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CONTENTS

Who Dwells Within This Book 5

Chapter One
How It All Begins Very Simply 6
Chapter Two .
Enter Luba Vilkina 9
Chapter Three
Why She Should Not Have Done It 17
Chapter Four
What Happened That Day 18
Chapter Five
The 'Find-Y our-W ay-H ome' Came 22
Chapter Six
The L ilac Scallywag 27
Chapter Seven
An Orange Day 37
Chapter Eight
Carnival-time 43
Chapter Nine
A Hard Day 52
Chapter T en
On the Island 59
Chapter Eleven
A Strange Find 66
Chapter Twelve
Alarm 70
Chapter T h irtee n
How It All Turned Out 72
Chapter Fourteen
All Is Lost 77
•

•
Chapter Fifteen
The Trap 80
Chapter Sixteen
A Good Try 81
Chapter Seventeen
At Uncle Tadeus 's House 83
Chapter Eighteen
The Return 86
Chapter Nineteen
Home 92
Chapter Twenty
Uncle Tadeus's Gift 94
 -)

WHO DWELLS WITHIN THIS BOOK

Within this book there dwells a little girl
with pigtails. Her name is Zoya. A nd she
is very fond of drawing. She always keeps
a pencil and a sketchbook handy in her
pocket, and paints and a painting book on
the table. We shall also meet Zoya's
Mother and Aunt Janina. Aunt Janina
is the one in glasses; she doesn't wear them
all the time, only when she's nervous. She
has put them on now so that you won't mix
her up with Mother. We must make the
acquaintance, too, of Luba Vilkina, who
has short hair. Try to remember her for
later. That's all for the moment. Other
characters will appear in due course. It all
begins very simply.
 CHAPTER ONE ()

HOW IT ALL BEGINS VERY SIMPLY ~

. Zoya and her Mother and Aunt Janina are moving into a new
flat. First of all they pushed a cat inside the door-for luck, as
their old neighbour had told them. She was the one who had
given them the cat. And she had said, 'You can keep that cat.'
But Mother had told her, 'We couldn't possibly keep such a
splendid cat.' The neighbour had insisted, 'Now don't you mind
about her chewed-off ear, she lost that in a fight , as she's a tom
cat. In fact, she-that is, he-is quite priceless.'
No sooner had the door to the new flat opened than the
priceless tom cat flew into the kitchen and cowered behind the
.gas stove. He must have been most uncomfortable there but he,
like his previous owner, never gave in and he kicked up a
terrible fuss. T o the accompaniment of his noisy complaint, they
brought in the bits and pieces, arranged them neatly and began
to bang in the nails and fix the screws for the curtain s, mirror
and pictures. It was a tough and noisy job. Thank Goodness
Mother was up to it.
'Sh e hung the grandest picture in her own room. This picture
had hung in Mother's room previously, and Aunt Janina would
say softly and reverently when showing it to someone,
'This is a painting by Tadeus.' .
The picture featured a green bush. It was overgrown,
beginning to run wild and lean back upon an old wind-blown
fence bespeckled with dark worm-like beetle holes. Alongside
this fence a track meandered off into the picture frame. It was
well-trodden. Someone had trodden it flat. Zoya had always
'fancied running down that beaten track, sitting against the
sun-warmed fence, breathing in the fragrance of the straggling
branches of the bush and the grasses. And she wished to take a
look to ' see what was gleaming beyond the fence, It was
something white; what exactly she could not see,
There was a banging coming from Zoya's room: that was
6 Mother hammering in the nails for Zoya's pictures, Mother
 thought that her daughter would enjoy being surrou nded by
these little paintings. Yet, Zoya would willingly trade them all for
the painting in Mother's room .
'Zoya; Mother cried. 'Come and give me a hand.'
Zoya did so.
'Hand me the drawings on the table, I can 't reach.'
Zoya did so.
'Mu mmy, I'd give th em all up for you r picture,' she sighed.
Mother gave a laugh , but since she was holding a nail between
her teeth it was a strange lop-sided laugh.
'Fee-Fee-Fee...'
Pulling the nail out of her mouth , Mother smiled.
'I bet you would,' she said. Then sh e added, 'Of course, Uncle
T adeus is a very distant relation, but he is a famous and
i
splendid painter. And it may well be that he has passed on his
gift to you .'
'Mu mmy, what is a gift?'
'It's talent.'
Zoya did not understand and fell silent for a moment. .Then
she asked again,
'Mu mmy, and what's talent?'
'It is a gift,' replied her Mother without thinking.
'What's that?' asked Zoya puzzled .
'It's what nature gives you , that's what.'
'And then what?' asked Zoya.
'What?'
'If Uncle T adeus were to give me it?'
'Then you could draw well.'
At that Zoya was a trifle hurt: so Mother didn't like her
drawings?
'You just say that to hurt me,' she cried. 'Gift is talent, and
talent is gift? Is that it? First it was Uncle who was su pposed to
give it to me, then it was nature! '
Right at that moment Mother was lining up a nail and ,
distracted by Zoya's cry, she hesitated an d brought the hammer
down on her thumb, shou ting crossly,
'Does it make an y difference who did not give you something. 7
 A sweet, for instance-from me or Aunt Janina? You haven't
any sweets anyway.'
'Do you have some?' asked Zoya expectantly.
But Mother chuckled, shook her head and left the room.
Zoya was left to ponder: it seemed that no one had given her
anything. So she was mighty sad. She took from her briefcase
her paints, painting book and a little book which contained some
words in strange letters about Uncle Tadeus. Zoya certainly
could read, but she did not know these letters; they weren't
Russian.
The little book also contained some sketches-those which
Uncle Tadeus himself had drawn, only in miniature. Zoya was
particularly fond of two little children: they had round little
faces with round eyes and pixy caps on curly hair. One's hat was
a dusky orange colour, the other's was a dull pink.
Zoya had ' painted exactly the same little children in her own
painting book, only she had made their hats brighter. It turned
out very pretty, even better than the artist's-or so Zoya felt.
Yes, much better! 'I wonder what talent really is?' Zoya thought
to herself, drawing the paint brush across the paper. 'And why
didn't Uncle leave some to me? Did he forget or was he too
mean?'
'Mummy, where is Uncle Tadeus now?' cried Zoya to the
other room, quite forgetting she was cross with her Mother.
Mother opened the door and stood looking at her daughter.
'Aunt Janina has made tea for us,' she said.
She said it as though she had not heard Zoya's question. Yet
she had heard it all right; she had heard it very well.
'Come on, Mother, tell me the truth: where is Uncle?'
'What does it matter?' Mother answered drily.
'But is he still alive?'
'Just remember, Zoya...' Mother's voice sounded curt and
grave. 'Pray remember: an artist always lives on in his paintings.
Do you understand?'
So that's it! Zoya gave a little gasp.
'Which ones?' she asked in a whisper.
8 'All of them.' •
 'In you r one too?'
'Without a doubt.'
Mother went out without sh utting the door. In the doorway
she once more set to hammering nails; she was eager to have
everyth ing standing, lying and h anging in their proper places as
soon as possible. From th e kitchen wafted the warm smell of a
freshly-baked cabbage pie. But Zoya was lost in thou ght, sitting
at the table...
'So that's how it is. That's how it works, is it? Now I kn ow why
Aunt Janina would sigh when mentioning Uncle T adeus: " When
he worked he would be quite engrossed in his paintings" .'
Zoya took another peep at the little child ren in her painting
book. She was not so pleased with them now.
'Could it be that Uncle had left her that gift without telling
anyone where he'd put it?' she wondered .
She would have to ask Au nt Janina.
Zoya snapped shut her painting book and ran to the kitchen,
when all of a sudden...

CH APTER TWO

ENTER LUBA VILKINA

...When all of a sudden the door bell buzzed loudly. Zoya and
Mother and Aun t Janina rushed to open the door. And there
stood a small, very cross little girl.
'Your banging is giving us all a headache,' the girl said.
'And who might you be?' asked Mother.
'Luba Vilkina,' said the girl. 'We live the other side of the wall.
My Mother sent me.'
. 'Well, dear child ,' broke in Aunt Janina, 'we've just moved in,
you see.' .
Luba was most surprised to hear she was a 'dear child ' and
began to look arou nd the walls.
'I hope you haven 't been knocking nails in with a h ammer,'
she said. 'You should first make holes with an electric drill...' But 9
 she didn't finish what she was saying; her eye was caught by
Mother's feet. She snorted, 'Fancy going about the house in high
heels. How dreadful!'
Then Luba caught sight of the pie on the kitchen table and
asked just as seriously,
'Will you give me a piece?'
Aunt handed her a big one to munch.
Luba Vilkina bit off a piece and asked inquisitively,
'What did you make it with?'
Aunt Janina was just about to explain when Luba suddenly
noticed Zoya. And she brightened up.
'What's your name?'
Zoya said it was Zoya.
Then Luba cocked her head towards the street.
'Let's play skipping.'
So Zoya followed her down the stairs into the yard.
On the way Luba Vilkina took a toffee from her apron pocket,
unwrapped it and popped it into her mouth; she threw down
the grey semi-transparent toffee paper, with a black smudgy cat
on it. Then she asked Zoya,
'What have you brought so many pictures for? Are you some
sort of artist?' Almost at once her attention strayed as she
shouted loudly, 'Hey, Nina, Nina, don't go, we're coming to
skip-jump.' And she took a skipping rope with two wooden
handles from her pocket.
Generally Zoya was pretty good at skip-jumping. She too had
a skipping rope in the pocket of her frock. But this time she was
outjumped, for Luba kept the rope tighter than she ought, and
it didn't touch the ground. Zoya felt too shy to object. So she
and the bushy-haired Nina had to turn the rope while Luba
skipped and skipped.
When Luba had had enough of skipping, she popped another
toffee into her mouth and called Zoya,
'Let's go to your place.'
Bushy-haired Nina was not invited and Zoya felt too shy to
call her. She was also shy about picking up the discarded toffee
2 paper. They went indoors.
 Luba said,•
'Let's be friends.'
Zoya was not that keen on being friends with Luba Vilkina.
But since she did not know anyone else around she agreed.
When the girls returned, Mother and Aunt Janina met them
happily: they were just in time to mind the house while the two
women went shopping. Mother first went to her room to change
her shoes: the two girls could see her tossing one pair into the
corner and putting on another-also with high heels.
She was humming something to herself under the severe stare
of Luba Vilkina.
When the girls were alone, Luba said,
'Let's pinch something of theirs.'
'Whose?' asked Zoya uncomprehending.
'Yours.' said Luba. 'Do you have any jam?'
'Yes. But they let me take some anyway.'
'Go on and take it then.'
Zoya searched out the jar of cherry jam and spooned some
into saucers. Luba twisted and turned while she ate, peering
round the apartment.
'How many rooms have you got?'
'Two.'
'So have we. You sharing with your Mother?'
'No, I've a room to myself because I draw.'
'Show me.'
Luba Vilkina went into Zoya's room. At once her eyes lit upon
a carved black box on the bedside table; Aunt Janina had given
Zoya it.
'Your money-box?' asked Luba quickly.
'No,' replied Zoya sharply, putting the box back in its place.
The box was very ancient, 'from Uncle's time', Aunt Janina
had informed her. The box did not open-the key was
lost-but something rustled and rolled in it when shaken; Zoya
would have loved to know what it was.
Meanwhile Luba was walking round the room glancing at the
pictures.
'Who on earth drew these monsters?' she asked. 13
 Zoya was about to say someone else. But she owned up,
'I did. I call them scallywags:
And Zoya opened up her painting book in which she had
recently copied the two scallywags from Uncle Tadeus's book.
They hadn't really come out properly, that's true. All the same
you could see one was you nger and a bit of a sissy; the other was
altogether a more serious fellow and seemed to be shielding the
you nger ·boy. Well, not really shielding him, rather helping
him- after all, no one was teasing the you ngster there. Nobody
would tease him. That was clear enough.
Their clothing was funny: some sort of sleeveless jerkins on
top of shorts, stiff wooden clogs...
Their little faces under the pixy .caps were entirely innocent.
Wh y did Luba call them 'monsters'?
Luba stared long and hard at the painting.
'Who on earth is that?' she finally asked disgruntled. They
aren't right. And all this paint, paint and paint. Paints cost
money, you know!'
Thereupon she drew her finger over the page roughened by
the water colours.
'My Uncle is a painter and he also has pictures like that,' said
Zoya hurt. 'Well, not quite like that, but similar.' .
'What Uncle do you mean? What do 1 care about this Uncle?'
And she began to make fun of Luba. ' I don't want to know him.
How do 1 know you have an Uncle anyhow?'
'But 1 have, yes 1 have,' insisted Zoya, getting angry. 'I'll show
you if you like.'
And she opened the little book at the page with the painter's
picture: a man with a long narrow face looked out attentively
and somewhat sadly at the girls. His eyes were brown and bright,
his moustache and eyebrows likewise dark; he had a black beret
on his head and a choker at his throat. Alongside him sat a
reddish-brown bird. A sulky-looking bird on spindly legs.
Somewhat drowsy.
'So what?' snorted Luba. 'A beret, fan cy that! I've got one too.
Maybe he didn't paint anything at all; perhaps all he did was
16 feed that bird !'
 'Didn't paint?' exploded Zoya angrily. 'Just come and see.'
She led Luba into Mother's room, sat her down on the couch
and drew the curtains. Zoya drew the curtains to stop Luba
wandering round the room, inspecting the bits and pieces and
bottles on Mother's dressing table.
As it turned out, it would have been better if she had not
done it.

CHAPTER THREE

WHY SHE SHOULD NOT HA VE

DONE IT

No sooner had Zoya pulled the curtains to and Luba had

fallen silent than it became clear at once that the painting
dominated the room. It seemed to open up in all its width. Even
in depth as well. Yet this time, and Zoya saw it at once, a blue
light pervaded the picture. This gave the leaves, and track, and
sky a sombre hue, highlighting the white spot behind the fence.
Zoya was virtually certain now that this was a flower, a big white
flower. And another thing she had not noticed earlier: in the
right-hand comer of the picture-probably far in the distance-
gleamed a house. From afar it seemed a toy house. One of its
windows was lit up.
'How strange,' thought Zoya, 'it was all lit up by sunshine this
morning. I wonder if the house will be visible in daylight?'
She wanted to get up and tum on the light, but all of a
sudden ... All of a sudden the leaves of the hush began to flutter
in the wind and someone was seen running beyond the fence.
Zoya turned hot and cold in tum.
'Luba!' she exclaimed looking round.
But Luba was sitting on the edge of the sofa. She had taken
off her red ankle boots with their funny wedge heels. And now
she was trying on Mother's shoes. They fitted her perfectly.
'Look at this extra foot I've grown,' said Luba giggling.
'Luba, did you see that?' asked Zoya pointing to the painting. 17
 'What?' asked Lu ba rudely.
'D id n't yo u se e it; th in gs we re, er . ..• mo vi ng in th e pi ctu re ?'
'Give ov er ,' ex cla im ed Lu ba an d sta re d at th e pi ctu re . On ce
mo re so me th in g sti rre d in th e bu sh es . Lu ba alm os t ju m pe d ou t
of he r skin.
'A ha . aha! ' sh e m ut ter ed . th en ga ve a wi ld sh ou t, 'H ey , he y,
you th er e! Co me ou t of th er e. Scram!' .
It became so qu iet yo u co ul d he ar a pi n dr op . An d th en
su dd en ly . ne ar at ha nd the y he ar d a sn or tin g fo llo we d ' by a
pitiful wailing ,
'Meeaaah!'
Lu ba gr ab be d Zo ya 's ha nd an d m ad e fo r th e do or .

CH AP TE R FO UR

WHA T HAPPENED THA T DA Y

Th e two gir ls ru sh ed in to th e ki tch en an d, alt ho ug h it wa s no t
yet da rk , the y sw itc he d on th e lig ht. Th ey pu t it on in th e
kitchen an d in th e ha llw ay . Th en the y sa t in sil en ce fo r a lo ng
time. Af ter a while Zoya spoke up .
'T he re was no ne ed to be af ra id . It m us t ha ve be en th e ca t.
He's he re . un de r th e gas stove.'
Th ey ap pr oa ch ed th e sto ve an d loo ke d: fo r so me re as on th e
ca t co uld no t be seen .
'It was hi m an yw ay ,' sa id Zo ya . 'I re co gn ise d his vo ice .'
'A nd is th er e a ca t in th e pi ctu re too ?' as ke d Lu ba in a su dd en
an gr y hiss.
'Why a ca t?'
'D on 't sta rt th at. I'v e go t ey es , all rig ht . . 1 sp ot ted hi m
straightaway.'
'W ho ?' ,• •

'T ha t mo ns ter . He wa s sit tin g be hi nd th e bu sh . Ju st sta rin g at

. us strangely. An d ' th en he we nt an d hi d.'
'Y es . ye s. tu ba , .. to o fel t so me on e wa s lo ok in g.' .
18 Lu ba sh ru gg ed he r shoulders,
 'Skies above! Don't you go into that room.'
It was only then that she noticed she was wearing the
high-heeled shoes. That meant her red ankle boots were still by
the sofa.
'Don't worry,' said Zoya. 'We'll hook them out with the
.broom.'
Zoya was pleased that she was braver than Luba. She took
hold of the long-handled broom and, averting her gaze from the
painting, she retrieved Luba's shoes.
'There we are,' she said.
Luba calmed down a bit, changed shoes and asked,
'Do you have any pies left?'
With that they both got stuck into the plate of cabbage pie. All
of a sudden Luba remembered something.
'As soon as I said "scram" to him he said "meeaaah".'
They both burst out laughing.
'I bet we put the wind up them, don't you?' cried Luba; and
the girls giggled once more. That one nearest us, he was going •
"meeaaah" .'
It wasn't really funny any more, yet they laughed and
laughed ...
Then the front door slammed and they heard the clitter-
clatter of Mother's high heels.
Zoya ran into the hallway.
'I'm off,' said Luba. 'See you.'
Mother handed Zoya a big packet.
'Here's something to put on and bring you luck,' she said.
Zoya found in the packet red ankle boots with funny wedge
heels-just like Luba's. She also had some clothes: a brand new
jacket and trousers. Zoya put them on and looked really smart.
And the jacket pocket was plenty big enough for her pencil and
sketchbook. In the meantime Mother was scribbling something
down on a piece of paper; she passed it to Zoya.
'In the trousers of the suit you'll find a little inside pocket,'
she said. 'Put this note in there. It's our new address. If you
get lost show it to a grown-up and they will bring you
home.' 19
 Thus said Mother. And it was a jolly good job she did give
Zoya that note.
.But we'll come to that in good time.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE 'FIND-YOUR-WAY-HOME' GAME

Have you ever played that game? I bet you haven't, because it
was Zoya who made it up. She had thought of it back in her old
house. And now she was going to teach Luba.
'I shut my eyes tightly and you tum me round a few times so
that I don't remember where my house or anything is,' she said.
'And then you take me somewhere, come to a stop, hide and
shout out; "One, two, three..... I open my eyes and-guess
what-I won't know where I am.'
'Why won't you?' asked Luba surprised. 'I certainly would.'
'Oh no you wouldn't,' objected Zoya. 'While you were being
led you would think you were going one way, and then you'd
find yourself somewhere completely different. And therefore the
place would seem unfamiliar.'
'What happens then?' asked Luba. She liked to know it all,
down to the last detail.
'Well, then you have to find your own home.'
'What a silly to-do!' snorted Luba. 'All right, so what do I do
while you're searching?'
'You sit in your hiding place and don't give me any clues.'
'And who wins?' piped up the quick-witted Luba.
'Well...' Zoya set to thinking. 'At myoid place we didn't play
for someone to win... It was good playing the game there. All
the blocks of flats were different, there were play areas, and all
sorts of hiding places .. .'
'But someone must have won, didn't he?'
'Well, I suppose the one who found home quickest. Yes, yes,
that's it.'
'Begs I go first then,' said Luba quickly.
22 'Cross my fingers
 Cross my toes
Me first and off it goes. '
Zoya agreed. She knew in a flash where to take Luba: to the
waste patch. They hadn't been there before, that's for sure.
Zoya turned her friend round and led her past their tall
. beige-coloured tower block, passed by two more blocks looking
much the same and turned up a narrow track away from the
asphalt road. There weren't any flats here: the .old wooden
cottages had been pulled down and no new houses had so far
been built. The tall grass was littered with bricks and boards, and
here and there the remains of garden fences and snapped-off
saplings thrust up above the grass.
'Lift you feet up higher,' said Zoya.
Luba was marching along with surprising assurance; as a rule
/
children with their eyes shut lean on support. Not Luba!
Zoya guided Luba to a tumbledown fence beyond which there
had once been a house; now all that remained were black-
currant bushes and an apple tree.
Touch collar
Never swallow
Never catch the fever,
, Touch your knee
Touch your chin
Never let the tom cat in.
One for you
One for me
One fQr all the family.
Cross my fingers
Cross my toes •

That's the way the game goes.

A wind blew up, dark green leaves fluttered in the breeze.
And it seemed to Zoya that she had been there before sometime.
But she couldn't have!
'Stop,' she ordered Luba suddenly. 'Don't open your eyes yet.'
And she quickly ran to hide behind the bush, dodging down
amidst the grass, crying: 'One, two, three.. .' 23
 •

H ow lovely it wa s to sit th er e ho ld in g yo ur br ea th . T he
bla ck-c ur ra nt lea ve s we re th ick an d ru stl in g an d so hi gh th at
d th e to p of th e old fe nc e ; its wo od en pla nk s
th ey alm os t re ache
we re wa rm ed by th e su n an d as old as th e hil ls, pa tte rn ed by
da rk kn ot s an d be sp ec kle d wi th da rk wo rm -li ke be etl e ho les .
An d ag ain Zo ya fel t th at sh e re co gn ise d th es e, pr ec ise ly th es e
pla nk s wi th th ei r wo od en pa tte rn s. An d th en sh e re me m be r ed
se en th em . 'Y es , bu t it ca n't be ,' Zo ya br ea th ed . 'I .
wh er e sh e ha d
-g ro u nd ne ar ho m e; if I giv e a go od sh ou t M ot he r
am on waste
will he ar m y vo ice ; Lu ba is ne ar by on th e pa th an d, as lik ely as
no t, do esn 't kn ow wh er e I'v e tak en he r.'
Zo ya pe ep ed fro m be hi nd th e bu sh . Lu ba wa s no wh er e to be
seen .
Sh e sto od up to h er ful l he ig ht . Th e as ph alt pa ve m en t be yo nd
th e wa ste gr ou nd ha d di sa pp ea re d . An d th e blo ck s of fla ts ...
th ey too ha d va ni sh ed in to th in air . Al l sh e sa w wa s th e bu sh
s an d br an ch es sp raw led ag ain st th e fly -bl ow n
wh os e leave
led ow n fe nc e. Th e bu sh wa s be sid e he r, th e fe nc e wi thi n
tu mb
ar m' s ra n ge . 'O h, so th at' s it, ' th ou gh t Zo ya , ge tti n g ju st a tri fle
cr oss as if so me on e wa s ha vi ng a ga me wi th he r. 'A h, so th at' s it.
It wo ul d see m th at I'm on th e ot he r sid e of th e bu sh . Bu t th en
ou ld be th at wh ite th in g ... we ll .. . th at flo we r. An d th er e
th er e sh
isn 't. Th at me an s all th is ca nn ot re ally ex ist .'
Sh e was on th e po in t of ju m pi ng ou t fro m be h in d th e bu sh
an d ru nn in g of f ho me . Bu t he r ey e wa s ca ug ht by a lea fle ss
wa vin g. in th e gr as s. H er e an d th er e fle ec y
bu lging flo we r ste m
br ea ki ng th ro ug h , an d on th e ve ry to p th er e sa t a
bu ds we re
he ad - a clo se d litt le gr ee n bo x. Its lea ve s
tig htly-sh ut bu tto n-
be ga n to stir an d un fo ld. Th er e ap pe ar ed th e tip s of wh ite
pe tals. Th e pe tal s, pr es se d ha rd fro m th e in sid e, bu rst ou tw ar ds
u nt il br oa d pi nk ish pe tal to ng ue s be sti rre d th em sel ve s as if th ey
es ca pi ng to fre ed om , fee lin g ha pp y, ex ha lin g a
we re br ea th in g,
swee t he ad y fra gran ce .
No soon er ha d th e blo sso m un fo ld ed th an a str an ge m u sic
ar d , un li ke an yt hi ng Zo ya h ad ev er kn ow n be fo re .
co uld be he
let an d len t ev ery th in g- th e fe nc e pla nk s,
T he air tu rn ed vio
e tre es alo ng sid e th e tra ck - a di ffe re nt hu e
26 lea ve s, gras s, pa th , th
 Zoya glanced up and saw a lilac-coloured sky; here .and there
it was pink, probably fro m the clouds. Zoya had never seen the
like. But it was even more beau tiful th an usual, for th e lilac sky
presented a star k and cleanly-etched contrast to the big and
small br anches and the tiny twi gs of the trees ' arou nd. There
were so many trees, an d every leaf seemed interlaced with th e
lilac sky. But it wasn't only the skyline silhouette th at had
another hue, it was everyth ing arou nd h er. Even about the white
blossom hung a lilac haze. And th e air arou nd was lilac.
. 'W hat is happening?' Zoya wondered.
And then she realised :
What was happening to her was something that could never happen.
A rustling came from the bushes.

CHA PTER SIX

THE LILAC SCALLYWAG •

Frightened Zoya stood rooted to the spot. She ex pected

someone to appear from the bushes at any momen t.
Who was it?
She cou ld scarcely breathe. All kin ds of thoughts raced in her
h ead : 'What shall I do? Oh , Mu mmy! I've had it now. Where's
Luba? Wh er e's my home? Wh y did I have to dream up this
game?'
All of a su dden something touched her on the shoulder.
'Oh!' screamed Zoya, looking -rou nd. shar ply.
Beside her stood a boy about the same height as h erself. Only
he was a fun ny-looking fellow. He was just like the boys she had
copied from Uncle Tadeus's sketchbook. Luba Vilkina • would
have called him a 'monster'! But there was nothing frightening
abou t him . His eyes and mouth smiled- no, they simply
laughed , lit up with pleasure. Just as some lovely little animal-a
kitten or puppy- looks at you and beams with pleasure.
T hereupon the boy touched Zoya's chee ks with both hands. And
that wasn't scary either: his h and s were warm, very dry, even a
little rough. 27
 •

'Who are you?' asked Zoya in a whisper. And -she replied

herself:
'A scallywag ! You must be a scallywag!'
'Scallywag?' said the boy, neither su r prised nor reassuring.. His
voice was fluting , as from a pipe made out of a nut-tree cane.
The boy nodded to her,
'And you're Zoya. I know.'
He took Zoya by the hand and led her along the track. Now
she knew who -h ad trodden down this track! Zoya was too shy to
ask where they were going. All the same she felt a little easier.
Sh e had calmed down at once when she had set eyes on the
Scallywag and realised how pleased he was to see her. Yet she
th en began to h ave her doubts again : where was he taking her?
And she exclaimed,
'Scallywag!'
The boy turn ed immediately. His eyes seemed very big, with
neither eyebrows nor eyelashes visible. H e had coarse features, a
pointed nose and round mouth. Now his face was atten tive, even
guarded . '
'Dear little Zoya,' he said softly, 'are you still afraid?'
And it was clear he was upset that she was anxious.
'No, I'm not so scared a ny more. But I don 't know where
, .,
we re gomg.
'We're going home,' th e boy replied. 'It isn't far.'
They had already reached the pathway near the fence. Now,
close at hand, Zoya saw the intertwining branches, the bul-
bous leaves, and she cou ld smell the fresh , green verd u re all
arou nd. Everything abou t her was wild and fragran t and
lush.
I
And Zoya was su ddenly filled with a happiness she had never
felt befo re. A little rh yme whirled in her brain :

Pinkety, pinkety, thumb to thumb,

Wish a wish and it's sure to come.
If yours comes true
-. Mine will too,
30 Pinkety, pinkety, thumb to thumb. •
•
 Above her on a dry branch she saw the clear outline of a dark
• bird with a long narrow body and folded wings, and a long, long
tail. The bird cocked his little head towards her and looked at
her with his yellowish transparent eyes. Zoya pressed the
Scallywag's hand.
Scallywag turned round. His face was radiant.
'Lovely, isn't it?'
Zoya was puzzled: that was the second time he had guessed
what was in her mind.
'Yes, it's fine, just fine, Scallywag,' she breathed. 'Really lovely.'
Another bird fluttered up from a branch and lazily flew into
the distance, into the lilac sky. '
'I'll call it back if .you like,' Scallywag suggested.
'No, let it flyaway,' answered Zoya. She liked everything just
as it was. .
'Good girl,' said Scallywag approvingly.
'And if I had asked... Would the bird really obey you?'
'V es.'
'Why?' .
'Today, little Zoya, is my day.'
'What day?'
'Mine. Don't you see my cap?' ,
'It's so funny.'
'Really?' said Scallywag in surprise. 'I thought .it was pretty.
And it's lilac.'
'Yes, yes,' said Zoya hastily. 'It's pretty' and lilac:'
'So there we are. That means, today's my day.'
Zoya did not quite understand, so she asked again softly,
'How is that?'
'I can do anything today.'
'What can you do?'
'Do you want a little donkey? I'll fetch one for you.'
The boy pressed his palms together, making a loud clap with
his fingers outstretched. They heard a rustling, then a crackling,
and then the clatter of hoofs; and along the path a light grey
donkey came running. His coat gleamed dully and his eyes
seemed as black as pitch. Zoya ran towards him and threw her 31
 .
arms about his neck. He was the most wonderful donkeyin the
whole wide world, if only because she had never seen any others.
'Can I have a ride?' she asked. And she felt suddenly shy: how
could she even dream of it? .
Scallywag did not answer-Zoya was so thankful to him for
that-and the three of them moved on along ·the little path.
First went Scallywag, then Zoya, with the donkey . trailing
behind. Zoya could fell his warm breath on her hand.
The track began to broaden so that the three of them were
able to walk abreast. Scallywag.and Zoya linked hands on either
side of the donkey while he, head bent amiably, trotted along,
clicking hisheeIs-tit-tac, tic-tat. ..
Again the rhyme came to Zoya: 'Pinkety, pinkety, thumb to
thumb.. .'
Scallywag nodded in the direction of the trees.
'See, there it is, our house.'
The house stood amidst dark tree trunks. It was rather like a
toy building brick, only with a little low door. And without
windows. It had a triangular roof-as if to fit Scallywag's
three-cornered cap.
The little donkey glanced at the children, nodded his head to
them And trotted off along the path. Scallywag and Zoya turned
towards the house.
'Go on in,' said the boy opening wide the little door.
It was dark inside . the house, though it seemed quite cosy.
Zoya bent down and went in. Her feet sank into something soft
and fluffy: the whole floor was covered with the down: 'Looks"
like a nest,' thought Zoya.
Voices could be heard , like the many trees and bushes
swishing, each to their own tone: 'She's come.' 'Zoya's come.' 'I
told you so.' 'Yes, but there was another girl with her.'
A little light burst into flame-the ordinary yellow flame of a
candle; only it was surrounded by a lilac glow in the lilac air. In
that light Zoya could see about her: in the corner of the house,
from floor to ceiling and farther through the roof stretched the
thick trunk of a sturdy tree. One of its branches hung beneath
32 the ceiling. And on the floor, nestling in the down like little
birds in a nest there sat those same scallywags; only they all had
o n caps of different colours. An old man with a bulbous twig-like
nose and big round eyes was leaning against the wood en wall
~

close to the fl ame.

. 'Zoya's come amongst u s,' he said, as if he had known her for
some time and had been ex pecting her. His voice sou nded like
the bass notes of a r eed pipe. Then he picked up a bow from the
floor and went with it to the tree trunk growing up with the
h ouse.
Everyone fell silent. The old man moved th e bow across the
tree several times and the house was filled with music. How
strange that music was: like woodland melodies. And the
scallywags all began to sway to and fro and hum softly without
o pen ing their mouths. They all gazed at Zoya with round happy
eyes; and she herself felt her eyes grow round and light up
happily. She too began to sway. She felt as if a common breeze
h ad lifted th em all and lightly twirl ed th em round so that they
all somehow became as one.
. When the old man broke off the melody, the breeze's hold
was broken. Then -Zoya had a good look round: there were six
or seven scallywags. A scallywag in a red cap, a scallywag in
yellow, one in green , blue... All th eir faces seemed the same;
only the you ngest - the one in a pink cap - had funn y little
staring eyes, his mouth wide open in curiosity. H e could be
recognised in an instant. And then , of cou rse , there was the little
girl-Ginger Scallywag-in-a-Headscarf. H er voice sou nded more
gentle and crystal-like than the others.
They had all been sitting quietly listening to the music, but
then they were all babbling away and jumping up and down :
one of them had buried himself in the feath ers, another was
turning somersaults, while th e first scallywag - the one in the
lilac cap-seized Zoya with both hand s and twirled her round.
All the othe rs followed su it. And with them whirled the down
just like a snow-storm. Zoya felt quite at home with them.
Then Zoya heard th e measured sou nds, like those of a bird's
win gs fl apping. It was Gran ddad clapping his hands.
'Bed time, bedtime,' he called. 'You should have been in Y0t¥. 33
 · feather beds long ago. T he White Flower has already opened,
the Song of T wilight is already su ng. Bed time, bedtime.'
'What strange things he's talking .of,' was the thought that
flash ed through Zoya's mind.
There was no quieting the scallywags. Ginger Scallywag was
particularly lively: she ran , pushed everyone over; her head scarf
went flying, her h air streamed abou t her.
'I wonder if she'll knock me over or not?' mused Zoya. 'If she
does, I know they've accepted me as o ne of them.'
Meanwhile Ginger had snatched someone's ca p off; and long,
tow-like straigh t hair tumbled down to his ears . H e chased the
little gir l, but she hid behind Lilac Scallywag, then behind the
Pink one... Next in line was Zoya. 'Will she run past or not?'
wondered Zoya. 'H ide, hide behind . me, Ginger,' begged Zoya
silen tly. And she did : she ran up to Zoya, cau gh t hold of her
waist and said,
'Take this.' And then ran on .
Zoya found herself holding th e funn y yellow cap; and Yellow
Scallywag, making faces and hopping higher than necessary,
came charging towards her. Zoya could have taken to her
heels-after all, she was a jolly good runner. But she tossed him
the little cap, and it landed right on the scallywag's crown .
Everyone lau ghed an d gathered r ound Zoya.
'Bedtime, bedtime,' shouted Granddad clapping his hands.
But Ginger Scallywag whirled about shou ting,
'Grand pa Big Nose, we shan't go to bed ! Grandpa Big Nose,
we shan 't go to bed !'
At that Grand father Musician slowly drew his bow across the
branch th at held the ceilin g up. This was quite different music.
It made one feel drowsy, a quiet languor seeped through one's
body. The melody somehow interlaced with the lilac air, with the
tree branches visible through th e open door. .. It fu sed with the
silence, with the gentle words, with sleep :
B edtime, dreamtime,
Of fir and pine,
Of dangling vine,
36 Of riverside,
 Of changing tide.
B irdie sleeps.
Donkey sleeps.
. A ll that's yet to come-
Now sleeps...
Silence descended. Everyone had run to their places and
nestled down in the feathers. Granddad even showed Zoya her
place. It was all so pleasant and so strange: feathers above and
below, and you - just like a fl edgeling, a bird-child .
'Do you like it with us, Zoya?' asked Lilac Scallywag in a
whisper fro m a distant corner.
'Yes, very much ,' answered Zoya.
Grand father Musician blew ou t th e light. It becam e dark, cosy,
quiet. Zoya laid her left hand on her right and , with her head
cradled on her folded ar ms, went to sleep at once. She was so
very tired .
-.
CHAPTE R SEV EN

AN ORANGE DA Y
Zoya woke up in bright daylight. 'What lovely su nshine,' she
thought. But she was wrong. It was certainly not the sunshine.
Zoya sat up , began to pluck the feathers from her jacket and
recalled how happy it had been before her slumbers . And yet
now for some reason the former gaiety had van ished . Wh y? Zoya
starred quickly to r ack her brains. Wh at had h appened? She
nlwuvs clio th at when anxiety fill ed her h eart. And she went over
it all:
fall e n a mong scallywags, she liked th em . Fine;
scallywags were happy. All because of her. Splend id ;
a lilac sky made everything beautiful ;
th en delightful ;
then cosy in the feather nest.
Was that all?
T hen it came to her suddenly: Mother. H er Mother would :3 7
 su rely be worrying. She had to let her know soon that everything
was all right. Zoya jumped up and then straigh taway sat down
again: how was she to do so? She didn't know the way home.
Zoya looked abou t her. The nest-like room seemed even cosier
in the war m· dayligh t. Only the old man remained . T he old man
with the nose like a twig, with the round lilac-blue eyes. As
yesterday, he was sitting in the corner as if he had not slept at
all. T here was no sign of the scallywags-only now and then a
feath er wou ld stir.
'Good morn ing, Granddad,' said Zoya timidly.
'Today the orange air breath e we. In an orange world d well
we,' he intoned instead of giving a greeting, nod ding to Zoya.
Yet all of a sudden he inclined his head towar ds her and said,
'Dear Zoya, have we done something to offend you?'
'O h no,' Zoya muttered. 'No, no one ... me...'
'Then why are you weeping?'
'I'm not weeping... I only felt like weeping.'
'Same thin g,' said Grand father Mu sician.
H e shut his r ound eyes and sat long in silence. Zoya was
waiting for him to speak again in his strange old voice- the
voice of a baritone pipe. Finally Grandfather Musician glanced at
her again .
'Well, what did you weep for ?'
'I was thin king of Moth er. She'll be worried ... Granddad, what
time is it?'
Granddad looked surpr ised .
'You see, I ... I don't know what you mean.'
And from his round eyes it was evident he was speaking the
truth . H e always spoke the truth .
'T he time, a clock, a watch,' said Zoya tryin g to explain.
'Clock? Watch?'
'Yes, you know, on the wall or on you r wrist. ..'
Granddad sta red at his wrists and then the wall, shaking his
head.
'No, I don't know,' h e muttered.
'Well, then, what day is it?' she asked .
40 At that he livened up.
 'Yes, yes, the day! We have blue days, green, red .. .' .
'You mean you have a different colour for each day?' she
asked.
'Yes, Zoya, of course. And you?'
'Well, with us it's different. And how many hours do you have
in your day?'
The old man shrugged his shoulders again-he didn't know
anything about hours.
Zoya almost burst out laughing: fancy not knowing simple
things like that! But she quickly asked another question.
Today, Granddad, what day is it?'
Today is orange. Just wait: as soon as my little scamps wake
up they'll take you for a walk. An orange day is best.'
'Because of the sunshine?'
The old Musician set to thinking, puzzled. One would think
that it was for the first time he had heard of sunshine.
Something stirred in the corner under the feathers; and out
crawled the Scallywag in the orange cap. Zoya easily recognised
him: he was the very one she had copied in her sketchbook 00
alongwith Pink Scallywag. He was the bigger one who seemed as
if he was protecting the smaller, and probably helping him.
Today orange air breathe we!' he gave an excited shout and
smiled broadly.
'In an orange world dwell we,' echoed Granddad calmly in low
tones.
Then Zoya understood: that was how they said 'good morning'
to one another. And Grandfather Musician had deliberately not
corrected her when she had greeted him, so that she would
come to understand herself. So Zoya now replied confidently,
'In an orange world dwell we.'
Orange Scallywag shook himself like a bird shaking his
feathers, only he was shaking feathers from his jerkin and
shorts. .
Zoya went over to Grandfather Musician.
'Granddad, can Orange Scallywag do anything he likes when
it's an orange day?'
'Yes, that's right.' 41
 •

'C an he let Mot he r ... I'm he re ? Eh ?'

'I'l l as k hi m , Zo ya . 1 ho pe M ot he r wi ll un de rst an d ou r sig ns .'
Gr an df at he r M us ici an su m mo ne d Or an ge Sc all yw ag an d sa id
so me th in g; th e lat ter no dd ed gr av ely an d str aig ht aw ay ra n fro m
th e ho use. At on ce Zoya fel t at ea se.
So on after th e ot he rs be ga n to ju m p up fro m un de rn ea th th e
sim ila r ly ga ve th em sel ve s a go od bir d- lik e sh ak e
fea th er s. Th ey
an d sm ile d ju st as br oa dl y at Zo ya . Th e las t to ge t up wa s Gi ng er
sc ar f. Sh e . sp ra ng up fro m un de r th e fe ath -
Scallywag -in -a-He ad
ers as if stu ng.
'I' ve los t my sca r f,' sh e sh ou ted . 'I'v e los t m y sca r f.'
'It 's on your he ad , Gi ng er no b,' Li lac Sc all yw ag sh ou ted ba ck at
he r.
'I hu ng it on a tre e be fo re 1 we nt to sle ep ,' sh e wa ile d .
'W he re 's th e tree ?'
'W he re it wa s be fo re ,' sa id Ye llo w Sc all yw ag sm ili ng . 'Ju st by
Gr an d fa th er Mu sician .'
'T ell hi m to give me back m y sc arf.'
'Bu t he ha sn 't go t it.'
'H e m us t ha ve . W he re is he ?' cr ied Gi ng er Sc all yw ag fly in g at
Gr an dd ad . 'H e was he re a mi nu te ag o.'
'I' m still he re , litt le on e,' sai d th e old m an mi ldl y, re str ain in g
he r. 'Maybe yo u lost yo u r sca rf in yo ur sleep !'
'T he re, yo u se e,' sai d Gi ng er Sc all yw ag , su dd en ly co m in g to a
ha lt an d lau gh in g. 'If it we re n't fo r Gr an df at he r M us ici an , we
wo u ld n't ha ve to pu t up wi th all th is no ns en se .' •
'B ut it wa s yo u wh o wa s loo ki ng fo r yo ur sca r f,' Ye llo w
Scallywag re m in de d he r, 'A nd it wa s on yo u r he ad all th e tim e.'
'T he n wh y sh ou ld 1 loo k fo r it if it's on m y he ad ?' cr ied
wi th a ch ee rfu l gr in . An d sh e too k Zo ya an d
Ging er Scallywag
yw ag by th eir ha nd s an d ra n wi th th em ou t of th e
Lilac Scall
ho use. Th e ot he rs ru sh ed off in pu rsu it.
Zo ya sto pp ed in th e do or wa y wi th a sh oc k: sh e wa s as to ni sh ed
ne th at m et he r ey es. Th er e wa s no su n at all , ye t
at th e sce
every th ing wa s lit up wi th a wa rm lig ht -a s if yo u we re loo ki ng
an ge gla ss. Up in th e br ig ht or an ge sk y th e clo ud s
th ro ugh an or
bla de s of gr as s gl itt ere d mo ist ly ;
42 see me d ye llo w; th e lea ve s an d
the dusty soil had turned a bright bricklike colou r. All arou nd
was amazingly warm and gay.
'Do you like it?' asked Lilac Scallywag. 'Well, Zoya?'
'Yes,' she r eplied . 'I fee l. so light somehow.'
'It's always like that on an o ra nge day.'
Just at that moment Orange Scallywag appeared on the path .
H e beckoned to Zoya as if to say his mission had been
acco mplished. And he clapped his hands,
'All of you, come here. Come on.'

CHA PTER EIGHT

CARNIV AL- TIME

Oran ge Scallywag had clapped · his hands and uttered an
order, and all came runnin g to him .
'I've just been by the White Flower. It's stuffy for it: we're
either asleep or running arou nd while it's struggling to keep
alive.'
'Did you forget to water th e flower?' asked Zoya in a wh isper
of Lilac Scallywag standing beside her.
'Good Gracious, Zoya! H e needs something different.'
And sud den ly . he gave a joyful shou t.
'I've got it : let's ask Zoya, perhaps she'll sing u s a son g.'
Zoya was sur pr ised . What h ad her singing got to do with it? In
the meantime the scallywags were breathing more easily and
jumping up and down.
'True. T rue. Go on, dear Zoya, please. Zoya, Zoya, give us a
song.'
And straightaway Zoya fancied singing a song for them. She
knew man y songs, yet in her anxiety none would come to mind.
In the end she h ad to make o ne up herself. She had done it
before, but it now came ou t eve n better, since the scallywags took
up the words and repeated them after her, giving Zoya time to
th ink what to put next. .
T he day was cheerful, composing came easily to her and this
is what res ulted. 43
 Zoya singing:
If I was a furry little squirrel
I'd hop along the branches of a tree
And when I'd reach my squirrel house
I'd roll up like a tiny mouse.
Scallywags taking it up :
H ow snug and warm I'd be.
Zoya singin g:
If I was a teeny-weeny ant
I'd fetch and run throughout the livelong day .
A nd when I'd reach my Srtug ant nest
I'd lie down and take a well-earned rest.
Scallywags take up the song:
A nd sleep the night away.
Zoya singing:
And if I was now in my Mother's place
I'd have no worries and I'd not be cross
H er daughter's gone
But she'll be home...

Thereupon Zoya hesitated, she could n't think of what to say,

then changed the last line herself somewhat wistfully:
It 's not her fault she's missing...

That wasn't quite right; it didn 't rh yme, so Zoya added under
her breath:
'It's not my fault I'm lost.'
The, scallywags fell silent. And Zoya felt they were sorry fo r
her, which mad e her eyes smart. So that no one should notice
she turned away.
Someone's hand stroked her hair. Zoya knew who it was, yet
glanced sideways at him all the same. So it was: Lilac Scallywa g
46 was looking at her with sad eyes. .

•
 'Dear little Zoya,' he said an d stroked her head as if she were
a little child.
T he others crowded round at once and also gazed with
sympathy at their guest. Meanwhile Ginger Scallywag sim ply
cried, hiding her red dened nose in her hands.
'Well I never: fancy not being able to cheer the little girl up,'
she exclaimed with a sn iff.
Zoya was more than a little uncomfortable that she has caused
such gloom.
At that moment O range Scallywag took the lead and clapped
his hands.
'A ll of you, come he re,' he shouted .
H eads turned towards him. Lilac Scallywag alone did not ta ke
his eyes off Zoya, and she nodded gratefully to him.
'Let's have a carn ival,' suggested Orange Scallywag. 'Agreed?'
'Yes, yes,' they all cried. And they dashed off home taking
Zoya by the hand with them .
'Come on . Come on,' they shouted. 'Perhaps you will get the
flower mask.'
'Or the grey donkey.'
'O r the longest nose .'
Grand father Musician rummaged in silence u nder the feathers
and brought up a little wooden tru nk; he opened it up, tu rned
his back o n the th rong and reached inside.
'Who to?' he asked.
'Zoya,' several voices shouted back.
And Grandfather Musician handed her a small bundle
wrapped in homespun cloth.
'H ide behind a bush and put it on so that no one will know
you,' he wh ispered.
And so she d id. She fou nd herself wearing a tall hat patterned
in multicoloured triangles; a high collar covered almost all her
face, wh ile volu minous overalls were so long that they even
concealed her red boots.
Zoya looked about her: beh ind neighbouring bushes gleamed
brigh t hats and masks, an d soon it was impossibleto say where
was Yellow Scallywag, where Red, where Lilac or Blue. Only the 47
 baby Pink Scallywag was easy to spot even though he had on a
tall hat like a dunce's ca p, a sausage-like nose, and he was
bouncing up and down to make himself look taller. All of a
su dden Zoya felt afraid: she had lost sigh t of Lilac Scallywag .
And he was the dearest of the scallywags. O r , rather, he was hers,
her very own scallywag... H ow would they now recognise each
other? After all, Zoya was nothing like her normal self either.
The scallywags all ran into an open glad e.
Someone took her by th e h and. Zoya glanced round. In front
of her was a flower mask. A hood of blue, pink and yellow
petals fl opped down to a nose, with little slits left for eyes. And
then, su ddenly, the eyes blinked and the fi gure let go of Zoya's
hand.
'Oh ,' came a voice fr om under th e petals. 'O h dear, oh dear. I
mu st have left it in the bush es.'
And Ginger Scallywag- it was her of course - rushed off
toward s the bush es and pulled ou t a bow.
'I sh all play for the White Flower,' she whispered to Zoya.
Zoya did not understand much abou t the White Flower, but
she was keen to hear her new friend playin g. In the meantime,
th e scallywags were running and skipping lightly across t he
glade.
'Why have we stayed here?' asked Ginger Scallywag in
•
surprise.
'Perhaps we h ave to catch them up?' su ggested Zoya.
'Yes, th at's it,' said Ginge r brightening up. 'You are Zoya,
aren't you? I thought so: you have a very soft hand. And your
voice is a bit di fferent.'
'That's a good thing,' thought Zoya. 'I want to be recognised .'
T hey caught up the others . And now all of them wandered
slowly through the grass and some sort of str ange small flower
stems. T here was a pleasant fragrance in the orange air from
these fl owers. It was fresh and aromatic.
'Now where is Lilac Scallywag?' wondered Zoya. 'What if he
didn 't join us? It wouldn 't be at all interesting without him .'
And just as if he had heard her, one of the scallywags looked
48 round. And he nodded to h er. He was dressed in green overalls;
a lon g shar p nose had completely tran sformed his face. 'I would
never have known ,' thought Zoya with a smile to herself. She was
very pleased with Lilac Scallywag.
Lilac Scallywag relaxed too, he ran on farther jumping and
skipping. They all moved lightly, and when they hurried they
made little hops an d skips .
'We are ap proaching the White Flower,' wh ispered Ginger
Scallywag.
And Zoya remar ked that Ginger was agitated .
In the light of orange day a midst the grass, th e thick rough
stem of the Flower stood out at once, and looked even taller and
firm er.
'O range Scallywag was wrong to worry abou t the Flower
wilting,' thought Zoya. And instantly the boy in the green
overalls turned to her and said,
'It was your song that helped .'
Again she d id not understand and shrugged her shou lders.
And she held o n to Lilac Scallywag's h and so th at he did not run
off.
Stepping softly, the scallywags began to come closer to the
Flower and, then, all at once, they ben t their knees and sat down
on the grass. Zoya sat down too. Flower stems, leaves and
blossoms at once separated he r from the others. Now she saw
only the orange sky and the Wh ite Flower with its folded petals.
'I wonder whether it will open as before?' she wondered .
Without knowing why, she waited with bated breath : as if
ex pecting someth ing exciting, like a holiday or a new doll.
She could not tear her eyes away from the Flower. And then,
all of a su dden, she caught the sou nds of ge ntle mu sic. The
music sou nded like a whisper and came up from somewhere
underground.
But from wh ere?
Nearby blades of grass bent their head s, the tops of th e fluffy
little fl owers waved to and fro: it was Ginger Scallywag moving
her bow across the fl ower stems. T hen she stood up an d ran
through the glade, stroking her bow across the tree tru nks, the
arms of bush es, flowers and leaves. It seemed that a whole 49
 •

orchestra was playing. Blue, red and yellow specks whirled abou t
the grass. They were transparent like little su nbeams. The
. scallywags sprang up and began to catch them in their clumsy
hands. So did Zoya, runnin g hither and thither; a little ray
darted up and hid again under some leaves in the grass. The
colou red specks seemed to be dancin g, and Zoya and the
scallywags began to move in time with music. Zoya felt herself
being swep t up , one mom ent fl oating in th e air, th e next landing
on the grou nd; she spread wide her ar ms so as to whirl abou t
more easily. Thereupon the little coloured ray settled on her
ou tstretched hand and remained there long like a warm little
speck. Zoya brought her hand to her face and heard a little ring.
It was like a crystal bell rin ging: ting-ting-a-ling.
T hen th e mu sical speck fl ew away an d the fl yin g d ance came
to an end. Ginger Scallywag had dropped her bow.
It was th en that the White Flower shook itself on its thick
stem. Its little green bowl trembled and strong green little feet
pushed out.
Straighte ning itself up and gath ering invisible strength, the
magnificent White Flower made its entrance an d stood proudly
waving in the warm orange air.
Now Zoya had eyes only for the Flower. As for herself, she
felt she was a blad e of gr ass one moment, then the branch of a
bush a nd, next moment, a bird looking down from a tree
through tran sparent yellow eyes.
'I t's coming, yes it's coming,' sang inside her head.
W hat's closed is opening
W hat's forbidden is allowing
Something tender is unfolding
Something ·bright and beautiful...

CHAPTER N INE

A HARD DAY
•
Zoya was awoken by Gr and father's VO ICe,
52 'Ou r greetings to the yellow d ay.'
 And instantly the cry was taken up from all around ,
'May it pass more quickly.'
Zoya was baffled: why should they want the day to hasten by?
Perhaps it would be just as good as the or ange day. But as she
peered from out of her feather-bed at the scallywags, she
realised it would not be so: they were all pale and sickly as if
unwell. They all rose slowly, nobody laughed, nobody sang.
Ginger Scallywag was looking for her scarf again, but in silence
this time, wh ile the little Scallywag in the pink cap was even
whim per ing, burying his head in the lap of Grandfather
Musician.
Zoya cou ld not com prehen d what was going on. She began to
feel sorry for these defenceless scallywags, and she too fell silent.
And of course, her mood was immediately felt by Lilac Scallywag
with his strange powers of perception. He came to her and
squatted down beside her.
'Are you unwell ?' he asked .
'No,' Zoya r eplied .
'Gloomy?'
'No. It's just th at I don 't understand why you are all so ...
well ... peculiar.'
'You see, Zoya,' he said, 'the yellow day is a hard day.'
'Why?'
'I'm not su re how to explain ...' Lilac Scallywag lowered his
eyes. 'We somehow depend on the colour. Perhaps that's what
Mister Painter intended.'
Zoya stroked the Scallywag's roughened hand.
'What's going to happen now ?'
'Next comes the green day. That's fun.'
'How do you know?'
'It always is.'
"It's strange all the same.. .' said Zoya. And she felt that she too
was somehow not her normal self. Only she did not know at
once what it was. Lilac Scallywag noticed it too.
'You see, the yellow day is working on you as well.'
'No, dear little Scallywag, no, it's not that... You know, I ... am
te rribly hungry. Absolutely fami shed.' 53
 'O h my Goodness!' he exclaimed . 'What a thoughtless creature
I am. I quite forgot. Grand father Musician told me this cou ld
happen .'
'What migh t happen ?'
T hat you would feel like ea ting.'
'B ut d o n ' t you ... eat.;J'
'We do, but we don't have to. But you have to ea t. Hold on,
I'll fetch you some pink grass berries.'
Lilac Scallywag scampered off down the track towards th e
woods and soon was back with a handful of pink round and
hard fruit looking like nuts.
Zoya popped one into her mouth and bit at it. It tasted as if
she were chewing on cotton wool. Zoya was nonplussed : it was
quite impossible to swallow, bu t she could hardly spit it ou t.
'Don't you like it?' asked Lilac Scallywag in surprise . 'Don't you
like it at all? Wh at would you like th en ?'
'I like pear s,' said Zoya. 'O r strawberries. I'd like some bread ,
that's it. Bread !'
Lilac Scallywag was pu zzled .
. 'I don't know what th at is. We don't have th at. We never
have.'
'What's th e matter?' asked Yellow Scallywag coming up.
'She wants some ... what is it? Bread. And ... what else?
Straw... We1lies...' .
'Strawberries,' said Zoya correcting him.
'What's that?'
'I don't know how to ex plain,' said Zoya lost. 'It's a sor t of
berry.'
'Draw it,' said Yellow Scallywag. 'You do know how to draw,
don't you?'
'But .I never told anyone I cou ld draw,' said Zoya.
'Well, I know,' exclaimed Yellow Sca1lywag, puffing out his
chest and thru stin g one foot forward ; and he added in a mock
serious ton e: T he ye1low d ay is mine, and I am very good at
understanding everything and knowin g everything on that day.'
In fact, he was the liveliest of them all. Zoya smiled, but did
54 not wish to quarrel with him . She too k her sketchbook from her
pocket, and her pencil, an d she began to draw a strawberry, just
like the one she had once seen on a tran sfer.
'A nd d o you really wish to eat it?' asked Yellow Scallywag.
'Th is one h ere? Oh no,' said Zoya shaking her head. 'Bu t 1 d o
fancy some r eal strawberries o r a pear.'
'You won't get anywhere by saying " real" ,' said Yellow
Scallywag severely. 'Did anyone ever teach you to draw ?'
'I ... 1 taught myself. But most of all 1 want to draw like Uncle
T ad eus,' she said . And Zoya blushed : it was rather e mbarrassing
to bask in the glory of a famous relative.
T he scallywags were silen t as if they had not noticed anything.
T hen Yellow Scallywag spoke up gravely, but very softly so as
not to hurt her,
'Mister Painter created all that you see around you. You
can not d o the same, and nobody can . You have to d o it
differently.'
'But how?' asked Zoya.
'I don 't know ,' he said . And sud denly he gave a guilty smile. 'I
just don 't know.'
Yellow Scallywag thought long and hard before pronoun-
•
cmg.
'Let's try the following. Make ou t as if this ... strerry ...
bawstry...'
'Strawberry,' Zoya had to say again.
'Yes, yes, str awberry, as if it is very tasty and that it is very
. ,
DIce to eat. -
'A nd ripe?' ad ded Zoya, her mouth watering. 'A nd juicy?'
'Natu rally.'
'And what then?'
'A nd then pick it from the page, that's all.'
Zoya stared at Yellow Scallywag in amazement, then at Lilac
Scallywag, and from the look in their eyes she realised they were -
•
senous.
'Let' s leave Zoya to draw ,' said Lilac Scallywag, and with that
th ey left the house.
So Zoya drew another strawberry . This one had d ots clearly
d rawn over its skin, it had a little stem an d broad leaf. But it 55
 rig ht ; ev en if sh e we re to tak e th e be rry ou t of th e
wa sn 't qu ite
wo ul d no t be ve ry ple as an t to ea t. Ev en fo r a
pa ge it ce rta in ly
lik e Zo ya . So sh e se t to dr aw in g so me br ea d. Th is
hu ng ry pe rso n
t to be ev en ha rd er , th ou gh it wa s a go od lik en es s. Ye s,
tu rn ed ou
it ce rta in ly was ve ry lik e a loa f of br ea d.
Th en sh e we nt ou t of do or s. Al l ar ou nd it wa s qu iet , wi th no
wind an d so m eh ow em pt y. It wa s ne ith er ho t no r co ld . 'I ho pe
pa ss qu ick ly ,' Zo ya th ou gh t an d r em em be re d th e
th is da y will
th e m or ni ng gr ee tin g: 'O ur gr ee tin gs to th e ye llo w
wo rd s of
's ho pe it pa sse s qu ick ly. Sh e m ad e he r wa y
da y.' Ye s, yes, let
pa th an d su dd e nly he ar d so me on e tal ki ng . By no w sh e
alo ng th e
rn ed to di sti ng uis h th e di ffe re nt vo ice s. It wa s Ye llo w
ha d lea
Scallywag tal kin g,
'Is it tru e th at if sh e d oe sn 't ea t, sh e wi ll fal l an d ne ve r ge t
up ?'
'Yes, th at' s wh at Gr an df at he r M us ici an sa id, ' re pli ed Li lac
Scall yw ag , his vo ice sh ak in g in ala rm . 'Su re ly we ca n do
It' s yo ur da y to da y. Th in k so m eth in g up . He lp
so m eth in g?
he r.'
'Sh e ha s to he lp he rse lf, ' an sw er ed Ye llo w Sc all yw ag . 'T he re' s
no th in g I ca n do .'
'Zoya! ' sh ou ted Li lac Sc all yw ag to h er as if sh e we re sic k or a
little ch ild . 'Zoya!'
Bu t Zo ya ha d ru n aw ay . Sh e hi d in th e bu sh es an d bu rie d he r
nd s. W ha t wo ul d h ap pe n no w? W h at ne xt ? Su re ly
face in he r ha
ul dn 't di e of hu ng er an d ne ve r se e M ot he r ag ain ? An d
sh e wo
An d ev en Lu ba Vi lki na . Pe rh ap s Au nt Ja ni na wa s
Au nt Ja ni na ...
rig h t to wo r ry an d cla sp he r ha nd s, say ing , 'H ow is ou r yo u ng
girl go in g to fa re in th is wo rld ?' Sh e ha d sa id th at wh en Zo ya
ha d re fu se d to go fo r a loa f of br ea d , fe ar in g th at sh e wo u ld n't
wa s sh y of go in g ou tsi de in he r ne w jac ke t an d
be given any; sh e
Bu t Zo ya co ul d dr aw . Sh e wo ul d alw ay s th in k to
tro users .
dr aw an yw ay .' An d su dd en ly it se em ed th at sh e
h erse lf: 'I ca n
was no t th at go od af te r all ...
'N ot so go od , am I ?' Zo ya as ke d he rse lf. 'D o yo u th in k I ca n 't
dr aw m y own ha nd ?'
56 An d sh e to ok ou t he r pe nc il a nd sk etc hb oo k an d dr ew it.
 'How about that leaf?'
She drew that too.
'And that tree over there? The Scallywag house ? My house ?'
Zoya used up almost all the sketch boo k, and she got better
and better. 'So I can 't draw, can I?' she addressed herself to
Aunt Janina and Lilac Scallywag. And she drew a room. It was
her Mother's room-with the sofa, painting, the little table by
the window. A glass bowl stood on the table. A wonderful juicy
o range appeared in the glass bowl, like the one she had ate last
winter. A pear lay next to it. It lay lopsidedly because it was
bumpy. Zoya liked it that way.
How abou t a pie? As if Zoya didn't know what a cabbage pie
was and how to decorate it with onion flakes on top. There you
are, delightful! How about a glass vase alongside, with flowers-
all sorts of golden buttercups, white and pink daisies, sky-blue
corn flowers; and then she would draw that old moth-eared
neighbour's cat on a chair ! No, on second thoughts, she didn't
need the cat : he was bound to steal the pie. He wasn't to know it
had cabbage inside.
Zoya burst out laughing. While she was chuckling to herself
she did not notice the pear falling from the bowl to the table,
and then rolling into her lap. She snatched it up. .
'Food , food!' she exclaimed so loudly that she frightened
Ginger Scallywag out of her skin ; the poor girl rushed back the
way she had come, flew indoors and blurted out to Lilac
Scallywag,
The girl wants some food. Can't you think of something to
save her from torment. Give yourself a good sh ake and rack
your brains.'
'I am... We are...' stuttered Lilac Scallywag.
Meanwhile Zoya was proudly marching towards them carrying
a wonderful juicy pear in her hand.
'Food! I did it... Try it, have a bite, all of you,' she said,
forgetting her own hunger.
Lilac Scallywag took a bite and froze. H e could hardly spit it
ou t, but he certainly cou ld n't eat that... No, no , let Zoya eat it if
she liked. 57
 Zoya was much su r prised at the difference in tastes . And she
sank her teeth into the juicy fruit of the pear.
Zoya ate the pear with relish , the juice running down her
cheeks and chin . She was so relieved she would not now die o f
hunger, glad she had learned finally to draw well... Yet
someth ing preven ted her from being com pletely happy. Some-
thing nagged at her. What was it? In fact, it mu st sou nd strange
to ad mit it:
Zoya felt someone looking at her.
Of course, th e scallywags and even Grandfather Musician were
all looking at her, right enough , smiling and nodding their heads
happily.
It wasn't th at.
Zoya felt someone looking at her secretly. On the sly.
But she shook her head . 'Nonsense. Nonsense.'

As soon as the sweetish shar p smell of the White Flower

wafted to them, the scallywags all gathered indoors and buried
themselves in the feathers. Grand father Mu sician drew his bow
.over the branch of the household tree, singing,
B edtime, dreamtime,
Of fir and pine,
Of dangling vine,
Of riverside,
Of changing tide.
Birdie sleeps,
Donkey sleeps.
A ll that 's yet to come-
N ow sleeps.
What we know not- sleeps,
W hat we care n ot-sleeps,
Nor need we
W eep, weep,
W e must
Sleep, sleep...
58 Soon everyone was asleep.
 CHAPTER TEN

ON THE ISLAND

They ran along the little narrow path trampled down through
the grass in the green light of day under a green sky. It was
merry and bright. Zoya was su r prised to find herself depending
on the colou r. But it was pleasant. They ran along, and above
them the branches with their broad thick leaves spread out and
intertwin ed. A leaf broke free and -circled through the air to
land upon the path. Zoya picked it up. Its ste m was thick and it
had a glossy smooth su rface with veins a nd arter ies running all
over it, like a hum an hand. 'Perh aps it is alive, this tree?' she
thought. 'I wonder if it can see and hear ? Or speak maybe , only
I don 't und erstand anything?'
'Are you tired ?' Zoya heard. Lilac Scallywag appeared beside
her.
'I was thinkin g: she said , nodding towards the tree, 'I was
wonder ing whether it is alive?'
Lilac Scallywag stared at her amazed .
'No, no, what nonsense,' muttered Zoya emharrassed.
'What do you mean nonsense?' asked Lilac Scallywag once
more aston ished, 'Do you r eally not know trees are alive?'
'How can that be?' excla imed Zoya coming to a halt.
'Very sim ple. They are cold, hot, ill, cosy. They grow. They
· ,
d Ie.. .
'A nd can they talk?'
'Yes, of course.'
'Well,go an d talk to one of them,' said Zoya. 'Please, dear little
Scallywag.'
The boy said nothing; then he spo ke ever so gently, so as not
to offend her,
'Zoya, I can not do that.'
'Don't you know how?'
'I do. We have a talk when it is very, very necessary. But just
like that, for amusement, I mustn't: It's hard for them , you
know.' 59
 Zoya was so u sed to Lilac Scallywag obeying her every whim;
and now he was su ddenly stubborn. She was terr ibly hurt.
Almost reduced to tears. And then she wen t and cried. This time
Scallywag d id not do as he usually did- stroke her hair and
com fort her. H e stood silently looking at her. Then he spoke
softly and very politely once more,
'Excuse me, Zoya, but 1 think you are acting rather badly.'
'There's nothing bad abou t it,' she blurted ou t, covering her
face with her hand s. 'What's bad about it?'
'You can see very well th at 1 don't want to, and if 1 am
unwillin g that means 1 can not do it. I'll do anything for you that
1 am able to, even without you asking.'
'Why can't you do it?' asked Zoya, not qu ite so insistently this
time, although she was interested to hear him talking with the
tree.
'Because it's hard on the tree. Even hurts it. Now if you were
to force a bird to walk along the grou nd instead of flying...'
'Well, it certainly can,' she broke in.
'Yes, but it's hard for it. Why fo rce someone to do something
that is hard , especially just fo r fun?'
Zoya remembered the trained animals at the circus. They had
to be forced. And sud denly she remembered how she had always
felt sorry fo r those trained bears, tigers and elephants-as if
they were being insulted and humiliated.
'Ah , yes,' she said nodding her head. 'You're right, don't do
it.' And now it was her turn to look tenderly and beggingly into
Lilac Scallywag's eyes.
'I ho pe you aren't angry?' she said.
No, Lilac Scallywag was not angry. Perhaps h e had no idea
h ow to get upset anyway. Zoya was so glad of that.
They were standing just by the bush under which Zoya had
yester day taken the pear from her sketch book page. She glanced
under th e bush. A page still lay there. It had a drawing of her
Mother's room, the table, glass bowl and oranges in it. But there
was no sign of the pie. All the same the grass was littered with
little crumbs.
60 'Oh my!' cried Zoya.
 'What's up?' said Lilac Scallywag, uncomprehending.
But she could not explain instantly what it was. Zoya -was in
dismay, then brightened up, and then dismayed again.
First she was in dismay that someone had eaten the pie. It
would have come in very handy at that moment.
Then she had the idea that since someone had eaten it she
must have made it look real and drawn it cleverly. That was
bound to buck her up.
And then her spirits fell once more because she was sure the
scallywags never took anything without permission.
'Tell me,' she said, 'does anyone here ever take anything
without asking permission?'
'Nevverrr,' Scallywag answered very precisely. And from his
wide eyes it was clear he was speaking the truth.
'But someone was.. .' And Zoya fell silent. In any case Lilac
Scallywag himself caught sight of the piece of something
strange. He put the pie to his nose, then turned away and
sneezed. 'No, Zoya,' he said, 'none of us could possibly have
eaten that.'
And again Zoya had the feeling someone was secretly
watching her from behind the trees.
But Lilac Scallywag took her hand and led her on.
The path suddenly fell away and there, below, was a stream
under a steep sandy outcrop. No stairs or paths led down to it.
'How on earth do they get down there?' wondered Zoya. And
almost at once she saw something surprising: Green Scallywag
was standing at the very edge of the incline, he had bent back
his arms in a funny way, squatted down and suddenly launched
himself into a jump. He flew lightly just like a grasshopper. He
sailed over the stream and landed on a little island. Only now
did Zoya notice that there was an island overgrown with bushes
in the middle of the stream.
The other scallywags jumped after Green. Most agile of all
was the scallywag in the pink cap: he sailed through the air with
the greatest of ease; he had only learned recently and he was
keen to show off his ability. Only Ginger Scallywag remained
behind with Zoya. She too pressed her arms to her sides, but 61
 then she realised she could not jump because she was h olding
the bow in her hands.
'I'm scared of breaking the bow if I jum p,' she said.
'Then leave it her e,' said Zoya .
'But what would it do here without me?' asked Ginger
Scallywag in surpr ise. Then she waved her hand , indicating to
the bow to go ahead and jump if it wished.
'Surely it can 't jump,' Zoya thought to herself, unable to
believe her eyes.
'What? The bow?' said Ginger Scallywag in annoyance. 'The
bow jump?'
At that she burst out lau ghing: 'Ha, ha, ha. What a joke. T he
bow jump ... I'd better jump myself.'
She lay th e bow in the grass and easily leapt across the stream .
'Zoya, come down here,' she heard someone calling her down
below.
'I can't,' she called back.
Then Ginger Scallywag began to shout to the others.
'What's the matter with you? Have you any brains? T he girl
has stayed behind on the bank through my bow, to stop the wind
blowin g it away, while you are ru shing arou nd h ere like scalded
cats without a thought for her. Fancy leavin g such a bow without
giving it a dip in the water ... or rather such a breeze ... or
rather such a girl!'
'You've mixed everything up again, Gingernob,' Yellow
Scallywag laughed. H e took a sh ort run , lifted up his arm s,
squatted and ... and in no time at all h ad leapt up to the high
bank.
Lilac Scallywag did the same. T hen they took Zoya one by the
right hand , the other by the left, an d they easily fl ew across the
strea m together.
'O h dear,' cried Zoya, 'I'm frighte ned.'
But her fear soon passed , even though the water was directly
below her, since they held her tight. It was a tremendous jump
and very exact, and they landed right in the centre of the island .
All th e scallywags had gathered there an d now came running up
64 to Zoya.
 'Look what we've got here,' cried Pink Scallywag.
He wanted to show something off . But Zoya saw nothing save
thick, ever so thick bushes. And she stared expectan tly at th e
scallywag. He was exceed ingly tiny, that Pink Scallywag. And his
eyes were round and bright. Now Zoya was able to distinguish
the scallywags by more than the colour of their caps . It was only
at first glance that they all seemed to be alike. In fact they were
all quite di fferent. Similar, yet different.
Zoya wanted to call Pink Scallywag by some pet name.
'Dear little Scallywag ,' she said . 'Dear little Scallywag , I Just
don't understand anything.'
'Just a minute, just a minute and you'll see,' he cried gaily
wavin g his arms about. 'Make you r way over here.' And he led
her through the undergrowth. All at once Zoya spotted the hut.
Dense, green, sweet-scented . It had been woven by wattling
branches rather th an cutting th em. And how? Very simply : the
branches of three bushes had been linked above a glade and
plaited at the top. Neither axe , nor knife, nor rope had been
u sed . Afte r h er conversation with Lilac Scallywag, Zoya knew
why this had happened.
T he li ght in the hu t was even gree ner from the leaves. And it
was quite cool. The scallywags were very quiet, only their wide
round eyes glittered .
Quietly drawin g aside the leaves, the Little ' Grey Donkey
poked out his head.
'Come in and join us,' called Green Scallywag.
And the Little Donkey did so.
'He lives here, on the islan d ,' O range Scallywag told Zoya.
'Can he swim?' she asked .
'O f course. He is callin g us to have a swim.'
T he Little Donkey put his warm soft nose on Zoya's shoulder.
Zoya stroked the Donkey and , as she did so, something pleasant
turned round in her head , a little ditty...
When you come to a stranger's abode,
See you treat it right:
O bey and do as you are told,
Give no offence or slight... 65
 'I shall never, never harm you, never make you sad ...' thought
loya.
T he scallywags were sitting leaning back, resting their hands
on the grou nd and stretching ou t their legs. T hey were the same
heigh t as Zoya, but were quite differen t: for one thing they did
not know how to get cross. And Zoya su ddenly felt a grown-up
.alongside them : 'I shall never harm . you ...'
'Let's go and have a swim,' Green Scallywag called to them all .

CH APTER ELEVEN

A STRANGE FIND
Swimming is e njoyable, especially if it isn't simply swimming,
but means diving, splashin g, ducking and r acing as well. T he
scallywags jumped into the stream just as they were: in their
clothes and caps . But how wonderfully they could swim. As for
Zoya, she could only swim a bit, just enou gh to keep afloat. So
she was the first to swim to the bank , dry herself, pick up her
sketchbook and pencil and set to d r awin g.
She did not feel so much like eating today in the bright bold
ligh t of green day: Her drawin g went well. She p repared ap ples,
pears, yet another pie fo r herself and put them all under the
bush to take with her on her return.
Zoya nibbled at an apple · as she watched the scallywags
swim ming, splash ing abou t and lau ghing. The Little Grey
Donkey was the re too, only he bath ed slightly farther ou t from
the ban k; and then, l oya did not even notice when, he came out
of the water and hid somewhere in the bushes. She began to
look for the Little Donkey and sud denly caught sight of
something: the ripples of th e river were bringin g a rope to the
bank. It was precisely the skippin g rope with which Luba and
that bush y-haired girl Nina had played. The rope lay on the
sand with one wooden handle bobbing up and down in the
water.
Luba wou ld surely shout now: 'Begs I go first !', grab the
66 skipping rope and take' it home or hide it in her pocket. But
Zoya would never do that. And she suggested to the scallywags
now,
'Shall we skip?'
Yellow Scallywag pulled himself out onto. th e bank, shook
himself and began to skip up and down so that he reached the
topmost branch es of the thicket.
The other scallywags jumped likewise. But without the
skipping rope.
Zoya took the skipping rope a nd began to skip neatly,
treading down the moist sand. Then she handed one end to
Ginger Scallywag and showed her how to turn it, run in and out
of the rope.
Lilac Scallywag was the first to hop into the rotating circle. He
•
jumped so high that Zoya and Ginger Scallywag had time to turn
th e rope three times before he came back to earth. Zoya could
never have done that. On the other hand , they were not as
clever as she was at skipping.
'r want to go too,' shouted Pink Scallywag.
'Come on, th en , dear little Scallywag ,' called Zoya.
And he too hopped very high .
'And me,' cried Ginger Scallywag.
She bounced up while holding one end of the rope, but when
the rope grew taut it jerked Ginger down and she fell sprawling
on the sand .
o

'Now that's most amazing,' she exclaimed, shaking herself. 'I

can jump high er than all of them even without the rope, yet
something pulled me back.' She was very upset.
'O h , dear Gin ger, you're the best jumper,' Yellow Scallywag
told her. 'If only you didn't get everything mixed up.'
'I never get things mixed up ,' an swered Ginger Scallywag.
'This is a rope for jumping high.'
Zoya listened in amazement. Finally she ventured to ask,
'Haven't you really ever skip ped before with a skipping rope ?'
'No,' Lilac Scallywag replied. 'Never.'
'Then where did you get this skipping rope?'
'Where did we get it?' they all shouted in surpr ise. 'We
though t you brought it with you .' 67
 No, Zoya had not brought it. Cou ld it be it had been in her
pocket all the time an d had fall en ou t when she had crossed the
stream with the scallywags?

C HA PTER TW ELVE

ALARM
All was quiet ·in the little cabin . Grandfather Musician was
about to play the Change of Day Song; the weary scallywags
watched him ex pectan tly with bleary eyes.
But for some reason th e old man was taking his time.
His movements were somehow jerky and h e had a wary look
upon his face. .
Zoya too became res tless. She knew not why. But everyone was
silent. And so was she. .
'Gingernob, where's the bow?' Grand father Musician suddenly
asked. . .
'Here... I mean there... Oh dear. I· se-em to have left it on th e
riverban k.'
A whisper of alarm ran through the house. T here had to be
the Chan ge of Day Song!
'Never mind ,' said Granddad softly. 'It can be helped .'
'What else could there- be?' Zoya wished to ask. She felt there
was someth ing more to -it.
Yellow Scallywag and Ginger ran -down to the ri verside.
; Me too,' shouted Pink Scallywag, jumping up.
'No,' said- Granddad strictly- rather too strictly, Zoya
thought.
From afa r came the heady fragrance of the White Flower. It
was weake r and not the same as it was normally. Somehow
mixed with someth ing bitter. Why?
Zoya noticed Grandfather Musician look up and fall to musing
about something. The scallywags were silen t, just like trees and
• grass before a stor m.
70 How on earth could they have forgotten the bow? Zoya cou ld
 •
,

well recall Green and Orange scallywags leaping with her from
the island to the high bank and Ginger Scallywag being there
already. But they were all so worn out from swimming and
skipping. It was only by the house that Zoya said to Lilac
Scallywag, '
'I've forgotten all my food on the island-the pears, and
apples and pies.'
'I'll fetch them ,' said Lilac Scallywag.
But Zoya could not remember anything about the bow. She
wasn't much good at looking after them, after all.
Just then Ginger Scallywag rushed into the house. She
had forgotten her scarf and her hair was all ruffled and
matted.
'No,' she gasped , out of breath. 'The 'bow isn't there.'
Behind her dashed in Yellow Scallywag.
'Someone's crying on the island,' he said.
The scallywags all jumped up, ran down to the river claueririg
along in their wooden clogs. , '
'Yes, yes, I felt it,' whispered Grandfather Musician, (Zoya was '
running alongside him, so she felt safer.) 'We've never had
anything like this before',' he continued, shaking his head,
'Nevverrr!' '
Thereupon they heard a cry. It came .Irom somewhere down
below. It was tired and hoarse; perhaps its owner was sick or
maybe even ...
'Perhaps he's drowning,' said Zoya; she herself, to tell the
truth, was afraid of water.
'We never drown,' Grandfather Musician said to her swiftly.
They were now standing on the high bank.
Yellow Scallywag was the first to jump.
'Here,' he shouted
•
from below. 'Someone had tied him to a
tree.'
'What's he saying?' asked Ginger puzzled. 'How can ,you tie a
boy up?' .
Zoya said nothing, but for some reason recalled her skipping
rope-she had left that too on the island. '
71
 CHAPTER T HIRTEEN

HOW IT ALL TURNED OUT

'Yes, yes, that's exactly as it was,' Lilac Scallywag was
recounting when they had all gathered on the little island and
were sitting there having a little rest and calming down. 'That's
exactly as it was.'
H e had gone back to the stream for Zoya's provisions. And
when he was about to jump someone h ad grabbed him from
behind , pu t his hands over Scallywag's eyes and clu ng to his
back.
'Jum p!' a voice had said . 'Go on, jump!'
That somebody was heavy; Scallywag jumped and fell short of
the island , dropping in to the water. H e was fri ghtened and
sur prised-a- that had never happened to him before. H e had not
shouted ou t, an d made no attempt to resist ; he just swa m across
the stream while that someone sitting on his back was giving
o rders,
'To the left. Leftward s. Now a bit to th e ri ght.'
His eyes had then been bound with something, an d he was
u nable to see a thi ng.
When Scallywag had gained the island , he had been dragged
to a tree and tied to it. With the skip ping rope. And then he had
been told,
'Sit still and keep quiet. Otherwise you'll be runnin g off and
moaning. Tell-tit. And don't be scared , no one's go ing to hit
you.' And then that someone had begu n to rummage abou t in the
bushes, and ea t something-chewing and munching.
'What did it eat?' asked Gr and father Musician. 'There isn't any
pink grass on the island .'
'I left some ap ples there,' replied Zoya. 'A pples and strawber-
ries. And a pie.'
'W hat's that?' asked Oran ge Scallywag.
But just th en Pink Scallywag jumped out of the bushes.
'T he Little Donkey has vanished somewhere. H e always sleeps
72 on the island at chan ge of day. T hat's right, Gran ddad ?'
 Th ey be ga n to se ar ch an d sh ou t. Th e Li ttl e Do nk ey wa s
e to be se en . Gi ng er Sc all yw ag su d de nl y bu rst in to bi tte r
no wh er
ay th e tea rs wi th th e en ds of he r sc arf , bu t
tea rs. Sh e wi pe d aw
th ey co n tin ue d to fl ow an d co u rse do wn he r ch ee ks.
'W ha t a to -d o !' sh e m oa ne d . 'T ied on e up . Ca rri ed th e ot he r
ot he r aw ay . Ho w ca n su ch a te rri ble th in g ev er
of f. Le d ye t an
ha pp en ?'
'Loo k fo r th e bo w, ' sa id Gr an df at he r M us ici an . H e slo wl y go t
up a nd go t re ad y to ju m p. 'Find it str aig htaway.'
H e co nt in ue d to loo k wa ril y ar ou nd , pe er in g ab ou t hi m at th e
an d br ea th in g in its sce nt: it wa s so me ho w
W h ite Flo we r
str on ge r an d mo re bit ter he re .
'N ow I r em em be r wh er e I lef t it, ' sh ou ted Gi ng er Sc all yw ag
wiping he r ey es ; an d sh e wa s th e fir st to lea p to th e ba nk .
'A nd I kn ow wh er e th e Li ttl e Do nk ey is, ' sa id Li lac Sc all yw ag
m sel f. 'T he on e ... we ll, th at pe rso n ... wh o
qu ietly , as if to hi
... pr ob ab ly he cro sse d ba ck ov er th e str ea m on th e
ca ptur ed me
Do nk ey. H e ca n't sw im, yo u see.'
'T he n wh y di dn 't he ju m p?' aske d Gr ee n Scallywag .
'B ecau se he ca n't ju m p. ..' Li lac Sc all yw ag sa id an d br ok e of f,
loo ki ng ro u nd fea rfu lly .
'W ha t? No t at all?'
'Im possible ,' th e ot he rs in ton ed .
Bo th Yellow an d O ra ng e sca lly wa gs too k ho ld of Zo ya -s inc e
sh e to o co ul d no t ju m p - an d sh or tly th ey we re all on th e hi gh
ba nk . .
Lilac Scallyw ag ha rd ly m ad e th e ba nk . H e wa s tre mb lin g all
d try in g to av oid ev ery bo dy 's ga ze ; his he ad wa s
over an
s sh ou ld er s as if he wa s gu ilty of so me -
with dr aw n in to hi
th in g.
Gr an df ath er M us ici an ca me up to hi m , pu t hi s ar ms r ou nd
hi m an d held hi m close .
'T he lad ha s di sco ve r ed wh at fea r is, ' he sa id , tu rn in g to Zo ya ,
as if sh e wa s th e eld es t. 'I t is ve ry da ng er ou s an d ba d .'
An d he loo ke d in to Lilac Sc all ywag 's eyes .
'I. .. Zo ya an d I ,' he sa id so ftl y, 'w e sh all do all we ca n to he lp
yo u fo rg et .'
73
 At th at moment there came a cry. It was just like a wild beast
caugh t in a trap or a bird caught by a predator. ..
But it wasn 't a beast or a bird. It was Ginger Scallywag. She
was on her knees a little way off, bending over the grou nd and
rocking from side to side.
'Is it the bow broken?' suggested Gran dfather Musician ,
hurrying over to th e gir l. 'Don't cry, don't cry, I'll mak e a new...'
And he sud denly fell silent.
The White Flower lay on the sand . Its head had been pressed
by a stone, wh ile the stem was hanging down at righ t-an gles just
short of the water. T he slen de r petals were already shrivell ing
up, were exuding a bitterish smell and were quite brittle. And
nearby, across th e sandy glade, there was a clear trail of
footsteps...
T hey were mad e by wedge-heeled shoes.
Zoya stood rooted to the spot: they were th e marks of her
shoes.
'I left the bow h ere...' sobbed Ginger Scallywag. 'A nd in its
place ... I find ... this.'
T he scallywags were quiet. Grandfather Musician ben t over
the Flower, lifted its limp head .
.'Perhaps we can take the Flower to the glade?' someone
suggested.
'O r sing to it?'
. b e so'11"
'M ay It ....
'It can't be saved ...' said Grandfather Mu sician quietly, though
everyone heard him . He straigh tened up , his eyes no longer so
trusting. 'I would like to know,' he murmured even more qu ietly,
'I would like to know who did this.'
The scallywags glanced abou t them.
'And I shall tell you what to do,' said Gra nddad. 'Everyone stand
at the edge of the glade and make your footprint in the san d.'
Straigh taway the scallywags did so. When Zoya went to pu t
her foot down , Lilac Scallywag quietly pulled her hack.
'Not you, Zoya,' he said.
'Why not?' she asked.
76 'Not you,' Lilac Scallywag said again .

•
 And Zoya suddenly understood.
'Do you really think it was me who cru shed it?' she said.
'That's it, isn 't it?'
And she pressed her foot down firmly into the sand as hard as
she could , leavin g an imprint of her wedge heel. Then she
buried her face in her hands and stepped aside.
The scallywags stood in silence. .
Zoya su ddenly noticed Lilac Scallywag kneeling awkwardly
beside her. H e alone looked at Zoya, looked h er straight in the
eyes kindly and d evotedly.
'I know it wasn't you, honest I do,' he said softly. 'But I feel
such a pain here.' And he pressed his hand to his heart. 'It hurts
so much.'
' It's not my fault ,' s aid Zoya. 'It hurts me too.'
'Yes? You too?' echoed Lilac Scallywag.'That's because you've
become like u s. And we can not live without th e White Flower.
'It's not my fault ,' Zoya r epeated. Then she added very
quietly, 'O nly who's going to believe me?'
Meanwhile the scallywags were still standing arou nd in silence ;
then they gradually made their way home. Grandfather Musician
walked in front.
o o ne said a word to Zoya, said for her to come alon g.
Neither her, nor Lilac Scallywag.

CH APTER FO URTEEN

ALL IS LOST
It suddenly grew dark. Then the darkness gave way to a
bright yellow light... No, not quite. It wasn't that the darkness
gave way; it was that out of the darkness a yellow tree stretched
forth its yellow branches, and the sky arou nd it, an d th e grass
beneath it, and the str eam - all turned yellow. After that
everything turned blue: the stream, the tree, the grass... Then
the same thing happen ed in green . Faster and faster. .. Soon
colou rs flash ed by as on a faulty television scree n . And a dry
crackling took the place of the music which sounded at chan ge 77
 of day. Zoya screwed up her eyes, hoping that what seemed to
be happening would pass. But it didn't. It continued .
Lilac Scallywag seized Zoya's hand an d pulled her towar ds the
house. T hey ran fast with all the various colours flash ing round
them like lightning. Flash ! Blue track, blue sand, blue grass.
Flash! Red bushes, red trees. Flash! And so on .
'If only Granddad could play...' said Scallywag out of breath.
T hen they cou ld blend together : the colou rs and the music.'
But there was no sense .talking about it. Grandfather cou ld not
play anything withou t the bow. And the fl ashing go t faster and
faste r.
Flash ! Flash ! O ran ge tree, orange hut. Flash! Flash! Green
door...
T hen all of a sudden Zoya spotted the bow standing by the
door. It was stand ing there leaning against the wall. Someone
had brough t it and left it there. It had been retu rned .
T he girl picked it u p and ran with the bow into the
house.
T he scallywags lay face downwards in the feather nest. T he
old man sat there, covering his eyes with gnarled fingers. Zoya
put the bow into his han d . T he old man glanced up vacantly and
carried it to the tru nk of the tree. T here r esounded the same old
wistfu l, th ough tender music. It somehow blotted out the
crackling. T he fl ashing grew less and less, the colours lost their
brilliance. Zoya heaved a sigh of relief. She snuggled up to the
old m an , laying her head against his dry hard shoulder, gazing
into his round , wide-open eyes.
'Grandfather,' she implored . 'Grandfather, I d idn't pick the
Flower. Please believe me...'
T he old man answered her without ceasing his playin g,
'We're in deep trou ble, Zoya. But I do believe you.'
Zoya u nd erstood : he was just saying that out of kindness. And
once more she mu rmu red ,
'But why then were there footprints fro m my shoes? Eh? It
surely was my shoes with the wedge heels.'
Grandfather Musician put aside his bow, and fell to thin-
78 king.
 •

'Yes. It was your footprint all right. All the same I do believe
,
you.
Flash! A bright blue colour exploded before them and
everything turned blue. Flash! Bright .red , Flash! Flash!
It was because Grandfather Musician had stopped play.
. ..
mg.
Once more he put his bow to the tree and again the colours
receded. Lilac Scallywag signalled Yellow and they left the hut
wgether. ,
'Grandfather,' whispered Zoya in the meantime, 'what are we
to do? You can't go on playing for ever. I want to help. Let's
think of something.'
The old man mournfully shrugged his shoulders.
Just at that moment Yellow and Lilac scallywags rushed
breathless into the house.
'It's not her footmarks,' cried Lilac Scallywag.
And Yellow ' repeated,
'It's not hers, not Zoya's footprints.'
When they had got their breath back they began to ex-
plain,
'We measured them-where Zoya walked alongside us-her
marks are small. These are similar, though bigger. A good deal
bigger.'
'And see what we have found ,' said Lilac Scallywag opening
his fist.
Everyone rushed to take a look.
'It's a beetle's wing,' said one scallywag.
'A pinecone husk!' exclaimed another.
'A dried-up leaf!' cried a third. ,
Zoya took a look too. Something very familiar lay in the rough
palm of Lilac Scallywag-it was semi-transparent, grey, with a
black smudge like a cat.
Zoya stepped closer. She wok the semi-transparent wrapper
from Lilac's hand and in the flashing light read the familiar
letters:

TOFFEE
 C HAPT ER FIFTEEN

THE T RA P
Now Zoya knew what to do . She sat down by the door, placed
her sketchbook on her knees and began to draw.
Lilac Scallywag peered over her shou lder, asking,
'A re you hungry, Zoya?'
T he girl gave no r eply. She d rew a pear, an apple and a pie,
picked them from the page and hastened from the house. She
hurried down to the stream . The Flower no lon ger lay in the
sandy glade. When the scallywags had left they had probably
take n it with them . Bu t the tracks remained . T here were the
wooden clogs of the scallywags; there were he r own, Zoya's
footmarks, and near at hand , by the incline, she saw who had
walked by, th e person who had crushed the White Flower with
the stone - Luba ViI kina !
'Ooh , you wait!' thought Zoya. 'Yo u've got to smash and spoil
everyth ing, haven't you. What did you kill the Flower for? Why?
And with a stone!' Zoya remembered th e poor little fl ower stem
han ging over the sandy outcrop far fro m the water. And
suddenly she understood : yes, that's it, Lu ba wanted to cross
over to the island . But wh y? Wh at on earth for? Zoya had left
the food there. Afte r all, Luba could n't draw-wh ere would she
get food fro m? It was her , of course, who had ate the pie. And it
was her who had seized the scallywag to cross to the islan d . She
had realised the stem was not lon g enough, so she had grabbed
hold of Lilac Scallywag. And now Zoya u nderstood about the
• Little Donkey: Luba had ridden on him after crossing over from
the islan d. She h ad snatched up the bow as well; and th en , when
the lights had started fl ashing, she had returned it, since she too
had suffered fro m the lights. O nly why had she needed it?
Perhaps she had wished to learn to play, like Ginger?
'Yo u rotten spoilsport, Luba!' thought Zoya. 'Right. I'll soon
fix it so you won't hurt anybody again.'
80 And Zoya set to scraping the soft ri ver side sand to dig a pit.
 It was quite easy to dig a hole at first, then the sand lay ha rd
a nd resiste d her fin ger s. All th e same she managed to dig a
fairly deep hole. It was a good thing Zoya had thought ea rlier of
diggin g the hole within reach of a long branch. She now ben t
the branch down to the ground and weighed the end down
with sand so that it wouldn't str aigh ten out and bounce back
up.
When her wor k was over, Zoya pulled herself out of th e pit by
the branch and pulled the branch over to the other side. Only
then did she look abou t her. T he air was pinkish , sometimes
streaked by other colou rs - lilac, blue, o ran ge; but they did not
change so shar ply. In th e distance she could hear musi c, and she
recognised th e tune: it was Ginger Scallywag who had played it
o n the day of the carn ival. That mean t .that Ginger had take n
over fro m Gra nd father Musician. But fo r how long could they
keep it up ?
Zoya began to hurry. She tossed all her food to the bottom of
the pit: the apple, pear and pie. 'Eat it up , Luba, my dear! '
Greedy Luba would jump down into the pit and not be able to
climb out. That was the whole point of her work.
But that wasn't all. No matter how long Luba sat at the bottom
of the hole - even for a hundred years- the Wh ite Flower
would not come back to life. Neither the scallywags, nor even
Grand father Musician himself knew how to bring it back to life.
But Zoya ... she would have a go .

CHA PTER SIXTEEN

A GOOD TRY
'Mister Painter brought us h ere. H e create d all th at you see
a rou nd you,' Yellow Scallywag had told her once.
'The painter lives on in his paintin gs,' Mother had said .
'In th is o ne too?' Zoya had asked.
'Certainly,' Mother had said .
And in the evening, with the curtains drawn , Zoya had seen 81
 for herself, had seen very clearly:
, in the right-hand corner of the
picture-probably very far off-e-, a house gleamed white. From
afar it looked like a toy-house. One little window shone with
light.
Zoya clapped her hands.
'Little Donkey!' she cried. And she knew the Donkey would
come because it was now her day, even though she didn't have a
cap on her head. Simply today she was stronger than all the
others.
And sure enough: the bushes rustled and then she heard
snapping and the clatter of hoofs: the s Little Grey Donkey
emerged into the clearing. He recognised her and extended his
trusting head towards Zoya.
'Help me, Little Donkey,' she begged. 'Help me to cross to the
other bank. You see, I can't jump like the scallywags, and I can't
. ,
swim.
The Little Donkey rubbed his back up against Zoya's side.
Perhaps he had not understood her words, but Zoya knew he
trusted her. Zoya climbed onto his back as he rocked back on his
hind legs and leapt lightly over the stream. Zoya had not even
known he could jump so well.
And why had she thought he had not understood her words?
He had understood her perfectly; otherwise he would have
landed on the island, as always. But they were now on the other
side of the stream. Zoya embraced the Little Donkey and kissed
him on his warm grey muzzle.
Thank you, dear Little Donkey,' she said.
And without a backward glance she set off along the
well-trodden path through the grass.
The path led up a hilI. The farther she got from the stream,
the lower was the grass. There was nothing in sight save the
grass. Zoya walked and walked uphill until she was quite tired.
Surely she wasn't wrong; there must be a white house about
somewhere? What would she do if there wasn't?
And then all of a sudden tree tops came into sight beyond the
hill. Zoya was so happy she started to run. But she was soon out
82 of breath and had to slow down.
 Th e trees came closer a nd there behind them a white house
came in view. It stood in a clearing an d was su rrou n ded by a
white fen ce with a gate.
'If on ly he's 'at home!' sh e murmured as- she crossed th e
clearin g. 'If o nly h e's at home an d I can explain everyth ing.'

"

CH APTER SEVENT EEN

A T UNCLE TADEUS'S HO USE

T he wh ite gates were unlocked . Zoya push ed them open an d
wen t into the yard . Across the neat green lawn she spied a
two-storey narrow hou se with a veranda that ran the whole
len gth of the grou nd floor. U n cle Painter was stan d ing on the
veran d a steps. H e was exactly as he h ad once sketched himself:
his narrow face was fr am ed in a d ark velvet beret an d a choker
neatly tied at the collar of a wh ite sh irt. An d a big brownish-red
bird was sittin g on his shou lder.
'U nc.. .' Zoya uttered a cry an d stopped shor t.
' Hello there, Zoya !' called U ncle kindly, smiling, as if he knew
h er well. He kissed th e top o f h er h ead , hugged her by the
shou lders an d led her indoors.
A narrow wooden staircase rightaway led from the tall white
door with its brass twisted knocker. At the top was a carved
wind ow with fl owerpots stan d ing on the sill . Zoya felt she h ad
climbed those stairs before once upon a time. .
T he Pain ter opened wide the tall brown d oor. Zoya at once
sensed the smell of paints.
. '

'Come on in, come in , Zoya,' Uncle said invitin g her indoors.

'You'll find it interestin g.'
She found herself in t he painter's stu d io. Arou nd the walls
stood an d hun g various pictures, paints were scattered over a
rou ghly-h ewn table by the window, an d brushes stuck ou t of a
tall glass. H er eyes alit on a carved black box- exactly the same
as the on e Aunt Janina had given Zoya on her birthday. Zoya
went straigh t up to it an d fin gered it lightly. 83
 'Do you like it?' asked Uncle Tadeus.
'I've got one just the same,' replied Zoya quietly. 'Only it
doesn't open.'
'Impossible!' exclaimed Uncle Tadeus. And he brought the
box closer to his eyes. 'You can't open this one so easily either;
all of these ancient things have their own secret.' He handed
Zoya the box. 'Have a try, open it.'
loy a did not know how to start talking about what she had
come about; and so as not to offend her Uncle, she tried to prise
the box open. But she couldn't.
'Now just take a good look at it,' he said. 'Perhaps you'll spot
something.'
Zoya, still preoccupied, began to turn the old box round,
studying the carved pattern with its 'shinin g pieces of mother-of-
pearl. Ladies in long gowns were pictured on it, and each was
holding ' a branch. It was all exactly as it was on Zoya's box. And
then Zoya noticed a flower bud on a branch; it was more
pronounced than the other blossoms and branches. Zoya glanced
up at her Uncle who nodded almost imperceptibly. ' .
'Just press it,' he said. 'But don't do it now.'
He said it in such a way that Zoya realised the time was ripe
for her to speak. Her voice faltered.
'Uncle...' she began. 'Uncle Tadeus... The scallywags no
longer have the White Flower. And they cannot live with-
. ,
out It.
The Painter frowned and shrugged his shoulders.
'What can I do about it?' he said. 'They should have looked
after it.'
'But it's not their fault. It was me, .me l All because of me!'
And Zoya burst into tears. She had not expected Uncle to greet
her news so coldly.
But he had turned away and was tidying up the paints on the
table; Zoya noticed that his hands were shaking.
'What stupidity!' he said sharply. 'What have you got to do
with it? I know all there is to know.'
'Dear Uncle; I showed her the picture and the scallywags...
84 And then she followed me.. .'
 'You've no right to be here anyway ,' the Painter' muttered. 'Is
that the way they bring you up?'
Zoya could see he was annoyed. Well, so what! As long as he
helped the scallywags she didn't mind. She ran to the Painter,
snuggle to his arm, saying,
'Uncle, please do something. They are such harmless crea-
tures , so ... defenceless.'
'I know what they are, Zoya,' Uncle Tadeus answered much
more kindly now , stroking her hair. 'And I'm glad you've grown
to like them . I even tried to paint...'
He picked up a picture and placed it on his easel facing the
wall. Come and take a look.'
The painting showed a flower , fresh, healthy, very much like
the one, the real White Flower.
'It's very like it.. .' murmured Zoya shyly.
•
'Yes, like it. Similar but not quite. And I don 't know whether I
can .. .' The Painter once more looked at the picture and
remained discontent. 'No, you don't get the same thing •
twice. Incidentally... Why must it be the same, eh, loya? ,
•
So long as it is alive, so long as it blends with the colour, ••
with the picture's music, isn't that right? What do you .J
think?' ,
• Zoya did not know, could not answer, but she was pleased that -•
<
'Uncle had taken up the work again. He had already picked u p a •,•
-,b ru sh and was liberally altering the shape of the petals, ~

··. lengthening the stem ... ••

•
<
. :. 'How do you call them?' he . asked gaily as he worked ,
.' 'Scallywags? Why scallywags?' • -,
l'

<
. : WelL.. I don't know...'
"Ve ry funny. They really are loveable, aren't they ? When I
-<:'-
<
•
• first painted such a ." scallywag" , you see, Zoya, I was living
~
~

~
-,
abroad and pined for my homeland. And all of a sudden they
• carrie to me. These beings. I had thought them up. Do you -,
<
•

. under stand -c- myself! I then felt happy with myself.' -•

•
~

• And then he suddenly added mysteriously, •

.
...••
'9 ne day you will find your own scallywags.' •
-e
85 --•
-..••
•

•
-• •

• "••
..
 C HA PTER EIGHTEEN

THE RETURN
Zoya had not understood what Uncle was talking abou t, but
she did want to h ave her own scallywags.
'Bu t how?' Zoya asked in a wh isper. 'How will I find them ?'
'First of all,' he said, 'you mu st d r aw someth ing you like.
Something interesting. Something you like very much or don't
like at all .'
And he ordered suddenly,
'Take a piece of pa per and sit down here at the table. T hen
you won't get in my way. Now, get on with your wor k.'
And he paid he r no more atten tion .
T here was no d oubt in Zoya's mind what, or rather, who she
did not like. She drew a short-haired girl with a toffee in her
hand. And th en , with a line here, here and there, she d rew lines
through her. And she her self su ddenly felt that it had not come
out well. Black smudges ran across the girl's arm and shou lder
like whip lash es; th at was bound to hurt her.
Zoya looked up at her Uncle.
'Of course it hurts,' he said . 'What do you want to hurt her for?'
Zoya ben t her head a nd kept silent. But she knew what for, .
for everything she'd done!
For the scallywags- it was so hard for them with all th e days
flashing by; and for going and spoiling everything. Oh , that
Luba, such a wicked girl, she can't even play fairly: ge ts caugh t
ou t by the skip ping rope, doesn't keep her eyes shut when Zoya
tells her - and th en climbs in to the painting ! And she scared
Lilac Scallywag; realised nothing about the Wh ite Flower, made a
rope out of it; and scoffs toffees by herself withou t offering
them round !
And Zoya scored through her drawing once again.
'Aha, Zoya,' said Uncle in su r prise. 'You seem to be not so
kind after all.'
'I don't care,' replied Zoya, withou t looking up. 'It's o nly a
86 drawin g.'
 'But you forgot about the pit. You did want your friend to.. .'
'What friend is she to me?'
'Well, let's just call her a girl then.'
'A bad girl,' argued Zoya. She had never spoken to anyone
like that before; something had got into her.
" She's a naughty girl, Uncle, believe me.'
'A fairly ordinary girl, 1 would say. After all, she was hungry.'
Zoya fell silent because she knew Uncle was right about that.
But he knew nothing about the skipping rope and the toffees, or
even the hunger. .. · You can't do things like that even when
you're hungry.
Only Zoya could not explain all that, so she just mumbled
something, scarcely audible,
'She's just like that, that's all.'
. 'What if she fell into your trap and broke her leg while you
are here?' Uncle asked. 'Or no one comes to the stream and she
can't climb out? You certainly know what would happen?'
'Y es. ,
'Would you like that?'
No, Zoya would certainly not wish that, she had not even
thought of that. Now she began to worry.
'Uncle, what if...'
'So, you see, Zoya. To tell you the truth, I'm not at all pleased
with the way you're behaving.'
Now Zoya was not so pleased with herself either. She felt
ashamed and downcast. Wouldn't it be nice if someone could put
things right, could pet and take pity on her, as Mother had
always done. Anyway, she was so very sad she'd not seen her
Mother for so long. Zoya suddenly covered the drawing with her
hands, laid her head down and burst into tears.
'Now then, now then, Zoya.'
The Painter's light hand stroked her hair.
'I want my Mummy,' cried Zoya. 'I'm not naughty, I'm not
naughty.' .
'I'll help you return,' murmured Uncle kindly.
'And Luba?'
'Her too. Come and see how the flower has turned out.' 87
 Zoya looked , but because of her tears the flower swam before
her eyes. All the same she could see that the fl ower was not
much of a likeness. The little petals all bu nched together were
wider and mo re com pact; they would n't be able to o pen up so
easily, or so it seemed. Even the colour was different: it wasn't
qu ite white - it had r ed and lilac smu dges on the tips .
Zoya wiped her eyes to take a better look.
'It has come out a bit different...'
'Naturally,' said U ncle.
'What will happen then ?'
'Well, life too will take a d ifferent course.'
'Worse?'
'I don't know th at myself yet, Zoya. Simply different.'
'Because of me,' thought Zoya again. ' And then she corrected
h erself, 'No, because of that Luba. She h as to poke her nose in
everywhe re. Now what abou t Luba?' asked Zoya.
'Your friend mu st get out,' th e Painter r eplied. And Zoya felt
he was getting cross again. 'But she won't get ou t withou t you r
help.'
Uncle gave her his hand. 'Come on , my girl,' he said.
His hand was warm a nd kindly. No, he wasn't cross. Not with
Zoya anyway.
T hey left the studio. On the threshold Zoya glanced back at
the painting. And she noticed something: the lush petals of the
flower were pressing upon the little green box, pushing it wider
and wider; and meanwhile a strong sweet-scen ted fragrance was
clearly discernible throu gh the paint; it made one slightly dizzy.
The flower had begun to come alive! ~
T hey made their way down the unlit staircase; it was dark
beyond the high window. Zoya had quite forgotten about that:
daytime, then evening, darkness. She cou ld no lon ger m ake ou t
the ste ps, could not understand where th ey were going. It was
just like playing 'find-your-way-home', only no one h ad twirled
her rou nd. And it was certai nly no game.

T ouch collar
88 Never swallow
,
 N ever ca tch the fev er,
To uch you r kn ee
T ou ch your ch in
Ne ver let the tom cat in.
One f or you
•
On e for me
One f or all the fam ily.
Cross my fin gers
Cr oss my toes
Th at 's the way the game go es...

All of a su dd en , Zo ya fel t a fre sh br ee ze re do len t wi th th e

th e ea rth , th e gr as s, bu sh es an d tre es. Th ey we re no w
sm ell of
lea vin g th e Pa in ter 's ho us e... An d sh e be ga n to wo rry.
'U nc le, ' Zo ya ca lle d hi m ve ry so ftl y. 'U nc le, wi ll yo u ne ve r giv e
me yo u r gi ft now ?'
'O h yo u silly litt le gir l, Zo ya ,' he sa id sm ili ng in th e da rk ne ss.
'H ow do yo u th in k yo u co ul d ha ve lived he re , wi th us , an d go t to
kn ow us all?'
An d he kis se d he r on th e he ad . 'R un alo ng no w. An d do n't be
af ra id . Th ere's no pa th , so yo u 'll ha ve to fee l yo ur wa y alo ng . Do
yo u th in k yo u'll be all rig ht ?'
Zo ya no dd ed . Sh e wa nt ed to ask so me th in g els e, bu t at on ce
fo rg ot be ca use a fam ili ar vo ice wa s ca lli ng he r in th e di sta nc e.
'Zo ya! Zoya!'
'It 's Mot he r,' sh e sh o ut ed an d ra n ha rd . Sh e ra n as fas t as sh e
in g ov er sto ne s, or it mi gh t ha ve be en flo we r-b ed s.
co ul d, tri pp
br ea th , lis ten ing fo r M ot he r's vo ice to re ac h
An d sh e he ld he r
he r ea rs ag ain . Bu t it was qu iet . Th e gir l ca me to a ha lt.
• Th e bu sh es ar ou nd he r ru stl ed in th e br ee ze .
A tal l to we r blo ck ap pe ar ed at ha nd , etc he d ag ain st th e da rk
sk y. Its wind ow s we re all lit up in di ffe re nt co lo ur s. Zo ya rea lis ed
aw ay th at it wa s a to wn ho us e -; Sh e em er ge d fro m th e
str aig ht
bu sh es an d fel t as ph alt be ne ath he r feet.
He r ey es gr ad ua lly go t us ed to th e da rk an d Zo .ya sa w an
ap pl e sa plin g- th at was familiar!
Th at be in g so ,' Zo ya th ou gh t, 'if th at' s th e ca se , th er e ou gh t to 89
 be a tu mb led ow n fe nce ar ou nd he re so mewh er e.' An d th er e
it
was. An d br ick s, an d bi ts of wo od , an d pl an ks fro m pulle d down
ho uses. Yet Zo ya was un ce rta in wh ich way to go ; sh e ha d no
t
be en on th is wastelan d at ni gh t. Sh e fu mb l ed in th e po cket of
he r tro user s an d felt a cr u m ple d pie ce of pa pe r. Ta kin g it ou
t
sh e ma d e h er way to a lam pp os t- sh e ha dn 't no ticed th at eit he
r
in th e da yli gh t- an d re ad th e wo r ds in th e du ll glow of th
e
lam p. T he y we re wr itt en in Mot he r's ne at ha nd wr i tin g:
Ap ar tm en t 101 , 7, Ch er rywood Drive .
A lad y was walking slowly alo ng th e pa ve m en t, lea di ng a
fie rce-lo ok in g bu lld og on a lea sh. Zoya ste pp ed br iskly to wa rd
s
th em.
'W ou ld yo u be kin d en ou gh to tell me wh er e Ch er ry wo od
Dr ive is?' sh e as ke d .
'You 'll ha ve to go ro un d , little girl,' th e lad y r eplie d . 'T he re 's a
bu ild in g site ah ea d .' ,
An d sh e ex pla ine d ex ac tly how Zo ya co uld fin d he r ho use.
Zoya di d no t re co gn ise th e str ee ts at all. An d th at was ha rd ly
su rp rising , sin ce sh e ha d lived th er e su ch a sh or t wh ile. W ha t
a
rel ief , wh at a go od th in g th at Mot he r ha d pu t th e .ad d ress in he
r
po ck et ! r-

CH APT ER NINETEEN
--
•

HOME
-
Zo ya finall y fo un d he r en tr an ce, took th e lif tto th e fo ur th
'
flo or an d pr esse d th e bell. Sh e he ar d hu r rie d foot ste ps . It wa
s
M ot he r. Of co ur se it wa s Mot he r- on ly sh e wo re hi gh he els
in do or s. . _. "
Th e door op en ed . Zo ya saw he r M ot he r's fri g·hten ed ey es and
saw . he r tak e two ste ps ba ckwa rd . .T he n su d denl y sh e ru sh ed
fo rwar d an d ' em brac ed Zoya, cr yin g. W he n !o e ha d fin ish ed
cr yin g, sh e be ga n to se ar ch fo r a ha nd ke rc hie fj n her poc ke
t,
while cli ng in g to Zoya. Bu t sh e di dn 't have a ha nk ie , so M ot he
r
wipe d he r wet face with th e en d of Zoya's p igt ail. _
. 'Ja ni na ,' sh e sh ou ted.: 'Ja n in a. Co m e he re .' •

• •
 'What? What is...' And Aunt Janina froze.
Then she took her glasses from her pocket, put them on and
came up to Zoya on tiptoe, as if scared of frightening her away.
'Dear child,' murmured Aunt Janina, feeling Zoya's hands to
make sure sh e wasn 't seeing things. And th en in the same
hushed tones she said again,
'My dear child.'
And only then did she burst into tears.
Zoya did not quite understand why it was they were crying so
much; she was glad to be back, and she was even gladder that
Aunt Janina had found a hankie, since Zoya's pigtails were not
lon g enough to mop up all the tears being shed that night.
All of a sudden, something alive and warm pressed against
Zoya's legs. Without taking her glance from the weeping women,
Zoya bent down and smoothed the soft fur of th e form er
•
neighbour's cat.
I shall not bore you with what happened next: how all the
lights were turned on in the apartmen t, how all the best jars of
home-mad e jam were opened and how Aunt Janina baked a
special pie-much better th an the one Luba Vilkina had
taken such a fancy to th at time. Zoya broke off a piece, dropped
her hand below the table, calling,
•
'Puss, puss, puss.'
Ju st at that moment the doorbell r an g. And Zoya knew at
once wh o was there. Sh e herself r an to o pen the door. It was
Luba. Alive and well. Her legs were not broken , they were shod
in dusty red wedge-heeled shoes with scraped toes. And through
her dress where it came d own to her right elbow, there was a
barely visible stripe, rath er like a scar .
Au nt Janina stand in g behind Zoya cr ied,
'Luba, so you've also been found . Thank Good ness.'
Luba Vilkina nodded politely to h er, then told them in some
•
su r prIse,
'Mother was ever so concerned abou t me, she even cried.
Father too. They were absolutely certain I would never stray far.'
Zoya inspected th e stripe on Luba's sleeve.
'W here .did you scratch you rself, Luba?' asked Aun t Janina. 93
 'Oh, that's nothing,' answered Luba. 'I've almost cleaned it all
,
up.
She smoothed her skin with her hand, rubbed the dark stripe
and suddenly darted a sideways glance at Zoya.
'Another time you .. .' Luba began, but left it there.
Uncle Tadeus was right, of course, when he had asked Zoya
not to do it again, and Zoya wanted to tell Luba straightaway
that she wouldn't do it again. But she kept her thoughts to
herself: she herself did not yet know how she would act another
•
tIme.
'Girls, girls, come and have a cup of tea and some pie,' called
Mother from the kitchen. r

CHAPTER TWENTY

UNCLE TADEUS'S GIFT

The girls sat down in silence at the table.
'My dear children,' said Aunt Janina fussing round them. 'Dig
.into the pie. It really is delicious.'
•
'It certainly is,' said Luba nodding politely and, leaning
towards Zoya, she muttered,
'Her pie is better than yours ... in the sketch ... Besides, it was
covered with sand.'
'What's that?' asked Mother in surprise.
'We're just playing, Mummy,' said Zoya. And she hissed in
Luba's ear, 'You could have come out in the open instead of
hiding and watching us .. .'
'What did I want with those little monsters?'
'Why did you come crawling after us then?' said Zoya.
'So what, I wasn't going to let you loose all by yourself.'
'Girls, girls, what are you whispering about?' asked Mother,
coming over to them.
'We haven't seen each other for so long,' blurted out Luba.
She held out her hand to Aunt Janina.
94 Thank you for the pie.'
• /
/
 And to Zoya's Mother she said .
I Thank you for your kindness.'
And off home she went. Mother and Aunt Janina took Zoya
to her room and put her to bed. When they had both kissed her
good night and left the room , Zo a got straight out of bed. The
room seemed just as if no one had been in th ere while she had
been gone ; only the du st had been wiped from the table, the
window sill and all the shelves. A smooth shiny leaf lay on the
table alon gside her sketchbook; veins and arteries spread out all
over it from its thick stem. Once more Zoya thought how much
it resembled a human hand. Just a moment! What was it doing
there? Zoya ran in her nightdress into the next room. Mother
and Aunt Janina were busy clearing the table.
'What's the matter, dear ch ild?' asked Aunt Janina.
'Where's this from?' asked Zoya, holding ou t the leaf.
'Oh , that's a funny business,' said Mother with a smile. 'When
I noticed you were gone a nd began to look for you in the
apartment - I had thought you might have been here some-
where - I went into my room and found it on the fl oor:'
'Under the painting?' asked Zoya excited ly.
'So it seems. Anyway on the fl oor. I was quite su r pr ised : we
don't have leaves like that round here. When I examined it-can
you credit it? I began to feel less anxious. Auntie Janina will
back me up. Most peculiar, of course.'
Zoya smiled. She left a sad yet warm thrill wh en thinking of
the orange day, the dear little scallywags, their innocence and
kindness. Zoya kissed her Moth er and Aunt Janina and went
quietly back to her room. She switched on the table lamp and
ope ned the painting book.
She stared at the little men in their three-cornered caps which
she had once drawn , so very lon g ago . How like the scallywags
they were, and yet how unlike them. Just like wh en you hang
painted paper apples on the ,Chr istmas T ree. Similar, but not the
real thing.
By chance her gaze fell upon her bedside table: the black
carved box was lying there. Zoya picked up the strange old box
a nd shook it by her ea r. As before there was something rattling 95
 and rolling about. The ladies in their long gowns smiled up at
her from the lid, and each had a branch . But one of th em was
holding... Yes, there it was, a bud of one of the flow ers was
sligh tly more pronounced. Zoya pressed it at once. Something
shivered, creaked and the black lid o pened by itself.
Zoya excitedly peered inside. There was no doubt about it.
There, inside the old box of the fam ous painter Uncle T adeus
lay ... just two paintbrushes : they were old and worn out; th ere
was also the stub of a pencil.
If Zoya had been Luba Vilkina, she would probably have
curled her lip in contem pt and exclaimed,
'Fancy keeping that rubbish!'
But Zoya was Zoya and she did so want to become a real
painter. So she said nothing at all, only gently touched th e things
that retained the aura of great wor k.
Zoya put down the box beside her and again set to painting at
the table. At the top of her paper th ere appeared a greyish sky.
T hen it turned sligh tly pink. Then came a tree-perhaps an
oak. And black mysterious branches pierced the heavens; then
Zoya realised that this was something worth looking at carefully.
So she did: she gazed at it circumspectly. And then grass
a ppeared - two brownish-grey stems. And a hollow in the tree.
Out of the hollow an owl peered short-sightedly woken up by
the arrival of even ing. The branches rustled, the blades of grass
bobbed th eir head s, and someone's footprints appeared barely
visible in the sand . The picture began to come to life ; it began to
breathe. It was not at all like what Uncle T adeus had painted ; all
the same, if you wanted to, if you made an effort.. .
Mother evidently had been calling Zoya. And Zoya had
eviden tly not heard her. Mother peeped into the r oom: th e girl
was sitting over a sh eet of paper. Mother nodded and said
nothing, perfectly con ten t. In actual fact, things were not as
simple as th ey seemed, since Zoya could leave for that place, for
th at tree, th e hollow and there she would meet... No, it's not yet
certain who. But she could go there at almost an y time she
wished.
96