celebrities,’ said Maze. ‘It gets a bit boring and she goes all snide when I get them mixed up. But they all look the same – bright orange with weird mouths – and I can’t always tell them apart.’

  ‘There’s a gale-force wind blowing directly up my skirt,’ said Martha. ‘Let’s get back to the warm. We can do Mrs Lewis’s homework and nick the answers off each other.’

  Prizzy was a limp bundle of rags now. Five minutes later they were sitting cosily around the Millers’ kitchen table like three normal, non-magic girls.

  Twenty

  GOLD BOOTS

  ‘SUMMER’S FURIOUS WITH ME,’ said Maze. ‘She doesn’t understand why I have to go back with you again, when I did it only yesterday. I tried telling her that my mum had ordered me – but all she said was, “Since when did you listen to her?” And then she went off with that stupid Laura Brady and spent the whole day whispering with her. And I know for a fact that she doesn’t even like Laura.’

  Maze had not had a good day and was very downcast.

  Of course Emily knew exactly how she felt – but her dad would have said, ‘Get my smallest violin,’ meaning he was sorry but not all that sorry.

  I didn’t have anyone – and she’s got us.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Martha. ‘You’ve always got us.’

  ‘Argh! Saddled with you two – this is social doom!’ Maze was suddenly joking again. ‘Aren’t you dying to see what Ruth’s done with Prizzy?’

  ‘Whatever it is,’ Emily said, ‘we have to say she looks divinely beautiful – if we get her into a good mood, we might be able to convince her to help us fix the door.’