Tilly’s party has begun. I tried to leave, but Mum asked me to stay and be helpful. When the birthday cake is finally wheeled out into the garden her friends go into peals of squeally delight.
It’s pink – of course – layered, like a wedding cake, and if it started off as chocolate beetroot, it now looks more like strawberry. Grandma may have tried to turn it into a rainbow cake, but I can’t be sure. Everything’s oozing with cream and buttercream and fruit. What might be an icing cockatoo is sliding down the side. It’s about a Tilly tall and a Tilly wide – and yes, I was helpful, because without my swift intervention – plunging my hands into the buttercream – the enormous top would have slipped sideways from the enormous bottom as they brought it out. In my view, it’s a catastrophe, but the girls and their parents make cooing noises as if it’s a masterpiece.
‘And now for Tilly’s birthday surprise,’ says Dad, turning the cake around, and revealing a cardboard box buried deep inside.
I don’t watch as Mum and Dad argue with Tilly over the best way to get into the box. Instead, my attention is caught by the sight of Professor Lee wandering up to our house with a wheelbarrow. He’s wearing a dusty, baggy sweater, a baseball cap, shorts and work boots. Almost a disguise.
He walks around to the garage door and prods it. I know it’ll just swing open and from there he’ll be able to get into the house, so I rush back into the kitchen, through the hall and peek my head around the door that goes into the garage.
I can just see the wheelbarrow wheel under the opening door.
‘Well, of course, when we do magic … ’ I say loudly in my deepest Dad voice, crashing the hall door behind me as I go into the garage. The wheelbarrow retreats, and I rush towards the main garage door, slipping the rusty old bolts down until they rest in the concrete floor.
That feels 110% good. Whatever Professor Lee was doing trying to get into our garage – he shouldn’t have been.
Standing on tiptoe, peering through the smeary pane of glass in the door, I see the back of his sweater disappear around the corner towards the castle.
‘Aaaaaah!!!!’ A scream more deadly than Tilly’s earlier cake scream burns my eardrums.
I rush back out of the garage, through the hall and the kitchen. From the steps, I see Tilly pinned against the model village fence by an enormous snake, a strawberry balanced on its head.
Behind it are the smashed remnants of the cake, and a trail of cream and sponge leads over the grass to where the snake is now, glaring at Tilly.
Mum and Dad are just standing there with their mouths open, and the other girls have climbed to safety in their parents’ arms, so it’s just Tilly facing the snake alone.
Tilly’s eyes are locked with the snake’s. It’s hard to see who is more deadly.
‘Is it poisonous?’ I say quietly, staying absolutely still.
‘It is,’ whispers Eric, silently appearing beside me, still without his dad. ‘It’s almost certainly poisonous, it’s got a “V” on its head and it’s twice the size it ought to be. So there’ll be twice as much venom. Could you shrink it?’
I hold up my hand. ‘I can’t get a clear shot – Tilly would shrink too. How about water?’
‘I’d have to move a lot closer to really squirt it,’ says Eric.
I’m just trying to work out how I could get a decent shrinking view of the snake, when Tilly springs over the fence. The parents gasp and cheer, but the snake’s not stupid and it’s not slow – it slides through the fence slats, shedding creamy blobs, and I see its tail vanish at about the same time as Tilly leaps on her bike and begins to pedal.
‘Quick, after her!’ I shout, running towards the gate.
Eric goes over to inspect the snake’s broken box.
‘No time for that now!’ I say. ‘I need you, Eric – we’ll have to get Jacob – we’ve got to save Tilly!’