Read Online The Giants and the Joneses by Julia Donaldson - Free Book Online
Authors: Julia Donaldson
Tags: Fiction
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didn’t seem to be anyone outside it, and the tapping had stopped now.
Colette sat up in bed. She listened. All was silent.
But she had heard a tapping, she was sure.
She cast her eyes round the room. They were growing used to the darkness, and she could make out the shapes of Stephen’s empty bed and Poppy’s sardine tin.
Then she looked back at the window and her heart missed a beat.
A glinting green eye was staring in at her.
19
Spratchkin
‘O GGLE , G RISHMIJ, OGGLE !’
Jumbeelia laughed, pointed, and tugged at her grandmother’s sleeve.
Obediently, Grishmij watched the spratchkin chasing a leaf. She smiled faintly and then went back to the iggly yellow sock she was knitting for the bobbaleely.
Jumbeelia picked the spratchkin up, hoping it would stay in her arms, but it wasn’t in a woozly mood;it jumped down and was off after the leaf again, batting it down the path and under the garden shed.
Jumbeelia laughed again. She hadn’t felt as happy as this for ages. It was a lovely sunny day. Zab was still away at Grishpij’s house, she had Grishmij all to herself, she was soon to have a new brother or sister, and – best of all – she had the beely beely spratchkin. Oh, and the iggly plops too, of course; she had almost forgotten about them.
The spratchkin was still crouched by the garden shed, and every now and then would shoot a black paw underneath it. Was it trying to get the leaf back, or had it discovered something even more interesting under there?
Jumbeelia was about to go and look, when she heard a familiar voice.
Iggly plops! Iggly plops!
Queesh? Queesh? Queesh?
Oggle arump! Oggle arump!
Aheesh! Aheesh! Aheesh!
It was old Throg on his rounds again. There he was, leaning over the gate and beckoning to Grishmij, who put down her knitting and went to ask what he wanted.
It was the same old question: ‘Ev oy oggled o iggly plops?’
Grishmij smiled and shook her head. ‘Nug – yimp.’ She hadn’t seen the iggly plops, and she didn’t believe in them, though she was too kind to tell old Throg that.
Jumbeelia smiled too. She imagined what Grishmij would say if she found out that Throg wasn’t mad to believe in the iggly plops; that two iggly plops were in her bedroom at this very moment.
If only she could talk to Throg! She would love to put him right about the iggly plops, to tell him that they weren’t the dangerous creatures he thought they were. But she still felt shy of him, and she certainly didn’t want to give away the hiding place of her two pet iggly plops.
She was sure that Throg would never discover those two, but she did worry that he might find the boy that Zab had lost. She still felt very cross with Zab about that. Fancy bringing them down into the garden!
Thinking about the iggly plops, Jumbeelia remembered guiltily that she had forgotten to give them any lunch. She hadn’t played with them much the last few days, either; she’d been too busy playing outside with the spratchkin.
In any case, the iggly plops weren’t quite as much fun as they used to be. The wild one wasn’t getting any tamer, and even the iggliest one was a bit droopy these days. Maybe they were missing the boy. Maybe Jumbeelia ought to go back down the bimplestonk and look for another one to replace him. That should cheer them up. And maybe – wonderful thought! – she might even find some iggly spratchkins down there.
Old Throg gave them both a last suspicious look and was on his way.
Grishmij went back to her knitting. The spratchkin seemed to have forgotten about whatever was under the garden shed and was patting at a snail.
Jumbeelia picked up the snail. Studying it, she wondered if all snails had exactly the same squirls on their shells or if each one was different …
20
The monster on the bed
‘I HUNGRY ,’ SAID Poppy.
Colette noticed that she was beginning to talk in a more grown-up way. Only a few days ago she would have said ‘Poppy hungry’.
Jumbeelia had forgotten to
Colette sat up in bed. She listened. All was silent.
But she had heard a tapping, she was sure.
She cast her eyes round the room. They were growing used to the darkness, and she could make out the shapes of Stephen’s empty bed and Poppy’s sardine tin.
Then she looked back at the window and her heart missed a beat.
A glinting green eye was staring in at her.
19
Spratchkin
‘O GGLE , G RISHMIJ, OGGLE !’
Jumbeelia laughed, pointed, and tugged at her grandmother’s sleeve.
Obediently, Grishmij watched the spratchkin chasing a leaf. She smiled faintly and then went back to the iggly yellow sock she was knitting for the bobbaleely.
Jumbeelia picked the spratchkin up, hoping it would stay in her arms, but it wasn’t in a woozly mood;it jumped down and was off after the leaf again, batting it down the path and under the garden shed.
Jumbeelia laughed again. She hadn’t felt as happy as this for ages. It was a lovely sunny day. Zab was still away at Grishpij’s house, she had Grishmij all to herself, she was soon to have a new brother or sister, and – best of all – she had the beely beely spratchkin. Oh, and the iggly plops too, of course; she had almost forgotten about them.
The spratchkin was still crouched by the garden shed, and every now and then would shoot a black paw underneath it. Was it trying to get the leaf back, or had it discovered something even more interesting under there?
Jumbeelia was about to go and look, when she heard a familiar voice.
Iggly plops! Iggly plops!
Queesh? Queesh? Queesh?
Oggle arump! Oggle arump!
Aheesh! Aheesh! Aheesh!
It was old Throg on his rounds again. There he was, leaning over the gate and beckoning to Grishmij, who put down her knitting and went to ask what he wanted.
It was the same old question: ‘Ev oy oggled o iggly plops?’
Grishmij smiled and shook her head. ‘Nug – yimp.’ She hadn’t seen the iggly plops, and she didn’t believe in them, though she was too kind to tell old Throg that.
Jumbeelia smiled too. She imagined what Grishmij would say if she found out that Throg wasn’t mad to believe in the iggly plops; that two iggly plops were in her bedroom at this very moment.
If only she could talk to Throg! She would love to put him right about the iggly plops, to tell him that they weren’t the dangerous creatures he thought they were. But she still felt shy of him, and she certainly didn’t want to give away the hiding place of her two pet iggly plops.
She was sure that Throg would never discover those two, but she did worry that he might find the boy that Zab had lost. She still felt very cross with Zab about that. Fancy bringing them down into the garden!
Thinking about the iggly plops, Jumbeelia remembered guiltily that she had forgotten to give them any lunch. She hadn’t played with them much the last few days, either; she’d been too busy playing outside with the spratchkin.
In any case, the iggly plops weren’t quite as much fun as they used to be. The wild one wasn’t getting any tamer, and even the iggliest one was a bit droopy these days. Maybe they were missing the boy. Maybe Jumbeelia ought to go back down the bimplestonk and look for another one to replace him. That should cheer them up. And maybe – wonderful thought! – she might even find some iggly spratchkins down there.
Old Throg gave them both a last suspicious look and was on his way.
Grishmij went back to her knitting. The spratchkin seemed to have forgotten about whatever was under the garden shed and was patting at a snail.
Jumbeelia picked up the snail. Studying it, she wondered if all snails had exactly the same squirls on their shells or if each one was different …
20
The monster on the bed
‘I HUNGRY ,’ SAID Poppy.
Colette noticed that she was beginning to talk in a more grown-up way. Only a few days ago she would have said ‘Poppy hungry’.
Jumbeelia had forgotten to
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