She managed to stand up again, as the boat rocked in the swell, and yelled at the towering whale: ‘You’ve got to chase him! That’s how it has to work! You chase him, he chases you! Granny Aching said so! You can’t not do it and still be the whale fish! This is my dream! My rules! I’ve had more practice at it than you!’
‘Big fishy!’ yelled Wentworth.
That was more surprising than the whale. Tiffany stared at her little brother as the boat rocked again.
‘Big fishy!’ said Wentworth again.
‘That’s right!’ Tiffany said, delighted. ‘Big fishy! And what makes it particularly interesting it that a whale isn’t a fish! It is in fact a mammal, just like a cow!’
Did you just say that? said her Second Thoughts, as all the pictises stared at her and the boat spun in the surf. The first time he’s ever said anything that wasn’t about sweeties or weewee and you just corrected him?
Tiffany looked at the whale. It was having trouble. But it was the whale, the whale she’d dreamed about many times after Granny Aching had told her that story, and not even the Queen could control a story like that.
It turned reluctantly in the water and dived in the wake of the Jolly Sailor’s ship.
‘Big fishy gone!’ said Wentworth.
‘No, it’s a mammal—’ Tiffany’s mouth said, before she could stop it.
The pictsies were still staring at her.
‘It’s just that he ought to get it right,’ she mumbled, ashamed of herself. ‘It’s a mistake lots of people make . . .’
You’re going to turn into somebody like Miss Tick, said her Second Thoughts. Do you really want that?
‘Yes,’ said a voice, and Tiffany realized that it was hers again. The anger rose up, joyfully. ‘Yes! I’m me, I am careful and logical and I look up things I don’t understand! When I hear people use the wrong words I get edgy! I am good with cheese. I read books fast! I think! And I always have a piece of string! That’s the kind of person I am!’
She stopped. Even Wentworth was staring at her now. He blinked.
‘Big water cow gone . . .’ he suggested, meekly.
‘That’s right! Good boy!’ said Tiffany. ‘When we get home you can have one sweet!’
She saw the massed ranks of the Nac Mac Feegles still looking at her with worried expressions.
‘Is it OK wi’ you if we get on?’ said Rob Anybody, holding up a nervous hand. ‘Before yon whale fi— Before yon whale cow comes back?’
Tiffany looked past them. The lighthouse wasn’t far. A little jetty stretched out from its tiny island.
‘Yes, please. Er . . . thank you,’ she said, calming down a bit. The ship and the whale had vanished into the rain and the sea was merely lapping at the shore.
A drome was sitting on the rocks with its pale, fat legs sticking out in front of it. It was staring out to sea and didn’t appear to notice the approaching boat. It thinks it’s home, Tiffany thought. I’ve given it a dream it likes.
Pictsies poured onto the jetty and tied up the boat.
‘OK, we’re here,’ said Rob Anybody. ‘We’ll just chop yon creature’s heid off and we’ll be right oout o’ here . . .’
‘Don’t!’ said Tiffany.
‘But it—’
‘Leave it alone. Just. . . leave it alone, all right? It’s not interested.’ And it knows about sea, she added to herself. It’s probably homesick for the sea. That’s why it’s such a real dream. I’d have never have got it right by myself.
A crab crawled out of the surf by the drome’s feet, and settled down to dream crab dreams.
It looks as though a drome can get lost in its own dream, she thought. I wonder if it’ll ever wake up?
She turned to the Nac Mac Feegles. ‘In my dream I always wake up when I reach the lighthouse,’ she said.
The pictsies looked up at the red and white tower and, as one Feegle, drew their swords.
‘We dinnae trust the Quin,’ said Rob. ‘She’ll let ye think ye’re safe, and just when ye’ve dropped your guard she’ll leap oout. She’ll be waitin’ behind the door, ye can bet on it. Ye’ll let us go in first.’
It was an instruction, not a question. Tiffany nodded, and watched the Nac Mac Feegles swarm over the rocks towards the tower.
Alone on the jetty, except for Wentworth and the unconscious Roland, she lifted the toad out of her pocket. It opened its yellow eyes and stared at the sea.
‘Either I’m dreaming, or I’m on a beach,’ it said. ‘And toads don’t dream.’
‘In my dream they can,’ said Tiffany. ‘And this is my dream.’
‘Then it is an extremely dangerous one!’ said the toad ungratefully.
‘No, it’s lovely,’ said Tiffany. ‘It’s wonderful. Look at the way the light dances on the waves.’
‘Where are the notices warning people they could drown?’ complained the toad. ‘No lifebelts or shark nets. Oh, dear. Do I see a qualified lifeguard? I think not. Supposing someone was to — ‘
‘It’s a beach,’ said Tiffany. ‘Why are you talking like this?’
‘I – I don’t know,’ said the toad. ‘Can you put me down, please? I feel a headache coming on.’
Tiffany put it down and it shuffled into some seaweed. After a while she heard it eating something.
The sea was calm.
It was peaceful.
It was exactly the moment anyone sensible should distrust.
But nothing happened. It was followed by nothing else happening. Wentworth picked up a pebble from the shingle and put it in his mouth, on the basis that anything might be a sweetie.
Then, suddenly, there were noises from the lighthouse. Tiffany heard muffled shouts, and thuds, and once or twice the sound of breaking glass. At one point there was a noise like something heavy falling down a long spiral staircase and hitting every step on the way.
The door opened. The Nac Mac Feegles came out. They looked satisfied.
‘Nae problemo,’ said Rob Anybody. ‘No one there.’
‘But there was a lot of noise!’
‘Oh, aye. We had to make sure,’ said Daft Wullie.
‘Wee wee men!’ shouted Wentworth.
‘I’ll wake up when I go through the door,’ said Tiffany, pulling Roland out of the boat. ‘I always have. It must work. This is my dream.’ She hauled the boy upright and turned to the nearest Feegle. ‘Can you bring Wentworth?’
‘Aye.’
‘And you won’t get lost or, or drunk or anything?’
Rob Anybody looked offended. ‘We ne’er get lost!’ he said. ‘We always ken where we are! It’s just sometimes mebbe we aren’t sure where everything else is, but it’s no’ our fault if everything else gets lost! The Nac Mac Feegle are never lost!’
‘What about drunk?’ said Tiffany, dragging Roland towards the lighthouse.
‘We’ve ne’er been lost in oour lives! Is that no’ the case, lads?’ said Rob Anybody. There was a murmur of resentful agreement. The words “lost” and “Nac Mac Feegle” shouldnae turn up in the same sen-tence!’
‘And drunk?’ said Tiffany again, laying Roland down on the shingle.
‘Gettin’ lost is something that happens to other people!’ declared Rob Anybody. ‘I want to make that point perrrfectly clear!’
‘Well, at least there shouldn’t have been anything to drink in a lighthouse,’ said Tiffany. She laughed. ‘Unless you drank the lamp oil, and no one would dare do that!’
The pictsies suddenly fell silent.
‘What would that be, then?’ said Daft Wullie, in a slow, careful voice. ‘Would it be the stuff in a kind o’ big bottle kind o’ thingie?’
‘Wi’ a wee skull and crossbones on it?’ said Rob Anybody.
‘Yes, probably, and it’s horrible stuff,’ said Tiffany. ‘It’d make you terribly ill if you drank it.’
‘Really?’ said Rob Anybody, thoughtfully. That’s verra . . . interesting. What sort o’ ill would that be, kind o’ thing?’
‘I think you’d probably die,’ said Tiffany.
‘We’re already dead,’ said Rob Anybody.
‘Well, you’d be very, very sick, then,’ said Tiffany. She gave him a strong look. ‘It’s inflammable, too. It’s a good job you didn’t drink it, isn’t it. . .’
Daft Wullie belched loudly. There was a strong smell of paraffin.
‘Aye,’ he said.
Tiffany went and fetched Wentworth. Behind her, she heard some muffled whispering as the pictsies went into a huddle.
‘I told yez the wee skull on it meant we shouldnae touch it!’
‘Big Yan said that showed it wuz strong stuff! An’ things ha’ come to a pretty pass, ye ken, if people are going to leave stuff like that aroound where innocent people could accidentally smash the door doon and lever the bars aside and take the big chain off’f the cupboard and pick the lock and drink it!’
‘What’s inflammable mean?’
‘It means it catches fire!’
‘OK, OK, dinnae panic. No belchin’, and none ofyouse is to tak’ a leak anywhere near any naked flames, OK? And act nat’ral.’