Read Online The Phredde Collection by Jackie French - Free Book Online
Authors: Jackie French
Tags: Fiction
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bad if you came too,’ she said. ‘It’s just…oh, why can’t Mum realise we’re in a new country now? We don’t always have to be doing things the old way! Not on my birthday!’
‘Hey, we’ll have fun!’ I said.
I was getting really excited now. Heck, the one time we went to Sydney (and let’s face it, Sydney isn’t a patch on Phaeryland) I got so carsick on the way that I hardly even noticed the Opera House—it’s a bit hard to notice much if your head’s in a paper bag—and now I was going to another country. (I suppose Phaeryland counts as a different country. Different, anyway.)
‘We always have fun,’ I told her.
‘Not in Phaeryland,’ muttered Phredde.
I asked Gurgle to wake me really early on Phredde’s birthday.
The sun was just peering through my window when he stuck his head in. But then, whatever time you wake up in our castle the sun is just starting to peer through your window. It seems to go along with living in a magic castle.
‘Gargle argle gragle goo,’ said Gurgle.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Yeah, it’s okay. I really am awake now.’
Gurgle withdrew to set out my muesli and mango juice in the breakfast room.
Personally, I could have done without all the fuss and just slurped down breakfast in the kitchen like we always used to do, but Mum says you have to do things properly when you live in a castle. Anyway, the breakfast room has great vaulted ceilings, and wide windows that look out over the rose gardens (Gurgle’s wife, Gark, has looked after those—except for when the jaguar was prowling around—ever since Mum was too generous with the manure. I mean, you should just SEE what too much manure does to magic roses…) and down to Tootsie’s paddock and stable.
Despite the fuss, it’s not bad having breakfast there.
Mum wandered down just as I was finishing my mango juice smoothie (from fresh mangoes; it’s always mango season when you live in a castle).
Mum was wearing her daggy old tracksuit that makes her look like she’s got two bottoms (maybe next Christmas I should get her a new dressing gown instead of the sea serpent for the moat that I was going to get Phredde to conjure up for her. Some presents are better than magic, though a sea serpent in the moat would be pretty cool.)
‘Schlomphff,’ muttered Mum. Mum’s never at her best at dawn.
Gurgle handed her a cup of coffee. Mum took a sip, and then another one. ‘Scmmmfffp,’ she said. Then she took another sip and said, ‘Thank you, Gurgle.’
She yawned and pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said to me. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘I was too excited to sleep much.’
Mum nodded, and drained half her coffee, then held it out for Gurgle to refill. (Mum drinks too much coffee. I made a mental note to ask Phredde for some of that stuff her mum drinks for breakfast—it’s made of rose petals, sunbeams and primroses—to see if Mum’d like it.)
‘Have you had enough breakfast?’ Mum was almost awake now.
‘Sure, Mum.’
‘You don’t want to get hungry on the way. Maybe you should have some toast as well.’
‘Mum, I’m only going to Phaeryland, not the moon. They’ll have stuff to eat in Phaeryland.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Mum doubtfully. Mum always thinks I’m going to keel over from starvation.
She stared at me blearily, as though she’d just got me in focus. ‘You’re not wearing that, are you?’
I nodded, because my mouth was full of muesli and Mum always told me not to speak with my mouth full.
‘Don’t you think a dress would be better for Phaeryland?’ Mum was wide awake now.
‘Mum, these are my best jeans!’
‘Yes, Prudence, I know. But your best dress—’
‘Mum! That dress is out of the dark ages!’ And it is. Mum bought it for me for her cousin Delia’s wedding. It’s got lace on the sleeves, for Pete’s sake.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Mum regretfully. ‘Now, have you got a
‘Hey, we’ll have fun!’ I said.
I was getting really excited now. Heck, the one time we went to Sydney (and let’s face it, Sydney isn’t a patch on Phaeryland) I got so carsick on the way that I hardly even noticed the Opera House—it’s a bit hard to notice much if your head’s in a paper bag—and now I was going to another country. (I suppose Phaeryland counts as a different country. Different, anyway.)
‘We always have fun,’ I told her.
‘Not in Phaeryland,’ muttered Phredde.
I asked Gurgle to wake me really early on Phredde’s birthday.
The sun was just peering through my window when he stuck his head in. But then, whatever time you wake up in our castle the sun is just starting to peer through your window. It seems to go along with living in a magic castle.
‘Gargle argle gragle goo,’ said Gurgle.
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Yeah, it’s okay. I really am awake now.’
Gurgle withdrew to set out my muesli and mango juice in the breakfast room.
Personally, I could have done without all the fuss and just slurped down breakfast in the kitchen like we always used to do, but Mum says you have to do things properly when you live in a castle. Anyway, the breakfast room has great vaulted ceilings, and wide windows that look out over the rose gardens (Gurgle’s wife, Gark, has looked after those—except for when the jaguar was prowling around—ever since Mum was too generous with the manure. I mean, you should just SEE what too much manure does to magic roses…) and down to Tootsie’s paddock and stable.
Despite the fuss, it’s not bad having breakfast there.
Mum wandered down just as I was finishing my mango juice smoothie (from fresh mangoes; it’s always mango season when you live in a castle).
Mum was wearing her daggy old tracksuit that makes her look like she’s got two bottoms (maybe next Christmas I should get her a new dressing gown instead of the sea serpent for the moat that I was going to get Phredde to conjure up for her. Some presents are better than magic, though a sea serpent in the moat would be pretty cool.)
‘Schlomphff,’ muttered Mum. Mum’s never at her best at dawn.
Gurgle handed her a cup of coffee. Mum took a sip, and then another one. ‘Scmmmfffp,’ she said. Then she took another sip and said, ‘Thank you, Gurgle.’
She yawned and pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ she said to me. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘I was too excited to sleep much.’
Mum nodded, and drained half her coffee, then held it out for Gurgle to refill. (Mum drinks too much coffee. I made a mental note to ask Phredde for some of that stuff her mum drinks for breakfast—it’s made of rose petals, sunbeams and primroses—to see if Mum’d like it.)
‘Have you had enough breakfast?’ Mum was almost awake now.
‘Sure, Mum.’
‘You don’t want to get hungry on the way. Maybe you should have some toast as well.’
‘Mum, I’m only going to Phaeryland, not the moon. They’ll have stuff to eat in Phaeryland.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Mum doubtfully. Mum always thinks I’m going to keel over from starvation.
She stared at me blearily, as though she’d just got me in focus. ‘You’re not wearing that, are you?’
I nodded, because my mouth was full of muesli and Mum always told me not to speak with my mouth full.
‘Don’t you think a dress would be better for Phaeryland?’ Mum was wide awake now.
‘Mum, these are my best jeans!’
‘Yes, Prudence, I know. But your best dress—’
‘Mum! That dress is out of the dark ages!’ And it is. Mum bought it for me for her cousin Delia’s wedding. It’s got lace on the sleeves, for Pete’s sake.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Mum regretfully. ‘Now, have you got a
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