next afternoon that the children had a shock. They had taken yet another load of seaweed to the boobrie and were shovelling it into the nest when the bird gave the loudest honk they had heard yet. For a moment they thought it might be an egg, for the honk was a welcoming one.
But it wasn’t. The boobrie was looking at the loch.
The children turned to follow her gaze – and gasped.
A head had appeared in the middle of the lake.
But what a head! White and smooth and enormous … like the front end of a gigantic worm. After the head came a neck … also smooth … also white … a neck divided into rings of muscle and going on and on and on. It reared and waved above the surface of the water, and still more neck appeared … and more and more. Except that the neck was getting fatter, it couldn’t all be neck – the bulgier part must be the body of the worm: a worm the size of a dozen boa constrictors.
The boobrie honked once more and the children clutched each other, unable to move.
The creature was still rising up in the water, still getting longer, still pale and glistening and utterly strange. Then it turned its head towards them and opened its eyes which were just two deep holes as black as its body was white.
‘Whooo,’ it began to say. ‘Whooo’ – and with every ‘oo’ the air filled with such a stench of rottenness and decay and … oldness … that the children reeled backwards. And then it began to slither out of the water … it slithered and slithered and slithered and still not all of it was out of the lake – and suddenly the children had had enough. Leaving their wheelbarrows where they were, they rushed down the hill to the house and almost fell into the sitting room where the aunts were having tea.
‘I didn’t expect you to knock,’ said Aunt Etta, putting down her cup. ‘One knocks at the doors of bedrooms but not of sitting rooms when one is staying in a house. But I do expect you to come in quietly like human beings, and not like hooligans.’
But the children were too frightened to be snubbed. ‘We saw a thing … a worm …’
‘As long as a train … Well, as long as a bus.’
‘All naked and white and smooth and slippery …’
‘It said “Whoo” and came at us, and its breath …’ Minette shuddered, just remembering. ‘It came out of the lake and now it’s coming after us and it’ll coil round and round us and smother us and—’
‘Unlikely,’ said Aunt Etta. She passed the children a plate of scones and told them to sit down. ‘It seems to be very difficult to get you to listen,’ she said. ’I’m sure that all three of us have told you how unpleasant we found the whole business of kidnapping you.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Coral. ‘That loathsome matron like a camel.’
‘So it is not very likely that we would go to all that trouble to feed you to a stoorworm,’ said Etta.
Being safe in the drawing room, eating a scone with strawberry jam, made Fabio feel very much braver.
‘What is a stoorworm?’
‘A wingless dragon. An Icelandic one; very unusual. Once the world was full of them, but you know how it is. Dragons with wings and fiery breaths in the skies. Dragons without wings and poisonous breaths in the water. The wingless ones were called worms. You must have heard of them: the Lambton Worm, the Laidly Worm, the Stoorworm.’
But the children hadn’t.
‘If his breath is poisonous … he breathed on us quite hard,’ said Minette. ‘He said “Whoooo” and blew at us. Does that mean we’ll be ill or die?’
Aunt Coral shook her head. ‘He’s only poisonous to greenfly and things like that. We use him to spray the fruit trees. And he probably wasn’t saying “Whoooo”, he was saying “Who?” – meaning who are you? He talks like that; very slowly because he comes from Iceland and they have more time over there.’
But Minette was still alarmed. ‘Look,’ she said, staring through the window. ‘Oh look, he’s slithering down
But it wasn’t. The boobrie was looking at the loch.
The children turned to follow her gaze – and gasped.
A head had appeared in the middle of the lake.
But what a head! White and smooth and enormous … like the front end of a gigantic worm. After the head came a neck … also smooth … also white … a neck divided into rings of muscle and going on and on and on. It reared and waved above the surface of the water, and still more neck appeared … and more and more. Except that the neck was getting fatter, it couldn’t all be neck – the bulgier part must be the body of the worm: a worm the size of a dozen boa constrictors.
The boobrie honked once more and the children clutched each other, unable to move.
The creature was still rising up in the water, still getting longer, still pale and glistening and utterly strange. Then it turned its head towards them and opened its eyes which were just two deep holes as black as its body was white.
‘Whooo,’ it began to say. ‘Whooo’ – and with every ‘oo’ the air filled with such a stench of rottenness and decay and … oldness … that the children reeled backwards. And then it began to slither out of the water … it slithered and slithered and slithered and still not all of it was out of the lake – and suddenly the children had had enough. Leaving their wheelbarrows where they were, they rushed down the hill to the house and almost fell into the sitting room where the aunts were having tea.
‘I didn’t expect you to knock,’ said Aunt Etta, putting down her cup. ‘One knocks at the doors of bedrooms but not of sitting rooms when one is staying in a house. But I do expect you to come in quietly like human beings, and not like hooligans.’
But the children were too frightened to be snubbed. ‘We saw a thing … a worm …’
‘As long as a train … Well, as long as a bus.’
‘All naked and white and smooth and slippery …’
‘It said “Whoo” and came at us, and its breath …’ Minette shuddered, just remembering. ‘It came out of the lake and now it’s coming after us and it’ll coil round and round us and smother us and—’
‘Unlikely,’ said Aunt Etta. She passed the children a plate of scones and told them to sit down. ‘It seems to be very difficult to get you to listen,’ she said. ’I’m sure that all three of us have told you how unpleasant we found the whole business of kidnapping you.’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Coral. ‘That loathsome matron like a camel.’
‘So it is not very likely that we would go to all that trouble to feed you to a stoorworm,’ said Etta.
Being safe in the drawing room, eating a scone with strawberry jam, made Fabio feel very much braver.
‘What is a stoorworm?’
‘A wingless dragon. An Icelandic one; very unusual. Once the world was full of them, but you know how it is. Dragons with wings and fiery breaths in the skies. Dragons without wings and poisonous breaths in the water. The wingless ones were called worms. You must have heard of them: the Lambton Worm, the Laidly Worm, the Stoorworm.’
But the children hadn’t.
‘If his breath is poisonous … he breathed on us quite hard,’ said Minette. ‘He said “Whoooo” and blew at us. Does that mean we’ll be ill or die?’
Aunt Coral shook her head. ‘He’s only poisonous to greenfly and things like that. We use him to spray the fruit trees. And he probably wasn’t saying “Whoooo”, he was saying “Who?” – meaning who are you? He talks like that; very slowly because he comes from Iceland and they have more time over there.’
But Minette was still alarmed. ‘Look,’ she said, staring through the window. ‘Oh look, he’s slithering down
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