Continuing the story of Thredwyl’s adventure. Read it all FOR FREE on Thredwyl’s very own site
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The next morning, when Daisy brought him his seeds and fresh water she popped him a question. “You’ve been asking me hundreds and thousands of questions about my world—and I’m happy to answer—but can I ask you about your world now?”
“If you can say it you can ask it.” He owed her that, and he enjoyed her company. If only she’d allow him out of this pink so-called palace. She’d told him it was to protect him from Flirtations Fleur’s lascivious advances. Aye, but how was it to do that, when it locked from the outside?
Her questions began with, “What do you do in Dolstone?”
“What do you mean, what do I do?” Thredwyl did lots of things. “I go exploring—there’s always a new cave calling. I play dares with my cousins. I’m the most courageous there.”
“No, I mean, what do you do for a living?” Daisy amended her question. “Like, well…like when I’m grown up and leave school and go to Uni and stuff, I’m going to be famous—a gypsy told me. Though I don’t know what I’m to be famous for.”
Thredwyl frowned, scratched his head, sniffed. He still didn’t understand what she meant by ‘do for a living’.
“Well,” Daisy said, “like my father plays music. And Mum used to act but now she only does these voiceovers—but that’s all-right cos she’s still getting money from the sitcoms. Then there’s Jason, he’s going to work in an-ni-ma-tronics—once he qualifies. And Fleur…well, no, I don’t know what she’s going to do. I don’t understand how she can engineer chemicals but that’s what she’s said. And anyway, first she’ll probably be a porn star. That’s what Mum says. So,” she repeated her question, “what do you do for a living?”
Even with those three little words added, Thredwyl still couldn’t find sense in the question. “I breathe. I eat. You might say I work to find food though it’s never difficult. Grandma looks after us.”
“But how’d you get money to buy your clothes?” she asked him. “And don’t say credit cos I know that eventually credit must be paid.”
Thredwyl shook his head. “Nay, you’re not understanding. Except for the food and water that Grandma gives us, everything else is spelled for. Clothes, shoes, ropes, bags, everything.”
“So, is that all you do? Explore the caverns?”
He noticed a dull, disappointed note in her voice.
She disappeared off not long after. He supposed she was hungry and wanted her own breakfast.
In the room outside the pink plastic palace, the window was open, overlooking the drive. It was the crunch of wheels on the gravelled drive that alerted him. He sat, as still as the proverbial hard-faced diamond, and listened.
Car doors opened. And slammed. Four pairs of feet crunched their way to the Doley’s front door. An elaborately sequenced chime sounded throughout the five floors. He heard Fleur shouting, “Yea, I’m coming.” He heard her open the door. “Yea? Oh, Dwayne, it’s you. Did Jace tell you—?”
A male voice cut in, “Nah, lady. Professor Margev claims you’re harbouring a hominid species here. We have a warrant. Home Office.”
Thredwyl mightn’t know what a warrant was, nor what a Home Office was, but he knew that tone of voice. And when coupled with that Margev-name, it rattled his every sense of self-preservation. He looked around his pink plastic palace. Converted from a rabbit’s hutch, there was no place to hide. Moreover, it could only be opened from the outside; there was no escape from it.
He called as loud as he dared, “Daisy….”
Where was she? She’d be more than devastated to discover him gone. He hadn’t been here long but already a strong bond had developed. She was helping him – if not to return home, at least to understand this strange world of Man and His Unkind Kind.
Oh, squiffles, where was she when he needed her? All morning with her pestering questions….
Frantic now, he yelled again, “Daisy?”
He could hear heavy male-steps climbing the stairs.
Fie foo fee fum, I smell the blood of a Kupie Clan. Nay, he told himself, abandon that thought, put it away, they wouldn’t catch him. Yet here he was, stuck in this pink palace. He looked at the door, the one Daisy usually opened – aye, but from the outside – to put him in and help him back out. But even if he could break it down, if he took a run at it – and there was no room to do that – shoulder into it, crack, splinter and…and smack, land stunned on the floor below. Aye, well, maybe it was nought compared to that drop from the professor’s window but that hadn’t been done at a run.
Run, run, run, the word repeated. Aye, the run; why hadn’t he thought of that before? There was a second entry to this perfect pink palace. He’d seen it though he’d never used it. Down there, on the floor, hidden somewhere within the run.
In his haste, he tripped, staggered and rolled down the ramp. But once there, how to find the chuffing door?
The run was constructed of rectangular sections, each a pink plastic frame with a metal grid set into it. Metal – iron, was it? Probably, aye, yet he’d no worries about that with him not being a Nixie. With an ear keened to the sounds from below, he perambulated the run, speedy yet thorough in his examination, leaning heavy upon each section close to the joins. He figured that’s where hinges and locks would best be placed. His eyes scanned for leakage of light. He applied his shoulder for any sign of giveage. But by the cringe, this run was too open. If those Men – the Anthropology Geeks, he knew who they were – if they opened that connecting door….
Ah, there it was. The ground-level door leaked air, a most glorious sign, and gave a tad as he tested his shoulder against it. And where was it? Bang opposite the ramp, how chuffing fortuitous.
He thundered up that plastic ramp, turned at the top, took a deep breath, and thundered back down. No stopping at the bottom, he was head down across that run and barrelling into the door.
The panel exploded in a shower of pink plastic shards and slivers that in falling littered the plastic matted floor. Daisy would get into trouble for that but he’d no time to fret over it.
Now, where to hide? He could hear the Men’s voices – what were they saying? Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. He could hear their heavy feet on the landing, crushing the texture’s plushness as they headed towards him.
Where to hide?
Daisy’s bathroom!
crispina kemp 