Marigold, and her fingernail lost control and sliced the chimney in half. She swore and sighed. “Whoops! And that's the last of the pink sponge. Chimney repair urgently required. Pass us the glue, Dolly.”
I kept quiet until the chimney was mended and stuck into place on the sloping yellow roof.
“Were you very unhappy when you were little, Marigold?” I asked.
“Some of the time.”
“It must have been horrible not having your mother,” I said, snuggling up to her.
“I
had
a mother. She just didn't want me. I didn't care, though. Know what I really did want?” Marigold looked at me, her green eyes very bright. “A sister. I was desperate for a sister. That's why I'm so glad you and Star have each other.”
“And we've got you too. You're like our big sister,” I said. “Oh, Marigold, you've made such a
lovely
cottage!”
“What about clover leaves for the curtains? They'll look like green velvet, ultrastylish,” said Marigold, making arches over the windows with pieces of jam tart. “Stick the little leafy bits at the edge of the white icing.”
I managed to find a clover patch and pulled up a whole clump. I squatted down and started gently tearing off each separate leaf.
“I wonder who will live in the cottage. A rabbit?” I said.
“Rabbits would be too big and bumbly. No, two teeny tiny dormice are peeping out at us right this minute, noses twitch twitch twitching, looking at their dream house. If we keep
very
quiet’
“Hey, look! look!”
“Dol! That's not quiet! You'll scare them all away.”
“But
look
!” I held out a clover stalk. “It's a four-leaf clover!”
“Wow!” said Marigold. She looked at it carefully. One of the leaves looked as if it
might
just have torn in two. But Marigold held it up proudly. “A genuine four leaf-clover,” she said. “I can feel the luck throbbing through its sap. Lucky lucky lucky Dol.” She went to give it back to me.
“No, lucky lucky lucky Marigold,” I said, pushing her hand away. “It's yours. And you can't refuse it or it'll muck up the luck.”
“Oh well, we can't muck up the luck,” said Marigold, and we both giggled. Marigold twiddled the lucky clover in front of her face, and then carefully wrapped it in a tissue and put it in her shorts pocket. “I should be so lucky lucky lucky lucky,” she sang.
We stuck the clover curtains into the cottage and then sat in front of it, still and silent, waiting for dormice. We sat there a long time. Several flies and beetles showed an interest, and a butterfly momentarily perched on the twisty chimney.
“I think the dormice are shy,” said Marigold.
“They're itching to come and move in, but they can't pluck up the courage to do it while we're watching. So shall we walk on and leave them to it?”
“Right. But what if rabbits come too, or something bigger? A stoat or a fox or something? They'll just knock it flying, won't they?”
“We'll put a hex around it,” said Marigold. “Stones!”
We gathered lots of little stones and arranged them in a ring around the cake cottage, leaving just a little mouse-size gap in front of the door.
“Perfect,” I said.
“Perfectissimo,” said Marigold.
We walked off hand in hand. After ten or twelve paces Marigold looked over her shoulder.
“I saw them! The dormice. They just whisked inside, little paws all scrabbly with excitement,” she said, nudging me.
“Really?”
“Really,” said Marigold firmly.
We walked on, swinging Marigold's shoes in the empty cake bag. After a while the brook got a bit wider, and when we rounded a bend it got wider still, and the wild vegetation was tamed into parkland.
“Ducks!” said Marigold, nudging me.
“They look very fat overweight ducks, like they need to go on a diet. They don't need cakes,” I said.
“And our little dormice needed their home,” said Marigold.
“Are they sisters?”
“Sure. Dora and Daphne. Dora's the eldest.” Marigold glanced at me. “But Daphne's the
I kept quiet until the chimney was mended and stuck into place on the sloping yellow roof.
“Were you very unhappy when you were little, Marigold?” I asked.
“Some of the time.”
“It must have been horrible not having your mother,” I said, snuggling up to her.
“I
had
a mother. She just didn't want me. I didn't care, though. Know what I really did want?” Marigold looked at me, her green eyes very bright. “A sister. I was desperate for a sister. That's why I'm so glad you and Star have each other.”
“And we've got you too. You're like our big sister,” I said. “Oh, Marigold, you've made such a
lovely
cottage!”
“What about clover leaves for the curtains? They'll look like green velvet, ultrastylish,” said Marigold, making arches over the windows with pieces of jam tart. “Stick the little leafy bits at the edge of the white icing.”
I managed to find a clover patch and pulled up a whole clump. I squatted down and started gently tearing off each separate leaf.
“I wonder who will live in the cottage. A rabbit?” I said.
“Rabbits would be too big and bumbly. No, two teeny tiny dormice are peeping out at us right this minute, noses twitch twitch twitching, looking at their dream house. If we keep
very
quiet’
“Hey, look! look!”
“Dol! That's not quiet! You'll scare them all away.”
“But
look
!” I held out a clover stalk. “It's a four-leaf clover!”
“Wow!” said Marigold. She looked at it carefully. One of the leaves looked as if it
might
just have torn in two. But Marigold held it up proudly. “A genuine four leaf-clover,” she said. “I can feel the luck throbbing through its sap. Lucky lucky lucky Dol.” She went to give it back to me.
“No, lucky lucky lucky Marigold,” I said, pushing her hand away. “It's yours. And you can't refuse it or it'll muck up the luck.”
“Oh well, we can't muck up the luck,” said Marigold, and we both giggled. Marigold twiddled the lucky clover in front of her face, and then carefully wrapped it in a tissue and put it in her shorts pocket. “I should be so lucky lucky lucky lucky,” she sang.
We stuck the clover curtains into the cottage and then sat in front of it, still and silent, waiting for dormice. We sat there a long time. Several flies and beetles showed an interest, and a butterfly momentarily perched on the twisty chimney.
“I think the dormice are shy,” said Marigold.
“They're itching to come and move in, but they can't pluck up the courage to do it while we're watching. So shall we walk on and leave them to it?”
“Right. But what if rabbits come too, or something bigger? A stoat or a fox or something? They'll just knock it flying, won't they?”
“We'll put a hex around it,” said Marigold. “Stones!”
We gathered lots of little stones and arranged them in a ring around the cake cottage, leaving just a little mouse-size gap in front of the door.
“Perfect,” I said.
“Perfectissimo,” said Marigold.
We walked off hand in hand. After ten or twelve paces Marigold looked over her shoulder.
“I saw them! The dormice. They just whisked inside, little paws all scrabbly with excitement,” she said, nudging me.
“Really?”
“Really,” said Marigold firmly.
We walked on, swinging Marigold's shoes in the empty cake bag. After a while the brook got a bit wider, and when we rounded a bend it got wider still, and the wild vegetation was tamed into parkland.
“Ducks!” said Marigold, nudging me.
“They look very fat overweight ducks, like they need to go on a diet. They don't need cakes,” I said.
“And our little dormice needed their home,” said Marigold.
“Are they sisters?”
“Sure. Dora and Daphne. Dora's the eldest.” Marigold glanced at me. “But Daphne's the
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