306. A Scruffy Tree and a Green and Yellow Basket

 306. A Scruffy Tree and a Green and Yellow Basket

“Ohhhhh!” cried out  Azuline. “It has left the island!”

The godwit had flown all over Apple Island at a frightening speed, dizzying all of us who were watching its flight.

“Has anyone spotted the wig?” asked Bejewelled Pietro. “You must tell me. The bird is mine.”

“No,” replied Rosendo. “I don’t think any one has seen the least trace of it, not a single hair fallen off the wig.”

“No, no, no,” we all said, exchangeing looks and shaking our heads.

 And it was true. Neither we nor the godwit had seen what we sought. So we again fixed our eyes on the crystal ball.

“The bird’s reaching Minced Forest,” announced Azuline. She sounded worried, because she was worried.

“Be calm,” I, Little Dolphus, the intellectual Leafy, said to her, “for I have kith and kin there.”

And suddenly…

Yes, that appeared on the screen. That is, on the crystal ball. That, more or less. Mostly more than less.

In case you don’t understand the illustration well enough, what it wishes to convey is the idea of the enormous big wig spread all over a dusty, scruffy tree. It was rife with nests that were in turn rife with eggs, supposed by us to be of birds. I am certain more than one local spider had moved to reside there too. As well as other creatures. And we must take into account that this tree was not growing in Apple Island, but in Minced Forest, where the conditions of public health and sanitation are not the same as they are here. Out there, birds defecate, though the illustration preferred not to show this.

“I would sooner hang myself from that tree with my great aunt’s widow’s veil than put that wig thing on my head. I no longer want it. Ughs! How revolting! All yours. Return home, Spione!”

Thus spoke Bejewelled Peter. The last three words, that brief order, he spoke at the medal that hung round his neck beneath the pearl choker he was wearing. It seems that this medal was a contraption he could use to communicate with the godwit.

“Mission accomplished,” sighed Pietro to the godwit through the medal.

“Not by us. We have failed,” lamented Azuline. “We can’t leave the island. We’ve been forbidden to. So we can’t recover the wig.”

“You wouldn’t have it easy in any case,” said Bejewelled Peter. “I don’t think whoever laid all those eggs there would give up the wig without a fight. A tough one, too. Who knows what might hatch in those nests? If it’s birds, as soon as the eggs crack, they’ll start twitting like a chorus of demons, all at one time. That would drive you mad, being there then would. I admit the big wig must have been a superb example of its kind at its best moment, but now it is nothing but a piece of s*** stuck on a stick.”

“That’s rude. You mustn’t say that,” scolded Rosendo.

“Ah, alright, tiny tot! Well, garbage hanging from a tree, then. If I were you, I would forget this. Like I mean to. If I can get that awful image out of my head. Of course, I shall ask my grandparents to gift me with as fine a wig as this one. But brand new, don’t doubt it. How could I have ever coveted a second hand wig? It may have had lice in it even before having been stolen. Come on, Spione, turn back into a brooch!”

Pietro’s last words were spoken now to the godwit, who had just landed on the windowsill.

“Not even water?” asked the godwit. “After the effort I’ve made?”

“That was like nothing for you. But fine, go to the kitchen and have them serve you champagne, or whatever you would have.”

“Glögg for me, since I am Scandinavian,” said Spione, “and skäl  to you all!”   

“Only savages would wish one health using the word skull,” said Pietro. “But go have your mulled wine, do.”

And the godwit flew off, probably to the kitchen where Pietro had sent him.

“Shall we tell our uncle now?” asked Anemone.

“That is all we can do,” said Azuline, very sad not to have better news to transmit.

“Of course I could wash the wig and maybe leave it looking almost new,” offered Rosendo. “Let´s fly back to the beauty parlour first. I will ask Malvinio for his advice. He has more experience than I do.”

“Will Uncle Gen shoo all those birdies out of the wig?” asked Anemone.

“Nah!” I said. “I don’t think he will want that wig back either. But who knows? Perhaps there is a better solution. Let us return to the parlour just like Rosendo has suggested. Out of respect for the original owner of that wig, I think we should ask your great grandfather first what to do about it. If your great grandpa is still at the parlour.”

He was there.

“¡Hush!” whispered Divina the second she saw us at the door. “Great grandfather is having a nap!”

There he was, the great AEternus,lying on a lazyboy snoring very softly.

“Daddy says that great grandpa sleeps with one of his eyes open;” said Azuline.

“Which explains why he has nighmares,” responded Divina.

 “But both his eyes are closed,” said the child, who had crept up to the chair to spot the open eye.

“Because I put him to sleep myself,” said Divina. “Conked him out properly. So he wouldn’t drive us all crazy fussing about the wig and your uncle. This way, we all get to rest. Don’t get too close to him, dearie. He might wake with a start.”

“Ah!” said Azuline, and she retreated a little.

“And you, love? What have you got in your green and yellow basket?” Divina asked Anemone. The little girl had been staunchly carrying a green and yellow hamper that was almost as big as she was, and filling it all the while with flowers she had found on her way throughout the Poison Path (though not one  in the basket was poisonous) and even in Bejewelled Peter’s gardens. Being Apple Island flowers, even the wildest had refrained from wilting the least bit and were fresh as a fresh fig. 

“How German of you,dear,” Divina said to Anemone when she saw the lovely contents of the basket. “But you’ve done very well. These flowers are very welcome. Malvinio, be so kind as to do these girls hair. These blossoms are bound to please AEternus. I would like his pretty granddaughters to be the first thing he sees when he wakes. That should keep him from grumbling. Meanwhile, I need to speak to Rosendo.”

And Malvinio, in great and careful silence, began his task, while the great grandmother took Rosendo out of the parlour so that no one would hear what she had to say to him. Well, no one but me.