The Land of Neverendings Page 3

  There were more of them now. Emily counted seven small shapes. Hugo, the bossy penguin, was conducting a choir. Smiffy the bear was here, with another three stuffed bears. And – weirdest sight of all – there were two Barbie dolls, in the long black robes and veils of old-fashioned nuns. Had there ever been such a thing as a nun Barbie?

  ‘Well, that wasn’t bad,’ said Hugo. ‘Not bad at all – especially now we’re all singing the same song. But we’ve got a lot of work to do if we want to win the September Sing-Song Prize.’

  One of the Barbie nuns gave a scornful sniff. ‘I thought there’d be more of us! Where’s Mr Sale? Where’s that grand German lodger of yours?’

  ‘I told you – Notty Sale is still working Hardside,’ said Hugo. ‘And our German lodger has done nothing but sleep since he arrived, which means he needs to rest from his secret job. They’ll come when they can.’

  Emily watched them dreamily, her eyes halfopen, fascinated.

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ the nun said coldly. ‘Come, Sister Toop, the tea horn will be going any minute.’

  She stood up and walked across Emily’s foot; her hard plastic feet tickled and Emily let out a yelp of laughter.

  ‘Good gracious!’ squeaked the nun. ‘The human! Would somebody please tell me what she’s doing here?’

  Properly awake now, Emily sat up in bed – carefully, so she didn’t disturb the toys – and switched on the bedside lamp. The group of toys looked even funnier and odder in the lamplight. None of them were wearing false moustaches this time.

  ‘Hello, Emily,’ said Smiffy. ‘We just popped in for choir practice.’

  ‘There’s something funny about that door,’ Hugo said, shaking his head. ‘It’s the same old door in the wall at the bottom of our garden and it normally comes out by the shops. We didn’t mean to come to a human’s bedroom.’

  ‘It’s a different bedroom this time,’ said Smiffy.

  ‘I don’t like humans,’ said the Barbie nun.

  ‘But you’re a toy,’ Emily pointed out. ‘Isn’t it your job to like humans?’

  ‘Sister Pretty had a bad experience,’ said Smiffy. ‘That’s why she became a nun. You see, the nun costume covers up her scars.’

  ‘Scars?’ It was startling to hear this harsh word coming from a soft toy.

  Sister Pretty drew herself up proudly. ‘You might not believe it now, but I was once a beautiful doll with long golden hair. Unfortunately, my human owner was a selfish, careless girl. In the hard world I live at the bottom of a mouldy cardboard box in the loft.’

  ‘So – is that where you are now?’ Emily was getting confused. ‘What I mean is, if I found that box right this minute, would you be in it?’

  ‘Well, of course!’ Sister Pretty rolled her eyes, as if Emily had asked a very silly question. ‘Dear me, doesn’t this human know anything about toys? We can always be summoned back to the hard world, where we really are. When no humans are watching, however, we can go where we like. At least’ – she frowned – ‘we can go back to Smockeroon. I don’t know how we managed to get into the hard-world bedroom of a total stranger. Please don’t take it personally, but my ghastly little owner put me off your kind for life!’

  ‘Poor you,’ said Emily politely, feeling a twinge of guilt about a Barbie that had belonged to her when she was small; she hadn’t a clue where it was now.

  ‘It hurts all the more,’ Sister Pretty went on, ‘because she was the one who started me off. She played with me and made up stories about me. Her imagination sparked me into being. But then she forgot about me, and didn’t even care when her horrible big brother attacked me!’

  ‘What did he do?’

  Sister Pretty whispered, ‘I can’t talk about it!’

  ‘It was dreadful!’ The other Barbie nun spoke for the first time – she was a very beautiful black Barbie, and her lovely face was perfectly clean. ‘He scribbled on her!’

  All the toys looked so serious that Emily tried not to laugh.

  ‘I decided to become a nun,’ said Sister Pretty, ‘because the veil covers the hideous scars on my face.’

  She took off her nun’s veil, to reveal the word ‘bum’ written on her forehead in blue biro.

  ‘Oh, how awful!’ Emily said, as kindly as she could. ‘Let me wash it off for you—’

  ‘That’s kind of you, dear. But my scars can only be washed off in the hard world.’

  ‘I don’t have any scars,’ the other nun said happily. ‘I’m a limited-edition black Barbie in a purple ballgown, and in the hard world I’m still in my plastic box. Somebody collected me, and he imagined a life for me, even though he wouldn’t open my box. I decided to be a nun to keep Pretty company.’

  Sister Pretty scowled. ‘This is Sister Toop,’ she told Emily coldly. ‘Short for “Too pretty”.’

  ‘Pretty gets a bit jealous sometimes,’ Smiffy said.

  The three smaller bears were huddled together at the end of the bed, whispering and giggling. Now that she looked at them properly, Emily saw that they were pretty little pastel-coloured girl-bears – one pink, one pale blue, one yellow – and they were wearing smart red hats, with the letters ‘S-R’ in blue sequins.

  ‘Have we finished choir practice?’ the yellow bear asked. ‘Because I’m getting a bit bored.’

  ‘Hush, Pippa!’ said Sister Pretty. ‘Stop being difficult!’

  ‘I’m not being difficult,’ said Pippa. ‘We’ve got to get back to the factory.’

  ‘Er – sorry?’ Here was another unexpected word; Emily did not remember any factories in her stories about Smockeroon.

  Hugo tugged at her sleeve with his soft black flipper. ‘They’re all Seam-Rite Girls,’ he said importantly, as if he expected Emily to be impressed. ‘That means they work in the Seam-Rite factory. It’s the leading brand of seam cream.’

  ‘But toys don’t have jobs,’ Emily protested. ‘Toys don’t have to work!’

  This made all the toys chuckle.

  ‘Of course we don’t have to work,’ said Pippa. ‘We go to the factory because it’s so much fun!’

  The only factory Emily knew was Norton’s, where Dad worked; though he liked his job and the other people in his office, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call ‘fun’. Lately he’d been under a lot of stress with the paperwork for some sausage rolls.

  ‘We sing a bit, and we dance a bit,’ said the pink Seam-Rite Girl. ‘And we pose for photos. We’re sort of celebrities in Smockeroon because we do the adverts on television.’

  The three bears began to sing:

  Seams BRIGHT!

  Seams TIGHT!

  Got to get the seams RIGHT.

  ‘They’re chosen because they’re beautiful,’ Sister Pretty said bitterly. ‘Nobody scribbled on them.’

  ‘I’m certainly beautiful enough to be a Seam-Rite Girl!’ Sister Toop whipped off her nun’s veil to reveal a mass of glorious black hair. ‘But I don’t have seams!’

  ‘Hahahaha!’ giggled all the Seam-Rite Girls. ‘BAG!’ screamed Sister Pretty. ‘QUICK BEFORE I FAINT!’

  With a sigh, Sister Toop pulled a brown paper bag from her pocket. ‘Do I have to?’

  ‘QUICK!’

  ‘OK, keep your hair on.’ The beautiful black Barbie pulled the bag over her head, totally covering her face.

  ‘Sometimes I get so jealous of her that it makes me faint,’ Sister Pretty explained to Emily. ‘That’s why I thought of the bag. I need a few minutes to get over it.’

  Emily couldn’t help laughing at this; luckily the toys did not seem to be offended. ‘Isn’t that a bit mean? It’s not her fault!’

  A new voice suddenly called from the floor. ‘Oh, here you all are – I’ve been looking everywhere!’

  ‘Hi Notty,’ said Hugo.

  A toy came out of the striped tent and when she saw him, Emily gasped aloud. It was a very, very old bear, sagging and baggy and held together with pieces of sticking plaster. He had no ears, which made his bald head look very strange. He was p
ulling a little shopping trolley. Around his neck hung a sign: ‘Not For Sale.’

  It was the bear who sat behind the till at Ruth’s shop.

  What on earth was he doing in her bedroom?

  This dream … wasn’t a dream.

  ‘You must’ve gone through the wrong door.’ Notty’s voice was muffled and mouldy-sounding. ‘Have I missed choir practice?’

  ‘No,’ said Hugo, ‘but we’d better have it somewhere else because this bedroom belongs to this human called Emily.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, we’re in the wrong place.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘He can’t hear,’ said Sister Pretty. ‘He’s taken his ears off again – I keep telling him.’ She hurried to the edge of Emily’s bed and shouted, ‘MR SALE, PUT YOUR EARS ON!’

  ‘What?’

  All the toys shouted together, ‘EARS!’

  ‘Why are you all whispering? Hang on – I’ll get my ears.’ The ancient toy rummaged in his shopping trolley until he pulled out a pair of furry ears and stuck them back on his bald old head. ‘Now, what were you saying?’

  ‘We did NOT come through the wrong door,’ the penguin said sternly. ‘I think we ended up in the hard world because the door is BROKEN. I’d better report it to the Sturvey.’ Though he wasn’t wearing any clothes, Hugo somehow appeared to take something out of his pocket – a mobile phone, which looked odd until Emily remembered inventing a toys’ phone for Bluey.

  ‘What’s the Sturvey?’

  All the toys chuckled, as if Emily had asked a really silly question. There were mutterings of ‘She’s never heard of the Sturvey!’ and ‘Can you believe it?’

  ‘The Sturvey is in charge of things,’ said Hugo.

  ‘I mean, is it a person? Or is it like the government?’

  ‘It’s where all of the imagination comes from,’ said Smiffy. ‘If there’s a problem, the Sturvey always fixes it.’

  ‘So is it a sort of power station?’

  ‘I don’t have time to explain now.’ Hugo was punching numbers on his phone. ‘I’ve got to make my report.’

  ‘But … make your report to WHAT?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Do shut up, dear,’ said Sister Pretty. ‘Hugo, put it on speaker.’

  The penguin pressed a button and the room was filled with the sound of an old-fashioned phone ringing.

  This was incredible – a sound from Smockeroon.

  A dusty voice said, ‘You have reached the central office of the Sturvey. If your house has blown away, press One. If you’ve forgotten your name and address, press Two. If you’re applying for a playground extension, press Three. If it’s anything else, please leave a message after the beep.’ After a short pause, the voice added, ‘Beep!’

  Hugo said: ‘I wish to report a broken door between Deep Smockeroon and Hardside. It’s at the bottom of the garden at The Sycamores, Pointed End. Thank you.’

  ‘That should do it,’ said Sister Pretty. ‘Now let’s go back to Deep Smockeroon to finish our choir practice.’

  ‘Quite right,’ said Notty. ‘Some of our friends can’t come Hardside because they don’t exist here any more. Bluey was quite cross.’

  ‘Bluey! You’ve seen Bluey!’ Emily cried out. ‘You spoke to him!’

  ‘Hello, Emily.’ The frayed stitches of the bear’s mouth lifted into a friendly smile. ‘Yes, I saw him just now.’

  Emily’s eyes prickled with tears of longing; suddenly she could see Bluey in her mind’s eye incredibly clearly, in his old place on Holly’s bed. And Holly’s face when she was happy and not ill. And the fact that she wasn’t here hurt as much as ever.

  She asked, ‘Could you give him a message?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Notty.

  ‘Tell him …’ There were so many things she wanted to say.

  I hate it without you and Holly.

  I wish I could come to Smockeroon.

  Please tell Holly how much I miss her.

  ‘Just tell him Emily says hi and sends her love.’

  ‘OK,’ said Notty. ‘Come along, everybody.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ Emily said. ‘Please don’t go yet! I still don’t understand about the Sturvey. And where are your false moustaches?’

  ‘Oh, moustaches are so over!’ sniffed Sister Pretty.

  ‘The new fashion is all about hats,’ Hugo explained. ‘But we couldn’t bring them here because they’re made of cake.’

  ‘Cake hats? Seriously? Does Bluey have one?’

  ‘Of course – today he was looking very smart in a Black Forest Gateau, with special holes cut for his ears.’

  ‘Please wait!’ Emily had been about to start crying but was distracted by the sight of the toys jumping off her duvet and vanishing into the little tent on the floor. The penguin was the last through the flap. He gave her a cheery wave with his flipper, and the striped tent popped like a soap bubble and disappeared.

  Four

  BLACK TOAD

  WEEKENDS WERE VERY QUIET these days. When Holly was alive, Mum and Dad had made a big thing of going out as much as possible, and finding new places where they could take Holly, her wheelchair and her breathing machine. Now that she was dead they could go anywhere – but they didn’t want to. They sat around at home, hardly saying a word, as if waiting for something, and watching each other warily for signs of sadness. For some reason they were all pretending not to be sad.

  On the Saturday morning after her vision (she refused to call it a ‘dream’) of the toys’ choir practice, Emily passed the time writing her report in the Bluey book. She would usually have run through the back gardens to Maze’s house, but Maze was over at Summer’s, on the other side of Bottleton, and she didn’t want to see anyone else.

  Dad said, ‘We should be celebrating the new job – let’s have lunch at the Royal Oak.’

  This had been a regular treat when Holly was alive.

  ‘Yes,’ Mum said slowly, looking at Emily. ‘It’s time we did that again. I don’t want Neil and Mandy to think we don’t like them any more.’

  Neil and Mandy, the owners of the local pub, had always been very kind to Holly. They kept a special table for the family, with room for the wheelchair and an electric socket for the breathing machine. There was a framed picture above the bar of Holly, smiling radiantly, with Neil and Mandy on either side of her dressed up as chickens; it had been taken two years ago, at a charity fun run.

  This was the first time they had been to the Royal Oak without Holly. The special table was no longer there; as Mandy explained, it was never a very good table, stuck between the toilets and the fruit machine. Without Holly, they could sit at a far nicer table in the conservatory. Neil brought them all free drinks. The three of them sat in near silence, looking through rain-pebbled glass at the dreary pub garden.

  I wonder if my voice still works.

  I should have died too.

  It can’t be much worse than this.

  The world looks the same but everything has turned sad.

  Emily had started writing things in her Bluey book that had nothing to do with Smockeroon – all the things she couldn’t say aloud because people got upset, or agitated, or embarrassed.

  In the garden, on the other side of the glass, there were small stone ornaments in the shapes of animals – a hedgehog, a rabbit, a cat. But there was something new today, and when she saw it, Emily turned cold.

  Why did they buy that evil-looking black toad?

  Her mother said, ‘This is easier than I thought. I was afraid that … but it’s actually nice to be in a place where she was happy.’

  ‘I’ve missed this steak and kidney pie,’ said Dad. ‘What are you staring at, Em?’

  ‘The new statue.’

  ‘The what?’

  When Emily looked again, there was no statue of a toad; just a coil of black hosepipe, distorted by the rainy window.

  She turned back to her parents, ‘Nothing.’

  *

  At school on Monday mornin
g, before the first lesson, everyone was talking about the end of term play, Alice in Wonderland – especially Maze and Summer, who expected to have starring roles.

  ‘It’s a bit babyish,’ Maze said, ‘but at least we’ll be up on that huge stage, with proper lighting. And I know you’ll be playing Alice. I mean, you’ve got the blonde hair, just like Alice in the book – and you’re so talented.’

  Summer had done a lot of acting, most famously in a television advert for B&Q. Acting was now Maze’s latest mania. They were both planning to be major international stars by at least Year Ten.

  ‘I was hoping for a proper musical,’ Summer said. ‘Like Grease or Wicked.’

  ‘Oh yes, your singing is so wonderful …’

  Emily was glad when the lesson started. Their English teacher, Ms Robinson, was younger and less scary than the other teachers at Hatty Catty. She was black, pretty (for a teacher) and wore cool clothes (for a teacher). Emily mainly liked Ms Robinson because she didn’t notice when she wrote in her Bluey book during lessons.

  The chunky notebook was filling up. In the beginning she had only jotted down a couple of words at a time, just enough to jog her memory. Now she had to report every mad detail of what she had seen.

  I know Holly has gone.

  But is part of her alive in Smockeroon?

  Did Bluey pass on my message?

  Who, or what, is the Sturvey?

  Ms Robinson began to talk about the play. She called Summer and Maze to the front of the class to read a short scene between Alice and the Caterpillar. They acted brilliantly and loudly, and Emily felt free to tune out.

  Could I talk to Holly through the toys?

  ‘Emily.’

  Does Holly miss me?

  ‘Emily Harding!’

  She raised her head from the Bluey book, and the whole class was staring at her. Heat flooded into her cheeks.

  Ms Robinson said, ‘I asked you to read the part of Alice.’

  Emily’s attention snapped back to the real world. Ms Robinson was holding out a piece of paper. Feeling very clumsy and awkward and wishing she could disappear, Emily shut the notebook and went to the front of the class.