Grittlefig

“Grittlefig, Grittlefig…” Emily paused, not sure if she dared utter its name a third and final time.

It had all started three weeks ago when the Curtis family moved into their new home. Well to say it was new is somewhat misleading. It was an ancient house surrounded by acres of land, an avenue of tall trees leading up the long gravel driveway. But it was new to them. It looked like the kind of house you could get lost in, especially if you were an eleven-year-old girl called Emily. On three levels, it reminded her of the old American houses she had seen on Scooby-Doo.

Emily’s mum, or mom as Emily liked to call her, was a writer. Her work from home job fitted in well with ‘childcare duties’, or at least that’s what she overheard mom telling her friends on the phone. Emily wasn’t sure why her mom was so afraid of missing a single day of her little darling, and she didn’t think it was all rushing past too quickly. The wait to move into their new house had taken forever.

Her Stepdad, Dave, was a longhaired hippy who should have grown up in the sixties. He looked a bit like Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Obviously, those weren’t her words, but more that she overheard in discussions not meant for her ears. Emily was good at overhearing things and light on her feet. She couldn’t remember the number of times she had walked into a room to tap mom on the shoulder only for her to leap out of her skin and then berate her for nearly giving her a heart attack. “Why must you sneak about everywhere?”

Emily didn’t think she sneaked, she just had the knack of not making a sound while walking, especially in her socks or barefoot. She didn’t like shoes or even slippers. They felt too constricting. She loved to wiggle her toes in the carpet or on the warm grass, that was heavenly.

But the baths that followed, not quite so. Scrubbing away at green stains on her toes and the soles of her feet was one of her mother’s ‘roles in life’. They tended to go through a lot of scrubbing brushes. Her mother couldn’t understand how they disappeared, but Emily could.

In the grey bin, hidden under the rubbish bags from the kitchen, In the compost and her favourite, flushed away. The number of scrubbing brushes that went to goldfish heaven must be creating quite a stir with the angelfish. But as Emily had not received any divine complaint, she assumed it was all ok with them.

Suffice it to say that Emily was an outdoorsy child with imagination as fertile as the compost heap her mom tended with all the care and love she failed to show to her daughter. Don’t get me wrong. Emily’s mom looked after her, cooked and cleaned, bought her lovely things, but she wasn’t the huggy, feely type. But as Emily didn’t know any better, everyone got along fine.

Anyhow, three weeks ago after the initial whirlwind of exploration calmed, Emily had her room decorated to her liking. She wasn’t a girly girl. She refused dolls of any kind, and pink and fluffy was right out of the question. However, Emily had a love of all soft toys. Bears, dogs, cats, unicorns. You name it, she had one. In fact, her mom stated on more than one occasion, “It looks like you are trying to collect every animal ever known. You’re going to need an ark at this rate.”

Emily smiled every time her mom said that—it was an ongoing joke. That was until her mom found Grittlefig.

Mom had been up in the attic and found a few old boxes left by a previous owner. Dusty and abandoned deep under the eaves, they had revealed a trove of old memorabilia. Old black and white photographs, a strange collection of costume jewellery, and Grittlefig.

Now you may be wondering what a Grittlefig is. Well, it looked like a soft toy in the form of a silver-grey bear, though it had some rather unusual features. For one, it was huge: nearly as tall as Emily, but it preferred to sit with its head around her chest height. Its round mustard ears sprouted tufts of thick hair, and its head lolled slightly to the left as if it were looking up with beautiful brown eyes.

His fur was soft under her toes, the mustard tummy and paws softer than the plushest carpet. Its limbs were the same silver as its face with slightly longer fur that Emily brushed, much like she had to brush her own pale locks, but it was much more fun with Grittlefig.

The name? Well, Emily discovered that on a small black linen tag on the bottom of its left leg. GRITTLEFIG, it said along with some other strange words that made no sense. Her mom said it must be from some scandi-shop. Emily didn’t really understand until mom said, “You know? Like Ikea?”

“Oh,” Emily replied as if she understood exactly what that meant. She liked Ikea, especially the soft toys, and the hot dogs—she’d once eaten three in one visit. 

Then it clicked. “That’s his name. Like Jattestor the elephant and Knorrig the pig.”

“I suppose it must be,” her mom replied. “I’ll wash him to get rid of all this dust, and once he’s dry, you should brush him and find somewhere for him to live.”

Emily squealed. “I know just the place.” Then she ran off to make a perfect spot for the bear in her room.

Grittlefig looked a bit sad, hanging from the washing line, his mouth turned down and water dripping from him. But who wouldn’t, Emily thought, if you were hung up by your ears.

By the time Emily had completed his place of honour in her room, he’d dried out enough for her to attack him with her best hairbrush. The soft one for smoothing out her hair, not the horrid one for dealing with tangles-she hated that nearly as much as the scrubbing brushes.

With his hair brushed, he looked a lot happier and almost had a smile back on his face, though his head still lolled to the left, but he looked cute like that.

He sat on a dark wooden blanket box, that had belonged to grandma, at the foot of her bed. And from there, he kept an eye on Emily when she went to bed.

Every night, before settling down under her covers, she said, “Good night, Grittlefig.”

Grittlefig always replied. He never moved his black stitched lips, but Emily knew what he was saying. It was usually something like, “Night, night, Emily,” or, “Good night, Miss Emily.” 

But tonight, he said nothing. He just looked at her with his lopsided face, eyes twinkling from the bedside light. Mom let her keep it on while she slept, it was one of those which dimmed each time you touched the metal base. One touch for dim, another for brighter, and a third for brightest before it went off with one final touch. Emily liked to leave it on the dim setting, it was just enough so she could see around her room and see the soft gleam of reflected light in Grittlefig’s eyes.

Before she knew it, the summer holidays were over, and mom was buying new school clothes. Though Emily had been concerned that she wouldn’t know anyone, her mom had done her best to tell her all the good things that would happen. A new school would mean lots of exciting things to discover and new friends to meet. Emily felt a bit better, but still harboured thoughts of being the odd one out. All the other kids would have known each other for years, and would already have best friends, how would she fit in?

It turned out Emily fitted in just fine. She made friends with some of the other children, and enemies with others, but most of them were just there, like she was, to learn.

So it was halfway through her first term before Mia Kellett’s gang accepted Emily as a fully-fledged member of their secret fraternity. The initiation would be a sleepover at Mia’s house. Her family owned horses, and their house was more like a farm, or a ranch from the American west.

As the other members arrived, they laid out sleeping bags upstairs in one of the barns. Emily stared around the enormous space. “Wow. I can’t believe you have all this as a play barn. You’re so lucky.”

Mia smiled, Emily had obviously said the right thing. “Yeah, it’s pretty cool. And there’s a kitchen in the corner with a fridge full of snacks and drinks. It used to be a camping barn, but mum and dad didn’t want to continue it as a business, so now it’s mine whenever I want it.”

The other girls gathered around once they’d claimed their bunks. It seemed the better friend you were with Mia, the closer your bed was. Emily was at the far end, then came Minkly, Murta and then Oomie, whose bed was opposite Patsy’s, indicating BFF status.

They spent the remaining daylight hours exploring the farm, grooming the horses - Mia had her own pony called Socks. Mia’s mom called them all in for dinner as it was getting toward five and the sun’s orange glow was lowering across the woodland treetops casting long shadows.

A mixture of barbecued chicken, burgers and sausage along with sweetcorn and salad filled Emily. It was the first time she’d seen such a huge gas grill outside, and all the girls sat there grinning with sticky fingers and faces smeared with the sweet sauce. 

Mia’s mom seemed nice and asked them if they needed anything else for the night. Mia was quick to jump in. “No, we’re fine. Everyone has their beds laid out, and we have plenty of snacks.”

“Are you sure?”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Yes, mum.”

“Well, I’ll leave a key under the flowerpot anyway. If you need to get inside for any reason, just use that.”

“Fine,” Mia said. Emily couldn’t believe how rude she was to her mom. Or maybe that was just the way they talked to each other.

Mia leapt up from the table. “Last one back gets a forfeit.” She ran back towards the barn, the other girls sprinting to catch up. Emily wasn’t sure what a forfeit would entail, but she didn’t want to be the one to find out, it was hard enough being the newest of Mia’s circle.

Minkly turned out to be the slowest runner, and as the others lay panting on the grass outside the barn, she huffed and puffed her way in, almost collapsing - face red with the exertion.

“Not fair,” Minkly said, panting hard and looking at Mia. “You know I can’t run like you skinny beanpoles.”

“A forfeit’s a forfeit,” Mia replied. “So what’s it going to be? Truth or dare.”

Minkly lowered her eyes for a moment. “Well, I’m not choosing truth again after last time.”

The others laughed, leaving Emily guessing what scathing truth they must have forced out of their largest friend. 

Oomie grinned. “Dare it is then.”

Minkly winced, and with her best attempt at puppy-dog-eyes said, “Don’t make it too scary. Please?”

The others conferred inside the barn, while the dare-ee was forced to wait out of earshot.

“Make her run twice around the field,” Murta said, a gleam of wicked glee in her brown eyes.

“That’s not really a dare though, is it?” Oomie replied.

Mia agreed. “No. It should be something scary. What if we dare her to do it in the dark?”

Oomie smiled. “Yes, and she has to do it in her pyjamas.”

They looked to Emily with expectant faces. “Isn’t that a bit mean?”

Emily was met with three frowns. “What do you mean?” asked Mia.

“Well, she said you all know she isn’t the best at running, so it seems mean to make her do that again. And the field is all the way over there,” Emily said, pointing to the stables.

Oomie nodded. “She’s right, Mia. It is a bit mean to make her run again.”

Mia turned back to Emily. “Ok. So what do you suggest?”

“How about she just has to walk around the barn twice?”

“In the dark,” added Murta.

Oomie laughed. “Yes, and in her pyjamas.”

“Done,” Mia said. “Come in Minkly, we know you’ve been listening.”

The girl entered, nervous eyes scanning the group. As her gaze caught Emily’s, it lingered for a moment as she proffered a nod and a smile. Obviously, she had been listening in.

“Twice around the barn, walking slowly,” Mia said. “When it’s dark, and in your pyjamas.”

Minkly nodded in resignation. “Well, it could have been worse, I suppose.”

The girls got changed into their sleeping clothes. Emily was glad that she’d chosen shorts and a t-shirt, rather than the nightie her mom had suggested. All the others wore a similar ensemble with character-based t-shirts. Between them, they sported a frog, a monkey, a pony and Oomie, for some reason, wore a shirt with a cartoon box of fries—like you’d see at McDonald's.

Emily was about to ask about the strange option, but Mia jumped in first. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing at Emily.

“Star Wars.” 

“Isn’t that for boys?”

“No way,” Emily replied. “This is Rey, she’s a Jedi. In fact, she might be the last Jedi now.”

“And you like that?” Oomie added.

“Yeah. It’s cool and geeky. It was from my dad. My real dad, not Dave.”

“Oh,” Mia said. “I didn’t know you had another dad. We just thought…”

“No,” Emily said. “I only see my real dad once a month. It’s a long way now we moved here. But it’s fine, he’s an uber-geek. He knows everything about Star Wars, Star Trek, Lord of the Rings, you name it. And he does martial arts, and he’s got a sword.”

The other girls were silent for a second, glancing between themselves. 

“Cool,” said Minkly, with an overextended ‘ooool’.

They all laughed. It seemed Emily was one of the gang now.

Later, Minkly paid her dues with her trek around the barn in the pitch black. When she returned, her face was a little red again. Spots of water covered part of the frog on her shirt, but nobody berated her for running, especially as the rain intensified.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the game continued amidst a feast of crisps, sweets and chocolate of all types. Mia was the quizmaster, and as they sat in a circle at the base of the beds, wrapped in their duvets or sleeping bags, she stared at Emily. “So newcomer. What will it be?”

Emily suppressed a shudder, chewing her top lip. She didn’t fancy having to go outside the barn now and was rather enjoying the warmth of her sleeping bag. “Truth?”

“Ooooh,” chorused the others, all turning to Mia expectantly.

“Be nice,” Minkly said. “She is new, and we don’t want to scare her away quite yet.”

The others chuckled, and Emily swallowed, wondering what she had let herself in for.

“Ok, newbie,” Mia said, a fiendish grin crossing her face. “What is the most childish thing you own?”

From the way the other girls oohed again, it seemed she might have got off reasonably easy. Emily thought for a moment. “I suppose my collection of soft toys?”

The others chuckled. “Baby toys,” they all cried out.

“Wait a minute,” Minkly said. “You’ve got soft toys, Mia.”

The girls fell into silence as Mia stared daggers back. “That’s because… I’m a baby too!”

Emily let out the breath she’d been holding and joined in the laughter from the group.

“We all have,” Oomie said amongst nods from the others. “What have you got?”

Emily smiled, feeling a bit better. “The usual sort of stuff. Animals, plushies and bears.”

“And which is your favourite?” Mia asked.

“Hmm. It used to be a baby seal cub, but now it’s Grittlefig.”

“What?” Mia asked. The laughter died.

“My favourite is called Grittlefig. He’s—”

“Don’t repeat it!” Mia said. “You can’t say that name.”

The other girls glanced between themselves, and Oomie nearly leapt out of her skin as another peel of thunder rattled the roof.

“What’s the matter? What are you talking about?”

Murta’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She doesn’t know!”