Four Children and It Read online

‘A little pastry man for me!’ Maudie whispered.

  ‘Want to see what they’ll look like?’ said Robbie. ‘Here’re some I made earlier!’

  He couldn’t have made them earlier, because he was with us, but he walked confidently to a table spread with a plate of chocolate crispies, an iced sponge cake, another plate of fruity jam tarts – and a cute little pastry man.

  ‘Mine!’ said Maudie, and she broke free of our grip and went running on to the set. ‘Mine, Robbie, my munchy man!’

  ‘It’s little Polly-Wally-Doodle!’ the television crew muttered, laughing, as Robbie gave Maudie her pastry man and she bit off his head. The signature tune played and Robbie waved to the camera. Maudie waved too, munching happily.

  ‘Brilliant!’ said the director, clapping Robbie on the back. ‘And a perfect ending, though you’d better scoot to the studios next door, little Polly-Wally. You’re being interviewed on the Start-at-Six Show.’

  ‘Why do they keep calling Maudie Polly? And why is she on the Start-at-Six Show and not me?’ said Smash. ‘It’s not fair. All you lot are having a chance to be rich and famous and I’m being totally left out. I’m sure that Psammead fixed it this way on purpose.’

  ‘You really were brilliant, Robs,’ I said, clapping him on the back. ‘The way you carried on, natural as anything, with all the patter! I couldn’t have done that in a million years.’

  ‘I’m sure you could, Rosalind,’ said Robbie. ‘You’ve made chocolate crispie cakes hundreds of times – and sponge cake. Still, you think it went all right? I didn’t sound too much of a fool?’

  ‘You were wonderful!’ I said.

  ‘Well, you were pretty special with all those girls wanting you to sign their books,’ Robbie said generously.

  ‘For heaven’s sake, pass the sick bucket,’ said Smash.

  ‘You feeling sick, Smash?’ said Maudie.

  Smash sighed, but gave her a cuddle. She looked at Naomi.

  ‘Is Maudie really on the Start-at-Six Show?’ she asked. ‘She’s only a baby.’

  ‘It’s just a tiny five-minute interview, with several film clips from the show,’ said Naomi. ‘Come on then, you lot. We have to swap studios, sharpish. Thank goodness Bulldog’s looking after the animals for us.’

  We all helped ourselves to one of Robbie’s cakes and then dashed off to the Start-at-Six Show studio. Naomi let Maudie finish her pastry man in the green room, then wiped her hands and face carefully and brushed her blonde hair.

  ‘Good luck, Maudie!’ we all whispered as we crept into the studio.

  The new director saw us and fanned his face in a pantomime of relief. Another man tickled Maudie under the chin and fixed a little microphone to the front of her dress.

  ‘Now, no prizes for guessing the show just voted the most popular television sitcom,’ said the presenter. ‘The ratings have gone through the roof, and no wonder. We all love the Doodle Family, don’t we? And there’s no question who’s stolen the show too. It isn’t Mum or Dad or crusty old Grandpa. It’s isn’t Paul or Primrose, the two schoolkids. No, it’s pint-size Polly-Wally Doodle, the little girl who’s captured all our hearts. Just take a look at this clip.’

  They showed an excerpt from a TV show where the family are all on a day’s outing to the zoo, and the trip is going horribly wrong. Mum and Dad are arguing, Grandpa is crochety, the teenage girl is sulking and the boy is scowling too – but Polly (our Maudie!) is skipping along happily. She waves to each and every animal in the cages and with a bit of trick photography the animals all wave their front paws back at her.

  ‘I just love that clip,’ said the female presenter. ‘And I love Polly-Wally Doodle – expertly played by little Maudie Hartlepool. Come and wave at us, Maudie.’

  Maudie was gently led along to their sofa. The two adults waved at her – and Maudie politely waved back, though she looked a little bemused.

  ‘It’s a delight to have you with us, Maudie,’ said the man. ‘Did you like making that little film at the zoo?’

  Maudie nodded.

  ‘Which animal did you like best, Maudie?’ the woman asked.

  ‘Monkey!’ said Maudie. ‘Funny monkey in the sand.’

  ‘In the sand, Maudie?’ said the man presenter doubtfully.

  ‘I know! Maudie means the meerkats!’ said the lady. ‘I like them too, Maudie, they’re very cute.’

  ‘I think our Maudie is the very definition of cute,’ said the man presenter. ‘Do you like acting in the Doodle Family Show, Maudie?’

  ‘It’s fun,’ said Maudie.

  ‘How ever do you remember all your lines?’ asked the man.

  Maudie thought hard.

  ‘I just say stuff,’ she said.

  ‘Well, we think you say your stuff brilliantly, Maudie. Do you think you’ll carry on acting when you’re a big girl?’

  Maudie nodded.

  ‘Let’s hope it stays fun for you, sweetheart. Well, it was lovely to talk to you, Maudie. Shall we wave goodbye too?’

  They both waved, grinning away, and Maudie smiled sweetly and waved both her hands to be extra polite.

  ‘Aaah!’ said the presenters as Maudie skipped out of view.

  We all gave Maudie a proud hug.

  ‘Well done, Maudie!’ said Naomi. ‘You were a little star.’ Then she looked at Smash. ‘Time for our big star to start twinkling,’ she said.

  We went down to the private car park where Bulldog was taking Robbie’s puppy, Giant, for a little walk. My kitten, Tina, and Maudie’s chinchilla, Monkey, were both curled up asleep in the cages in the car, but Gobby-Bird the parrot was wide awake and squawking away.

  ‘That blessed bird sings even louder than you, Smash,’ said Bulldog. ‘It’s been doing my head in sat in the car with it.’

  ‘I sing loudly, do I?’ said Smash.

  ‘I reckon you don’t even need your microphone to give the whole O2 arena an earful,’ said Bulldog, laughing.

  ‘We’d better set off there straight away. It’s a really tight schedule today,’ said Naomi.

  ‘We’re going to the O2 – that huge great arena where all the stars sing?’ said Smash.

  Naomi and Bulldog laughed as if she was joking.

  ‘And – and I’m singing there?’ said Smash.

  Naomi took a flyer out of her handbag. It had the word Smash in big jagged letters and a photo of a girl in an extraordinary silver costume with silver high heels. She was clutching a microphone and singing her heart out, her head thrown back.

  Smash stared at it. We’d never seen her speechless before.

  ‘Your concert starts at half past seven tonight,’ said Naomi.

  ‘Have they sold a lot of tickets?’ Smash whispered.

  ‘It’s a sell-out. Twelve thousand.’

  We all blinked.

  ‘Twelve thousand people, all coming to see me!’ said Smash. ‘Then I must be rich and famous! More famous than Rosalind and Robbie and Maudie! Oh wow!’

  It was extraordinary driving to the O2 arena, seeing the crowds milling around, all of them there to see our Smash. They started chanting when they spotted our car: ‘Smash! Smash! We love Smash!’

  Bob the chauffeur had a very hard job driving us up to the stage door, and Bulldog and yet more security men had an even harder time getting us – and all the animals – safely out of the car and into the building. They escorted us along a maze of corridors, O2 staff in special T-shirts smiling and nodding and saying, ‘Good luck, Smash!’ as we went.

  We were led into a large dressing room with a huge mirror and a rack of glorious stage costumes, silver and shocking pink and canary yellow and scarlet, and black lace, all with matching high heels.

  ‘My costumes!’ said Smash, stroking each one, and trying on the shoes.

  There was a table laid with elaborate cupcakes with buttercream to match the costumes: some vanilla cream with silver balls, some pink with raspberries, some pineapple yellow with cherries, some studded with little scarlet strawberries, and some deep bla