Free The Giants and the Joneses by Julia Donaldson Page B

railway-line slide.
    Poppy was downstairs somewhere, and that thought kept Colette going, step by step – slide, bump; slide, bump – right to the bottom of the giant staircase.
    Which way now? When Zab had taken her and Stephen out into the garden he had turned left and carried them through a kitchen. That was as good a place as any to start looking for Poppy.
    It was lighter down here; a lamp in the hall had been left on. In the distance Colette could see that the kitchen door was ajar, and she made her way towards it.
    She was stopped in her tracks by a noise upstairs. The kitten was scratching at Zab’s bedroom door, trying to get out.
    But it can’t get out, she told herself. It can’t. It won’t.All the same, she started to run, the heavy bag bumping against the badge-shield on her back.
    And now she was in the dark kitchen.
    ‘Poppy!’ she whispered.
    She said it a little louder, but still there was no reply.
    The distant scratching seemed to have stopped. The only sound was a low hum coming from the giant fridge.
    As her eyes grew used to the darkness, Colette saw that there was a gap between the fridge and the cupboard beside it. She slid into it. The hum was horribly loud now, but at least this felt like quite a safe hiding place. She turned to have a better look at the room she was in.
    A table and chairs. Cupboards. A stack of vegetable baskets beside a towering dresser. As she gazed up at the dresser, the moon came out from behind a cloud and shone through the kitchen window, and Colette saw the cage.
    What was in it? A bird? A mouse? A hamster, perhaps?
    It couldn’t be Poppy, could it?
    ‘Poppy! Poppy, are you there?’ Colette said it as loudly as she dared.
    Silence.
    ‘Poppy! Poppy, are you all right?’
    Still there was no sound from the cage. But there was a sound of loud footsteps outside the house.
    A key turned in the back door. A sudden bright light flooded the room and Colette edged her way to the very back of the fridge and then behind it.
    The fridge’s hum sounded louder than ever; and there was a different kind of humming too. Whoever had come into the kitchen was humming a cheerful tune. The voice was low – much lower than Zab’s voice. Could it be the giant father?
    The humming stopped suddenly, in the middle of the tune.
    ‘Wahoy!’ Colette heard the giant man murmur. She heard his footsteps, followed by a softer, metallic sound. He must be opening the door of the cage.
    Then she heard him gasp and exclaim, ‘Iggly plop!’

23
Beely bobbaleely
    J UMBEELIA’S FATHER , P IJ , was scraping a carrot at the kitchen table.
    The spratchkin jumped up and tried to bat it out of his hand.
    ‘Pecky, pecky, pecky!’ he said with a chuckle. He put down the knife and tickled the spratchkin under the chin. Then he pushed her gently off the table. He was in a good mood. As he began to cut the carrot into thin strips, he burst into song:
Beely beely bobbaleely,
Bobbaleely mubbin,
Oy whedderwhay woor
jum, woor chay
Fa sprubbin, sprubbin,
sprubbin!
(Lovely lovely baby,
Baby mine,
You fill our home,
our land
With joy, joy, joy!)
    It was an old song, and he had never particularly cared about the words before, but now they seemed full of truth and meaning. The new bobbaleely was beely. At five days old, she was absolutely beautiful, from the black hair on her pink head to her ten perfect iggly toenails. And tomorrow she would be coming home!
    Pij got up and poked one of the carrot strips between the bars of the cage on the dresser. ‘Iggly plop! Iggly plop!’ he called softly.
    Usually Jumbeelia or Grishmij fed the iggly plop, but this afternoon they were both at the hospital, visiting Mij and the new bobbaleely.
    ‘Beely frimmot!’ said Pij, waggling the carrot strip about in an attempt to coax the iggly plop from her nest.
    Here she came at last. A sudden dart, and she hadsnatched the frimmot from his hand.
    She wasn’t much more than a bobbaleely herself, Pij realised. He was surprised