Aunt Effie and Mrs Grizzle Page 5

  As their armour boomed, rang, echoed, and fell silent, a tiny voice cried, “Watch out for me!”

  A pigmy Jared, as short as a pin, dodged between our feet. Peter picked him up between his thumb and forefinger and popped him into his shirt pocket with his head sticking out, so he could breathe. “Follow me!” Peter galloped on all fours deeper into the corn. Behind us, the Armoured Body Snatchers clanked like tanks, slashing the stalks with their swords.

  We ran on all fours until our hands and knees bled. Peter stopped, lifted Jared out, stood him on the palm of his hand, and we all stared at him. “Can we have him to play with?” asked Jessie.

  Jared stuck out a tiny pink tongue at her.

  “We can’t go home with Jared looking like that,” said Daisy. “Aunt Effie will be so annoyed!”

  “He’ll be handy for sending down mouse holes,” said Alwyn, but Jared cried that he didn’t want to be eaten by a giant mouse.

  “Look in your pocket,” he squeaked to Peter.

  “There’s nothing in there,” said Peter. “Just a corn seed that’s got in somehow.” He flicked it away.

  “Find it!” Jared squeaked. “Chew the other side!”

  “Side other the chew!” said Alwyn. “Remember Alice in Wonderland?” Fortunately Mr Jones had read the book to us at school.

  “Iway earhay emthay! Overway erethay!” As the Armoured Body Snatchers boomed and bonged towards us, we knelt and searched for the seed.

  “Hurry!” we screamed at each other.

  “Earhay emthay!”

  “Find it!”

  “Quick!”

  Jane found the seed. We each nibbled a bit from the other side and shrank away down beside Jared.

  “Eythay ustmay beway erehay omewheresay!” a huge voice shouted in the clouds. Colossal iron boots crashed down, but we followed Peter, scuttling under a fallen leaf, diving and wriggling under another. We were too small to be seen by the great eyes in the sky.

  Between the giant corn-stalks, we scuttled like ants. At last, Marie and Peter said we could have a rest. We were sitting, puffing and looking around, when we realised Jessie had disappeared.

  Peter went back, looking for her, while the rest of us cried. “What if they’ve stood on her?” we sobbed. “Aunt Effie will be so angry!”

  “It’s your fault!” we told each other. “You know you’re supposed to keep an eye on the little ones.”

  We squabbled and pinched each other until Peter came back and said, “One of the Armoured Body Snatchers caught Jessie. He thought she was a ladybird and picked her up and sang to her, Ladybird, Ladybird, fly away home, but she bit him. So he made her eat from the other side of a sweet corn seed. She grew up, and they put her on one of the horses. I heard them say they were going to get the Moko Man to tattoo her. All over!”

  “All over?” we shrieked.

  “We’d better go home and tell Aunt Effie,” said Marie.

  “But she’s scared of the Moko Man herself!”

  “She’s not scared of the Body Snatchers! Remember how she said ‘Tarnation take them!’”

  “Marie’s right. Aunt Effie will give them tarnation!”

  We followed Peter between the corn-stalks to the edge of the paddock, the swings, and the dancing ladies. We ate from one side and then the other of a sweet corn seed till we were our proper size, then Peter and Marie pushed the little ones up the inside wall of the enormous china chamber pot. The rest of us gave each other a leg up, and sat astride the the rim. The naked ladies stopped swinging and dancing, and waved to us. The gentlemen took off their hats and bowed.

  “Omecay ackbay, iscreantsmay!” The Armoured Body Snatchers galloped out of the trees. One had somebody riding behind him. Jessie!

  “Help!” she yelled as they stood in their stirrups and swung their swords. We shrieked, pulled up our feet, jumped down the other side, and landed on the floor under Aunt Effie’s enormous bed. “Ah-tish-oo!” everyone went, except Alwyn who went, “Oo-tish-ah!”

  “Look at my hanky!” said Jessie. “It must be dust and spiders’ webs.”

  “Yuk!” said Jared.

  “A lady does not blow her nose into her handkerchief and stare at it,” said Daisy. “Nor does she wave it around and ask others to look at it.”

  “Jessie!” said Becky. “You’re back!”

  “The Moko Man was just starting to tattoo me,” said Jessie, “when the Armoured Body Snatchers grabbed me and galloped after you. The horse I was on pig-jumped and bucked me up in the air, and I fell down this side of the enormous chamber pot.”

  “And you came down the right size?”

  Jessie patted herself all over and nodded. “Here’s where the Moko Man started.” She pulled up her shirt, and there was a blue chisel mark by her belly button. We stared in envy and felt our own belly buttons.

  “Tuck your shirt in at once,” said Daisy. “A lady does not show her umbilicus in public.”

  “Public in umbilicus her.”

  As Daisy ground her teeth at Alwyn, the blue chisel mark faded and, “Wahhh!” Jessie cried.

  We all whistled, “Whew!” and said, “Bad luck, Jessie!” But secretly we were delighted that her tattoo had faded.

  Chapter Ten

  Licking the Spoon and the Bowl, What Our Lovely Tomato Sandwiches Tasted Like, Why Aunt Effie Met Us With the Gig Umbrella, and Why Our Fingertips Went All Wrinkly.

  Alwyn said, “Lucky Aunt Effie didn’t use the piss-pot while we were in it.”

  “Do you mind?” asked Daisy.

  Jessie looked around, forgot her lost tattoo, and stopped crying. “The treasure’s still not here,” she said.

  Something lunged in the shadows under Aunt Effie’s enormous bed. We grabbed the little ones and scampered. A huge gruff voice shouted, “Watch out for the Bugaboo!” and we slid down the banisters on to the kitchen floor.

  Aunt Effie was at the bench, sifting flour into a bowl and adding baking powder. “Don’t bother me now!” she said before Jessie could ask her what had happened to the treasure, and she began creaming several pounds of sugar and butter in a bigger bowl.

  “Can we lick the spoon when you’ve finished?”

  “Keep out of my way.” Aunt Effie added several eggs and whipped them in, then half a dozen more. We swallowed loudly as she stirred in heaps of sultanas, raisins, and cherries that she’d soaked overnight in Old Puckeroo, a saucepanful of warmed milk and golden syrup, then the flour and baking powder.

  “If you let us lick the bowl when you’ve finished, you won’t have to wash it.”

  “Who said I’m going to do the dishes? That’s your job.”

  “If you let us lick the spoon, you won’t have to wash it either.”

  “Don’t go opening that oven! I’ll never get this made if you keep getting under my feet!”

  “Please Aunt Effie.…”

  “If I have to tell you once more, I’ll crack you over the head with this wooden spoon!”

  “Cake mixture tastes better raw than cooked,” said Alwyn.

  “Clear off out of my kitchen the lot of you. Wanting to eat my cake mixture – the idea!”

  “But you always lick your fingers when you’re mixing cakes and biscuits.”

  “That’s different. Now, I’m not going to tell you again. If you’re not all out of my kitchen by the time I’ve counted to three, I’ll – I’ll–. All right! Don’t say I didn’t warn you… One – Two – Three –”

  “Aunt Effie?” Jessie said quickly. “You know the enormous po under your bed?”

  “What enormous po?” Aunt Effie stopped stirring.

  “The one with ladies dancing in the nuddy.”

  “Nonsense!” Aunt Effie led us up the stairs, pointed under her enormous bed, and there was the Treaty of Waharoa, the barrel of gunpowder, the suit of armour, the helmet, Napoleon’s head, and all the things we were too scared to look at. But no enormous chamber pot.

  “Is that the treasure?” As Jessie pointed, the darkness hu
ddled under the bed stirred, got to its feet like a rough beast, and slouched towards us.

  “The Bugaboo!” Aunt Effie screamed and ran downstairs, but we beat her, sticking our fingers into the cake mixture and licking them.

  “For that,” said Aunt Effie, “you can all go back to school tomorrow. And if the Moko Man catches you and tattoos your behinds, it’s your own fault for being greedy!” She stuck her finger into the cake mixture and licked it. “Mmm!” she said thoughtfully. “It is nice!” By the time we’d all whined and had another lick, the bowl was empty.

  “Can we have the spoon?” we asked, but Aunt Effie was beginning on another lot of cake mixture, and she locked us outside, where we climbed on each other’s shoulders, flattened our noses against the glass, and tried to see through the window. Aunt Effie showed us a big spoonful of cake mixture, ate it, and pulled down the blind.

  Next morning, Jessie said, “Aunt Effie, can we have a diamond to buy our lunch today?”

  “What’s wrong with your lovely tomato sandwiches?”

  We didn’t like to tell Aunt Effie that by the time we’d slid down the other side of Chapmans Hill sitting on our schoolbags with our lunches inside them, and by the time we’d donged each other on the head with our schoolbags, and by the time it was twelve o’clock and Mr Jones ran home for his lunch, our lovely tomato sandwiches looked and tasted like wet red face-cloths.

  “What on earth will you ask for next? And what in heaven’s name did you think you were going to buy with a diamond?”

  “We were going to go to Mrs Besant’s and buy a pie for lunch,” Jessie whispered.

  “And if there’s any change, we were going to go to Mrs Doleman’s and buy an ice-cream,” whispered Lizzie.

  “And chutty!” whispered Jared.

  “And chews,” whispered Casey.

  “You’ve no idea, have you? The smallest diamond in the treasure would buy all the pies, ice-creams and lollies in all the shops in Hopuruahine, Matamata, Morrinsville, Te Aroha, Paeroa, Thames, Rotorua, Cambridge, Hamilton, and Auckland and, even then, the change from the diamond wouldn’t go into all your schoolbags put together!

  Just a chip off the smallest diamond’s worth more than all the changing-balls, bull’s-eyes, Queen Anne chocolates, and liquorice straps in the Southern Hemisphere!”

  “Wow!”

  “That’s why you can’t be trusted with the treasure. It’s much safer where it is.” Aunt Effie wrapped our lovely tomato sandwiches in newspaper and stuffed them into our schoolbags.

  “Off you go!” she said. “And don’t come home this afternoon with any more rubbish about Body Snatchers.” She stuck her fingers in the corners of her mouth and whistled.

  “Caligula-Nero-Brutus-Kaiser-Genghis-Boris! Chase Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jessie to school.”

  Mr Jones was waiting, and he measured our heads and said we’d done enough work for the rest of the year. “There’s no sense in putting you all up another class,” he said. “That would just mean you’d have to go to Matamata Intermediate, and they haven’t built it yet.”

  So we spent the morning doing phys-ed which meant we climbed the pine trees down the back of the school, fished for penny doctors with blades of grass, and hung upside-down off the rail between the playground and the horse paddock. At lunchtime, we held our noses, ate our wet red face cloths, and played kingaseeny.

  “That’s not kingaseeny,” said a a new kid from Morrinsville. “It’s called bull rush!” He cried when we scragged him.

  In the afternoon, Mr Jones read The Wind in the Willows, and we decided we were going to be water rats when we grew up. Except for Jessie who wanted to be Toad.

  We walked home in single file through the rain, squishing the mud between our toes. When you can’t be bothered remembering to take your coat to school, the rain runs down your neck, trickles down your back, and makes you feel as if you’ve wet yourself. We decided we wouldn’t be water rats after all. Jessie tried hopping through the mud, and decided she didn’t want to be a toad.

  Our school uniforms got heavy, the navy-blue dye ran streaks down our legs, and the boys’ shorts went swush, swush, and sandpapered the insides of their thighs raw. The girls’ gyms went swoosh swoosh and scratched their knees red, and their plaits came undone and hung in wet straggles. We pushed each other over, got up, and squished on, mud plastered on our faces and hands and uniforms.

  At the gate, Peter stopped and said, “Somebody’s changed the notice!” Through the wet hair hanging over our eyes, we saw it now had a skull and crossbones and said:

  Danger! 10,000 Volts!

  Keep Out!

  No Children Allowed.

  Trespassers Will Be Persecuted.

  Anyone Touching This Gate Will Be Electrifried.

  “Somebody can’t spell,” said Daisy. “That should be ‘prosecuted’ not ‘persecuted’, and ‘electrocuted’ not ‘electrifried’.”

  The rest of us flung ourselves face down in a puddle and sobbed, “We’re not allowed home!” and from somewhere came the sound of galloping hoofs.

  “The Body Snatchers!” we screamed, but it was Aunt Effie and the dogs carrying our oilskins and sou’westers and gumboots. “Look out! You’ll get persecuted and electrifried!” we yelled, but Aunt Effie tore down the notice, helped us over the cattle stop, and held her enormous gig umbrella over our heads while we put on our oilskins and sou’westers and pulled on our gumboots.

  We ran for the house under Aunt Effie’s enormous umbrella, but the rain got heavier, the puddles deeper, water spilled over the top of our gumboots, and the little ones stuck in the mud. Aunt Effie held them upside-down till the water ran out of their gumboots and they could walk again. Then they cried and said they were too tired to keep going.

  Aunt Effie knelt in the mud so they could climb up and have a piggyback, then the rest of us wanted a piggyback, too, and she knelt in the mud again, and we all climbed up, and she ran with all twenty-six of us hanging on and shouting, “Faster, faster!” till we were inside the warm kitchen, where we wouldn’t let go, and Aunt Effie shook herself like a big dog and spun round and round till we got dizzy and fell off.

  We threw our wet things down on the floor, piled into Aunt Effie’s enormous bath, splashed water everywhere, stayed in till our fingertips went all wrinkly, then got into our warm pyjamas that Aunt Effie had airing on the rack above the stove.

  Chapter Eleven

  How We All Listened to The Phantom Drummer and Wet Our Beds, Aunt Effie Begins the Story of Mrs Grizzle, Why a Caul is a Sign of Good Luck, and How Aunt Effie Was Christened Brunnhilde.

  In our warm pyjamas, we sat on the lionskin in front of the fire, and Aunt Effie gave us our tea there. When we couldn’t eat any more, we made cinnamon toast on forks of number eight wire. We knocked each other’s slices into the fire and drank cocoa, and the little ones cried because their toast got burnt, and we had to give them ours, or they said they’d tell on us.

  Then we sat up and listened to the wireless and, because it was so late, The Phantom Drummer came on. The Prime Minister, who was also the Minister of Broadcasting, came on first, shouting that children weren’t allowed to listen to The Phantom Drummer, but Aunt Effie was too scared to listen to it on her own.

  Afterwards, she tucked us into our bunks and said, “I might sleep downstairs tonight – just to make sure you’re all safe from the Body Snatchers.” But we knew she was scared the Phantom Drummer was hiding upstairs in the huge china chamber pot under her bed.

  We went to sleep listening to the rain on the corrugated iron roof of the lean-to off the kitchen, and dreamt we were sailing our scow – the Margery Daw – across the sea. Which was why most of us wet our beds, though Daisy insisted it was because of The Phantom Drummer.

  We couldn’t go to school next morning because everything had to go into the wash, and we ran around wearing sacks with
holes cut in them for our heads and arms to stick through.

  “I might make you wear sacks all the time,” Aunt Effie said. “It’d be a lot cheaper.”

  It was a good drying day, with lots of sun and wind that dried out Aunt Effie’s clothes and sheets as well, because she’d got wet through playing in the rain yesterday, too. And she’d wet her bunk downstairs, too – because of listening to the The Phantom Drummer.

  The day after we got all our washing dry, starched, darned, and ironed, Aunt Effie disappeared again. “She’s gone to the pub and got drunk and forgotten where she lives,” Alwyn told the little ones. But they knew Alwyn now. They stuck their fingers in their mouths and stared at him.

  “You’re silly,” they said.

  “What if she pinched our treasure and cut it out, shouting drinks for everyone in the pub, and now she’s too scared to come home and tell us?”

  Jessie looked a bit uncertain, Jared began to cry, and Casey said, “Aunt Effie never goes to the pub.”

  “How do you know she doesn’t go after we’ve gone to sleep?” Alwyn asked. “You ask the Farley kids. They reckon they hear her every night, coming home past their farm, singing rude songs at the top of her voice.”

  “We’d better go and find her and bring her home,” said Lizzie.

  “Who’s going to look after me?” asked Jared.

  “Remember the winter it snowed, and Aunt Effie hibernated till the floods went down, and we made her house into an ark?” Alwyn asked. We looked after ourselves okay that time.”

  “But Aunt Effie was here, even if she was asleep!” said Jessie. “And Peter and Marie looked after us. So there, Alwyn!”

  “You’re teasing,” said Casey. “Aunt Effie wouldn’t run away and leave us to the Bugaboo.”

  “You reckon? That time we saw him, she ran downstairs faster than the rest of us!”

  As the little ones cried, somebody yelled: “Daisy-Mabel-Johnny-Flossie-Lynda-Stan-Howard-Marge-Stuart-Peter-Marie-Colleen-Alwyn-Bryce-Jack-Ann-Jazz-Beck-Jane-Isaac-David-Victor-Casey-Lizzie-Jared-Jessie!”