The Night Rainbow A Novel - By Claire King Page 0,11

the flowers! I say.

No donkeys, says Margot, no cows, no sheep. That’s why.

We can pick a big bunch on the way home, I say. We can have all of the colours. But first, please can we see the surprise?

Claude nods.

Where is it? I ask him.

He points to the corner of the field.

Can you see anything? I ask Margot.

Margot shakes her head.

Come here, says Claude. He puts his hands under my arms and scoops me up above the grass. Look over in that corner, he says.

There is a big clump of trees. I can’t see anything exciting about them. Just that some of the colours are not tree colours.

You should go and have a look, says Claude. Merlin will show you the way.

Let’s go! says Margot, charging off, swish-swash-swish. I run after her, right into the long grass, sweeping it aside with my arms as I go. Merlin leaps along by my side.

The tree has a fat trunk that my arms do not fit around. There is a small wooden ladder leaning against it, fastened to the trunk with blue rope. Up in the leaves there are some smaller branches missing, cut away, and big planks of wood have been nailed there, with sides like a big wooden basket. A green and red blanket is hanging over the edge.

It’s a nest, says Margot, for girls!

Can we climb up? I say.

Well, it’s obvious we are supposed to, says Margot. This must be the surprise! And her fat bottom is in my face as she monkeys up into the tree. I follow close behind.

From the girl-nest, looking out into the low pasture I can see back across the sea of grass and over the stream into the meadow. I can see the top half of Claude, slowly following the rushed snake of crumpled grass that we made to get here. There are other snakes I can see from here too, other paths to our tree. Now I am a bird on a branch, seeing the people-places from up high. Everything looks strange and different and exciting.

I’m going to live here instead, I say.

Well, you could! Margot is flicking tea towels at me.

I could?

Yes, says Margot. Look at this!

On the wooden floor, the big checked blanket is spread out and laid for a picnic. Margot has already found a bottle of lemonade and some cake. We peel the other tea towels off bowls and plates and find more treasure. There is a baguette, crisps and cubes of cheese in shiny paper. There is no salad and no sandwiches, just party food. There are a few ants, but the baguette is too big for them to carry. I stuff a whole slice of cake into my mouth.

Hello up there! says Claude.

I look out over the uppy-edge and down at Claude. I chew and swallow quickly. It’s a girl-nest! I shout back down.

Claude puts on the biggest smile I have ever seen him wear. His face goes even more spicy-red.

Do you like it, Pea? he says. The words are soft in his mouth, like goodnights used to be from Maman and Papa. Just before they would say ‘I love you’ and ‘Je t’aime’.

It’s brilliant! I say. Are we having a party?

Is it your birthday? says Margot.

Yes, it’s Merlin’s birthday, says Claude.

How old is he?

He’s eleven.

That’s not even grownup.

Well, it’s quite old for a dog.

Happy birthday, Merlin! says Margot.

Who’s coming to the party? I say.

Just you, Margot, Merlin and me.

Merlin flops down under the tree with a grunt.

Ah, says Claude, Merlin thinks he would like to stay down here.

Well of course he does, says Margot, dogs can’t climb trees.

If it’s his birthday he should be able to do what he wants, I say.

I think I’ll stay down here with him, says Claude. Let me just come up and get our plates.

There isn’t really that much room up here anyway; I am not sure Claude would fit. When his face appears at the top of the ladder, Margot says, Hello, Mister Claude, what would you like from our café?

Would you like some wine, Mister Claude? I say.

Yes please, he says, and I pass him a cup. Could I have birthday cake for Merlin and me, also? Oh, and a bowl for Merlin’s water.

There you are, Mister Claude, enjoy your lunch, I say, passing him plastic plates and laughing. Claude really is a funny grownup.

Claude disappears again, and soon after the smell of cigarette smoke comes up from under the tree. I don’t really mind it today. The cake