The Little Secret (8 page)

A TRUFFLE AS BIG AS THE RITZ

When her stunned senses recovered, she found that she was lying on the ground, in the depths of a forest. The trees were strange, she thought fuzzily — great reedy green trunks, with not a leaf between them. She blinked hard several times, trying to clear her blurred eyes. She could see Lady Matilda a short distance away, sitting with her back against one of the strange trees. She took a mirror and a lipstick from her handbag, and began to repaint her big red lips. Jane could not move or speak. It felt like watching someone in a dream.

There was a clanking sound. Through the trees came the most disgusting creature Jane had ever seen — black and metallic, and the size of a carthorse, with huge eyes like colanders and long, hairy legs. This thing shuffled towards Matilda. Jane tried to scream.

Lady Matilda glanced up at the horrible creature, and tutted crossly “Staffa! Staffa! Where are you? You know I hate ants!”

In her crazy dream, Jane saw Staffa, carrying a rifle. Very calmly, she shot the creature in the head. It fell slowly to the ground like collapsing scaffolding.

“Calm down, Mother,” Staffa said. “No such thing as a picnic without ants.”

“Yuck, dreadful things! And don't they smell nasty when they're dying? It's enough to put you off your food. Is Jane awake yet?”

Jane tried to say that she was awake. The words would not come out.

“No,” she heard Staffa say. “But she seems fine. We might get her through it without too severe a shock — as long as you don't frighten her.”

“Oh, pooh,” Lady Matilda said gaily. “She's one of us now, and she might as well get used to it.”

Suddenly, Jane knew what had happened. She had once looked at an ant through a magnifying glass, and it had been exactly like this dead black monster. And if the monster was an ant, these strange trees might be blades of grass — that far-off mountain the heap of boulders. The three of them had shrunk until they were smaller than insects. They were even smaller than the tiny Staffa she had seen (or dreamed of seeing) inside the box. This nightmare was mind-boggling. Why couldn't she wake up?

“No, dear Jane, you're not dreaming,” Lady Matilda said, smiling. “This is perfectly real. You have entered the Kingdom of Eck. I think you may continue to call Princess Staffa by her first name — but you must address me as ‘Your Majesty.'”

Jane was beyond surprise. She sat up in a daze, listening to the trumpeting tones of the woman who said she was a queen.

“To cut a long story short, my dear Jane, we are taking you back to our palace. There you will meet our son, King Quarles the Seventh — Staffa's big brother.”

Jane turned to Staffa. “Your brother's a king?” (King of what?)

“Now you can see why I couldn't tell you the truth,” Staffa said. “You'd never have believed me — and I did so want to bring you home with me! I wanted it so much! If you hate it, you can go straight home! Do you hate it?”

“I — I don't know,” Jane said, still fuzzy. “Are you sure this isn't a dream?”

“Positive. This is as real as the Boy Garden. I can't wait to show it to you.”

“But first,” Queen Matilda said, “we will have lunch.” She stood up, huffing and puffing, brushing specks of soil from her scarlet knickerbockers.

Jane noticed a large round hump of gleaming dark brown, about the size of a garden shed. The queen walked over to it. She swung her silver pickax into its smooth surface, until it cracked loudly.

“You do the rest, Staffa — a nice big piece for me, please.” Queen Matilda took a large white napkin from her handbag and tucked it under her chin.

Staffa had a long knife. She went up to the brown hump, and hacked out a jagged piece the size of a paving stone. Queen Matilda snatched it, and her great red lips began to chomp at it greedily. There was a powerful smell of chocolate. Jane realised that the brown hump was the chocolate truffle Staffa had placed on the ground. She was hungry, but the heavy clod of chocolate Staffa gave her made her feel sick. She could only take one bite.

The queen ate two large slices, with grunts of pleasure. “Oh, this is sublime! You will learn, dear Jane, that there is a tragic shortage of sugar in our kingdom. Waste not, want not — I'll tell the Gull Patrol to bring the rest of the truffle home for tea.”

Staffa said, “They won't be able to spare the officers.”

The queen was irritated. “Nonsense, officers can always be spared. Now, let us begin our journey. I told Quarley we'd be back in time for dinner.”

Jane dared to ask, “Where are we going?”

“The box, of course,” Staffa said. “On the other side of this forest.”

“Forest? Oh, you mean the grass.”

“Yes.” Staffa picked up her rifle. “I'll go first. You stick close to Mother.”

“What's the Gull Patrol?”

Staffa was grim. “I hope you never have to find out.”

The three of them walked through the huge stalks of grass in single file. Staffa went first, then Jane, then the queen. The light was gloomy, and there was a strong smell of cut lawn. After about half an hour, Staffa shot another ant.

This was all so strange and so fascinating that Jane had stopped being frightened. The world was very different when you were tiny. The grass was alive with insects, some so small that she would never have been able to see them with a normal human eye. They passed a large black beetle, as tall as Queen Matilda, with a big back like shiny plastic and busy claws like pliers. Jane was nervous, but Staffa assured her that it was harmless. It bumbled about clumsily, sniffing at the ground, and took no notice of the three miniature humans.

A seagull cried above them.

Staffa shouted, “It's seen us! Get down!”

Queen Matilda — without a thought for her posh clothes — screamed and flung herself to the ground. A black shadow fell across them.

“Jane — get down!” Staffa yelled.

The seagull swooped down towards them. It was an astonishing and fearful sight, like a jumbo jet landing in your backyard. Its huge beak opened. Jane dropped to the ground. Staffa bravely remained standing. She shot the great bird in its neck and its vast white belly. The bullet holes were tiny, but the seagull, with another deafening shriek, flew away.

“Well done, Staffa,” panted Queen Matilda. “That was a close one! Help me up, girls.”

Jane and Staffa helped the portly queen to her feet.

“On this side of the castle door,” Staffa told Jane, “the gulls are our biggest menace. They swoop down on our people and carry them off in their beaks — we lost a whole platoon last week.”

“The other birds mostly leave us alone,” Queen Matilda said. “We've had a bit of bother with puffins, but they're not as clever as the gulls. Those horrid birds have developed a taste for us.”

They walked on. Jane was careful to stick close to Staffa. She didn't fancy being carried off to some fishy-smelling nest — this new world was dangerous. She wondered when Staffa had learned to use a gun, and wished her brothers could have seen her firing it. Her stomach rumbled. She hoped there was some real food where they were going.

It was a long hike, but eventually, as the sun was sinking, they came out of the grass forest and saw the box.

“Home sweet home!” the queen said happily.

Jane had assumed that the paintings on the box would look coarse and false when she was tiny — but they were more exquisitely detailed than ever. She could swear there was a real sunset over the painted woods and hills, and she could almost see the painted branches stirring in a ghostly breeze. The air was full of strange scents, as if they had wafted out of the painted meadows.

The queen said, “Jane dear, run up to the box. Give it three sharp knocks with the gold ring on your finger, then run back as fast as you can.”

Jane walked up to the box, thinking that her hand would surely go straight through it. But the painted sides were hard. She knocked three times, with the ring Staffa had put on her finger.

“Back!” called Staffa. “Get back!”

Jane ran back to Staffa. Beneath her feet she felt the ground trembling. There was a loud rumbling sound, as if a giant machine had been switched on underneath the earth. She clutched Staffa's hand. The box shook alarmingly. Jane braced herself for an explosion. Instead, the sides of the box suddenly sprang apart.

Out of the box a castle unfolded, turret by turret. There was a shower of dust, and large pieces of stone crashed to the ground. Out of the castle towers, a beautiful landscape unfolded, covered with rich fields and woods. A great wind rose up, and the two landscapes — the bare Scottish island and the paintings on the box — whirled around them until the colors were a blur.

THE ECKERS

The wind died as suddenly as it had started. Jane found that they were no longer tiny figures on a bald hillside, but three full-size people standing in front of a stone gateway. There was a real portcullis, a moat and a drawbridge, just like Mike and Phil's gray plastic castle at home. Brightly colored flags danced in the summer breeze.

“A real castle,” Jane said. “Just like a fairytale.” It was beautiful.

“Welcome to our palace, dear Jane,” said Queen Matilda. “I hope you will come to consider it your second home.”

They crossed the drawbridge. Two soldiers, wearing uniforms of purple and orange, guarded the castle's entrance. Jane tried not to stare at them (not wanting to hurt their feelings) but she thought the soldiers looked very odd indeed. When you got close, you saw that they were not quite human. Their bodies were small and round, with long, skinny legs and arms. They had large heads of a peculiar triangular shape. Their eyes and mouths were also shaped like triangles. Their necks were very long and very thin, and they did not have chins. They bowed very low as the queen swept past them.

“Your Majesty!” Another triangular soldier came running out to meet them. Jane thought he must be more important than the others — his purple uniform was covered with rich gold embroidery. “Your Imperial Greatness! We didn't expect you so soon!”

He bowed, and kissed the queen's hand.

“Jane,” said the queen, “this is Captain Hooter, my chief servant. Hooter, this is Miss Jane.”

To Jane's embarrassment, Captain Hooter grabbed her hand and kissed it. “I'm honored, madam.”

Nobody had ever called her “madam” — except Dad when he was being sarcastic. Her jeans and sweatshirt were stained with grass, soil and chocolate. She felt very small and dirty.

There were now dozens of triangular people milling around them, their chinless heads bobbing on their elongated necks.

“Our servants,” Staffa said.

“Is this what the Prockwalds look like under all those scarves?”

“Well, yes. They're not really allergic to dust mites. In your world, they have to cover themselves up.”

Jane's world felt very far away. She gazed around the hall of the royal palace. It was magnificent — partly like a stately home and partly like a cathedral. Though it was summer, there was a fire in the enormous fireplace, as big as a burning house. There was a thick purple carpet and chairs heaped with soft velvet cushions. The walls were covered with pictures — portraits of kings and queens, and various triangular people, mostly in uniform. Above the fireplace was a huge painting of a hairy spider, with the word “Tornado” carved into the gold frame — the queen's beloved racing spider. Now that she was tiny, the thought of meeting a creature like the late Tornado made Jane shiver. She stayed close to Staffa.

The queen handed her silver pickax to Captain Hooter. “We left a chocolate truffle near the border. Tell the general to fetch it before dinner. And tell the cook to melt it for gravy.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then go and find the king, and tell him I think he's very naughty not to come and meet me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Staffa gave Jane's hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don't worry, you'll soon get used to everything. This is Twilly, who will be your personal servant while you're staying here.”

Twilly had a pink-and-white, triangular face and hair in fat curls like brown bedsprings. She looked about the same age as Jane and Staffa. She curtseyed. “How do you do, madam.”

“But I don't need a servant,” Jane protested. “I wouldn't know what to do with her!” She wanted to say that Twilly gave her the creeps.

“Oh, that's another thing you'll soon get used to,” Staffa said breezily. “Twilly will run your baths and brush your hair and take care of your clothes. That's her job.”

Jane took another look at Twilly. The funny little potbellied, spindly-legged creature gave her a beaming smile. She wore a black dress, with a long, full skirt, and a white apron thick with frills. Now that she was looking properly, Jane saw that there was something very sweet about Twilly's face. She smiled back, feeling a little less freaked out.