Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ Chapter 2 Part 2"
’Beyond the Hedge’
Ralph Henderson was not one for open displays of affection but he embraced his daughter and kissed her goodbye. Sandy stood uncertainly in front of the shimmering arch with the Siamese cat beside her, a serene expression on his fine-featured face.
They were travelling light. Everything they might need was waiting for them in Sylvania.
Jamie rubbed his cheek against Sandy’s leg and purred encouragingly. “We’ll be just fine, you’ll see.”
“What will you say to Mum and Kirstine when I don’t turn up for my tea? And Maureen and Liz Drysdale are coming for the weekend, I’ve got to be here for that.”
Her Dad smiled reassuringly but Jock could tell he was worried.
“Your sister won’t be back until Friday night and there’s no way you’ll miss your own birthday party. Time here moves at a much slower pace than it does in Sylvania and Leo shouldn’t be that hard to track down.”
The phrase ‘famous last words’ popped uninvited into his head.
All at once Ralph was gripped by a powerful sense of unease. He was sorely tempted to call the trip off but realised his daughter would never abandon her cat. As a mortal child she couldn’t come to any real harm while she was in Sylvania and intuition told him it was already too late to stop the chain of events that had been set in motion.
Children, birds and animals are open-minded and non-judgmental. Their innocence of spirit and sense of wonder enable them to move between two different worlds quite comfortably. Fairy folk prefer not to have grown-ups in their world because they are invariably pompous and patronising. In no time they start interfering in a misguided belief that Sylvanians can benefit from their superior knowledge. It’s a blanket rule which is strictly enforced no matter how nice the grown-up might be. Ralph and people like him are as rare as hens’ teeth and certainly wouldn’t upset the apple-cart, but the fairy world is not willing to risk damaging the status quo during unsettled times.
“I know this sounds ridiculous,” Jock said with a chuckle, “but we’ll have an easier passage if we link hands, paws and wings, like holiday makers in a Greek taverna after a good few drinks. We’re different shapes and sizes so it’ll be awkward but it will reduce the turbulence and we’re more likely to arrive together.” The crow offered up a silent prayer that nothing would go wrong. “It doesn’t hurt a bit and I promise you’ll love every second of it.”
Jock was right on the button.
Sandy was delighted with her remarkable journey from Scotland to Sylvania. It felt as if she were dreaming and floating at the same time. It was an exhilarating experience, made up of fleeting images of warm, sparkling sunlit fields; of meadows peppered with fragile red poppies and delicate blue cornflowers; tantalising glimpses of mysterious reflections on deep, dark pools; cold, silvery shafts of moonlight reflecting on myriads of intricately sculpted snowflakes which could only have been created by Jack Frost himself; children in woolly hats and gloves laughing and smiling as they warmed themselves in front of flaming bonfires. In essence it was a kaleidoscope of those experiences that make childhood so special.
Jamie’s journey was tailor-made for a cat. Kind, loving families, scrumptious food, endless snoozing in front of roaring fires, and a cat’s ultimate pleasure; lazing in a warm, comfortable bed. These scenes were interwoven with cats and kittens indulging in a most absorbing pastime, the ancient art of cat yoga.
When your cat is fast asleep, belly up, with his legs all over the place, I hope you realise he’s not taking it easy. Far from it, he’s indulging in a challenging mental and physical workout to keep himself in peak condition.
Oh, of course, I hear you exclaim sarcastically. Let me put it this way, when push comes to shove, who’s the fitter, you or your cat, and when exactly was the last time you ran up the curtains?
I rest my case.
The Giant Rat was still in serious thinking cap mode, considering how to befriend the cat without giving him the collywobbles.
His preferred course of action, after much deliberation, was to approach Leo with understated dignity and serenity, thereby introducing a calm note of reassurance and authority.
This was perhaps not the wisest choice for a star-crossed creature like Gilbert but he is one of life’s optimists, bless him.
He tiptoed towards Leo who was sitting miserably by the Sprinting River watching a vast magenta moon climb into the navy-blue sky.
“Right then, chocks away.”
The Giant Rat was dramatically silhouetted against said moon when he inadvertently tripped over an exposed tree root which catapulted him into the air. He let out a series of wails, punctuated with terrifying yowls, and landed in an earth-shaking heap right where Leo would have been were he not several feet in the air, having been scared witless.
The best laid plans of rats and men, to paraphrase Scotland’s favourite son, the poet Robert Burns.
Gilbert and Leo had well and truly made each other’s acquaintance.
The Giant Rat lay on his back with the tiny cat sprawled on his vast stomach. This was Gilbert’s only chance to put things right but he could tell the cat was about to leg it.
“Please don’t go, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m afraid I’m clumsy and accident prone. I’m the wrong scale for this little world.” Leo crawled onto Gilbert’s chest and looked uncertainly into his kind eyes. “I’d like to help you if I can. You’ve just arrived here from ‘Woodburn’, haven’t you?”
“Have I?” The cat was very confused but he did brighten at the mention of home.
“Yes, indeedy. I’m Gilbert, by the way, and it’s very nice to meet you.”
“My name’s Leo and I’m an Abyssinian cat who belongs to Sandy Hen…”
Gilbert swiftly cut in. “I know who Sandy is, Leo.”
“You do?”
“Uh huh.” He gently lifted the cat up and placed him on the ground. “I’m going to get to my feet now, so don’t be scared.”
Leo could barely conceal his excitement. “Will you help me find Sandy?”
“I promise I’ll do everything I can to bring about a happy reunion.” Gilbert had a sudden urge to cheer Leo up. “I tell you what, why don’t you come home with me? I’ve got a few sparklers left. We could set them off if you like.”
Leo desperately wanted to go with the Giant Rat, but he was apprehensive about the sparklers.
“I’d really like to come with you, Gilbert, but I’m not very good with fireworks.”
The Giant Rat realised his mistake and laughed. “That’s OK, Leo. I’m not very good with them either. I’m trying to give them up, as a matter of fact, not just for my own good but for the safety of everyone else as well. You look very tired to me. Why don’t I carry you home? Are you hungry?”
Leo nodded yes on both counts and Gilbert crouched down so that he could clamber aboard. “There you go, just climb up my front leg. Grab hold of my fur if you want to, you’re so light I won’t feel a thing.”
The exhausted cat had barely enough strength left to pull himself onto the rat’s shoulders.
“Now hang on tight, Leo.”
The Giant Rat stood up slowly and headed off in the direction of his makeshift home.
Gilbert’s always on the move as it isn’t safe for him to stay in one place for very long. There always seems to be someone on his tail. The life of a large rat in a miniature world is very trying and fraught with difficulty.
Long before it was dark, Jock, Sandy and Jamie arrived in Sylvania. The crow was used to making the trip alone so he could be excused for not being thoroughly prepared.
Jock was right about one thing, they did all turn up at the same time, but the manner of their entrance was far from perfect. They came close to flattening the Royal Raven, who was standing proudly at the head of her squadrons of rooks, magpies, jays, hooded and carrion crows. Indigoletta staggered backwards in horror and set off a chain reaction. The ranks of birds were standing so stiffly to attention they fell over like rows of collapsing dominoes.
Crawford was apoplectic as he watched the ridiculous tableau unfold from his position in front of Kismet, the Royal Steed.
The immense Sylvanian Forest Cat was carrying an ornate gold howdah on his back which was occupied by Her Majesty Queen Celestina, her consort Hamish and their young daughter, Tabitha. They were accompanied by two ladies-in-waiting, the Queen’s favourite poodle, Archie, and Moriarty, Crawford’s bat. There was one other passenger, riding up front with Kismet, a rare lilac and blue fairy mouse. Wainscot is Kismet’s best pal and they are virtually inseparable. The mouse was sitting on a fancy silk cushion by the cat’s left ear.
Nine white-winged rooks circled above the Queen’s head, making sure Her Majesty was protected at all times. These ferocious birds are Celestina’s personal bodyguards.
A troop of elves carrying longbows and quivers of arrows fletched with the finest crow feathers formed a semi-circle to the right of the Royal Steed. On the left was a contingent of stocky, grim-faced goblins wielding stubby, formidable axes crafted from the strongest Sylvanian irongold.
There were standard-bearers and flag-carrying flunkies, groups of courtiers and officials dressed in bejewelled velvets and lace, servants carrying trays of refreshments and silver salvers groaning with tasty, exquisite morsels. Elegant pixies wearing studded leather gauntlets held exotic birds of prey on their slim wrists. They mingled with groups of purple liveried elves who were trying to restrain handfuls of boisterous dogs on fancy, beribboned leads.
A military band should have been playing the upbeat Sylvanian anthem but the conductor and musicians stood with stunned expressions and gaping mouths watching the calamity unfold.
Twitchett was at the head of the Impfantry choking in disbelief while colourfully dressed Crawdonian commoners roared their approval.
Sandy scrambled to her feet, bewildered but thrilled at the same time and, with the help of Jock, came to Jamie’s aid. He lay in a horribly undignified position at Indigoletta’s feet and was completely mortified.
The cat felt compelled to turn his back on everyone and wash himself in a none-too-convincing ‘see if I care’ sort of attitude. Jock and Sandy beckoned him towards them.
“Your M-a-a-j-j-esty, I’m so sorry, what can I say?” The crow clapped a wing-tip theatrically to his forehead and peeked through the splayed feathers in an attempt to ascertain the Queen’s mood which was very hard to tell from where he was standing.
Indigoletta’s state of mind was another matter. He could hear a hoarse, fizzing sound from the back of her throat, like the noise a keg of beer makes when it’s about to explode.
The Royal Raven gave ‘the one and only’ a withering look and closed her eyes until she recovered her composure.
Her squadrons had sorted themselves back into perfect rows in a trice; they were top-flight professionals, after all.
Indigoletta stared disdainfully at Jock. She opened her beak to give him what for but was stopped in her tracks by a familiar sound.
Queen Celestina was helpless with laughter.
“Welcome to Sylvania! Thank you for the best display I’ve been treated to in years.”
The Fairy Queen waved her wand, with Moriarty still clinging to it. Thousands of glittering gold and silver stars poured out from the tip in ever-increasing numbers. They danced and capered in the clear, warm air and drifted out over the throng.
The elf, the pixie and the dog were sitting in an open-topped, pony-drawn buggy watching the whole circus. Their anxious expressions were replaced with broad smiles. Pongo started barking and shouting in unconfined joy. He grinned at Alfie and scampered off to catch some magic stars for Pogo.
Sandy gazed at the celestial pageant. I suppose you could say she was star-struck. She wasn’t dreaming; she was undeniably in Sylvania. There was no need to pinch herself, but she was tempted to do so all the same.
The dapper little conductor of the Queen’s Own Musicians lifted his baton and the band of assorted fairy folk launched into a rousing rendition of the Sylvanian national anthem. Everyone sang lustily and when the song came to an end they roared their approval and stamped their feet in a joyous display of loyalty to the Royal Family.
Celestina bowed graciously to her subjects while her husband smiled and nodded at the crowd.
Prince Hamish is a gentle, well-read elf from Lotharion, a shire to the east of the Craggan Heights, between Crawdonia and Kelpien where Estella was staying with Pogo’s brother Mervyn and his family.
“Let the festivities begin,” commanded the Fairy Queen. She lifted her honey-coloured poodle over the side of the howdah. Sandy and Jamie exchanged puzzled looks. Celestina laughed heartily when she saw their startled faces. “They ain’t seen nothing yet, have they Hamish?” He gave her delicate shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “You haven’t even warmed up yet,” he chuckled. “Just wait ’til they see your aerial flamenco.”
When the Queen let go of Archie, his long, feathery tail began to rotate faster and faster and he rose into the air before flying down, helicopter style, to land at the astonished child’s feet.
“Watcha,” said the handsome poodle. “Queen Celestina gave me the power of flight for my last birthday. It was quite scary to start with, but I’m feeling more confident about solo flights now.”
The poodle noticed Jamie staring up at the gargantuan long-haired cat. “The Royal Steed’s impressive, isn’t he? Kismet’s a gentle giant, really. Sylvanian Forest Cats are renowned for their relaxed approach to life but they have an incredible turn of speed which can be very handy if you find yourself in a tight spot.”
The benign beast nodded graciously from his exalted position. “Good to meet you, Jamie.”
“Likewise,” said the Siamese who was taking in every inch of Kismet’s sumptuous maroon and silver coat. “I hope you don’t think I’m being forward, but your colour scheme is most unusual and very becoming.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Sylvanian Forest Cats can be any colour or pattern they wish,” said Archie enthusiastically.
“We simply choose a combination, say, black and purple stripes, or red and gold checks; whatever takes our fancy. It’s great fun. I was shocking pink with blue and purple spots yesterday.”
“Wow,” said Jamie, “I’d love to be able to do that.”
The Royal Party had already begun their descent. Queen Celestina could have flown down but chose to use the neat staircase that unfolds, at the press of a button, from its position underneath the howdah.
Alfie jumped out of the buggy in response to a gesture from his monarch. He bowed and doffed his hat.
The Queen smiled warmly. “Come and join us for refreshments in the Royal Pavilion.” She waved Sandy and Jamie over. “You must be hungry, dears.”
Celestina took her daughter by the hand and swished off in a dazzling array of iridescent silks and sequins. “Well, Tabby, do you think Cook might have prepared some of that chunky kibble the royal dogs and cats like so much? I know Pongo loves it. Do try some, Jamie, and let me know what you think.”
Prince Hamish grinned mischievously. “We’ve organised some musical entertainment for you later on. Alfie’s cousin is doing a turn.”
The elf groaned. “How thoughtful of you, sir.” He nudged his wife. “All we need now is Uncle Angus with an illustrated lecture on the rudiments of spell-weaving.” Pogo burst out laughing and linked arms with her husband as they walked together into the fabulous royal pavilion.
Sandy and Jamie had a wonderful time getting to know everyone. Indigoletta was particularly welcoming. “I remember your father’s visit as if it were yesterday.”
“But that was nearly forty years ago,” said a surprised Sandy.
Indigoletta was sitting on an ebony perch sipping a furry-fig sorbet through a long silver straw. “We have a very different system of time here, my dear. I’m three hundred and nine Sylvanian years old and I’m not yet in my prime.”
Crawford had a ridiculous, lovelorn expression on his face. He waved a wing in the direction of Indigoletta. “Doesn’t she look radiant?”
Sandy nodded vigorously, trying not to smirk.
The Royal Raven winked at her. “Why thank you, Crawf. I adore your polka dot tie. Violet is undoubtedly your colour.”
“You think so? It’s not too vivid with the emerald green spots?”
Indigoletta was in an indulgent mood. “Good heavens, no. It’s absolutely divine.” She spotted the recent addition to her household in his swanky new uniform standing uncertainly behind Sandy’s chair. “Fetch Crawford some fingalberry wine, Will. He looks a little faint. It’s a marvellous tonic.” Then in a whispered aside to the lad, “Try a drop yourself, it’s wonderful for calming the nerves.”
Moriarty was reluctant to leave the Queen and return to Crawford. In fact, he was more than a bit crestfallen and had the demeanour of a damp flannel.
“Come and see me again soon, honey pie,” Celestina called from her position at the head of the table. The bat gave a feeble flutter, rallying slightly at the sound of her voice.
“You’ve made your point, Moriarty,” said Crawford through the crow equivalent of gritted teeth. He attempted to win the bat over with some scrumptious chuckleberries. Bullseye! Moriarty thrummed happily, demolished the sweet fruit then nipped into the pocket of Crawford’s lavender silk waistcoat for a little nap.
The Siamese was purring up a storm on Sandy’s lap. When she spoke there was a slight catch in her voice. “What a fantastic welcome. Everyone’s so kind.” She felt an arm slip round her shoulders and there was Pogo smiling reassuringly. The pixie tickled Jamie under the chin. “We’ll find Leo, whatever it takes. I’m glad you’re both here. Does it feel very strange?”
“Just a bit! I had long since stopped believing and now here you all are. I don’t feel physically changed, not even smaller, but everything’s completely different.”
“It’ll take time to adjust, but you’ll soon settle in.”
“Please don’t think I’m unhappy, just overwhelmed, and I love it here already. Sylvania’s miles better than I could ever have imagined. I can hardly wait for SSS and the Giant Rat to turn up.”
“You’ll meet Sammy soon.” Pogo lowered her voice. “We’ll talk about Gilbert later, he’s been in a lot of trouble recently.”
Sandy giggled. “Is that his name? It’s not at all what I would have expected.”
The music stopped and the jugglers, tumblers and performing poodles cleared the floor.
Prince Hamish rose from his chair. “We have a very special friend here this evening who is going to entertain us.” He paused which added to the sense of anticipation. “None other than Wee Alfie Elf’s cousin Fergus, better known to us all by his stage name, ‘Bandolero’.”
There were whoops and cat-calls, not the obvious reaction from such a grand gathering.
Sandy couldn’t help noticing the fixed smile on Alfie’s face; he clapped along with the others but his heart was not in it.
A troupe of sombrero-wearing musicians ran into the middle of the pavilion amid frenzied guitar strumming. An elf in full Mexican bandit regalia walked sedately into the spotlight which consisted of millions of fireflies in a controlled swarm. Fergus placed his sombrero on the ground in front of him and bowed first to the right and then to the left. “I veel now perform zee Mexican Hat Dance,” he announced in a cod Spanish accent. With that, he leapt into the air, silver spurs jingling and jangling as he executed some nifty, complicated footwork while he systematically pounded his long-suffering sombrero into the ground.
When the dance finally came to an end, Bandolero strutted and pranced, soaking up the wild applause.
Alfie couldn’t help joining in with the tumultuous ovation. “What a guy, you’ve got to hand it to him. He knows how to please a crowd. They love him.”
Fergus, aka Bandolero, had almost disappeared beneath armfuls of floral tributes and the crowd showed no signs of letting up.
The trampled, dishevelled hat stood up on a pair of tiny feet, gave itself a half-hearted shake and trudged wearily backstage.
Pogo shouted over the rapturous clapping. “It’s that poor sombrero I feel sorry for. Fergus has never been the same since he went on a package holiday to the Costa del Solvania.”
Sandy grabbed some flowers from a floral display on the table and ran after the dejected hat. “Hang on a minute! These are for you. I thought you were fantastic. He couldn’t have done it without you.”
The sombrero stopped and raised its battered brim. “For me? How thoughtful, thank you so much.”
She carefully placed the flowers around the crown of the hat.
“You really have made my day, Sandy. It’s been a pleasure performing for you.”
The hat shambled off through a tent-flap and she was glad when she heard it say, “I can’t remember the last time I said that and genuinely meant it.”
Sammy Slithering Snake sashayed in while Celestina was telling Sandy about her Fabulous Flying Flamenco. “SSS,” she yelled as soon as she saw him. Her hand flew up to her mouth. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I didn’t mean to shout.”
“There’s no need to be restrained around me. I’m all for informality. Even monarchs are allowed to have a sense of humour. Now why are you still here? Off you go and say hello.”
Sandy scooted across the pavilion, weaving in and out of clusters of fabulously attired fairy folk. When she found herself in front of the Prince of Cobalt-Sibilance she suddenly felt shy and awkward.
Sammy gracefully coiled himself round her tentatively outstretched arm and briefly brushed his face against her cheek. “S-sandy, it’s so good to meet you at last. You do look like your Dad, you know.”
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