Milly returns to the sitting room closely followed by Clinton.
“Did you find the spaghetti?” her Aunt asks.
“Yes, it tastes just as I remember it, but there were no mice,” Milly replies while stroking Clinton’s head. He responds by rolling over, so she can rub his tummy. Patsy stands and picks up the tea tray.
“Why don’t you explore upstairs and choose a room for yourself?” she says, heading for the hallway.
“I don’t mind which room I have, Aunty, you choose one for me,” Milly calls back to her.
Patsy stops halfway across the hall and turns to her niece.
“I can’t just give you a room, Milly dear. You and your room have to choose each other,” she says with a smile.
Milly stands up and leaves the sitting room. Clinton follows until he realises that she’s not going to the basement, then he returns to the carpet and his dreams of catching mice.
As Milly climbs the spiral staircase she taps each of the wooden spindles to hear them whistle their tune.
When she reaches the top she laughs and turns left so that she is facing the green door where earlier the mice had stood discussing her.
They had heard Milly coming up the stairs and fled into the bathroom; Bengi on the other hand had climbed onto his tree-top-platform to await his visitor licking his lips.
Milly opens the green door and steps inside. The room looks like a jungle. The ceiling is painted with a deep blue sky. The carpet is mainly green and seems to be swaying like a grassy meadow. Down the centre of the carpet is a blue curvy-river-pattern with a small bridge across its centre. The walls are painted with trees, flowers and animals. Milly is sure she can feel the animal’s eyes upon her.
The single bed in the middle of the room has a patchwork quilt of large leaves with monkey faces lying across it. As Milly turns and faces a bamboo wardrobe in the far corner she is sure one of the monkeys winks at her. She shakes her head and steps carefully across the bridge to reach the wardrobe. She opens it slowly. Inside she finds a row of flowered blouses, purple skirts and brown checked aprons on hangers made from twisted willow.
“This must be my Aunt’s room,” she says as she closes the door and catches a glimpse of something slithering up the side of the wardrobe.
Milly takes a step back and hears a low growl. She turns slowly and comes face to face with Bengi, who is now standing in the middle of the room, his reflection glistening in the river, which flows between him and his prey.
“Don’t worry about him, hiss growl is worsse than hiss bite,” hisses a voice from the top of the wardrobe.
Milly steps slowly to one side so that she can see both Bengi and the owner of the voice, a large snake curled up on the corner of the wardrobe looking down at her.
“My name is Ssammy. My friend over there - I use the term friend in the loosest of terms - iss Bengi. May we assk who you are?” hisses the snake.
Milly can feel her knees knocking and the hair on the back of her neck standing up.
“Y-y-you can talk?” she finally manages to stammer.
“You don’t belong here,” threatens Bengi.
Milly straightens herself up and tries to look brave, after all this is just a dream.
“My name is Milly,” she tells them, her voice a little squeakier than she would have liked. Then, turning to face Bengi once more, she adds, “and for a tiger I think you are very rude.”
“Met many tigerss, have you?” laughs Sammy.
“This is our home and you’re not welcome,” snarls Bengi.
“It’s my home, too.” Milly snaps back, as she and Bengi glare at each other.
Sammy uses this distraction to slide down the wardrobe and up Milly’s legs. Bengi sees the look of horror on her face and then sees its cause. He lets out a deafening roar and Sammy hurls himself from Milly’s legs into the patchwork quilt.
Suddenly the room is filled with the sound of screeching, which echoes off every wall. Then several monkeys spring from the quilt and dart around the room. They leap on the wardrobe, hang from the light bulb and drape themselves from the curtains.
“That’s all we need,” moans Bengi as he bounds over Milly to his tree platform on the wall beside the wardrobe.
Milly, unable to believe her eyes, steps up to the wall and runs her hand across the place where Bengi is lying. She can feel nothing but a smooth wall, though she is sure that she can hear Bengi purring. If it wasn’t for the monkeys, which are still noisily playing around the room, she would have thought it all still a dream.
“We’re not all so rude, dear,” squeaks a voice from above Milly’s head.
Milly looks up and there, swinging from the tail of a monkey – who is in turn swinging from the light bulb - is an African grey parrot.
“Aren’t you in the wrong jungle?” Milly asks.
“At last someone who understands my problem,” he screeches back. “My name is Sid and obviously the artist who painted us doesn’t know his African from his Indian. I suppose it could have been worse. I mean, he could have put me in the black room or in with old Ketos. Now, that would have been a nightmare.” He shudders.
“Artist, Ketos, Black room, what’s going on here?” Milly asks.
Sid flies down and sits on her shoulder. He lets out a high pitch screech that sends the monkeys scurrying back into the quilt and almost bursts poor Milly’s eardrum.
“That’s better now, we can hear ourselves think, my dear. As for your questions where would you like me to begin?”
Milly isn’t sure and shrugs her shoulders.
“The beginning is always the best place, old Ketos would say. So we’d better begin there,” says the parrot as he flies on to the bedpost and makes himself comfortable.
“Will I be alright to sit on the bed?” Milly asks.
“Of course, my dear, sit!” says Sid and Milly sits.
“Now where was I? Oh yes, the beginning. Well, that would be the artist or painter - depending on your view, of course.” Sid laughs. “Anyway your Aunt got fed up with wallpaper and decided she wanted something different. One day this out-of-work-painter, -artist came to the house looking for somewhere to stay.
Your Aunt offered him board and lodgings, if he painted the house. So he did, and we’ve all been here ever since,” Sid says, flapping his feathers.
”But how and who?” asks Milly.
“So many questions. I don’t know how, I’m only a parrot. As for who, we are too many to mention, but I’m sure you’ll meet everyone sooner or later. Though I must warn you, don’t ever go into the black room. Not ever, do you hear me?” Sid shudders at the thought.
“You mentioned a Ketos; would he be able to tell me more?” Milly asks.
“I suppose he could,” says Sid, flying onto Milly’s shoulder. “He doesn’t like visitors during lesson time, though. It distracts the Mer-people.”
“Lessons, Mer-people, who is this Ketos?” Milly asks as they head for the door.
Sid shrugs and replies, “Ketos is Greek for sea-monster but I wouldn’t let that scare you, he’s really nice, but he insists on teaching things. You know Maths, English, History, that kind of thing. The seals and the Mer-people don’t like it, but they’re too scared to tell him.
“Will you take me to Ketos now?” Asks Milly.
“Do come again soon. I so enjoyed having you. Perhaps next time I could have you for lunch,” growls Bengi from his platform. Milly ignores him and walks out the door.
Once on the landing again Milly faces a yellow door. “Left,” demands Sid and they turn left. They pass a white door and then they come to the black door. Milly puts her ear up against the door and can hear faint moaning sounds from inside.
“Come on, Come on,” Sid begs her.
“But someone might be in trouble, we should go in,” argues Milly.
“I may only be a parrot, but I’m not stupid, you know. Not even Bengi will go in there,” Sid screeches in her ear. Then he adds, “I’m going to see Ketos, you coming or not?”
Milly walks over to the blue door, still aware of the sounds from the black door and determined to find out who or what is inside.
Meanwhile in the sitting room Patsy and Milly’s mother are discussing Milly’s future.
“I’m going to stay here and teach her myself,” Milly’s mother says.
“I’m sure you know what’s best, dear, but don’t you think she needs to mix with people her own age?”
“Her friends can come and visit during holidays, can’t they?”
“Of course they can, dear, but people from town don’t like coming through those woods,” Patsy says.
“Well, I can’t have Milly going through them every day to school and back, so we’ll have to do our best to keep her happy,” sighs Milly’s mother.
“Everything will be alright, dear, you’ll see,” says Patsy as she places an arm round her sister’s shoulder
“Patsy, you won’t say anything more about your friends, will you? You promised, remember?”
“You still don’t believe me, do you? Just because you’ve never seen them, doesn’t mean they’re not real. You think I’m crazy,” Patsy says angrily.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I just think you’ve spent too much time alone in this big house,” Milly’s mother replies.
“You will see them one day, I’m sure. Until than I won’t mention them to Milly, unless she asks me, ok?” With this Patsy turns to stare out of the window at the woods.
“I wonder if Milly has chosen a room yet.” Milly’s mother says, but her sister doesn’t answer, so she, too, stares out of the window.
© Tina O'Neill, 2008
