6

Golf and Baked Carrot

The clang, clatter and clunk of machinery was louder than usual as Gafferty emerged from the Tangle via the storeroom mousehole. Although it was summer, the Big Folk of the chocolate factory were making lots of sweets in preparation for later in the year, for a time they called Krissmuss, which the Smidgens knew was some kind of eating festival. There would be plenty of pickings to be had for tiny hands and the Smidgens eagerly awaited Krissmuss as much as the Big Folk. Festive thoughts were far from Gafferty’s mind, however.

More through habit than skill, she managed to avoid being seen by the busy humans and easily slipped into the basement where the Sprout home was hidden in a forgotten tunnel. In a daze she climbed the stairs of the rambling structure of the Hive on her way to the kitchen, Wyn’s words still ringing in her ears. Her family were happily crowded around the kitchen table, about to sit down for their middle-meal: Mum and Dad, and her little brothers, Gobkin and Grub. Was Wyn right when he’d said they wouldn’t last much longer? She couldn’t imagine life without any of them – even Grub, sitting in his mother’s arms, a psychopath in a slug onesie. Would he be the last of the Sprouts? He was starting to crawl, launching a reign of terror throughout the household. Nothing was safe from his greedy grasp. Gafferty had overheard Dad considering building a cage to keep him in, and she wasn’t sure he was joking.

‘There you are!’ her father said accusingly, as she hugged him tightly. ‘You couldn’t wait to go off wandering could you, young miss? Out with your Roost friends, no doubt. I’m glad to see you’re still wearing your spider-coat, at least, and not taken to beaks and plumes and Smidgen knows what else those odd folk wear.’ When Gafferty didn’t let go of him, his voice softened. ‘What’s this – tears? You sit down and tell your mum and dad what’s happened.’

They sat in silence, eating the vegetable pie Dad had scavenged on a trip to the factory canteen, as Gafferty – having to stop every now and again to wipe her eyes and nose – described her argument with Wyn.

‘Part of having friends is having ups and downs with them,’ said Mum gently, after Gafferty had finished. ‘You’re bound to fall out now and then. You’ve got to learn to make it up afterwards. And you will go and say sorry, Gaf, after the things you’ve said.’

‘But Wyn said horrible things about me – about us!’

‘Out of fear. The lad probably puts on a show for his little brother, trying to look tough. But deep down, he’s scared. He lost his parents, poor boy. He’s scared of losing his brother too.’

‘They said I was irresponsible. It’s not true!’

Mum and Dad exchanged looks. Gafferty scowled.

‘You’re on their side, aren’t you?’ she said.

‘You’re a good girl,’ said Dad, picking his words carefully. ‘We’re proud of you. But you’ve still plenty to learn, including knowing where your limits are. You test those limits, girl, because you’ve had to. Sometimes people are going to push back against you, and you must learn to accept it.’

‘There are rules for surviving – you know that,’ added Mum. ‘Well, there are also rules for surviving relationships with other folk. Only they’re much more complicated and take longer to learn. And you can’t go upsetting our neighbours like that, even if their ways are different. We need to respect them and their differences, and their opinions.’

‘You wouldn’t let me go on the expedition to the Burrow either, would you?’

‘I’m certainly not allowing my daughter to go wandering into the Big Outside on the daft notion of some minion of Strigida’s! I don’t care if she’s a Clan Lady or a Duchess of the Tangle, or the Grand High Smidgen herself.’

In other words, no. Gafferty sank into her chair. Mum and Dad didn’t think she was responsible either, that was obvious.

‘We need you here, Gaf, for now,’ said Mum soothingly. We’ve run out of peppercorns and we’re low on bark chips and a whole load of other things, so there’s plenty of scavenging to keep you busy. And anyway, it sounds like they don’t really know if the Burrow is at this golf course, whatever a golf course is.’

‘It’s a place where humans play golf,’ piped up Gobkin, matter-of-factly. Although he was younger than Gafferty, Gobkin was surprisingly knowledgeable about the Big Folk, as a result of his voracious reading habits. His main source of information was The Big Book of Big Folk Facts. ‘It’s a type of sport.’

‘A sport?’ said Gafferty.

‘Humans play games with each other, like we do. But grown-up humans are embarrassed about playing games. They think they’re something for children, so they call their games sports instead, and make up lots of complicated rules about how to play them. They argue and fight over the rules, which they seem to enjoy so much that some sports are just fighting and aren’t really games at all.’

‘Does golf have lots of fighting?’ said Gafferty. She imagined the golf course to be a terrible noisy battlefield, filled with battered and bruised humans blundering furiously around.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Gobkin slowly. ‘Although they do have to use clubs. But not for hitting each other. They try and hit balls into holes in the ground that are a long way away.’

‘What in Smidgen’s name for?’ Mum laughed. ‘Why don’t they just walk over and drop the ball into the hole? They must miss all the time.’

‘And if you’ve got spare holes lying around, why not do something useful, like plant trees in them?’ added Dad.

‘What happens if the ball goes in the hole?’ Gafferty said.

‘Nothing,’ said Gob. ‘That’s it, I think. Big Folk are very strange.’

No one could disagree with that. The family continued their meal in silent contemplation at the weirdness of humans, except for Grub, who made handprints on the table using some baked carrot he had thrown up earlier.

That night, Gafferty lay wide awake in the wall nook where her bed was. How had this day gone so wrong? She couldn’t bear it if Will and the others thought badly of her. And she couldn’t bear the fact that she might be missing out on the expedition to the Burrow because of it.

In the dark she reached underneath her pillow and touched the cold glass of the knife. Once, she had heard voices coming from it, as if it were speaking to her. She had a connection to the knife, and she wanted to know how, and why.

‘I bet there are more pieces of the Mirror at the Burrow,’ she said to herself. ‘The Burrow Clan might have the answers I need. But if no one lets me go there, how will I ever find out?’