Glubbslyme (2 page)

‘No, it’s not! Look, my Dad says—’

‘My Dad says, my Dad says. She’s starting to sound like a parrot. Can’t you play another record, Parrot Face?’

‘Don’t call Becky silly names, Mandy, it gets on my nerves,’ said Sarah.

Rebecca smiled. Sarah smiled back at her. Mandy stood up. She wasn’t smiling. She glared at the pond. She went on glaring at it. And then she smiled after all.

‘They couldn’t have ever drowned witches in this pond,’ she said triumphantly. ‘It’s not deep enough.’

‘Yes it is,’ said Rebecca.

‘Yes it is,’ said Sarah, but she sounded uncertain.

‘It
isn’t.
You look.’ Mandy picked up a long stick, walked to the pond’s edge, leaned right out and stuck the stick in the water. She banged it up and down on the bottom of the pond. A great deal of the twig stayed above water.

‘There! It would barely come up to your knees. Are you sure it was witches? Sure it wasn’t fairies? Fairy
stories,
more like.’

‘My Dad says you can drown in only a few inches of water,’ said Rebecca.

‘My Dad says! Parrot face.’

Sarah didn’t object this time.

‘You can maybe drown someone, but you can’t duck them,’ she said. ‘And it isn’t deep enough, Becky.’ She took the stick from Mandy and prodded vigorously all round the pond to prove it.

‘It’s deep enough in the middle,’ said Rebecca. ‘I know it is. They threw them into the
middle
of the pond.’

Sarah threw several stones into the middle.

‘I don’t think it’s any deeper in the middle,’ she said.

One of the stones hit the bony arm and it waved. Sarah gasped but then she saw it was only an old branch of a tree with a twiggy bit at the end.

‘I don’t think this was ever a witch’s pond,’ she said.

‘Of course it isn’t. It’s just an ordinary muddy old pond in a park and I don’t know why she keeps going on about it,’ said Mandy. ‘Come on, Sarah, let’s go home. I’ll give you one of my Mum’s eyeshadows if you like. There’s a browny one that would really suit you.’

‘You’ll give it to me?’ said Sarah.

‘You’re not allowed to wear make up,’ said Rebecca.

‘I can if it’s just for mucking about indoors,’ said Sarah. ‘Okay then, Mandy. Are you coming too, Becky?’

‘We don’t want
her
,’ said Mandy.

‘I don’t want to come, don’t worry,’ said Rebecca. ‘Don’t go yet, Sarah. It
is
a witch’s pond and it
is
deep enough. Look, I’ll prove it.’ She started taking off her sandals and socks.

‘What are you doing?’ said Sarah.

‘I’m going to go in and see how deep it is for myself.’

‘She’s mad! It’s all muddy and gungy and disgusting,’ said Mandy, wrinkling her nose.

‘Becky, don’t be daft, you
can’t
,’ said Sarah.

‘I can if I want,’ said Rebecca and she slid down the bank and stepped right into the pond.

She didn’t really want to. The water lapped icily over her ankles, leaving circles of scum. Rebecca gritted her teeth and paddled in farther. It was like wading through frozen soup.

‘Come
out,’
Sarah cried from the bank.

‘She’s just being stupid,’ said Mandy. ‘Take no notice of the silly baby. Come on, Sarah. I’ve got blusher as well, have you ever tried it?’

‘I’m going, Becky,’ Sarah called. ‘I think you’re stupid too. You’ll get some awful disease going in that filthy water.’

‘I’m just showing you how deep it is,’ Rebecca called. The water came up to her knees now and she had to hold her dress up. She was starting to shiver.

‘Well, if it’s really deep then you’ll be in trouble, you idiot. You know you always keep one leg on the bottom when we go swimming,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m going.’

‘I don’t! Sarah, wait. Sarah!’

Sarah really was going. She was walking away with Mandy. Rebecca couldn’t believe it. She took another step, trod on something slimy, and screamed.

Sarah turned round.

Rebecca screamed some more. The something slimy was only a little piece of waterweed but she decided to make the most of it.

‘Sarah! Help, Sarah! There’s all this long slippery waving stuff – I’m stuck in it. You know what I think it is? Hair! Hair from one of the drowned witches.’

Rebecca hoped Sarah might scream too and come running to help. But Sarah just shook her head scornfully.

‘Who do you think you’re kidding, Rebecca Brown? You’re a silly baby.’

‘Silly baby, silly baby, silly baby,’ Mandy chanted.

Then they walked off with their arms round each other.

Rebecca was abandoned.

‘I’m not a silly baby,’ she mumbled, although several babyish tears spurted down her cheeks and rained into the pond. She rubbed her eyes, forgetting about her dress. It trailed into the dirty water. It was her best dress and clean on that day. Dad hadn’t wanted her to wear it, he’d wanted her to wear her old shorts and teeshirt. He didn’t understand that she’d wanted to look as grown up as Mandy.

She didn’t look very grown up now. She was shivering badly too. But now she was in and soaked she might as well strike out for the middle, just to see.

So she took a step forward and then another. It did get deeper. She took one more step and the water was suddenly up round her waist. Her dress was really going to be ruined now. Sarah was right, she really wasn’t very good at swimming. She felt very depressed indeed but she didn’t want to
drown
.

She tried to take a step backwards, but she got confused and went sideways instead. The water reached her chest.

Rebecca started screaming for help. Nobody seemed to hear her. No one came to her rescue.

‘Then I’ll have to help myself,’ said Rebecca.

She tried to work out how to do it. She cautiously waved one leg around in the water, trying to feel where it got deeper. And then something suddenly seized her by the ankle!

Rebecca screamed and shook her leg violently. She overbalanced and went right under the water, her fists flailing. She surfaced, choking and coughing, and clawed at her leg. Something was still clinging determinedly, something slimy and scrabbling.

Rebecca waded frantically through the water and made it to the bank. She threw herself on the muddy grass, still waving her leg wildly, but the Thing clung on. It was an enormous black toad, with hideous warty skin and two bulbous glistening eyes.

‘Get off!
Get off me
!’ Rebecca screamed.

The toad stayed very much on, clinging to her with the strength of superglue.

‘Get
off,
I say,’ Rebecca sobbed, and she reached down and tried to pull at its webbed feet.

‘Desist!’

Rebecca stopped pulling. Her hand hovered above the horny head. She blinked at his huge drooling mouth.

‘What?’ she whispered.

‘Do not look so vacant, child. I asked you to desist. You were hurting me – and that is my poorly limb too. I had an unpleasant encounter with a fish-hook in the nineteen-fifties and I have been sorely afflicted ever since.’ He paused, his eyes oozing. ‘
Why
did you attack me in that violent manner?’

‘I wanted you to get off me,’ Rebecca sniffled.

‘Why? Pray tell me
why
, when I did take the trouble to attach myself so firmly to your person?’ He sounded outraged, puffing himself up until his black wrinkles almost ironed out. Rebecca was terrified he might burst all over her.

‘Because you’re so ugly!’ said Rebecca, cowering away from him.

‘
Ugly
?’ It was a shocked squeak. Then he started deflating with an audible hiss. He shrank until he was a little wizened black ball no bigger than Rebecca’s fist. He slowly and deliberately loosened the grip of his sucker pads, took one half-hearted hop, and huddled on the grass beside her.

Rebecca stared at him. His eyes were oozing again. A drop of moisture rolled down his warty cheek. It looked almost as if he were crying.

Rebecca cleared her throat. She clenched and unclenched her fists. She nibbled at a loose bit of skin on her lip. Why wasn’t she running away? She was free of him now, although her ankle still felt uncomfortably slimy. She could pick herself up and run hard and be out of the park altogether in two minutes.

So what was she doing, sitting here, watching this warty toad, and worrying? Worrying because she’d hurt its feelings. She must be mad. She
was
mad, because she knew perfectly well that toads can’t talk.

‘Can you really talk?’ she whispered.

The toad raised his drooping head a little.

‘I have been talking since I was a mere tadpole,’ he said huffily. ‘I dare say you find my speech offensive too. Pray do not distress yourself. I do not intend to continue our conversation. Permit me a moment to recover and then I will remove my loathly person altogether.’

Rebecca stared at him. He spoke clearly enough, although he did tend to croak every now and then. But he spoke in such an odd old-fashioned way that it was hard for her to understand exactly what he was saying.

But she understood one thing. She really had hurt his feelings.

‘I don’t think I’m so scared of you now,’ she said.

The toad huffed a little but didn’t deign to reply.

‘And I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,’ she went on. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘Would you not be outraged if I called you . . . ugly?’ He winced as he whispered the word.

‘I’ve been called far worse than that,’ said Rebecca. ‘Just now a girl called me Parrot Face. And Stupid and Silly Baby.’

‘A parrot has a large hooked bill. Your nose is but a small protuberance. But perhaps I would not care to dispute the other two nicknames,’ the toad muttered.

‘There’s no need to be spiteful,’ said Rebecca. ‘I was trying to make friends.’

‘I was the one who determined to befriend you. I woke from one of my lengthy sleeps to hear you speaking of witches. I was surprised by your knowledge. Moved to tears by bitter memories. And then I heard them calling your name. I could scarce believe it! Rebecca. The very same name as my own dearest long-lost Rebecca. It seemed too great an omen to ignore. I determined to address you. And then you plunged into my watery abode as if actively seeking me out. My broken heart healed! I leaped upwards. With the tenderest affection I attached myself to your person – only to have you attack and insult me.’ He croaked mournfully, his limbs twitching.

‘I don’t understand,’ Rebecca said humbly.

‘Neither do I,’ he said. ‘I am not a vain amphibian. I have adopted solitary habits during my long, long period of mourning but I have not been able to avoid overhearing the admiring remarks of other lesser toads and inferior frogs. I repeat, I am not vain, but I do have eyes, and whilst circling the pond by moonlight I have observed my own reflection. It is a wonder I am not vain, because I have never seen a Bufo bufo as beautiful.’

‘A Bufo bufo?’ said Rebecca. ‘I thought you were a toad.’

He croaked contemptuously.