The Land of Neverendings Page 18

‘Hi, Hugo!’ It took Emily a second to recognise him; the penguin was swamped in a huge suit of yellow and brown stripes with only his beak sticking out. ‘What on earth are you wearing?’

  ‘This is my fancy-dress costume for the ball,’ said Hugo. ‘I’m a bee.’

  ‘A bee? Oh, I can see it now. I like your wings.’

  ‘And I’ve come as a kind pirate,’ said Smiffy. The bobbled old bear was wearing an eyepatch, big gold earrings and a black pirate hat, but the skull-and-crossbones on the hat had a friendly smile. ‘The Sturvey said you couldn’t come back now he’s mended the door. But Bluey said you were a special case and he changed his mind.’

  ‘Is Bluey here? Will I be able to see him?’

  Will I see Holly?

  ‘Of course he’s coming to the ball,’ said Hugo. ‘Everyone’s coming – the whole of Smockeroon is joining the grand celebration.’

  ‘The Sturvey banished the black toad for life,’ Smiffy said happily. ‘Now nobody’s fighting any more and the air doesn’t smell of pooh.’

  Emily vaguely wondered what was happening in the hard world, on the stage at school. Did the audience think she’d fainted – or died? Had time stopped? She was loving this too much to care. ‘I bet you were surprised, when you found out the truth about your German lodger!’

  ‘We certainly were,’ said Hugo. ‘We always knew he was important – just not that important! He’s given us the vital job of making sure he doesn’t fall asleep again, which is what happens when he runs out of fuel.’

  ‘But what’ll you do when Blokey’s gone, and you can’t tell the time?’

  ‘The Sturvey sent us a new cuckoo,’ said Smiffy. ‘She’s really nice.’

  ‘My dear Emily, welcome to our ball!’ A Barbie doll hopped out of the milling crowd of toys around them – a very elegant Barbie with smooth blonde hair, proudly wearing a beautiful ballgown of scarlet satin. ‘Don’t you know me, dear?’

  ‘Sister Pretty – you look gorgeous!’

  ‘Thank you, dear. As you see, I’ve stopped being a nun.’

  ‘What happened to your scar?’

  ‘Summer scrubbed off my scribbles last night,’ said the former nun. ‘The horrid word has totally gone – I am once more fabulous.’

  ‘HELLO, EMILY!’ A jaunty little figure skipped towards her. ‘LOOK AT MY HAT!’

  ‘Wow,’ said Emily, ‘you’re a Seam-Rite Girl!’

  Prison Wendy’s dream had come true at last; her bonkers face beamed with joy. ‘Yes! Will you tell Maze for me?’

  ‘Of course – she’ll be thrilled.’

  The sweeping lawns of The Sycamores were now a seething, wriggling mass of toys.

  Hugo blew the whistle around his neck until the noise had died down to a simmer. ‘OK, you all know the rules – I shout “GO” and you keep on running till you hear me shout “STOP”.’

  There was a moment of toys milling about and falling over each other, and then an expectant silence fell. Emily, being a tall human, had an excellent view of the whole garden – the beautiful garden she had seen through the window of the toys’ kitchen.

  ‘GO!’ shouted Hugo.

  It was an amazing sight – a great carpet of toys, all madly running in circles, cheered on by a large toy audience. Emily was just about to sit down on the soft grass, so that she could enjoy the spectacle more comfortably, when her eye was caught by something right on the far side of the garden – a flash of bright blue.

  ‘Bluey!’

  For one heart-stopping fraction of a second, Emily saw him – her sister’s beloved bear, star of a thousand silly stories.

  ‘BLUEY!’ She hurled herself towards him, scattering soft toys, but before she could get close enough to see him properly, he waved his blue paw and skipped away towards a grove of trees. ‘Wait!’

  He’s leading me to Holly!

  The little bear vanished into the trees; though Emily was running after him as fast as she could, she couldn’t catch him.

  ‘Bluey!’ she panted desperately. ‘Please wait!’

  The trees melted around her and she was suddenly standing in a green lane like a long tunnel of leaves – alone, and surrounded by a great silence that grew deeper and more peaceful every moment.

  Which way now?

  There was a wooden gate at the very end of the lane. Emily went towards it, her heart thudding – this had to be the entrance to Deep Smockeroon, where Holly and Bluey lived, and Danny, and Lenny, and the three Staples children. In the hard world this thought would have made her sad and soaked the whole world in sadness.

  How small a part of time they share, that are so wondrous sweet and fair.

  But sadness did not exist here. The evil black toad had been booted back into that hard world where young people died, and the people who loved them nearly died of their broken hearts. He had no business in Smockeroon.

  As she got closer to the gate, Emily saw that someone was waiting for her. ‘Oh, hello!’

  It was the Sturvey, also known as the German lodger, sitting in a deck chair with a picnic basket in the grass at his feet. ‘Hello, Emily. Who won the race?’

  ‘Everyone,’ said Emily, suddenly feeling a little shy; there was something very wise about the wizened old toy. ‘Thanks for letting me come today.’

  The Sturvey bent down to take a tiny thermos flask out of the basket. ‘You deserved one last visit. But I’m not sure I can allow you to go any further. As your friend Ruth discovered, it’s simply too dangerous. If you go in too deep, I can’t bring your body back.’ He stopped to open his flask; there were several minutes of cross grunting while he tried to unscrew the lid. ‘Ach, these ancient paws! Would you mind?’

  She sat down beside him in the sweet-smelling grass and opened the hilarious little thermos.

  ‘Thanks,’ said the Sturvey. ‘Just a drop of good old Biggins.’

  ‘It’s lovely to meet you properly.’ Emily smiled to watch the movement of his little stitched mouth. She could have watched it forever. ‘Should I call you sir?’

  ‘Just “Sturvey” is fine.’

  ‘Sturvey, can I stroke you?’

  ‘Please do.’

  Emily reached over to touch his head, thinking how sweet he was. Though he felt like a toy, a charge of imagination made her fingers tingle.

  It did not feel polite to sit there in silence, just listening to the slurping noise he made when he drank. ‘I was wondering how you got to be so important,’ she said. ‘Were you elected?’

  ‘Good heavens, no!’ said the Sturvey. ‘My history is very strange, and I’d like to tell you about it so that you can write it down in your notebook.’

  ‘My notebook disappeared when I chucked it at the toad.’

  ‘You’ll get another one,’ said the Sturvey. ‘Now listen carefully. This is a story that has never been told.’ He took another sip of Biggins’, cleared his throat and began. ‘I was made in Germany, in 1902, and for more than thirty years, I lived very happily in the shop window of my dear owner, who was a chemist. All the little children loved me, and waved to me as they passed, and made up stories about me. But the war came and my owner’s family were taken away by soldiers. My shop was bombed, and I lay in darkness under a great heap of rubble.

  ‘And then one day some Americans came, and that’s when it all happened. A soldier pulled me out of the ruins, and a lot of children saw me – and suddenly laughed and remembered what it meant to play. And at that exact moment, my bottom accidentally brushed a live wire that filled my sawdust with electricity. Now, did you get all that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You might not remember it later,’ the old bear went on, ‘but I’ve put it inside your imagination. When you do write it down, you’ll think you made it up.’

  ‘Will I?’ She could not believe she would ever forget this incredible experience.

  ‘But that won’t matter. The story is the thing.’

  ‘OK,’ said Emily automatically, but she felt too stuffed with happiness to
care about writing the story, and allowed herself to sink into the surrounding silence, until the Sturvey said, ‘You may ask questions if you like.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Emily. ‘I had a lot of questions, but now …’ The sweet air made it hard to think about anything except happiness. ‘Er – how did you get to be in the museum?’

  ‘That was my American soldier, Sam Turvey. He spent a few years in London after the war, and generously donated me when he went home. He knew I was special.’

  ‘Will you go on living at The Sycamores, now Hugo and Smiffy know who you are?’

  ‘Oh, certainly. I know they’ll get my boiled egg right eventually!’ He gave a dusty snicker. ‘And they’ve just applied for a very attractive playground extension.’

  It was very pleasant to sit in this drowsy, sunlit space, with the feeling that time had stopped. The sense of Blueyness was around her and inside her, and she had a powerful sense that Holly was nearby.

  ‘But there’s no more time for my story now,’ said the Sturvey. ‘It’s time to think about you.’

  ‘Me?’ Emily made an effort to think about reality. ‘Am I leaving now?’

  ‘I have something to show you first.’ He carefully put down his cup in the long grass and stood up. ‘Follow me.’

  He led her through the little gate and they came out on a green bank beside a broad, rushing river. The opposite bank was crowded with trees and dappled with golden light.

  ‘Here he comes,’ said the Sturvey. ‘Right on time.’

  A small blue figure emerged from the trees.

  ‘Bluey!’

  The moment hung in the air for a few seconds, like a soap bubble. Emily’s heart flooded with joy. The beloved blue bear was exactly the same, as if he had never been cremated. She couldn’t talk to him; the water was too noisy and the opposite riverbank too far away.

  Bluey waved, and Emily waved back.

  And then he turned round and skipped back into the trees.

  ‘Bluey!’ she cried out. ‘Please don’t go!’

  ‘He has to go,’ said the Sturvey. ‘This is the very edge of where I can take you – unless you don’t mind not having a human body any more.’

  A few months ago, Emily would have dived into that rushing river without a backward glance. Now she wanted to stay alive; there were too many things tying her to the hard world. If she escaped to Deep Smockeroon, she would miss too much.

  ‘Will I ever see Bluey again?’

  ‘You see him constantly in your imagination,’ said the Sturvey. ‘He never left it.’

  ‘Why can’t I see Holly?’

  ‘Because she’s already with you, deep in your deepest heart. Humans die, but love never dies. And neither do stories.’ The old bear added, ‘I mean, look at Shakespod!’

  ‘Shakespeare.’

  ‘Whatever. My point is that Shakesplop has been dead for hundreds of years, but his imagination is still hanging about in his plays. He died, but they didn’t.’

  ‘Oh.’

  It didn’t hurt, in this peaceful place where time seemed to stand still, to fill her mind with Holly and Bluey.

  After a long, golden silence, however, Emily began to remember the hard world. Reality was tugging at her. ‘I want to stay here. But I want the hard world more. I should get back.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the old German toy. ‘You’re far too full of life to stay here. You must stick to the hard world from now on.’

  ‘Can I ask you one more thing first?’

  ‘Ask me anything,’ said the Sturvey. ‘I’ll answer if I can.’

  ‘I don’t know how to put it.’ Emily couldn’t find the sad words she needed to ask about Holly. ‘Will everything be all right?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the Sturvey. ‘Everything will be absolutely fine. And you’ll have a very nice Christmas.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘And next Christmas will be even better.’ The antique bear took a sip of Biggins’. ‘Your baby brother will be born by then.’

  ‘My … what?’ Even in her dreamy state, this was a thunderclap.

  A new baby.

  The joy was so enormous that it hurt.

  He’ll need new stories!

  ‘Whoops,’ said the Sturvey. ‘I shouldn’t have blurted that out – you must pretend to be very surprised when they tell you.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And always remember to take very good care of your imagination!’

  The last word faded into silence.

  Twenty-eight

  ALL SHALL HAVE PRIZES

  EMILY WAS BACK on the stage at school, in the middle of the Caucus Race scene, and everything that had happened in Smockeroon shrank to the size of a remembered dream; she jumped back into being Alice as if she had never been away.

  The performance was a triumph; Emily got a few actual cheers at the end, and was nearly hugged to pieces by the rest of the cast when the curtain finally came down.

  Ms Robinson hugged her. ‘You were stunning – you acted as if you believed every word!’

  The noise in the classroom was tremendous. Maze did her impression of Mrs Lewis, and Ms Robinson laughed until she nearly cried – though she said, ‘I didn’t see that!’

  The hard world felt fantastic. Emily hurried downstairs to find her parents and Ruth in the crowd around the school’s main entrance. People said, ‘Well done,’ and ‘That was great,’ until her cheeks ached with smiling.

  ‘Here’s the star.’ Dad gave her one of his superhugs, lifting her feet off the floor. ‘Well done, old sprout!’

  Mum hugged her. ‘Em, you were wonderful!’

  ‘Stupendous!’ Ruth gave her a squishy hug; she was wrapped in layers and layers of cardigans and scarves, which made her look like a teapot in a knitted tea cosy. ‘You must pop into the shop sometime, to tell me all about it.’ She flashed Emily a meaningful look. ‘In detail.’

  Ruth joined them all for supper at the pub. Neil and Mandy had saved them the very best table in the conservatory, where the windows looked very festive, with coloured lights taped around the frames.

  ‘I can’t resist the bean casserole,’ said Dad. ‘Be prepared for the fart siren.’

  They all laughed at this; Holly was among them for a moment.

  ‘Just a green salad for me,’ said Ruth. ‘I’m on a diet, and this time I mean it. Finally, for the first time in my entire life, I’ve had enough chocolate.’

  It was very late when they got home. Emily knew they would make her go straight to bed, but she didn’t want to end this incredible day without telling Ruth what had happened.

  ‘Oh, Emily,’ Ruth said, halfway out of the car, ‘you left something in the shop – do you want to come in and get it?’

  Mum yawned. ‘I’m sure it can wait.’

  ‘Might as well get it now,’ said Emily hastily. ‘See you in a minute!’

  Ignoring her mother’s sleepy grumbles she followed Ruth next door.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ruth. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’ She switched on the overhead light in the shop.

  ‘And I’ve got something to tell you. You won’t believe it, but I’ve been to Smockeroon and met the Sturvey – right in the middle of the show!’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Well …’ Emily tried to remember what the old bear had said, and why she’d thought it was so important. ‘He said … everything will be all right.’

  Ruth smiled and nodded. ‘Bless his silly old stuffing! I had a small adventure today too. I went down to my cellar, to look for the gift Figinda said she’d left in my filing cabinet. And when I’d moved a ton of rubbish and sifted through a thousand old gas bills, I found it.’

  She moved a large piece of paper into the circle of lamplight on the desk. Emily saw that it was a child’s painting of a playground. There was a tall slide, a roundabout, a row of swings, a climbing frame.

  ‘The blob of blue is a paddling pool,’ Ruth said softly. ‘And the yellow square is a sandpit.’

&nb
sp; In the middle of the picture, painted with extra care, were a bear and a penguin.

  ‘He was seven,’ said Ruth. ‘It was raining, so we stayed indoors, telling each other silly stories about Hugo and Smiffy. And he did this painting. He said it was called, “Hugo and Smiffy’s Perfect Place”. I thought I’d lost it years ago.’

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Emily put her hand on top of Ruth’s.

  ‘I would be so happy,’ said Ruth, ‘if I could think of Danny in a perfect place of his own!’

  ‘That’s how I want to think of Holly. He did say everything was going to be all right.’

  Ruth smiled. ‘I’ll do my best to believe him, and I wish there was some way I could thank Figinda Faraway for her present. I’m quite glad the magic is back in its proper place – but I’ve absolutely loved meeting Hugo and Smiffy, and now that they don’t make me cry any more, I don’t have to keep them in a box. Happy memories don’t hurt.’

  She pointed up at Notty’s shelf, where there were now three old toys, each with a not-for-sale sign around its neck.

  ‘Em, where are you?’ Dad was outside the back door. ‘It’s nearly midnight!’

  ‘Coming!’ called Emily – she decided not to tell Ruth about the baby.

  Dad had been in a fooling-about mood all evening. He suddenly jumped into Ruth’s kitchen, shouted, ‘Pom-Tiddly-Om-Pom … POM!’ and the last ‘pom’ was a loud fart. He hadn’t performed this famous party trick since Holly died.

  Emily shrieked with laughter, suddenly ridiculously happy. They all laughed, and there was the faintest echo,

  far

  far

  away,

  (but not really far at all),

  in Deepest Smockeroon.

  AFTERWORD

  It only takes a couple of words

  to pin a memory down …

  Stories begin in lots of different places. The first spark of The Land of Neverendings can be traced back to one night in real life in 1929, when two grown-up brothers buried a box in the garden of their childhood home. Their father had just died, the house was about to be sold, and the box contained their old toys. The brothers had been worried about their toys; they didn’t want to keep them, they hated the idea of other children playing with them, but they couldn’t face throwing them away like so much rubbish. A decent burial was the only solution.