TIGER LILLY and the PRINCESS
By
Eric Thomas
Tiger Lilly lives in a country called Mandredela which is a long way from here and a long way from there. But close your eyes, you’ll find it anywhere.
CHAPTER 1
Tiger Lilly was upset. Today she was nine and quite old enough to go with them. Not only that, they had promised. Promised they would take her and yet here she was, and here they were not. And double not only that, but they had been excited about going to the circus for days and days and never once had they said they would ever think to go without her. Never once. They had even counted the days with her, counted them out and helped her tick them carefully on her calendar. She loved her sisters, really she did, but sometimes they made her angry. Very angry. At least they did at times like this.
She could hardly believe it when she woke up to find their beds not even warm, so no telling what time they had left the house. How could they do this to her, especially on her birthday! One thing for certain: she would never speak to them again. Never ever! She would simply turn her back whenever they tried to talk to her, would pretend they simply weren’t there. For ever!
Suddenly she had a brilliant idea, knew exactly what she would do. There was no point whatsoever in asking her Mum or Dad if she could go on her own; they would simply say no and say she had to go with them later in the day, but that meant waiting until the afternoon and there was no way she could bear to wait that long.
What she would do was hide under her bed until either her Mum or Dad came upstairs, found that she was missing and straight ways think she was at the circus with her sisters. Then – and this was the clever part – when they had left the house to work in the fields, she would sneak through the side door, hurry through the woods that bordered on the back of the farm, push through the gate and on to the lane that led to Yeltsin Town. Brilliant! She’d be on her way in no time. She had never been to Yeltsin on her own, but she had been with her Dad often enough and was sure she knew every step of the way. Well, nearly sure. Anyway, it was only a mile or two. Three maybe. Perhaps four.
Tiger Lilly lived with her family on one of the many farms that had squeezed themselves into every inch of the sprawling hills and valleys that stretched from Yeltsin Town to the high and forbidding Madre Mountains that marked the border of their tiny country. Mandredela was the name of their country and Yeltsin was the second largest town. That did not mean Yeltsin was large. Truth to tell, it was little more than a village, but it had a three-storey town hall with a steeple and a huge bell that sounded for miles and that was enough to make Yeltsin feel grand enough to call itself a town. Even the capital, Suchno City, ten miles away, was small, but what to expect of a country that was often forgotten by the rest of the world. Forgotten or given some silly, made-up name by those know-nothing people who drew the maps. Probably never moved more than a mile from home any one of them. There were even some – and more than a few, truth to tell - who liked to say Mandredela was a magic country. Well maybe it was and, then again, maybe it wasn’t.
Like most of their neighbours, Tiger Lilly’s family was poor and though her father owned a large section of land, he had to work from first light until it was too dark to see so that there could be enough food to feed his family. They kept a few chickens and goats on the farm, but cabbage and beans and rice were mostly all they had to eat except for the years when the harvest was good. Wonderful they were, those rare years of plenty, for they were the times when they were able to sell enough of their vegetables to one of the merchants in the town and forget all about being hungry. At least for a while. Last year had been one of the best harvests ever and they’d had juicy chunks of sweet pork and dumplings with their rice at least once a week. Once a week for certain and sometimes even twice and Tiger Lilly could remember every mouthful and could still taste every taste. Most of all she could remember her eighth birthday and the special tea that the good harvest had made possible that year.
Not so this year. Oh, there was no shortage of clouds passing over their valley, but they were grey, puffed up clouds that liked to tease with the meanest spits of rain and that, of course, meant another bad harvest with no food to spare and no hope of a special birthday tea for Tiger Lilly. Nor for her sisters.
And it was not only their father who had to work hard and long each day. Each member of the family - except baby Mattie of course – was expected to help in the field for their land was poor and full of stones, with crops that needed their constant care. Not a single stalk of a weed was allowed to poke its head above the ground to steal what little goodness there was in that harsh, unforgiving soil.
Tiger Lilly had three sisters and two brothers. The two boys were the eldest: Binnie who was nineteen and Taz aged seventeen. After that came the girls: Pearl who was sixteen, Lilac who was fourteen and baby Mattie, two years old. Least he would be in two weeks time .
Truth was, Tiger Lilly hardly knew her older brothers for they were away most of the year working on a rich man’s farm which lay two day’s hard walk away. Even so, when they were home, they liked to act like snooty, nose-in-the- air strangers, seldom speaking to their sisters except when they happened to be in need of something - usually when their boots could do with a shine, or they had an errand to run or simply because they felt like being extra bossy brothers. Pearl said to pay no heed, said they were far too busy trying to be grown up men to notice they had sisters. Not that Tiger Lilly cared a thread or a button: she had her sisters and, between them, they could talk enough for anyone. How often would she hear her daddy say his daughters were the champion talkers of the world and that Tiger Lilly was far and away the talkiest champion of all time? Most days for sure, and always in his loudest voice.
Suddenly there was warning creak on the stairs and Tiger Lilly immediately threw herself to the floor and rolled under her bed. Truth was she gave her elbow quite a hard knock on a corner of the bed, but she gritted her teeth, gave it a rub, held her breath, and waited. Next minute the door made the creaking noise it always liked to make and, as she turned her head, Tiger Lilly could see her father’s boots standing in the doorway.
Quicker than quick, Tiger Lilly squeezed a hand over her mouth to make double sure not a single, solitary sound escaped and, as she watched, the boots began to rock to and fro, back and forth like Grandma’s old chair. Rockety rock, rockety rock. Then, after the longest of whiles, the boots took a single step forward and stood perfectly still. Still as stone with not so much as a twitch, and Tiger Lilly had to give the hardest of bites on her lips to make sure she didn’t make even the smallest of small noises. And, so she waited and she waited, and held her breath. Then waited again.
But, how much longer? Another minute and her chest would surely burst! The boots stayed still. Still as frogs in a winter ditch. Then, just as her insides were about to explode into a thousand pieces, the boots took a sudden turn-about step. Oh, heavens no! Oh crikey bobs! Her dad was now sitting on the bed and talking to himself!
It was not that her Dad’s talking to himself was anything of a surprise. Truth is, it was something he did quite often, but her bed had somehow become a lot more rickety lately, and her Dad had somehow become more and more fidgety than she ever known him to be. Not only that, but her nose was being squashed flatter with each of his fidgets and her bed was not just a bit rickety; it was a lot rickety.
‘Oh dear,’ she heard him say. ‘Oh dear, dear me!’ Well, that was absolutely enough of holding her breath and so Tiger Lilly pulled her hand from her mouth and was just about to gasp the biggest gasp ever known to man, when her father gave a sudden leap from the bed and, before she knew he was clattering down the stairs and shouting the loudest shout she had ever heard him shout: ‘Tiger Lilly’s gone!’ he cried. ‘She’s not in her room!’
Immediately there was another shout, this time from her mother – more of a shriek really - but Tiger Lilly was too busy taking in deep breaths, rubbing her nose and scrambling from under the bed to make sense of anything being said. Or shouted.
Best thing, she decided, was to wait a while, to have a good think and see what would happen next. This Tiger Lilly did, and when she had finished thinking all she could think and of waiting to see what would happen next, she realised the shouting had stopped. But it was not just the shouting that had stopped: everything had stopped! Silence everywhere. And not just the ordinary, every-day kind of silence that sometimes happens, but a strange kind of all-around and in every-corner kind of silence with not a sound anywhere. Not a creak, not a crack. Nothing! This was strange! Seldom, if ever in all her life, could Tiger Lilly remember a time when the Santino house was not filled with noise, with the loudest of laughter and with their Dad yelling for quiet. at the top of his voice,
Even on nights when she found it hard to sleep, there was always something she could hear: a field mouse scampering across the room; a moth bob-bobbing on the ceiling; a branch of the old ivy tapping at the window. Always something! But this was different and, yes, best to admit, a little bit scary. So, slowly as could be and with one foot placed carefully in front of the other, Tiger Lilly made her way to the top of the stairs. Nothing! Not a sound! She leaned over the banister. Still nothing. Well no point denying, this whole thing looked like it was beginning to turn into something of a puzzle.
‘Very well,’ said Tiger Lilly to herself, squaring her shoulders. ‘The best thing would not to be scared, to be brave and lie on her bed and have another think about what to do next. Should she go down and tell her parents she had been hiding under her bed all along, or would it be better to wait and see what happened? She decided to wait. After all, her dad was always saying it was best to be patient and not rush at things; and so Tiger Lily lay on her bed and waited. And, as she waited and didn’t rush at things, she fell fast, fast asleep.
CHAPTER 2
It was their Dad who first heard that the famous Shanghasi Circus was coming to Mandredela . From Gung Ho, of course, their next door neighbour, and always the first with all the latest news and gossip. Gung wasn’t his real name –well, who would think to give their son such a name? – but everyone called him Gung and not only was he their representative on the Town Council, he was also their father’s best friend. Not that being best friends stopped them arguing with each other at every chance they got. ‘It’s something they like to do,’ her mum explained. ‘A sort of competition. A hobby.’
‘Yes,’ said Gung Ho, showing his important, Town Hall, Councillor face. ‘The Shanghasi Circus is definitely coming here to Yeltsin. And pretty soon from what I’ve been told. Two weeks at most, I’d say.’
‘Here? Coming here! The Shanghasi Circus! Are you sure?’ Tiger Lilly’s dad, Lou Santino, was definitely surprised. ‘Why, it must be ten years at least since they last came to Mandredela and that was to Suchno, not here.’
‘Am I sure?’ Gung gave a roll of eyes. ‘Heavens, man! How long have you known me, to ask such a question!’ He allowed himself a long, drawn out sigh and a second swivel of eyes. ‘Course I’m sure and, what’s more, I think it’s something you should be telling your daughters - and pretty soon would be my advice. Sooner would be even better.’
‘Tell my daughters! And why is that?’ asked their dad in a pretend weary voice.
‘Because it’s a well known fact that the people who run the Shanghasi Circus
have a policy of finding work for as many of the local youngsters as they possibly can whenever they visit a place. Temporary jobs, of course, but I wouldn’t like to think that your daughters are missing out on a chance to earn some real, good money for themselves. Furthermore, it is a well known fact that the Shanghasi is particularly keen on hiring youngsters who are lively on their feet.’ He smiled a sideways smile. ‘And liveliness, I think I can safely say, is something your girls have never been short of. In abundance, actually,and especially, I might add, when people who happen to live near are trying to sleep!’
Lou Santino waved a finger under Gung’s nose. ‘There you go! Complaining as always. But, answer me this! Who is it I see at his window most evenings peeking from behind his curtains, enjoying their games and laughing himself silly? Someone who enjoys being a crusty, old crab, that’s who! Someone who would go even crazier than he already is if things were quiet all the time.
‘Anyway, and as I was saying before you chose to interrupt, I find it more than hard to believe the Shanghasi is coming to Yeltsin. All right, so I hear what you say, but I still find it difficult to believe that the people who run the Shanghasi Circus have even heard of this place, let alone think to pay us a visit. Doesn’t make a jot of sense! For a start, who in these parts has the kind of money to afford the Shanghasi? Not too many, you ask me – why, the entry fee alone must cost a small fortune and especially for a family. All right, so I can understand them chancing a visit to Suchno, the one place in Mandredela where there are a few people with money to spare, but not here. A puzzle is what it is. At least it is to me.’
‘Surely, Lou Santino, you are surely not thinking I mean the full Shanghasi Circus. Goodness, I thought everyone would realise that, for heavens sake. Even you! No, what will be coming here is one of its offshoots - a spin off if you like - a smaller version of the real thing. Lord above man, the main circus – the one in Paris - is not something you can move about at a moment’s notice! It’s not a sack of potatoes or a bundle of sticks to toss over your shoulder. The main Shanghasi is huge, near the size of a town with entertainment centres and roller coaters and buildings near twice as tall as our steeple. Takes months to erect a single part, it does. However, that doesn’t mean the one coming here won’t be splendid. Not a single bit it doesn’t! Of course it will be a whole lot smaller as I have just tried to explain, but it will still have a wonderful Big Top and dozens and dozens of stalls and sideshows and all kinds of rides for the children. Yes, all kinds of attractions, and from what I hear, there’s going to be what they call a Grand Bazaar with goods from every corner of the world. Marvellous is what it will be and what’s more, Lou Santino, I’ve had a peek at one of its programmes and, believe you me, there’ll be no shortage of talent – acrobats and magicians; clowns, jugglers, dancing troupes, high wire acts - oh, all manner of amazing acts. I tell you, Lou, it’s going to be a wonder.’
‘Yes, I know all about the Shanghasi, no need for your telling, but I still find it hard to believe they’ve even heard of us, let alone pay us a visit,’ Lou replied.
‘Oh come, my friend! You must have something of an idea. An inkling, even you’
‘No. Not one.’
‘Gracious, Lou, there are times I think you must live in a different world than the rest of us! A far away planet! Have you not noticed all the comings and goings and the hustle and bustle that has been going on at the Summer Palace this last while? Why, there’s been team upon team of workers hammering and banging at the place for heaven knows how long. A right old racket, and no denying. Day and night! What’s more, I hear that our beloved Prince Xavier is still not satisfied, wants his new stable block made even larger. Some say double the size.’
‘No, Gung Ho, can’t say as I have, but then I haven’t been anywhere near the Royal Palace for months. More to do with my time, unlike some people I could mention. Even so, how can building work at the Summer Palace have anything to do with the Shanghasi Circus coming to Yeltsin? Not even one of the travelling kind.’
‘Which,’ replied Gung Ho, ‘Only goes to prove that you have a most annoying habit of not listening to those who go to a lot of effort to keep you up to date with the latest news. Why, man, it must be a month since I told you Prince Xavier has decided to spend the whole of his summer here. Has probably moved in by now.’
‘Well then, there’s another surprise. When have you ever known the Prince to spend more than a day in that summer palace of his? All right, maybe two at the most, but I still don’t see the connection.’
Gung Ho leaned close: ‘It’s all because of our young Princess Serena, that’s why. From all I’ve been told, she has not been all that well these last few weeks – really quite poorly at times – and her doctors have decided it would do her a power of good to spend some time in the country. You know, take in our good Yeltsin air.’
‘Oh come, Gung Ho, you are surely not asking me to believe that the world - famous Shanghasi is coming here simply because Princess Serena has been a bit under the weather?’
‘Oh, believe it you must, my friend,’ Gung Ho replied. ‘If there is the faintest, remotest chance that our beloved Princess is in need of fresh air, then fresh air she will most certainly have. Furthermore, if the Prince happens to think it would be a good idea to have a circus here to greet her, make her feel at home, then only the finest circus in the world will do. Yes, my friend, that means the Shanghasi. Make no mistake, what our Prince wants, our Prince gets.’
Gung Ho narrowed his eyes and leaned even closer. ‘Mind, if you want the absolute truth,’ he whispered, ‘it is what Princess Serena wants that matters most of all. More than anything, take my word! Gives her every thing she asks for, does the Prince; has done since the day she was born. Well, least since she was old enough to give out orders. Everything! Gives her every single, solitary thing.’
There was a pause while Gung Ho stretched himself to his full height. ‘Actually, as I am sure you have long realised,’ he continued. ‘My duties as a senior member of Yeltsin Town Council oblige me to visit Suchno and the Grand Palace at least once a month, sometimes twice and, as you might well expect, I regularly find myself in the company of people who work close to the Prince. Oh, you know the sort of person I mean - Ministers of State, Heads of Department, Senior Officials and Secretaries. Important people. Influential.’ He took a quick look at Lou Santino. ‘No’ he decided. ‘Perhaps you don’t.
‘Anyway,’ he continued. ‘The people I’m talking about are the ones who know everything that goes on at the Grand Palace and they all say the same thing. They say Prince Xavier isn’t simply under his daughter’s thumb, he’s squashed flatter than an elephant’s slipper.’
‘Poor girl. She can’t be happy,’ said Lou Santino.
‘Happy?’ repeated Gung Ho. ‘Well, I can’t say about that. All I know is she has everything a girl can possibly need. He paused, shook his head. ‘Except, of course, a mother.’
‘Yes, a mother,’ Lou Santino agreed, also shaking his head. ‘Mind, I can’t help thinking that if she had a father with sense enough to settle down with his daughter instead of dragging her around the world like a piece of old luggage - well things might then be a whole lot better. For both of them. For the country too, the money he spends at the gambling tables. Though why anyone with all his wealth should feel a need to gamble in the first place is quite beyond me. But then again, I suppose that is another matter entirely.’
‘True, true,’ agreed Gung Ho lowering his voice. ‘However - and keep this firmly under your hat - there’s a strong rumour buzzing round the Grand Palace that the Emperor is none too pleased with his son. More than usual from all accounts, hasn’t been so for quite some time. Not pleased at all. As a matter of fact he was recently heard to say how very worried he was about the future of Mandredela once he had gone. Yes, far from happy with Prince Xavier is our Lord Grand Emperor. Maybe, though, things are about to change. As I say, the Prince has said he intends to spend the whole of the summer here in Yeltsin and, fingers crossed, it must be a good sign.’
‘Yes, we can but hope,’ Lou agreed. ‘By the way, how old is the Princess?’
‘Nine. At least she soon will be. Her birthday is a week from today. Which – surprise, surprise - also happens to be the very day the Circus is set to open. Another of Prince Xavier’s bright ideas, need I say.’
Lou Santino gave his forehead a sharp tap. ‘Of course, of course! What a first class idiot I am! Me, of all people, asking that! That is Tiger Lilly’s birthday too! Born the same day they were, Tiger Lilly and the Princess, and what a day that was! Surely you remember, Gung Ho? Celebrations the like of which we had never seen - dancing in the street, bands playing; crowds marching up and down; drums banging, bells ringing. Yes, that was the day the Town Hall Bell gave its loudest clang ever and hasn’t been the same since! Oh what celebrations they were and all to welcome our new Princess Serena. Oh yes indeed, we welcomed her with all or hearts, but didn’t we also make a fine old job of pretending the celebrations were not only for the Princess, but were for our Tiger Lilly too! Pretended like you wouldn’t believe; pretended all that night and all the next day! Imagine it though! Both girls with birthdays on the same day! Practically the same hour!’
‘Remember! Of course I do,’ replied Gung Ho, smiling his widest smile. ‘How could I forget a day when I was given the honour of proposing the opening toast at the Town Hall banquet and asked to speak again that same evening in front of the Prince and his royal guests. Guests from all over the world there were, and a first class speech it was, though I say it myself. Yes, first class! Such a pity you couldn’t have been there.’
‘Such a pity,’ echoed Lou Santino, studying the ground.
CHAPTER 3
Pearl and Lilac could not believe how well they had done! The morning’s work was almost over and in a few hours and they would each have eight copper coins to put in their pockets. That meant sixteen copper coins between them, and they knew exactly what they were going to do with every single one. First, they would give half their earnings to their Mum, which would mean they would still have eight left for themselves. Next, they would find a safe place to hide six of the remaining coins and still have two copper coins to buy all kinds of treats for Tiger Lilly’s birthday tea.
Even though they had arrived at the Shanghasi Circus early that morning, it was already as busy as a beehive on a summer meadow. And what a scramble it first seemed! Workers were hurrying and scurrying and bustling this way then that - but this was the Shanghasi Circus and everyone knew exactly where he was going and what to do next. And why not? They had done it a thousand times. Still, hard to believe that this had been an empty field two days ago, parched dry and lifeless. Now it was filled with stalls, tents and marquees of all shapes, colour and size and spread out like the spokes of a wheel to cause an explosion of colours the like of which the town of Yeltsin had never seen.
‘Like flowers with their heads reaching to the sun,’ said Lilac who saw everything in pictures.
A line of men, stripped to the waist even at that hour, was pulling hard on the ropes of the Big Top. ‘Heave Hoe,’ they grunted. ‘Heave Ho!’ ‘Heave Ho!’ Then, even louder, there came a high pitched, singsong call. ‘Line up, line up. All new workers form a line!’ It came from the tallest man they had ever seen. ‘Boys on the right, girls on the left and make it lively if you please – we have no time for slow-stepping snails around here!’ He tried all he could to sound stern, but today was to be a very special day and he was a long-time Shanghasi man who was finding it hard to hide his excitement. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘No a minute to spare! It’s not every day we have royalty visiting, and we want everything to be perfect.’
‘So you two girlies!’ he called, pointing to Pearl and Lilac. ‘Best I remember you were the first to arrive, so off you go to that stripey orange and yellow tent you see over there. Over there on your right. The food and drinks tent. We Shanghasi folk call it the Rumble Tum Tent and you’ll find our Mister Tommo ready and waiting to tell you what to do.’
Mister Tommo was indeed waiting for them. He, too, was tall, but slightly stooped and with piercing blue eyes that danced over the rim of heavy framed glasses; eyes filled with curiosity. He rubbed his hands together:
‘Well you two seem a lively enough pair and I have to say I like your smiles, so it’s welcome to the Rumble Tum.’ he exclaimed. ‘First thing is for you to tell me your names. Pearl and Lilac Santino you say? Pretty names! Next thing is for you to listen while I tell you - and it is something we explain to all those who join us – is that the Shanghasi Circus is so called because it is owned by a gentleman called – no prize for guessing - Mr Shanghasi. Now our Mr Shanghasi is a very private man and there are few who can truly claim to know him. However, I have to confess that I am one of those few – probably know him better than most, I should think - and there are one or two others around here who also know him well. Old timers like me who have been with the Shanghasi from the very first days.
So then, what can I tell you about our Mr Shanghasi? Well, first off, I have to admit that he can be something of a grump at times – especially when he thinks people are not enjoying his circus because it is not being run quite as well as he thinks it should be. When I say people, I really mean children for he loves children and insists they are the only reason he built the Shanghasi Circus in the first place. He is also – and he would be the last to deny it – what you might call a little odd, but he is very rich and, though he has business interests all over the world, the Shanghasi is the most important one of all to him. The one he loves best of all. There are even rumours that he sometimes takes it upon himself to travel with his circus as one of the workers so that he can be sure everything is being done exactly as he would wish. Always, of course, incognito. That means in disguise, if you didn’t already know. Others say it is a made up story, a myth, and it might well be. Anyway, true or not, myth or not, it keeps us all on our toes and, though you might find working here a little hard at times and often out of puff, I hope you will enjoy working with Mrs Tommo and me here at the Rumble Tum.’
‘Speaking of whom,’ he continued. ‘She could be here any minute now and I’d like it we could have as much done as possible for when she arrives. Truth is, I have an itchy spot at the end of my nose that tells me this is going to be a real hustle, bustle of a day especially as I understand His Royal Highness Prince Xavier and young Princess Serena are to visit us today. Not that it is a particular worry – the visit I mean, not my itchy nose – for we are quite used to having important people visiting us. The main problem is our silly fruit machines - cantankerous, spiteful things they are with minds of their own! But there I go, carrying on with myself like an old parrot when I should be explaining exactly what we do at the Rumble Tum.’
With a quick wave of hand that said to follow, he led them to a corner of the Rumble Tum where he pointed accusingly at what Pearl and Lilac at first thought was a jumble of old bins held together by a tangle of wire and knotted string. ‘Trouble is,’ he said, slapping the nearest bin and causing the whole pile to shake, ‘we have tried time and time again to replace this little lot with more up-to-date machines and what a waste of time it was! Paid the earth we did, but the taste of the juices was never near as good, not by a mile! What’s more, I think they know it! Can’t begin to say how many other machines we’ve tried.’
‘Anyway, you take that lot,’ he said to Lilac pointing to a huge tub of lemons that was standing close by. ‘And you – Pearl, I think you said that was your name, and a pretty one it is – you squeeze the oranges. ‘It’s easy enough – stuff the fruit in the funnels you can see on the top and then push down on those handles. Hard! Also, be ready to give the blessed things a good old kick every now and then. Stops ‘em jamming, makes ‘em behave.’ He turned to point to a far corner of the tent. ‘What I would really like is for us to have filled those two trolleys you can see over there by the time Mrs Tommo arrives.’ He indicated two small carts painted in colours to match the Rumble Tum, each with a large kettle-like container on top. ‘Later and hopefully before the crowds start pouring in,’ he added, ‘we’ll have those two carts places at the busiest spots we can find and be up and ready to start selling our juices fast as we can. Also, we might have some buns or tarts to sell – depends whether Mrs Tommo has found time to do some baking. Oh, one other thing - and it’s a something to remember if you start feeling a little tired - is that all of the profit we make by selling our drinks and our buns and indeed everything we earn at the Shanghasi Circus goes straight into what Mr Shanghasi calls his Good Cause pocket. What the causes are he doesn’t say, but you can be sure they will have been well chosen.’
‘Anyway, back to Mrs Tommo,’ he added, glancing at his watch. ‘As I said, she should be here any time now and she will be more than pleased if the carts are anyways ready by the time she arrives. Right now, though, I’m off to have a look around, see if I can spot a couple of likely spots for our carts.’
Lilac looked at Pearl as soon as he left he tent. ‘I hope Mrs Tommo is as nice as Mr Tommo,’ she said.
‘Now don’t you start in on your fretting,’ replied Pearl, using her big sister voice. ‘We can only try our best.’
The sound of Mrs Tommo’s ‘hellos’ and ‘good mornings’ could be heard long before she busied her way into the Rumble Tum. Round she was with a round and smiley face to match, hair a shiny black. ‘Goodness me,’ she exclaimed, as she hurried towards them. ‘Someone has surely been busy and’ . . . she suddenly stopped, stayed stock still for a moment. A moment, no longer. Then, almost as suddenly, she was smiling again and patting them both on the shoulder: ‘My gosh, you have worked hard – why there’s enough juice to see us way through the morning!’ She turned to Mr Tommo who at that same moment had arrived back at theRumble Tum. ‘We are pleased, are we not Mr Tommo?’
‘Yes, very pleased,’ she repeated before he had a chance to answer. She seemed to hesitate, but continued: ‘See those stools over there? Well bring two of them over here and have yourselves a little sit down while I fetch my baskets. I’ve baked an extra batch of buns for today and I’ll go get a couple for you to try.’ She smiled a huge smile. ‘From a new recipe: ginger buns with a touch of apple and I’d like to see what you think.’ She turned to Mr Tommo, gave his arm a squeeze: ‘There, I told you I had a good feeling for today, thought we would have the best of help. So let’s go get our baskets while the girls have a rest.’
Pearl and Lilac sat waiting for their buns.
‘There,’ Pearl said. ‘I told you not to worry and I was right. Mrs Tommo is as nice as could be, could not be better. So nice that you’d think she has known us for ages.’
‘Yes nice.’ Lilac replied. ‘Really nice.’ She chanced a sideways glance at her sister. ‘You don’t think she’s a bit too, you know. . . . .’
Know what?’
‘You know, a bit too nice, sort of fussy maybe?’
‘Yes, all right, perhaps she is,’ Pearl replied, ‘but maybe that’s just the way she is,and far better fussy than being a nasty pants. And you can’t help liking her, whatever she is.’
‘Oh I like her, I really do and I can tell she likes us too. Seems to have taken a real shine to us, as Dad would say.’
Yes, everything was fine, better than they had expected and as they continued to wait, they thought of Tiger Lilly. No doubt about it, they agreed, their Mum and Dad would have told her everything by now, would have explained how they had crept from the house and left her sleeping because they were hoping to get a day’s work at the Shanghasi. And why! Because today was her birthday and maybe, fingers crossed, they would be able to make today a special day with a birthday tea to remember. A tea with tangy meatballs and ice-finger sponge cakes and two colours of jelly and with a huge bag of those fruity chews she liked so much - the kind of tea she could only expect on the very best of good harvest years. They tingled at the thought. First, though, and as soon as they had finished working in the fields, Mum and Dad would be bringing her here to the Shanghasi and then, after a visit to the Big Top and a try on the rides, it would be home again for her tea. And, who knows, later in the day they might be given chance to slip away from the Rumble Tum long enough to buy her an extra birthday present from one of the gift stalls. Yes, and to heck with saving six of the copper coins. Anyway and whatever, present or not, they were determined that Tiger Lily was going to have the most marvellous of birthdays.
Or, so they thought.
Soon the sit-downs were over, and Mr and Mrs Tommo were back with two large baskets crammed to the brim with buns.
‘Sorry girls,’ exclaimed Mrs Tommo, gasping for breath as she dumped her basket on the floor. No time for buns.’
‘ No, no time at all, ’ repeated Mr Tommo as he hurried to load the carts ‘You should see the size of the crowd at the gate!. And no wonder!’ He paused to give the nearest bin a slap ‘Well, you heard the announcement, I suppose.’
. ‘You didn’t?’ He gave the bin another slap. ‘No, I don’t suppose you did - the noise these stupid things make. Anyway, what the announcement said was that all children under the age of fifteen are to be allowed in free of charge for the rest of our stay in Yeltsin. And what’s more they won’t even have to pay for any of the rides.’
He turned to Mrs Tommo, gave her a smile; ‘Yes, the message from Mr S, came through late last night, and so I think we’d best be up and ready for one of the busiest days ever. Yes girls, I’m afraid your buns will have to wait until later, it’s lickety split from here on!’
‘Excuse me,’ said Lilac, remembering her manners. ‘What is lickety split, please?’
Mrs Tommo reached high on her toes to kiss Mr Tommo on the cheek. ‘It’s only what we have grown to expect from our Mr Shanghasi,’ she said. ‘And lickety split means as fast as we can.’ She turned on her heels. ‘So here we go,’ she cried. ‘All we have to do – thanks to all your hard work this morning – is finish loading the carts then push them from the Rumble Tum and out into the crowds. Don’t worry, we’ll stay with you until you get the hang of things; after that it’s up to you. .Remember to smile your biggest smiles, call out that your buns were made in heaven, and Mr Tommo and I will be waiting to reload the cart the minute you return. Oh yes, and make sure you give the correct change.’ She leaned towards them with a whisper: ‘Here at the Shanghasi we usually employ people by the day, but it’s entirely up to Mr Tommo to decide, so who knows! If he is really pleased, he might ask you to come back tomorrow, might even ask if you would like to work here the rest of the week. He’s even been known to give a bonus.’
‘Please, what’s a bonus?’ asked Lilac.
‘A reward for hard work,’ said Mrs Tommo.
‘I’d like one of those,’ said Lilac.
CHAPTER 4
Tiger Lilly was stepping out as fast as she could with her longest ever strides, but each time she turned another bend, it seemed even further to the next. No point arguing, the road was definitely twice as long as the last time she walked to town with her Dad, so that meant someone must have given it an almighty stretch or moved Yeltsin a mile further away. Of course, that was silly, but that was how it seemed! Oh, what a horrible, horrible birthday this has turned out to be. She said it out aloud so she wouldn’t start in crying again. She had cried more than enough as it was and who to blame but herself.
How silly it now seemed to have hidden under the bed; even sillier to have fallen asleep and far beyond the silliest silliness to have ever thought that Pearl and Lilac would ever be so mean as to creep out the house and leave her without good reason. Her Mum and Dad? She tried not to think of them, felt her insides turn to a cold chill at the thought of all the worrying they would do once they found she wasn’t in her bed. They would worry themselves silly, be looking everywhere, be desperate to find her. What was the word? Frantic! Yes, frantic with worry and probably angry at the same time. Not that Tiger Lilly gave a cat’s meow about them being mad at her – all she wanted was to be with them, to let them know she was safe. Worst thing always was when they were disappointed with her. That hurt more than anything else, more than any shouting or being made to do without things, or being sent to bed. Tiger Lilly swallowed at the thought.
‘Oh, at last!’ she exclaimed, brightening now as she turned another bend in the road. ‘There it is - the bench Dad and I sat on the last time we came to town.’ It wasn’t really a bench, more an old, chopped-down log that someone had left at the side of the road, but whoever it was who had cut it down must have though what a wonderful a bench it would make: exactly the right shape with four sticky-out bits for legs and an even larger sticky-out bit to lean against. She remembered her father saying the log was a good place to rest because it was exactly half way to Yeltsin and how it made the journey seem only half as long. He also said there were people who said it was a magic log and that if you sat on it long enough, and wished hard enough, your wish was bound to come true.
Tiger Lilly remembered how much she had wished for rain and, though she had squeezed her eyes tight as tight to make them smart, not a single drop had fallen. Not a drop! She remembered, too, how her father had laughed at her, but later said he had wished the same wish. So,that was a double wish and still no rain! Not a spit, not a spot. Later , when they told Lilac, she said it was because they had not sat on the log long enough or wished hard enough, but then Pearl said it was silly to even think such a silliness and that if there was really such a thing as magic – which she said there definitely was not - it would surely find a much better place to live than in a mossy old log that had been left at the side of a road. Lilac, though, shook her head and said it wasn’t at all silly because magic could easily magic itself and make the inside of the log the nicest place ever. Make it a place that had rain nearly every day and where the fields were lush and green. Pearl had said nothing more about magic being silly, but looked at Lilac and, when she had finished looking – which was for the longest time - she put her arms around Lilac and gave her an extra big hug. Pearl liked giving hugs.
However, magic or not, Tiger Lilly thought how wonderful it would be to rest on the log for a while. Just a little while. But how could she? How could she when there was not a single, solitary moment to spare? Still, her legs were as heavy as butter tubs and wasn’t her Dad always saying that a rest was nearly as good as a night’s sleep?. Even a little one. Yes very well – her Mum always said very well even when things weren’t well at all – she would try stretching out on the log for a minute. A minute mind, not one single second more. But, hardly had she time to stretch her legs on the cool of the log when she heard it - a clippety, clopping, rushing kind of noise! No need to guess, though! She knew exactly what it was. Horses! Horses pulling a cart. No - second thoughts - not a cart. Something faster. Much faster! A coach! With galloping horses! Coming fast! Quick! Better hide!
So, quick as a flash, Tiger Lilly jumped from the bench. This whole thing was fast becoming scary with no point saying it wasn’t - and not just a little scary, a whole lot scary and to make matters worse, one of her shoes caught itself on the edge of the log, slipped from her foot and, as you might well know, rolled itself straight under the log and disappeared. Stupid thing! Luckily though, and not far away, stood a tall, sprawly bush with a branch so heavy with leaves that it almost touched the ground. Worry about the shoe later, Tiger Lilly decided as she pulled the leaves about her like a cloak. What a birthday! Most of it spent hiding and holding her breath.
Still louder and louder came the sound until it became so loud she simply had to take a peep. Was there ever such a sight! A coach, true enough, but what a coach! And such horses! Horses the like she had never seen! Beautiful - no other word - and exactly like the horses in the book of drawings her Dad kept in his special box. Arabians he called them.
She remembered then how her mummy had once told them how their daddy knew a lot about horses because his father, old Grandpapa Santino had once owned a stable with more than a hundred horses and how their daddy had grown up learning all about horses and how to look after them. Grandpapa Santino’s horses were famous, she said, and rich and famous people came from every corner of the world wanting to buy them. Royalty, too! Santino horses they were called and her mummy had cried when she told about them. Most of all she cried when she said there was a war and how soldiers had come from a far distant land, had taken all the horses and burned the stables to the ground. She also said how Grandpapa had tried his best, but was never to have horses again.
Tiger Lilly was sure these horses were Arabians too: white and handsome enough to make you gasp out loud, with flowing tails and manes; with black, high-polished saddles and bright, silver buckles. With peacock feathers on their heads. And did you ever in your life see such a coach! White as new fallen snow with a silvery curtain at each window and with a fiery serpent that blew an orange and red flame across the whole of its side. A coachman dressed in the brightest of bright red was half standing, half sitting as he pulled with all his might on a prancing team of four horses as it thundered ahead of an escort of soldiers. Six soldiers there were, each one riding proud in his saddle and each with his sword held high. Was there ever such a sight! Like a dream.
But in a moment the dream was over.
‘Stop. Stop here! Stop this minute.’ Such a sharp, piercing, echoing cry!
Immediately there came the sound of wheels squealing, of horses snorting, of hooves digging at the ground until, quite suddenly, all was quiet. Only the sound of a soldier whispering to calm his horse.
Tiger Lilly stretched high on her toes, high enough to push away a few of the leaves and see a girl stepping down from the coach. She stretched further – but no use, the girl had stepped from the coach, was now out of sight. No trouble hearing her though. No trouble whatsoever.
‘I am sick to death of being jogged about in this crate of a thing you have the nerve to call a coach and I need a rest.’ A piercing, shrill-shriek of a voice. ‘I’m tired of it! Tired, tired, tired! So go tell the sergeant to move himself and his stupid coach and escort away from here. Out of my sight!’ She seemed to have no need for breath. ‘Also, tell him I absolutely refuse to let that idiot of a coachman drive me back home again - all that jolting about. Do you hear what I say? Have him replaced before my return!’
Tiger Lilly dared a wider parting of the leaves: the girl had returned, was now back in view, but she was sitting with her back to Tiger Lilly and all she could see was a long sweep of ebony black hair that tumbled across shoulders taught with temper. Her voice, steel sharp, somehow reminded Tiger Lilly of her mum’s chopping knife. Snappety snap! Snappety snap! ‘You hear what I say?’ she shouted. It was more of a choppity sound than a shout. Snappety, snippety snap!
‘Yes, very well, you can rest here a while.’ It was an older voice, a voice as soft as the other was harsh and the start of tingle in one of her toes made Tiger Lilly dare an extra inch. No use, the owner of the voice was still out of sight.
‘I have to admit it has not been what you could call a smooth ride.’ the soft voice continued. ‘But let’s not forget we are now living in the country and bumpy roads are something we must surely expect. Not only that, but we are tired and no wonder. Yesterday was exhausting for all of us – all the travelling, the business of having to settle in. My fault entirely, I should have insisted on a day of rest before even thinking of visiting something as tiring as a circus. Still, what is done is done and we still have our duties to consider. Saying which, we should not forget your father. Such an early start he had this morning and he won’t be the only one – most of Yeltsin and the whole of the Town Council will have been waiting since first thing this morning to greet their princess. I hear it’s been more than two years since they received a royal visit and there’s bound to be a great deal of excitement.’
‘Well then, if they are so excited, they won’t mind the waiting,’ came the snappity-snap reply. ‘As for their crack-pot council – well, let them try listening to their own silly speeches and go ahead without me! Boring, boring, boring! All the same as each other they are and all completely useless for no one pays a dot of attention to a single word they say and just try thinking of how many I am expected to meet in a week! Puffed up and full of themselves, every one!’ She gave a toss of hair. ‘And what’s more, Miss Penelope Pennington, I would prefer not to have you standing there like a squabbly old crow lecturing me about things I already know. Leave me! Go join the escort. I need to be on my own.’
‘I’m sorry dear, but I don’t think I should leave you – not out here, not alone.’
Tiger Lily could still see little of the girl, but her companion had moved into view as she talked. She was tall, slender, with dark brown hair drawn tight to a bun and with a smock-like dress that fell starch-stiff to the ground. It was more a uniform than a dress and designed to be, yet neither its ruler-straight lines nor the stiff buttoning of her collar could harden a face that was kind and gentle. She reached to touch the girl, had it brushed away.
‘Woman, can you never once do as you are told. Leave me! Being my governess does not mean you have to be at my side every minute of the day, pestering the way you do. Do as I say and go wait with the escort. I’ll call you when I’m good and ready and not a moment before.’
‘Very well, but not too long,’ the Governess replied with a sigh. ‘Five minutes and I’ll be back. I mean it! Five minutes, no more.’
Tiger Lilly was starting to feel the start of a cramp in her right foot, shuffled sideways to change position. Whoops, careful, - nearly seen! The girl had turned, was now straining forward, looking up the lane and then down again. Up, down and every which-way as if to make sure she was not being seen. Strange! But then, with a last look up and a quick look down she was gone. Gone! Like a rabbit from a hat!
Must be tying a shoelace, was Tiger Lilly’s first thought, but more than a minute passed and not a sign. So what in the name of Silly Billy Dickens could she be doing? (Mum was also in the habit of saying Silly Billy Dickens – whoever he was.) Another minute passed and the cramp in Tiger Lilly’s right foot began to tingle more than ever. Best not to think about it she decided, but then, as everyone knows, trying not think of an itch makes it itch even more? Always!
‘Right, that is it,’ she decided. ‘Absolutely and definitely it! If I’m going to be seen, then I’m going to be seen and Silly Billy Dickens with all this waiting and hiding and holding my breath. Enough!’ And, with that, Tiger Lilly took a hold of the nearest branch and began to pull herself up. She stopped! The girl was back again, but was now standing facing her. Full view!
Tiger Lilly gave a gasp. Oh, my gosh, it couldn’t be! Definitely could not be! But it was! Princess Serena! There, in real life, true as a fact and standing straight in front of her. Princess Serena herself! The Royal Princess! All right, all right, so it was ages since she had last seen a picture of the Princess , but it was Serena and no question. Absolutely was!
So, how stupid not to have known it from the start? More than rabbit-brained not to have guessed! Who else but a princess could own such beautiful horses, ride in such a coach, be guarded by soldiers? Oh and how stunningly pretty she was! Prettier than any picture, with eyes darker even than her ebony-black hair, with ruby lips, with skin the colour of new cream and with what Lilac would call a rosebud mouth - Lilac was always drawing pictures of ladies with rosebud mouths and ruby lips. And, such a dress – no, wait; it wasn’t a dress, more a cape. Yes, a long velvety cape of shiny blues and rich glossy greens that fell in deep folds from a huge clasp of pearls that fastened high on her shoulder.
Cramp or no cramp, Tiger Lilly decided to stay still. Not a move. Never had she seen anyone so breathtakingly beautiful, so graceful - but neither had she known anyone so ill mannered and so filled with thoughts that went no further than herself. Royal princess or not, the one thing Tiger Lilly knew was that Princess Serena was a definite someone she did not want to know. Not ever! Further and what’s more, she wasn’t one of those someones you had to puzzle yourself about. She didn’t like her now, would never nor could ever like her, and how much better to suffer a cramp in your foot than having to talk to someone so nasty and so rude. No, she did not want to meet or talk to her, and that was absolutely and positively for certain. Anyway, she was near to getting used to cramps in the foot and maybe, fingers crossed, this time the waiting wouldn’t be anywhere near so long. It wasn’t! The princess had turned full circle and, with another toss of hair and a twirl of cape, was stepping down the lane and shouting for her escort to make itself ready.
‘Without delay, if you please!’ she cried.
Tiger Lilly listened until all was quiet. Waited and listened again; counted to a hundred to make double sure. Not a sound! So, after counting another fifty to make triple sure, she gave her foot a quick rub, dropped to her knees and scrambled under the log to find her shoe. Where the Silly Billy Dickens was it? She crouched further down, reached under the log. Found it! But hold on, what was that? She gave it a stroke. Not a dead mouse, she could tell that, but something just as soft and round and smooth. Slowly, she drew it out: a handkerchief, newly smeared with moss and folded tight into a ball
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