Playschool by Colin Thompson

handbags ran between his legs.

    The Toad sat down and reached out to stroke them. One of them climbed onto his lap and nuzzled into him. It smelled of warm leather and brought a lump into The Toad’s throat that stirred up a feeling he’d spent the last few years trying to forget. When he had blown up the toilets and been turned into a toad as a punishment, his parents had been unable to accept it. His father had rejected him instantly and his mother, although she had tried really hard to keep loving him, had found it impossible to pick him up and cuddle him ever again. Since then, he had spent every school holiday in a pond at the bottom of hisparents’ garden with a lot of toads who were real toads and really, really stupid.
    Now this little handbag’s affection brought it all back and The Toad felt tears welling up in his eyes. He tried to hide them. He knew how Orkward would sneer at him and, as horrible as Orkward was, he was the closest thing The Toad had to a friend. But two more of the tiny handbags climbed into his lap and The Toad couldn’t stop himself.
    He wept uncontrollably.
    The first handbag opened itself, took out a tissue and handed it to The Toad. This kindness only madehim cry more. Narled’s wife came over and patted him on the arm. She undid her zip, took out pen and paper and wrote: ‘We feel your pain. We are here for you.’

    What had made the near extinction of their species even sadder was that Sacculus Pluscruris Patagonius had finely tuned emotions, much finer than ours, that could not only pick up other creatures’ feelings, but get inside their heads and discover the reasons for those feelings and then respond in a deep and meaningful way.
    Meanwhile, Orkward was so obsessed with his plan that he noticed none of this. He was too busy polishing Narled and pretending to be his friend. Of course, being super-sensitive, Narled didn’t believe a word of what Orkward was saying, but hey, he was getting the best polishing he’d had in a hundred years.
    The delirious smell of turpentine seeped through the little gaps in his zip and into his brain, where it brought back long-buried memories of centuries past when every suitcase family had had a faithful servant who had polished them every day. Even in those days Matron’s Enchanted Wax had been legendary, the finest polish of all, which only the most noble suitcases were allowed to use. Thoughts of the past and its former glories filled his heart with sadness. How had it come to this, a life of picking up after those who had once been their servants?
    â€˜Right,’ said Orkward. ‘It’s agreed. I will bring you a small package and you will take it to the Floods when they are in the middle of the stadium next week on sports day.’
    Narled wrinkled up, and Orkward took this to mean that Narled would do what he wanted, but Narled was just wrinkling his skin to make sure the polish got right down into his creases.
    â€˜And to show how much I really, really like you,’ said Orkward, who had just thought of another plan, ‘I’ll come back tomorrow and polish you again.’
    Mrs Narled, or Narlene as she was known to the rest of the cloakroom, 20 handed The Toad another piece of paper: ‘Don’t be a stranger.’
    And the family trundled off into the dark forest.
    â€˜I expect you’re wondering why I said I’d come and polish that suitcase again,’ said Orkward, completely unaware of The Toad’s unhappiness. ‘Well, I have an absolutely brilliant plan.’
    The Toad said nothing. All he could think of was going back and being with the baby handbags.
    â€˜Listen,’ Orkward raved on. ‘I’m a genius – more of a genius than that idiot Winchflat Flood! Next time I polish Narled, I’m going to fix a tracking device to his straps, then the idiot will lead us straight to his treasure.’
    â€˜Oh,’ said The Toad as they