Lilliput Page 10

  ‘I wish I could see in your eyes what you see in mine,’ Finn said softly. ‘Then I’d know what your worries were. I’d know what to say to make you feel better.’

  Lily looked down at her toes. ‘I’m trying to be patient,’ she said. ‘But I can’t stop thinking about time. It ticks away so slowly for you, and so quickly for me. I just want the plan to be ready right now. I can’t bear to waste even a second.’

  Finn bit his lip and nodded. He smiled at her, but his eyes were sadder than Lily had ever seen them.

  ‘I understand.’ Then he turned and went back behind the counter.

  Lily stayed gazing out the window, trying to solve the puzzle of his eyes. Why were they so sad?

  Because once we rescue Swift and get Gulliver’s book, I’ll be leaving. I’ll never see him ever again.

  She felt a pang of guilt. Finn and Mr Ozinda weren’t wasting time at all. They were cherishing the few precious moments they had left with her.

  Lily whirled back round, ready to blurt out an apology. She was being so selfish. But Finn was already suggesting a dozen different plans, and Mr Ozinda was quietly stacking the food back into his larder.

  He said, ‘Without further adieu, there is planning to do.’

  Part Three: LEAVING

  ‘Now that the cold winter is coming,’ the bird told her, ‘I shall fly far, far away to the warm countries. Won’t you come along with me?

  You can ride on my back.’

  (Hans Christian Andersen, Thumbelina)

  FOR THE REST of the day they worked like slaves. Finn scribbled diagrams on napkins, and Mr Ozinda arranged truffles on the counter as if they were pieces in some enormously complicated board game.

  Again and again, hour after hour, they thought of new risks and devised new solutions. And slowly the three of them began to form a plan – it was a daring rescue, a stealthy burglary and a cunning getaway, all in one.

  The plan involved Mr Plinker’s chimney, Mr Ozinda’s rhymes, a trout and, most importantly, Señor Chitchat. And if it worked then Lily would be flying home on Swift before the morning.

  If it failed and Lily was caught, she would be back in Gulliver’s hands. Or, worse, Mr Plinker’s.

  Around midday, two coaches pulled up to the doors of the chocolate shop, which Mr Ozinda had kept closed to his customers. Plum-Thumb came miserably down the stairs and left, clutching Princess Henry. Slug-Nose followed her with Mrs Ittle-Wittle, glancing at Lily nervously, one hand reaching down every few seconds to check that she wasn’t sprouting a Trufferdunk’s tail.

  ‘Won’t they tell someone that they have seen me?’ Lily wondered as Slug-Nose and Plum-Thumb went back to their homes.

  Mr Ozinda shrugged. ‘I have told them not to. But I imagine they will.’

  Lily started pacing the counter in worry, but then she realised – it didn’t matter who Slug-Nose and Plum-Thumb told. No one would believe a word.

  Finn smiled, but his eyes filled with sadness again. ‘Even if they do tell someone, and even if that someone believes them, it won’t matter. You’ll already be long gone.’

  Lily instantly felt guilty again and, as they were making such good progress with the plan, she insisted on stopping for lunch. The three of them dipped buttered toast into boiled eggs, while Dumpling sulked and spied on them from the top of the stairs.

  After moons and moons of eating bland porridge Lily had forgotten how tasty lunch could be. After saying thanks to the Ender she gobbled up a whole yolk and a dozen crumbs of toast, until she was full to bursting.

  ‘Wonderful lovely.’ She licked the butter from her fingers and looked up. Over the gravelly scrape of knives on toast she heard Finn laughing.

  ‘What’s so funny, Finn?’

  ‘You’re eating your egg upside down,’ he grinned. ‘The big end is meant to go at the bottom!’

  ‘No it isn’t.’ Lily sat up indignantly. ‘Lilliputians always crack their eggs this way.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because of the Ender.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The Ender, Finn.’ Lily sighed and explained: ‘Whenever Nana gave me eggs for lunch she told me the story of how the Ender made the world. Do you want me to tell you too?’

  Finn nodded, and so Lily began. It was the first story she had told outside of the Sock.

  ‘In the time before time,’ she began, ‘the Ender sat in His cosmic kitchen and decided to make His dinner.

  ‘First He lit the sun, which was His stove. Then He poured a jug of water, and that became the sea. He shook a bag of flour, and that became the land. He added a drop of milk, which became the moon, and a sprinkle of sugar, which became the stars.

  ‘Then, at last, the Ender took two eggs, and cracked them at the big end, and something strange happened. Out hatched the very first people, and their names were Blefus and Lill.

  ‘“Don’t eat us!” they pleaded, and though the Ender was very hungry, and though the world He had made looked very tasty indeed, the Ender was kind. So He took pity on Blefus and Lill, and gave His world to them instead, for them to look after.’

  Finn grinned. ‘For safekeeping,’ he said.

  Lily laughed. ‘I suppose so. And that’s why we Lilliputians always crack our eggs from the big end. To remind ourselves: we all came from kindness. We all sprang from the same place. The world is a gift.’

  After lunch Finn went out with a few coins to buy the things they needed for the plan. Lily wanted to go too, but Mr Ozinda wouldn’t allow it.

  ‘It is no good just having the perfect plan,’ he told her. ‘You must be perfect too. It will be a long and dangerous journey, Lily, and we will not be there to help you. If you are not ready, you will not survive.’

  And so Mr Ozinda made Lily copy out maps of the stars on square scraps of paper, and Señor Chitchat taught her a few basic phrases in Swiftian – ‘Time to fly’, ‘Danger’, ‘Keep together’ and ‘Help!’.

  Lily listened to the shrill calls and whistles, over and over. Soon she found it easy to chirp along with Señor Chitchat.

  ‘Chipchip, tsik, kee eeip,’ she called. ‘Skee, skee.’

  Mr Ozinda grinned. ‘I have never seen someone parrot a parrot so well!’

  Then they made a list of Lily’s supplies.

  ‘So,’ Mr Ozinda said rummaging around the chocolate shop. ‘You need food and water. And something to keep the warm in and the wet out, yes?’

  Lily and Swift would have to seek shelter from anything stronger than a pitter-patter, but to keep off a light drizzle she found a miniature umbrella in the doll’s-house wardrobe. For the cold nights Mr Ozinda gave her one of his blue silk handkerchiefs as a blanket. For food he gave Lily an enormous chocolate truffle.

  ‘That is one hundred dinners in a neat little ball!’ he said. ‘Just make sure you do not scoff it all at once. You know why? You will get too fat for Swift to fly!’

  ‘What will I drink, though?’ Lily asked. ‘I’ll parch without a drop of something.’

  ‘Ah!’ Mr Ozinda answered. ‘I have given this much thinking. And this is what I have thought.’

  He produced what looked to Lily like a splinter, but was in fact a tiny piece of …

  ‘Straw?’ she wondered. ‘What do I need straw for?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Mr Ozinda. ‘Because you do not need to take water. There is plenty of it hanging up in the sky.’

  ‘You mean clouds?’ said Lily.

  ‘That is exactly what I am meaning! Clouds are just very tiny drops of water, no? Tiny drops that we giants cannot drink. But you, Lily, are different … whenever you are thirsty you can fly up to the clouds and suck up the mist with this straw, yes?’

  And so, thanks to Mr Ozinda, Lily had everything she needed. But that created another problem.

  ‘Where am I going to put it all?’ she asked when the equipment was laid out in front of her. ‘Swift doesn’t have any pockets, you know.’

  The answer was obvious, really. It would take many moons t
o fly back to Lilliput, and Lily needed somewhere to sit.

  She needed a saddle.

  So, once Finn returned from the market, Lily made him dust great clumps of spider silk from the attic ceiling. Then she patiently untangled every strand and, using a splinter, wove them together into a harness with a seat and stirrups.

  As the sun drifted down slowly from the sky, Mr Ozinda lit the hearth, and they all sat in the molten light of the fire, sewing and untangling. And, as they worked, Lily told her safekeepers about home.

  She told them about the emperor’s palace at Belfaborac; and the great city of Mildendo; about the little pebble and twig-thatch houses in the village of Plips; and the turtle shell on the Southern Beach, which was Lily and Nana’s home.

  She told every sad and happy story she could remember. She told When the Rains Washed Mama and Papa Away, and When the Seagull Plopped on Nana.

  ‘It just fell from the sky like a big ball of smelly snow,’ Lily giggled. ‘And, SPLAT! It covered Nana, right up to her neck! We had to dig her out with a shovel!’

  ‘You remember so much,’ Finn said, with a hint of envy. ‘You were only six moons old.’

  ‘Memories are all I’ve got,’ said Lily as she sewed the last stitch. ‘If I forget them, home really is gone for ever. There! It’s done!’

  The saddle was a beautiful thing, with a light harness to loop around Swift’s head. Either side of the seat two pouches held the truffle and the star maps and blanket. There was a scabbard big enough to keep Stabber, her umbrella and the straw.

  In a flash of inspiration Finn had also pulled a feather from Señor Chitchat, which Lily had carefully stuck down onto the sticky spider silk to make the softest cushion.

  ‘Nice and comfy,’ Lily said, testing it out. ‘It’ll be a long journey … too long to put up with bum blisters.’

  She stepped off the saddle and admired it again.

  Now all I need is the bird, she thought, and felt herself almost float up through the ceiling in joy.

  But then the sadness gripped her by the ankles and pulled her back to the ground again, for the simple truth was this: if their plan worked, Lily would go home, and Finn would stay here in London.

  Soon they would be saying goodbye.

  AT LAST THE plan was ready and Lily had everything she needed to start her long journey home. But still she waited with her safekeepers in the chocolate shop. For Lily, Finn, Mr Ozinda and Señor Chitchat were about to become thieves, and they needed the cover of darkness.

  As the evening drew on everyone grew nervous and restless. In an effort to chase away the gloom Mr Ozinda stoked the fireplace and lit every candle, so that the shop was soon blazing with light. Lily and Señor Chitchat practised over and over again the line that the parrot needed to speak in order for the plan to work:

  ‘Run, run as fast as can be,

  Gulliver’s a yahoo and he’ll never catch me!’

  When it was perfect Lily practised her Swiftian and sharpened Stabber on the marble counter. The parrot took to reciting the alphabet in Spanish.

  Finn was the only one who didn’t fiddle or chatter. He packed a bag with all the equipment they needed then sat by the window, watching the sun slip from the sky. His stillness rippled out to the others, until one by one they all fell into a brooding silence.

  When there was no use in waiting any longer Lily pushed her feet into her slippers, poked Stabber through her jacket and hopped into Finn’s waistcoat. Mr Ozinda wrapped himself up in his cloak, put Señor Chitchat on his shoulder and lit an oil lamp to lead them through the dark.

  ‘Darling, my Dumpling, my sweet little something!’ he called up the stairs. She appeared at the door a moment later, twisting her hair nervously with her fingers.

  ‘Get on your coat, slip on your shoes! Quick, we have not a moment to lose!’

  ‘Where are we going, Papa?’ Dumpling whined as he prodded her out the door. ‘Papa?’

  ‘¡Silencio!’ Señor Chitchat squawked, and Lily and her safekeepers continued the rest of the journey without a word, each of them (except Dumpling, who knew nothing) rehearsing the plan in their heads.

  Mr Ozinda held up his lamp and started to waddle across St James’s. A few carriages clattered over the square, and the soldiers by the palace were all stood to attention. A light drizzle came and spattered the pavement as they walked.

  Lily huddled in Finn’s pocket, afraid – rain could be deadly to Lilliputians. A sudden downpour could drown even the strongest of them. It had been a storm that had swept away Mama and Papa when Lily had been just a moonchild.

  As the drizzle faded away and the skies above London cleared, Lily looked up at her safekeeper. If the plan worked, then the next time it rained the two of them would be far apart. This was the last time she could hide in Finn’s pocket. After tonight it would just be her and Swift in the vast and lonely sky.

  Eventually they reached Tock Lane, a street so narrow that at points Mr Ozinda had to squeeze down it sideways. As they passed the workshops of the other clock makers Lily heard the steady tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock from inside each one.

  The houses and the minutes flew past until, at last, they arrived at a crooked, damp house with darkened windows and a faded sign swinging above the door.

  ‘Plinker’s Timepieces,’ read Señor Chitchat, and Mr Ozinda shushed him softly.

  ‘Something’s stinky, Papa,’ Dumpling grumbled. ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘It’s not something,’ whispered Finn. ‘It’s someone.’

  Lily looked up nervously at the three floors – first Mr Plinker’s workshop, then the bedroom where he slept, then the tiny attic window, poking out from the roof tiles.

  ‘Ready?’ said Finn. He reached in his pocket to lift Lily out, but she elbowed his fingers away.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘Listen.’

  Plinker’s Timepieces didn’t sound like the other workshops. It was almost silent. There was no tick-tocking at all.

  ‘The clocks have all stopped,’ Finn murmured. ‘Mr Plinker isn’t patient enough to keep winding them up.’

  ‘It’s not the clocks I’m listening for,’ Lily whispered. ‘It’s him.’

  And suddenly there came a faint cry: ‘Skee, skee …’

  ‘There!’ she said, clambering up Finn’s arm. ‘Did you hear that? Swift, calling for help!’

  Lily trembled all over as she jumped onto Mr Ozinda’s shoulder. ‘Budge up,’ she told Señor Chitchat, who ruffled his feathers and tutted.

  She waited as Finn pulled open the bag and began handing out the equipment. Swift’s saddle for Lily; a reel of thread for Señor Chitchat; a fat grey trout wrapped in old leather for Dumpling. Lily winced, holding her nose against the pong.

  ‘Horatio’s favourite fish,’ Finn said.

  ‘I don’t want to hold it, it’s all slimy,’ Dumpling complained, grasping the trout by the tail. ‘And it smells.’

  ‘Of course it smells,’ Finn grinned. ‘I bought the stinkiest trout I could find. Horatio will be able to catch a whiff of it from a mile away.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Lily.

  She looked around. All her safekeepers had fallen silent. They had their equipment. They were ready. Now they were waiting for her to give the word.

  ‘Remember,’ she told them. ‘Gulliver, Mr Plinker and Horatio are in there. If this plan is going to work, they all need to be lured out here onto the street. That’s your job. Leave Swift and the Book of Travels to me.’

  Everyone nodded, and though she was more nervous than she had ever been in her life, Lily smiled at each of them. Finn, Mr Ozinda, Señor Chitchat. She even gave a grudging nod to Dumpling.

  ‘And I want to say thank you,’ she said. ‘You’re not just my safekeepers, you’re my friends. You’ve given me so much.’

  She looked at Finn and said, ‘You gave me hope.’

  She looked at Señor Chitchat and said, ‘And a way home.’

  She looked at Mr Ozinda. ‘And hot chocolate
!’

  Lastly she looked at Dumpling, who bit her lip and looked down at her toes. ‘And a headache,’ Lily grinned, remembering her fall down the stairs.

  She stopped herself there. It felt too much as if she were saying goodbye for ever. A goodbye (especially a goodbye for ever) is a heavy thing, and Lily didn’t want to feel weighed down. Not when Señor Chitchat was just about to carry her up to the chimney.

  So she just nodded to each of them, wrapped her arms tight around the parrot’s foot and said: ‘Up and away!’

  ‘Up and away,’ Señor Chitchat repeated. ‘Up and away.’

  And, flapping his wings, they soared into the air.

  LILY HELD HER breath as Finn, Mr Ozinda and Dumpling shrank to the size of dolls and the rooftop appeared. It was like another world; another London. No reek and clamour up here, just the moon shining and the stars twinkling and the smoke plumes curling up into the night. Cold and peaceful. Hushed.

  She hung onto Señor Chitchat as he struggled up and up, with the reel of thread in his claws, until finally he perched on the top of the chimney.

  ‘Phew!’ he croaked.

  ‘Well done, Chitchat.’ Lily stroked his chest. The parrot puffed up with pride.

  She hopped from his leg and put down her saddle. They were very high. A gust whistled in her ears and disappeared with a moan down the flue. Lily tried not to look down.

  She held out her hand over the chimney. No heat or smoke at all. That meant no fire in the attic below.

  Just as Lily had expected. Now she was gone, Gulliver hadn’t bothered to light the hearth.

  She smiled. He had always expected her to escape up the chimney, but now she was about to climb down it.

  ‘Ready?’ she asked Señor Chitchat.

  As the parrot bobbed his head, Lily caught a glimpse of something behind him. She drew Stabber from her belt. A shadow was slinking across the rooftop in their direction.