Twelve

The butterflies apologised to Thelma and wept for George who had put his life in danger to save theirs. But for Thelma, no matter how hard she tried the chilling thought that she nearly lost them stayed at the back of her mind and kept creeping out to trouble her. The glory of the lost kingdom would be reborn, and the butterflies had to be there to carry on the legend. She knew this, for she was there when the evil force had fallen upon them. Winters had piled upon winters and springs upon springs since then. She’d been counting the cuckoo’s spring messages. Not long to go before the butterflies, and her, were rid of the horrific evil.

The bumblebees had brought cheer to the valley and everybody loved them and the bumblebees in turn loved them back. Together with the other creatures they spent hours on the hospital forecourt waiting for news about George. Many wanted to visit him, but each time, Tawny Owl would step out on the forecourt to say that George was stable but not fit enough to see visitors. Besides her, only Plato and Thelma knew that George had fallen into a coma and the chances of him pulling out of it were slim.

A whole few days passed and again Tawny Owl came out onto the broad hospital step. The forecourt swarmed with creatures and all eyes rested on her face.

“I appreciate your eagerness to learn about George’s recovery,” she said, “and so will he when he’s better. But right now you are not helping by camping out here. On the contrary, the noise might disturb him and the other patients as well. George’s recovery is slow but steady. He’s weak and needs rest. So I urge you to go home now and when George is fit enough, he’ll come out and say hello to you all.”

The creatures, sad and disheartened, trooped silently downhill, and Conti, his head drooping with weariness, his brow furrowing with thought, fell in line beside them. But before the path wound round some tall bushes, Conti dropped back, turned sharply to his left and took a shortcut back to the hospital. He wasn’t prepared to wait another day to hear Tawny Owl going over the same excuses. He needed to see George now. He had to tell him his dream before his brain deleted it.

A rabbit, bolting in long hops, suddenly shot his way.

“Shush! What are you doing on this path?” Conti whispered.

“I was going to ask you the same question. This is a rabbit run. So what are you doing on a rabbit run, Frog?” The rabbit gazed at him suspiciously.

“Mm...err! Oh, dear me, I must have got lost. Thanks for telling me, Rabbit,” Conti said with a teasing twinkle in his eyes.

He hid behind a tree, waited for a couple of minutes then hopped on. The moon hadn’t shown up yet and the sky was empty of stars. He searched round the hospital for a way in. All doors were locked. Only a small window higher up was ajar. He gathered rocks from a rockery nearby and made a solid heap of them. He hopped on it and took a huge leap but fell flat on the ground. But after numerous attempts he managed to get himself onto the window ledge and jumped inside.

The moon had now come out and was sitting on top of the elm tree. Strips and speckles of its pale yellow light came through the windows and lit the corridor.

The first door on his right was ajar and he peered in. He saw two rabbits. Each had one leg on a sling suspended from the ceiling and both were snoring away. There was a third rabbit in a corner bed. His right leg was in plaster and he was groaning in his sleep.

In the room next door was a squirrel, his head swathed in white bandage. He was awake, staring at the ceiling, muttering a verse from the Good Night Song.

Further down, a young hedgehog, both legs in plaster, was sobbing loudly. Conti hopped in.

“Hush, hush young fellow,” he whispered. “Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m not. I want my mummy,” the hedgehog cried.

“I’ll fetch your mummy if you stop crying.” Conti gently stroked his forehead. “Close your eyes and sleep... sleep.”

“I want a story first,” the young fellow whined.

“I’m not a good storyteller but what would you say if I sang you a lullaby instead?”

“Okay, then. It better be a good one,” said the hedgehog with a sigh and burrowed deep under his blanket.

Rocking his bed gently, Conti used his softest, sweetest voice and sang Rock-a- bye baby on the tree top, until he’d lulled him to sleep. Then he tiptoed out and pulled the door behind him.

There was one room left to open but the door was tightly shut. He fumbled at the handle, then pressed it down and walked in. Some speckles of yellow light fell on a small bed and a black head stuck out from under a white blanket. Conti’s heart thudded in his chest as he came closer. It was George, lying on his side, his head turned towards the wall. There was a stool at the other side of the bed and Conti leapt on it.

“If Tawny Owl finds me here I’ll be in big trouble, George,” he whispered, “but I don’t care cause I couldn’t wait another day. I’ve been bursting to tell you the dream I had the other night. You were in it, George. You sound as if you’re fast asleep cause your breathing is light but I can’t trust my brain will keep it much longer, so I’m going to tell you now.

I was in the Opera House with my tenor, you know the one. He was the main character and I was the support one and I can tell you, George, I was good, I was.” Conti puffed himself out and his face lit up with pride. “When the curtain fell, George, they cheered me, they did. But before I left the stage a voice, a single voice, rose from amongst the crowd. Bravo! Bravo! I looked, and there, on a blue velvet seat, third row up, I saw you, buddy, clapping and shouting, Bravo Conti!”

George stirred and let out a muffled groan.

“Did I wake you, George? Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve been talking to the back of my neck all this time. Come round so I can see you,” George said, moaning with pain.

Conti pulled the stool to the other side and jumped on it.

“What’s buddy? That’s a new word I’ve never heard.”

“It’s friend. Buddy means friend. My tenor used to call me that, and you’re my best friend, George, didn’t you know? Well, I’m telling you, you’re the best buddy in the whole wide world.”

“Thank you, buddy.” George tried to laugh. “Aah! Aah!” He flinched. “The stitches are pulling me something rotten.”

Suddenly, the young hedgehog started to cry. “Mummy...mummy...”

Tawny Owl rushed in. The other patients woke up, remembered their pain and started moaning and groaning loudly.

“What’s the matter, young patient? Tell Tawny Owl where it hurts and she’ll make it better.”

“I want my mummy,” the little fellow whimpered. “The frog promised to fetch her. Where is he?”

“Your mummy will be here in the morning and the frog is in his pond.”

“No he isn’t. He was here. He sang me a lullaby. I know what I’m talking about, and no, I wasn’t dreaming. He lied to me. Wait until I get out of here. I’ll...”

Tawny Owl gave him a few drops of syrup and sat at his bedside, tenderly stroking his brow until he was fast asleep.

As she came out on the corridor, she heard whispering voices coming from George’s room.

“The frog...” she muttered. “That little fellow was telling the truth.” She opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Why are you here, Conti? Didn’t I say...” Her voice was stern and her eyes scowling.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake him...err...I...Did I do something terrible, Tawny Owl?”

“Did you wake him up?” She gasped trying to hide her joy. Then she took a good look at George and her whole face lit up.

“Good to have you back, George,” she said gently. “Hope your stitches aren’t hurting you badly. I’ll see to them straight away. Only give me two ticks.”

She flew up onto the hospital roof and let out a short hoot and a second later Plato glided down beside her.

“I was already down. I’ve spent part of each night in the hospital grounds. So tell me the news,” he said, not daring to look at her face.

“Brilliant news, Plato, thanks to the frog who managed to pull him out of the coma!”

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am, Tawny Owl.” Plato breathed in and let the air slowly out. “I dreaded that George might not pull through. Did you give him...?”

“I will give him a drop of your master’s remedy straight away and you can visit him in a couple of days. But remember my warning about his mental state. Do not stress him with unnecessary questions.”

Conti was outside the hospital entrance waiting for Tawny Owl. “I expect you want me out of your way, don’t you, Tawny Owl?” he asked. “But there’s something baffling me and my brain can’t figure it out. You said, It’s good to have you back, George. Where had George gone then? Had he gone away?”

Tawny Owl’s eyes filled with amusement.

“He’d gone into a coma, which is a medical word for a very, very deep sleep and for a very, very long time. It can happen to wild creatures like us and to the humans. Nothing to trouble your brain with, Conti, I’m very glad you woke him.”