The Phredde Collection (8 page)

There was a gigantic room with a high, vaulted ceiling (we learnt about vaulted ceilings last term at school) and tapestries, and jewelled everything and carpet that looked like unicorns dancing among the flowers, except these unicorns actually did dance.

We walked through a very large door—why they need a door that size I’ve no idea, ‘cause even Phaeryland phaeries aren’t
that
big—into another room the size of a football oval, only with diamonds and emeralds which football ovals don’t have, and there were about a million phaery princesses (well, I suppose that’s what they were) all dressed up like us.

‘Are these the ladies-in-waiting?’ I whispered to Phredde.

‘Some of them,’ she whispered back. ‘Some of them are mum’s sisters and dad’s sisters and my sisters.’

‘You’ve got sisters? I thought you were an only child?’

‘They’re all grown up. Mum and Dad are over two hundred, remember. Phaeries have only one kid at a time, then when that kid grows up they have another one…’ Phredde whispered absently, as though she was really thinking about something else. I have to admit I was starting to get a bit alarmed.

‘Phredde? What are you planning…I mean when are you…?’

‘Shhh,’ said Phredde. ‘I have to concentrate!’

‘Phredde, you’re not…’ Then I shut up. I had spotted the Phaery Queen.

She was beautiful. The most beautiful phaery in Phaeryland.

Her hair was blonder than any blonde hair could ever be in the real world, no matter how much gunk someone piles on their head. When I was a little kid and coloured in the Princess’s hair with my bright yellow pencil, I wasn’t far wrong, and it sort of floated around her head in this great sunlit cloud.

And if I’d thought my dress and Phredde’s dress were fancy, it was because I hadn’t seen hers.

It was every colour of the rainbow. In fact, now I come to think of it, that’s probably what it was made of. Slivers of diamond and ruby and emerald were sprinkled all over it. It was low at her neck and tight at her waist—only Phaery Queens’ have waists as tiny as that—then billowed out a million kilometres or so. If you turned that dress into a tent you could fit most of our school library in it.

She was sitting on a diamond throne at the far end of the room (and, let me tell you, there’s no way you can mistake a diamond throne for one made of glass) about where the goal posts would be if it had been a football oval.

The Phaery Queen was chatting to a dozy-looking sort of woman, all dressed up in lace and jewels and stuff—like us, of course, but
she
looked like she did it every day and ENJOYED it. Can you
imagine
living every day in stuff like that? You could never have a decent game of netball, or football…and she must have noticed us because she said something to the Phaery Queen who looked at us.

And then someone blew half a dozen of those mutated trumpets, or whatever they were, just behind us (my ears were ringing something awful, but I didn’t even bother looking back, because I knew what they’d look like—all blue velvet and lace and blowing silver trumpet-like thingummies).

And then the Phaery Queen smiled at us, a glowing, regal smile, and we marched down this long, red carpet towards her—all the others were walking for once, too—and me with my feet suffocating in glass slippers, and all the phaery princesses sort of twittering and cooing around us.

‘Hey, Phredde!’ I whispered.

‘Shhh,’ muttered Phredde.

I just wanted to ask her whether I should curtsy. They don’t tell you things like that in picture books. What’s the use of telling kids phaery stories when they don’t mention the things you might really need to know? There I was in Phaeryland in the castle of the Phaery Queen and I didn’t know whether to drop to
my knees in front of her or just say, ‘Hi, Queen, glad to meet you.’

I glanced at Phredde, but it was no use asking her again. In the mood she was in now she wouldn’t have curtsied if a lion was chewing the back of her knees. And she had this funny look on her face.

Phredde’s mum was too far behind us for me to get any clues from her either, so I decided just to be polite. The way I’d be polite if I was introduced to an old friend of Mum’s.

‘Welcome, Ethereal!’ cried the Phaery Queen. Her voice really did seem like a hundred birds singing, which sounds horrible, but it was very pretty. You know how all the heroines sound in those cartoon movies? As if there’s a button on the computer voice simulator that says ‘sweet and friendly’.

‘Happy birthday! And welcome to your friend Prudence, too!’ cooed the Phaery Queen.

‘How do you know my name?’ I asked—politely of course. (I sort of ducked my head, too. My knees just didn’t seem to know how to curtsy).

‘I know all the visitors to Phaeryland,’ smiled the Phaery Queen. ‘Especially children. I just love it when my subjects bring children to visit Phaeryland!’

She sounded just like my kindergarten teacher all those years ago welcoming the children on their first day with paste and paper and colouring-in books, except a hundred times more so. I mean NO ONE sounds as friendly and as gracious as the Phaery Queen—even in Phaeryland.

‘Er, thanks,’ I said. (I wasn’t all that keen on being called a child, to be honest, but you could tell she meant to be kind.)

‘I hope this is going to be a special day for both of you,’ sang the Phaery Queen. ‘I hope it’s going to be the most wonderful birthday…’

And that’s when it happened. Trust Phredde to time it perfectly. She was really sneaky about it too. I hadn’t even noticed anything, and I was right beside her…

First of all, there was a muttering among the cooing behind us.

Then the cooing stopped, and there were cries and screams.

And then I smelt it.

It was like an elephant had laid an egg and it had gone bad.

It was like a garbage bin that had sat in the sun for a year and then the lid was taken off.

It was like the smell in our classroom just the week before…

‘Phredde!’ I hissed. ‘You didn’t!’

‘Ethereal!’ muttered Phredde’s mum behind us. ‘You haven’t!’

‘Oh, Ethereal!’ cried the Phaery Queen. ‘Why did you…’

Well, that stink bomb put paid to Phredde’s birthday ceremony at the castle of the Phaery Queen.

(Stink bomb! Huh! I told you fairies have no imagination. Which is a good thing because if they
did
have imagination as well as their magic…anyway, if it had been me trying to muck up the Phaery Queen’s party I’d have thought of something
really
cool. First of all I’d have…but I’ll get on with the story.)

The phaery ladies-in-waiting all ran out of the throne room like they had spiders running up their
ankles, all coughing and lifting their skirts up out of the smell.

Then the Phaery Queen followed, holding some rainbow-like hanky to her nose, and her eyes were streaming—just like Ben’s last week in science class. Ben had found the recipe on the Internet, and this had given Phredde the idea. The lacy lady-in-waiting was trying to comfort the Phaery Queen, but her eyes were streaming, too.

Phredde’s parents were following, coughing and spluttering and TRYING to apologise, but who can apologise when you can’t take a decent breath?

Phredde and I were bringing up the rear.

I was a bit worried to tell you the truth. I was really starting to sweat in my glass slippers, and it wasn’t all just because feet can’t breathe in glass either. Half of it was sheer, pure terror.

What’s the punishment for letting off a stink bomb in Phaeryland? Prison for a thousand years? Banishment to the dungeons? Morning tea for the castle dragon?

Then we were all outside on the castle lawn.

All the ladies-in-waiting were fanning themselves, as though that would get rid of the smell, and the lacy lady-in-waiting was dabbing the Phaery Queen’s eyes and Phredde’s mum and dad had given up trying to apologise and just stood there with white faces. The stink was slowly evaporating but even the butterflies were giving the castle a wide berth.

‘Well, you’ve done it now!’ I said to Phredde.

She turned to me. Her eyes were red, but I don’t think it was just from the stink bomb.

‘Don’t you see—I had to do it!’ she cried. ‘Otherwise they’ll keep dragging me off here every
year and having phaery princes to stay and I’ll be expected to be a lady-in-waiting when I leave school instead of going to Tech or Uni and I don’t want to!’ She was almost crying now. ‘I just want to be like everyone else!’

I didn’t know what to say. Really, it wasn’t so bad in Phaeryland, although I didn’t HAVE to come here, and I could see what she meant about the phaery prince and being a lady-in-waiting.

But, let’s face it, Phredde ISN’T like everyone else. To start with, she’s only the size of my hand (except in Phaeryland), and she has wings, not to mention magic.

Phredde
was
different. But so what? So’s Mark, my brother, and Mrs Olsen, the vampire, and Mum—anyone who’s hooked on crossword puzzles is WEIRD—and I’m different, too, for that matter. I mean, Phredde can magic things, but only things she knows. I can
imagine
things I’ve never seen before.

But I suppose it’s different BEING really different, and having someone MAKE you be different when you don’t want to be.

‘I understand,’ I said.

Phredde sniffed and I handed her my hanky (I was glad Mum had stuffed one in my pocket at the last minute).

‘What now?’ I asked.

‘Dunno,’ said Phredde.

‘What do you mean, you dunno?’ My voice rose a bit and I tried to whisper again. ‘Are they going to boil us in oil or turn our skins into doormats or throw us in the dungeons or…’

‘Not in Phaeryland!’ said Phredde indignantly. ‘We’re not like that in Phaeryland.’

‘What do you mean “we”?’ I demanded. ‘You just said…’

‘Phredde.’ Phredde’s mum’s voice was very quiet behind us. ‘The Phaery Queen would like a word with you.’

Uh oh, I thought. Here it comes. I tried to smooth my hair down (the garland of diamond flowers was all crooked and had got twisted in my fringe) and look respectable. Phredde grabbed my hand for comfort.

I don’t think time has ever passed so slowly for me as did those few steps over to the Phaery Queen. I mean not even Geography (I hate Geography) on the hottest day—you know those days when even the flies are falling asleep on the windows and you feel like every second is swollen with heat—well, even that was the speed of light compared to that walk in Phaeryland.

There we were the two of us, hand in hand, and Phredde’s parents behind us sombre as kookaburras looking for worms in an asphalt playground. All the ladies-in-waiting had stopped gasping and coughing and were staring at us, and no one was saying anything. Anything at all.

The lacy lady-in-waiting must have found a chair for the Phaery Queen—or had conjured one up—because she was sitting on it, her hands in her lap, quiet as anything, just watching us as we approached.

Phredde’s dad nudged her from behind.

‘Apologise,’ he whispered. ‘At once!’

‘I…I’m sorry…’ began Phredde. ‘And…and Prudence had nothing to do with it. It was all my idea. I just…’ Her voice faltered.

The Phaery Queen nodded slowly. ‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said, in that sort of cooing voice. ‘I…I had no idea you felt like that, Ethereal. If only I’d known.’

There were tears in her voice now and tears in her eyes, too, like tiny pearls about to trickle down her face—and if you think pearls can’t trickle you’ve never been to Phaeryland.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Phredde again. ‘I couldn’t take it, that’s all. The dressing up and the tiara and…and…Handsome Princes and…and everything!’

‘We…just wanted to give you a birthday party,’ whispered the Phaery Queen. ‘I wanted it to be such a special day for you!’

‘I…’ began Phredde again.

The Phaery Queen bit her bottom lip. ‘There’s no need to say any more,’ she said sadly. ‘You’ve outgrown us, that’s all. I’m old-fashioned and I know it. But at my age it’s so difficult to change—and I don’t want to change. This is my life, Ethereal, just as you have yours. But I did so want to give you a party…’

Well, I swallowed a sob too—ten more seconds and I’d be howling—and Phredde was snivelling and all the ladies-in-waiting were sniffing.

‘Just a little party,’ said the Phaery Queen softly. ‘Just to wish you happy birthday. Just one day of the year. But if you don’t want it…’ She sighed, and it was like the rippling of the wind across those dangly trees down in the park…willows, that’s what they’re called.

‘I know it’s not your sort of party,’ whispered the Phaery Queen, and she sounded just like Miss Temerman back in kindergarten when I’d stamped on my bit of Playdough. Not angry at all, just so very, very sad. ‘We don’t have those stone band things or
whatever you call them in Phaeryland. We don’t have pigburgers and…and things like that. All you young people find us so old-fashioned now.’

‘I don’t care about the hamburgers!’ cried Phredde, unable to take it any more. ‘Of course I’d like a party!’

‘Really?’ whispered the Phaery Queen, her eyes lighting up. ‘You’re not just saying that?’

Phredde shook her head. ‘No. I’d love you to give me a party. ANY sort of party!’

‘A party!’ cried the Phaery Queen and clapped her hands. ‘We’re going to have a party!’

All the ladies-in-waiting started cooing again—though I got the impression they weren’t cooing at us this time, just sort of cooing in general, and suddenly the butterflies were back, dragging a tent-like thing, all made of lace like spiders’ webs and glittering with jewels (you can really get sick of jewels in Phaeryland) and it sort of hovered over us like a canopy.

‘Music!’ cried the Phaery Queen, and clapped her hands.

About ninety million red and white spotted toadstools popped up out of the grass at the edge of the canopy. Each one had an elf musician on it and they had violins and flutes and tiny double basses—but nothing cool like an electric guitar, or even drums, for Pete’s sake—and they started playing the sort of music that Mrs Hitchcock tries to make us enjoy in musical appreciation, only a bit faster so you could dance to it.

‘That was a nice thing to do,’ I whispered to Phredde under cover of the music.