Free The Giants and the Joneses by Julia Donaldson Page A

plop was still quite floppy as Grishmij wound the bandage round and round its arm. Although it seemed to be aware of what was happening, it was obviously still suffering from shock.
    Grishmij knew that birds and small animals could die of shock and she wondered if this creature would still be alive in the morning. Well, they could only do their best.
    While Jumbeelia nursed the iggly plop, Grishmij fetched the old birdcage from the attic. It had sat there ever since Zab had let his canary escape. She gave it a good dust and put some cotton wool inside it.
    The kitchen was the warmest room in the house, so they put the cage on the dresser. They filled the food and water containers with cornflakes and orange juice, which Jumbeelia seemed sure the iggly plop would like. Grishmij wondered how she knew this, but decided to save any questions for the morning.
    They put the creature inside one of the socks which Grishmij had knitted for the bobbaleely, laying it gentlydown on the cotton wool and covering it with a pile of handkerchiefs.
    Only then did Jumbeelia clap her hand to her mouth and say, ‘O ithry iggly plop!’
    Another one? Surely not? But Jumbeelia insisted that there was another one in her bedroom. They must find it and put it in the cage, to save it from the spratchkin.
    After a quick and unsuccessful search of the messy bedroom, Jumbeelia agreed to go to bed, but only if they first shut the spratchkin in Zab’s bedroom.
    In fact it was already in there, batting a plastic war figure about the floor. There was no sign of any bones or blood, so Grishmij managed to reassure Jumbeelia that it couldn’t have eaten the second iggly plop – if indeed it did exist.
    She tucked her granddaughter up and went back to her own room.
    She was just dropping off to sleep when she was woken again, this time by the ringing of the frangle on her bedside table. It was Jumbeelia’s father phoning from the hospital with the news they had all been waiting for.
    Grishmij didn’t wake Jumbeelia again, but she looked forward to telling her in the morning that she had a new iggly sister.

22
Alone
    C OLETTE SAT ON the dark stair and shivered. Beside her lay the plastic railway line and her glittery running-away bag. The ribbon had been cutting into her shoulders, so she had taken the bag off for a quick rest. Not that it felt like a proper rest; Colette’s mind was too troubled for that.
    Sitting there, she realised that this was the very same stair on which Zab had discovered them all – only about two weeks ago, though it seemed like a lifetime.That was a dreadful moment, but at least they were all together then.
    She had never felt so lonely in her life. Up to now there had always been Stephen or Poppy, and now there was no one.
    Missing Stephen was an ache which Colette had grown used to, but missing Poppy was a sharp new pain. She could hardly bear to think about her little sister, and yet she could think of nothing else. Where was she? And was she alive or dead?
    Colette realised how much Poppy had changed since their capture: she was no longer just a little pest; she had become a real friend. She had played her part in the milk raid so well, keeping still and then pulling the thread at just the right time to distract the kitten. She had done everything perfectly – right up until the last minute when, with her old fearlessness, she had rushed out of the doll’s house to try to save her big sister.
    ‘And now I’m going to save you , Poppy.’ Colette heaved the running-away bag on to her back and positioned the railway line once more.
    The house was quiet. Colette knew that Jumbeeliaand the old lady had gone back to their bedrooms and that the monster kitten was safely shut away in Zab’s room; she had seen all this from the landing, where she had hidden earlier.
    ‘But please, no more phone calls!’ she said to herself. That sudden ringing, as loud as a fire alarm, had startled her so much that she had nearly fallen off her