Continuing the story of Thredwyl’s adventure. Read it all FOR FREE on Thredwyl’s very own site
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Daisy led the way, Thredwyl stumbling over his feet as he gawked at the gem-stones that hung from every projection and studded, in profusion, everything else. He wanted to touch them. He wanted to smell them. He wanted to talk with them. But he didn’t suppose, for any one moment, that any would know of his homeland. These would know only of Giant Gems in the Giants Land.
Daisy had opened another door, this through to the room she’d said would be his. Light flooded the uncluttered space. Uncluttered, except for…
“Will you fit in it alright?” Daisy asked him. “Only, lengthwise you might be the same size as Flopsy and Peeps, but they were quadrupeds while you move bipedally—like a proper human. You might have to crawl to get around. But, hey, you’ll be far from the reach of that Flirtatious Fleur. Did she touch you? You haven’t said. Well, if she did you’re to say, no need to be shy. I shan’t tell Mum or no-one. There’s a phoneline for kids, you see. No one else needs to know.”
Why did she keep asking him that, then giving him no time to reply? But anyway, no, the Lascivious Fleur hadn’t touched him, not there. Though all that stripping and teasing had made things hard for him. Even now he could feel the heat surge in his face, just at the thought. Yet he did appreciate Daisy’s timely rescue. Except if she expected him to stay in there, with its doors that fastened from the outside only and metal fencing with a grid too small for him to squeeze through, she might think again. He knew a prison when he saw one.
“They’ll be calling me down for tea soon, so we need to hurry this. I thoroughly cleaned the hutch after…the deaths. Jason helped me. We sterilised it too. So now there’s no bedding, but not to worry about that. I’ll fetch you some from my doll’s cot—I don’t play with it now. And you’ll need something to use as a lavvy, preferably something disposable—I don’t fancy having to clean that. I’ll see what I can purloin from the kitchen. Baking cases or whatever. And I expect you’ll want a bath? Let’s get that sorted first.”
She disappeared off into another room. Thredwyl started to follow but she called back to stay put, that she wouldn’t be long. She returned with a pink bowl slopping with foam-topped water.
“I’ll put it here, in the run. That’ll give you plenty of room. Besides, in there it’ll stand on plastic matting, so it won’t matter if we spill it. I’ve added some of my bubbles, I expect you’ll like them. And you’ll want clean clothes to put on after.”
Thredwyl looked with disdain at the bubble-filled bowl she’d stood inside ‘the run’. No privacy there, all open and everything seen despite the walls which, anyway, were only metal gridded. And was he to strip off his clothes with her watching? Yet she did seem caring of him, thinking of everything he could possibly need.
“Here,” she dropped some clothes beside where he stood, still looking at the deceased Flopsy and Peeps’ pink cage, not wanting to enter. “The knickers I’ve borrowed from Griselda, but she won’t notice them gone.” The young giantess laughed. “No way, she’s only an old rag doll. The Jimmies are Ted’s but…oh, you don’t need to know. I think they’ll fit. Then I thought one of my towels would be enormous for you, so I’ve brought you a face-flannel. It is clean. Do you shave? Only I’m not sure about purloining razors.”
“I…no,” Thredwyl said. It would be complicated, explaining about his side-beards; those never were shaved and, despite the centuries lived, he was too young yet to grow a chin-beard.
“Oh good. Next, food. You must be starving, poor thing. What do you eat? I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen.”
“Seeds,” Thredwyl said quickly before she could run again to something other.
“Seeds, just seeds? What sort? I can get you poppy seeds, sesame, pumpkin, flaxseeds, chia seeds, hemp and sunflower seeds. What if I get you a tub of mixed seeds? Do you drink? I don’t mean wine, I can’t get you that. But milk? Water? Coke?”
“Water will—”
“By the way,” she said, just as he heard her name being called, muted by the stairs and the several intervening rooms, “what’s your name? No one has said. I’m Daisy Doley. Well, my real name is Dahlia, but I refuse to answer to that. And you are…?”
“Thredwyl,” Thredwyl said.
“Nice to meet you, Thredwyl. Is that right? So now, let’s get you inside your pink palace cos I’ll be deep in shit if I’m late to the meal, cos Fleur is bound to have told Mum about Jazzy’s barbeque being rained-off.”
Thredwyl heaved a sigh of relief as Daisy vacated the room, and the one beyond it, allowing all to collapse into welcome silence, even if he was now inside that metal grid with all exits bolted.
“So, my boy,” he spoke to himself, “a bath, no less.” He’d heard of those in the jawmen’s tales but never expected to enjoy the pleasures of such for himself. He supposed it was safe to shed the clothing now? The family’s mealtime, that meant Fleur would be occupied.
He sat in the slippery bubbly water. So now he’d the leisure to review his situation. As he understood it, no one would be taking him to the geeks at Anthropology for several days yet. While he was probably safe in Daisy’s care – at least protected from the Lascivious Fleur and her antics to trick him into wedding her – it still meant a few days delay before he’d any chance of returning Home.
He sighed, then shuddered, thinking of a hundred nasty things that could happen in the next few days.
crispina kemp 