Lana sighed with disappointment. ‘It’s the school holidays,’ she said. ‘We’re meant to do fun things. And supermarkets aren’t fun.’
‘Come on,’ replied her mother. ‘I’ll buy you treat.’
Lana’s ears pricked up. ‘What sort of treat? A book?’ She might not be able to have fun adventures with Harrison, but if she could find a new book she could at least read about far-off lands or daring escapes.
‘Yes, if that’s what you want. Now, I’m going downstairs to tell your father that we’re going out. Hopefully, by the time you join me, all my perfumes will be back where they belong.’
Lana tried to look innocent.
‘Including the one you’re hiding behind your back,’ said Lana’s mother with a breezy smile.
Chapter Two
If there was one thing to say about Little Hilcot, the village where Lana lived, it was this: it never changed. As they drove down the hill from their cottage, everything she saw was achingly familiar. There was the same old red post box, standing sentry outside the village shop, and there was the same old row of crooked houses, threatening to collapse onto the tiny village school. Last of all came Hilcot House, with its high yew hedge, where every summer the Gatcombe family hosted the village fete.
But as they made the turn out onto the common, Lana could scarcely believe her eyes. Her mother was right: there, where yesterday Lana was sure there had been nothing but grass, was the most enormous new supermarket. A fresh tarmac road swept them off the lane and through a neat brick arch, into a colossal car park, with trees and shrubbery planted in orderly fashion.
‘Well, what do you think?’ asked Lana’s mother, parking in one of the newly marked-out bays and turning off the engine.
‘Where did all this come from?’ asked Lana, gazing up at the shiny new building.
‘I don’t know. I suppose they must have been building it through all the bad weather, when everyone was indoors? Although how they did it with no one noticing…’ Lana’s mother trailed off, looking puzzled. ‘Anyway, shall we go and take a look around?’
They both climbed out of the car and headed to the entrance. Lana’s mother unhitched the first in an enormous line of brand-new shopping trolleys, and swished in through the automatic doors.
By the time Lana caught up with her, she was already loading her trolley with bumper packs of toilet roll.
‘Look at this!’ her mother cooed. ‘Forty-eight rolls for the price of twenty-four! And it’s three-ply. We need to snap this up while we’ve still got the chance. As soon as word gets out, this place will be rammed!’
‘That’s great,’ replied Lana, trying to sound enthusiastic. ‘But do we really need that much toilet roll?’
‘What’s this?’ asked her mother in an awed voice. ‘Buy nineteen boxes of aluminium foil and get the twentieth free? That’s unbelievably good value.’
‘Can I go and find the book section?’ asked Lana.
‘That can’t be right…’ muttered her mother, in a world of her own. ‘Thirty-six bags of barbecue briquettes for the price of thirty? I wonder if that’s a misprint.’
Lana was about to say that they didn’t have a barbecue, but thought better of it. And while her mother continued shopping, she quietly slipped away…
* * *
Grimm’s, it seemed, was enormous. After wandering aimlessly through a huge Fruits and Vegetables section, Lana found herself marooned in a never-ending row of Baked Goods that finally led to Jams and Preserves, which merged into Biscuits and Cereals, before making her way through the Frozen Ready Meals aisle and finding herself back at… Fruits and Vegetables. The shelves and fridges that bordered the aisles were double her height and Lana began to lose hope of ever finding the book section.
She thought about asking for directions, but not only were there no other customers; she couldn’t see any staff either. The tills were empty and there was no one behind the deli; the pharmacy and the café were silent. For one brief moment Lana thought she spotted someone stacking the freezers, but it turned out to be her mother, loading her overflowing trolley with boxes of frozen pizza.
Lana was about to give up her book search, when she heard a peculiar scuffling noise that seemed to be coming from an aisle towards the far end of the store.
‘Fittlesticks!’ rasped a high, nasal voice. ‘Rickety snickety fittlesticks!’
Curious, Lana crept forward. There, standing on tiptoe, arms outstretched, struggling to place a large red leather-bound book on a high shelf, was an extremely odd-looking man. He was roughly Lana’s height, but looked much older – as old as her grandpa – and he was dressed in a maroon boiler suit with a smart gold trim. His eyes were beady and brown, his nose and ears were enormous, and his large, bald head was speckled with warts.
‘Well, don’t just stand there, child!’ he barked at her. ‘Help me!’
Lana leapt forward and placed her hands on the wide spine of the book, either side of the man’s. His fingernails were long and yellow.
‘Push!’ strained the little old man. ‘Harder!’
Lana focused all her effort, but the book was extraordinarily heavy. Before she really knew what was happening, she toppled backwards, and found herself pinned to the floor, with the book sprawled open across her chest.
‘You dropped it!’ he spat.
‘Sorry,’ said Lana, squirming out from underneath. ‘I did try my best.’
As she spoke, her eye caught one of the illustrations. It was of a witch, with a long nose and a sharp chin, surrounded by a tangled forest.
‘No peeking,’ snarled the little old man, snatching the book. His face was level with hers, and Lana could see tiny white bristles on the end of his nose. ‘I’m putting it on a high shelf, away from nosy children like you.’
He was so defensive that Lana instantly wanted to know more about the book.
‘Why does it need to be out of reach? What’s in it?’
‘Fairytales,’ replied the little old man, hugging the book to his chest, as if he was worried that Lana might try to take it from him.
Fairytales? Now Lana was really interested! ‘Can I see it?’ she asked. ‘I’m allowed to buy a book as a treat, and I love fairytales.’
‘Not like these you don’t,’ he said, frowning at her. ‘These are proper fairytales, centuries old, much too scary for you. You should give that one a go instead.’ He pointed to a dull-looking picture book on the lowest shelf. ‘It’s called The Little Tugboat Who Tried. A big ship breaks down and a little tugboat tries to pull it to shore. Except the big ship is very heavy, almost too heavy, for the little tugboat.’
‘And what happens?’ asked Lana.
‘Well, he keeps trying,’ said the little old man, ‘and eventually he manages it.’
‘Right,’ said Lana, thinking that either the story wasn’t very interesting or the man wasn’t telling it quite right.
‘Trust me,’ he said, pushing Lana towards the picture book. ‘You’ll be much happier with this. Look, see? Lots of bright, friendly, safe pictures.’