‘Oh dear,’ says Eric.
‘Here I am. Hell Fire Man – Superhero Extraordinaire – solver of the world’s problems, saver of maidens and wusses … ’
‘Jacob – careful, your powers won’t –’
‘Shhh, Scaredy Cat,’ says Jacob. ‘I’m going to try charming it.’
Tilly’s gazing at him, her jaw hanging low. I signal to her to get away, but she’s transfixed by Jacob, or possibly the snake. The cockatoo, giving up on the purple cat, flaps its wings and says, ‘Oh, look, it’s a toilet!’ and flies towards the snake.
The snake ducks and stares at the pink thing hovering over its head. The cockatoo’s feathers release a small sparkling cloud over the snake’s head, and the snake seems to recoil.
Of course, the cockatoo’s pink, because of the dust from the castle.
The snake’s big, because of the dust.
Dust. If we can’t wash it off we could add more.
It’s a long shot, but there’s nothing else I can think of.
‘Quick!’ I yell, scooping up two handfuls of the glittery dust from a nearby bench. I fling them over the snake.
Eric swipes his hand over a postbox and makes a soggy dustball, which explodes over the snake’s head.
The snake visibly shrinks but continues to eye the cockatoo. Jacob takes a saucepan from his belt and scrapes up an inch or two of dust.
He advances on the snake, holding the saucepan high. ‘Here, snakey snakey.’
‘No, don’t,’ I shout.
The snake stops staring at the cockatoo and gazes at Jacob. Tilly giggles; the snake’s eyes dart from Jacob to her.
‘Come here, little snakey,’ says Jacob, well within striking distance.
‘He’s either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid,’ mutters Eric.
I make one last attempt to shrink the snake. Once again, nothing useful happens.
Jacob flings his dust and his saucepan over the creature, and, as he does so, the snake shoots forward and buries its fangs in Jacob’s stomach.
‘No!’ I shout.
Sheets of flame rocket from Jacob’s fingers. They crackle over the snake, leaving it unharmed while Jacob staggers backwards howling. ‘I’m bitten – I’m bitten! I’m dead – it got me! I never even had time to write my will.’
‘Quick,’ says Eric, ignoring Jacob and racing for the snake’s head. ‘Grab the tail.’
I do. It’s dry and heavy and cold – and wriggling.
‘Tie a bow!’ shouts Eric.
Knot would be nearer the truth. But we tussle and bend and wind until the giant snake looks like it’s had an accident with a handbag. Its jaws are still wrapped around Jacob’s middle, its fangs deeply embedded in the foam cushions wedged behind his belt. I grip the knot in the middle of the snake – not that it could go anywhere, but it feels like the right thing to do – while Eric unties Jacob’s belt and the whole outfit collapses. The snake and the cushions thump onto the ground, leaving Jacob standing naked but for roller skates, Speedos and a girl’s spotty red-and-white T-shirt. He’s not in the least bothered.
He struts through the wreckage of his costume, pushing out his stomach until the T-shirt threatens to rip.
‘All you needed was a superhero. Someone incredibly brave, like me. Just to tell you, Snot Face, superherodom is much more useful than brains. See – I’ve proved it.’
He turns and skates gently back up the hill.
‘Well, that answers it,’ says Eric. ‘He’s incredibly stupid.’