Four Children and It Read online

  ‘We want another wish, that’s why,’ said Smash. ‘Go, Maudie!’

  Maudie shuffled forward on her knees in the sand, grinning happily.

  ‘Hello, Monkey!’ she said.

  ‘I might look a little simian in a bad light, but I am a different species entirely,’ said the Psammead. ‘Oh dear. I am now the only one left of my species – and I fear I won’t last much longer if you children continue to harass me.’

  ‘Funny Monkey,’ Maudie said lovingly, clearly not understanding a word. She reached out to stroke him.

  ‘Careful!’ said the Psammead sharply.

  Alice hadn’t been able to wipe all the ice-lolly stains off her, and she was still a little sticky.

  ‘Nice Monkey. Funny Monkey. Maudie’s Monkey,’ she said, squatting down right next to him, but taking care not to actually touch him. ‘Hey diddle diddle, Jack and Jill went up the hill, Atishoo atishoo, We’ll all have tea,’ Maudie sang to him.

  The Psammead’s eyes swivelled on their stalks.

  ‘Maudie’s singing you her special song,’ I said.

  ‘So I hear,’ said the Psammead.

  ‘Wish, Maudie!’ said Smash.

  ‘I wish for the people,’ said Maudie.

  ‘What people?’ said Smash.

  ‘Jack and Jill and Polly and Sukey and funny cat and doggy and cow and dish and spoon and all the ring o’ rosies,’ said Maudie.

  ‘But they’re not real – they’re those silly nursery rhymes,’ said Smash. ‘You can’t wish that!’

  ‘Yes, she can,’ said the Psammead. It started puffing itself up until it was a great furry globe and then it suddenly collapsed into its own shape again. It peered around with its eyes on stalks, then twitched when it heard a dog barking in the distance. It scurried under the sand immediately, all four paws scrabbling hard.

  We were left staring at the strangest assembly of creatures we had ever seen. A brown-and-white terrier dog careered madly around, obviously picking up the scent of the Psammead. The dog tried to dig, but Robbie caught him and hung on to him.

  ‘No! Bad dog! You leave the Psammead alone,’ said Robbie.

  The dog went on barking, now trying to get at a cat in a scarlet dinner jacket and blue trousers who was sitting on a tussock, a tiny violin under his chin. He fiddled away while a strange metal plate and spoon capered about hand in hand. A large brown cow came trotting through the trees, mooing in time to the music. She kept lifting her head, looking up, her neck straining.

  ‘She’s looking for the moon so she can jump over it!’ said Smash, snorting with laughter.

  ‘Hey diddle diddle, hey diddle diddle!’ said Maudie, and she started jogging up and down to the cat’s music.

  Then a boy and girl came trudging along, carrying a big pail between them. The boy had a red jersey and blue trousers, the girl a white dress with blue spots.

  ‘Jack and Jill!’ I said. They all looked wonderfully familiar. I remembered Lavender’s Blue, my long-ago nursery-rhyme book, and Mum reading it to me over and over again as she showed me all the pictures. ‘Look, Robbie, it’s Jack and Jill going up the hill to fetch a pail of water.’

  ‘Better tell them to watch out!’ said Smash.

  ‘I should be careful going up that hill if I were you,’ I said.

  Jack and Jill looked at me.

  ‘Yes, we’re going up a hill,’ said Jack in a sing-song voice.

  ‘To fetch a pail of water,’ said Jill, staring vaguely into the distance.

  ‘Jack and Jill went up the hill!’ Maudie gabbled, clapping her hands. ‘Me go too!’

  ‘No, you’ll tumble down with them, sweetheart, and maybe hurt yourself,’ I said. ‘Look over there! Shall we join the ring-o’-roses people?’

  There was a bunch of little girls and one boy circling the sandpit. Three girls had white dresses, two with red spots, and a third wore buttercup yellow, while the little boy had grey shorts and a blue jersey. They were only a little bit bigger than Maudie and they all had smiles on their faces, so I thought she was safe with them.

  ‘Atishoo atishoo?’ she said hopefully.

  ‘Atishoo atishoo!’ they all said, bobbing their heads.

  Then they all sat down suddenly in the sand, giggling. Maudie sat down too, liking her new friends and their game so much she laughed uproariously.

  ‘Again! Atishoo again!’ she said.

  They scrambled up and started the game from the beginning.

  ‘Ring a ring o’ roses –’

  ‘You’d better join in too, Rosy-Posy,’ said Smash.

  ‘Try to get them to play over there on the grass, Maudie,’ said Robbie. ‘The Psammead won’t like it at all if they keep on thumping down right over his head.’

  He went over to them and bent down to their level, adopting the pose of a kindly uncle.

  ‘I think it would be better if you played over there,’ he said, pointing.

  ‘Ring a Ring o’ Roses,’ said the little boy, trying to take his hand.

  ‘Yes, I know you want to play Ring a Ring o’ Roses, but let’s play it over there,’ said Robbie, gently leading them.

  ‘A pocket full of posies!’ sang the little girls, swinging arms with Maudie.

  ‘ATISHOO! ATISHOO!’ she shouted, bobbing her head with them.

  ‘We all fall down,’ they sang, and collapsed on the grass, drumming their little legs.

  Jack and Jill came tumbling down too, back out of the woods. Jack came first, landing on his front, spilling his pail of water, and Jill followed, her arms in the air, legs kicking, looking shocked.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear,’ said Maudie, rushing to pick them up. ‘Plaster?’ she said to me. ‘Plaster to make it better?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Jill, getting up gingerly and patting her brother.

  ‘Jack must go to bed and mend his head with vinegar and brown paper,’ she said solemnly.

  ‘Yeah, I never did get that bit,’ said Smash. ‘Vinegar and brown paper? It’s like he’s a portion of fish and chips.’

  ‘I suppose they didn’t have disinfectant and plasters in those days,’ I said.

  Maudie was still squatting beside Jack, looking anxious.

  ‘It’s all right, Maudie. He’ll be better soon,’ I said.

  ‘Ready to start all over again,’ said Smash. ‘This is quite a sweet wish, but I feel like I’m stuck in playschool. Who else is going to make an appearance?’

  Two shadowy girls in grey and white came out of the woods, one of them holding a kettle.

  ‘What’s up with them?’ said Smash.

  Their faces were white and they had hair in varying shades of grey. They walked over to a little fire in the clearing with its own cosy brick fireplace. The flames were grey and the bricks were off-white.

  ‘I know!’ I said, laughing. ‘It’s Polly and Sukey and they’re a black-and-white illustration in the nursery-rhyme book, not full colour like the others.’

  They looked pretty eerie in real life and Maudie approached them warily, but Polly smiled at her.

  ‘We’ll all have tea?’ said Maudie, pointing to the kettle.

  ‘Look, there is the tea!’ said Robbie.

  A grey table had materialized, with a grey-and-white checked cloth, a grey spotted teapot and a grey-and-white cottage loaf.

  ‘Polly put the kettle on,’ said Polly, balancing the kettle on the hob over the fire.

  ‘Me too, me too,’ said Maudie.

  ‘Careful! No, keep away from the fire, Maudie,’ I said. The flames might be black and white, but I could feel the heat from them and I was sure they could still burn.

  ‘Polly put the kettle on,’ Polly repeated, Maudie singing along with her.

  ‘Polly put the kettle on,’ Polly said a third time.

  ‘Oh, for pity’s sake, you’re worse than Gobby-Bird,’ said Smash.

  ‘We’ll all have tea!’ Polly and Maudie sang together, going to sit at the table.

  ‘Wait for it,’ said Smash, as Polly’s pal S