Bottle tops

Henry reached up on tip toes, his Thomas the tank engine wellies squeaked against his chubby bare legs. He blew a spiral of floppy golden hair away from his eyes as he traced the trail of ivy up the tree with his perfect little fingers. It crawled its way over the gnarly old bark, twisting and turning, searching the crevices and nooks that the old tree offered. A puffed up proud black bird belted out his symphony from the other side of the woods which echoed through dusky honeysuckled air, the last of the bluebells twitched and jostled as a warm breeze tickled them on its way to bed. Both bird and boy oblivious of one another, yet instinctively, completely aware. Spots of dappled evening sunlight clung to the bark, reluctantly giving way to the dusk as it silently crept in uninvited. He watched wood louse and black ants busily making their way up and down and round. Bumping into one another, apologising and moving on up the trunk.

“Sorry Mr Wood louse! No, no, no, my fault entirely MrBlack ant” Henry smiled to himself at the spectacle. Martha had insisted it was an oak tree, and that it was magic, and at least a trillion years old, and she was always right. Henry didn’t mind, having a twin sister was cool….even if she was the bossiest person he knew and always right….Always.

Henry looked down for a foothold so he could follow the ivy into a small hole just out of reach. Something on the ground caught his eye. A small figure standing near his welly looking up at him, then, as Henry jumped down, disappearing in a flash down into the roots of the tree. Henry hopped back and laid on the floor peering into the darkness under the tree.

“Well, well, was that a mouse?” he said. “No, too big to be a mouse. I’ve seen a mouse before when Rupert the cat brought one home and dropped it on the lounge carpet….it didn’t move much and Daddy shouted really loudly, he had to pick it up by its tale and put it in the dustbin….. No, definitely not a mouse. They live in dustbins.” He lay still and rested his chin on his hands. A shaft of evening sunlight briefly illuminated his golden hair, momentarily he glowed like an angel.

“Hello”, he called into the hole, “you can come out, I’m not going to hurt you….My name is Henry. Henry Chambers and I am 4 years old. I have a sister called Martha. Martha Chambers and she is 4 years old too. I have a mummy and a daddy and a cat…called Rupert. I’m not sure how old Rupert is.” Henry peered into the darkness. Back at the house the back door slammed and he could hear Martha’s wellies clomping across the lawn towards him. Her fairy wings flapping behind her. She was singing, as always. Henry could never work out which song it was as the words seem to be different every time.

“HENRY!......HENRY! Mum says it’s time for tea….. And it’s getting dark.”

The sun gave one more attempt to fight off the darkness and bathed Henry in beautifully warm twilight before it tucked itself away for the night on the other side of the house. Henry saw something shuffle away at the back of the biggest hole. It held its tiny hands over its eyes as the sunlight flooded in. Henry sat up with a jolt. He spun himself round and put his finger to his mouth at Martha as she thundered to a stop just behind him. 

“Ssshhhh!” 

She looked at Henry’s expression and could just tell that something exciting was happening. In a flurry of golden curls and glitter she plonked herself down next to him and snuggled in close. She whispered.

“What is it Henry? What have you found?”

The sun gave up for another day and hid behind the house until morning, the atmosphere changed in an instant. The air felt damp as the crickets began to tune their instruments. The Blackbird gave one glorious finale then took flight, his song tucked away into the darkness, so as to be perfect again for the dawn. All fell quiet.

“Martha, there’s something in that hole under the tree…..The magic tree.” Henry’s eyes widened. “It won’t come out.”

Martha stared at Henry for a moment a fixed frown on her face. 

“Ok…… I believe you but only because you’re my brother. What is it?.... Is it a dragon?.... Is it a fox?.... Is it a Gruffalo?..... No, it can’t be a Gruffalo they are really big.” Martha gasped and slapped her hand across her mouth, then slapped her other hand across Henry’s mouth. Slowly she lowered her hand. Her eyebrows raised her mouth wide open.

“Is it a fairy?....I told you this tree was magic….I knew the fairies lived here.”

She peered into the dark hole.

“Hello….Fairy?..... Are you in there?......Please come out, we won’t hurt you. My name is Martha. Martha Chambers and I am 4 years old. This is my brother Henry Chambers and he is 4 years old. I have a mummy and a daddy and a cat called Rupert…. I’m not sure how old Rupert is. Henry, how old is Rupert?” Henry shrugged.

“I already told it that.”

Martha sat cross legged and rested her chin on her hands. 

“I need to think a minute Henry…I need an idea.” Henry sat cross legged and rested his chin on his hands.

“We need to make it our friend Martha……how about we give it a present. Everyone likes presents…then it will be our friend.”

“Ssshhh. I’m thinking” Said Martha…..

“I’ve got an idea.” She said almost immediately. “We need to give it a present then it will be our friend.”

Henry looked at Martha and whispered.

“Good idea.” 

Henry sat up straight and delved his hand into the pocket of his shorts. He rummaged around. Then with a big grin on his face he produced an object and held it up for Martha to see. Martha said nothing, just stared.

“I found it today behind the shed. I was going to give it to mummy….as a present.” Martha snatched it from him and held it close to her face studying every detail. It had numbers on it.

“One…Six…Six….Four……What is it Henry?”

“It’s a bottle top. I’ve seen daddy take them off his beer on a Friday and a Saturday and a Sunday and sometimes on a Wednesday when mummy’s at work.”

“But Henry, I’ve never seen a number this big before….and I can count to fifty. It must be really, really old and special….like Grandpa.” She turned it over and over in her little fingers feeling its rough edges. 

“Henry?....Do you think dinosaurs drank beer…. Like daddy?”

“Yes… I think they must have. This was probably the bottle top from a big scary dinosaur…..big and scary like daddy is sometimes…when he’s cross at Rupert and he shouts.”

“It’s perfect.” Said Martha. She leaned forward and placed the bottle top gently down at the entrance to the hole then shuffled back slowly. Keeping her gaze fixed on it.

“What do we do now?” said Henry pushing back her fairy wing so he could see properly.

“We have to wait Henry.”

A minute passed.

“I’m bored Martha. Maybe it doesn’t like the present. What should we do?”

Martha scratched her chin like she had seen Grandpa do when he was reading the newspaper.

“Do you have anything else we can give it? As a present.”

Henry pushed his hands into both pockets and felt right to the very corners.

“Only this…it’s another bottle top….it has letters on it. I didn’t think it was as nice as the one we gave it already.”

Martha took the bottle top and placed it carefully down with the first one. As the last of the twilight faded. They sat fixated as the shadows made the scene dance in front of their eyes. Henry shivered as the night air pushed at his bare legs.

“Henry did you see that?”

They turned and faced each other slowly.

“Yes.”

From within the shadows a small shape emerged. About the size of a squirrel, but standing like a little old man. It moved slowly forward. Cautiously. Shuffling its tiny feet in the dirt. It reached the bottle tops and stood up straight, revealing a big round tummy covered in soft black hair. Its face was not human but it was like no animal they had ever seen before in the garden. It picked up the second bottle top and looked at it carefully. Running its tiny hairy fingers over the surface in admiration. Then it turned and was back in the shadows and out of sight taking the bottle top with it.

Martha blew out a big sigh.

“Well Henry that was not a fairy…they are not hairy and they don’t have a belly like Grandpa.”

“What was it then?.....I’ve never seen an animal like that before.”

Martha stood up and brushed the dirt from her dress. She spun round slapping Henry with her fairy wings.

“Last one back is a hairy goblin!” she giggled as she stomped off.

“But Martha wait!” Henry called. “What will we call it?”

“That’s easy Henry…” She called back over her shoulder.

“Did you see the bottle top it chose?..... We shall call it a Bud.”