Beverley Nichols - The Tree that Sat Down

Very cautiously she began to creep through the bushes. Now and then the branch of a wild rose caught in her skirt, and once she nearly stumbled over a stone. But step by step she drew nearer to the zebra. What a pretty little thing he was! He looked so tired – his front legs were crossed over each other, and his head was thrown back into a cluster of ferns; she could see the Sleepo rising regularly, in tiny puffs, through the ferns, like pale blue smoke.

She was nearly on him now, and was just about to undo the lid of her jar, when suddenly the air was rent with a shrill cry. Out of the shadows leapt a boy, with a ragged shirt and red hair. Over his head he waved a glass jar. With a single jump he landed on the zebra’s back and clamped the jar over its nose. For a second the poor little beast seemed stunned, then it jumped to its feet with a loud neigh. The boy was still holding the jar to its nose, but when the zebra leapt up, he was thrown from its back into a bramble bush. As he fell, he clutched his jar very closely to him.

The zebra darted away into the woods and the boy scrambled to his feet. Judy wondered where she had seen him before; then she remembered … of course, it was Sam, whose grandfather had just bought the only other shop in the wood, which was called The Shop in the Ford. (We will tell you more about this shop later.)

Judy did not like the look of Sam very much, but she was a polite little girl, so she said, ‘Good afternoon.’

‘What’s good about the afternoon?’ snapped Sam. ‘And who are you, anyway?’

‘I live in The Shop Under the Willow Tree.’

‘That old dump!’ Sam made a rude face. ‘I wouldn’t live in a place like that if you paid me a thousand pounds.’

Judy was about to say that it was not very likely that anybody would want to pay him a thousand pounds, when she noticed that his knee was scratched.

‘Oh, you’ve hurt yourself!’ she cried.

‘It’s nothing,’ he retorted. ‘And anyway it’s none of your business.’

‘Really,’ thought Judy, ‘he is the rudest boy I ever met.’ However, she made another effort to be pleasant.

‘Were you collecting Sleepo?’ she asked.

‘Sleepo! That stuff! Of course not. I was collecting Wakeo.’

‘Wakeo? Whatever’s that?’

‘It wakes you up. Every time you startle an animal out of its sleep its breath has got a lot of Wakeo in it. Only don’t you go collecting it, because my grandfather’s going to patent it.’

‘I certainly shouldn’t dream of collecting such a thing,’ replied Judy indignantly.

‘You couldn’t even if you tried,’ sneered Sam, ‘because you have to have a magic jar, or it escapes. And anyway, you’d be too frightened.’

‘No I wouldn’t.’

‘Yes you would.’

‘No I wouldn’t .’ Judy stamped her foot. ‘It isn’t because I’d be frightened but because I think it’s very unkind to go jumping about on animals’ backs when they’re tired out and want to sleep.’

‘Pooh! Who cares about being kind to a lot of silly animals?’

‘I do. Besides, I’m quite sure it can’t be good for people to take Wakeo.’

‘Oh, yes it is! It makes them jump and sing and go on like mad. Old Mrs Parrot bought some the other day; she’s a hundred and eight; and after the first dose she climbed to the top of a tree and began to sing hymns.’

‘I don’t think people ought to sing hymns on the tops of trees, not if they’re a hundred and eight,’ replied Judy severely. ‘She might have fallen down and broken her neck.’

‘All the better,’ chuckled Sam. ‘Then we could have sold her some Necko to mend it again.’

‘Don’t you ever think of anything but selling things and making money?’ asked Judy.

‘Not very often. I’m going to be a millionaire. That’s more than you’ll ever be. In fact, if you don’t look out, you won’t have anything left at all. You’ll be turned out of that old shop of yours.’

Judy felt a little cold shudder run down her spine, for her grannie was very poor, and was always afraid of being turned out of the shop.

‘How do you mean?’ she whispered.

‘I mean that all the animals are going to come to our shop. We’re going to sell all sorts of new things, and they’ll be much cheaper, and we’re going to advertise.’

‘Advertise? Whatever’s that?’

‘Of course you wouldn’t know. It means painting things on tree trunks and writing things on leaves.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Things letting the animals know that we’ve got everything they want – telling them that we can cure them of all their illnesses.’

‘But can you?’

‘Of course not, but we shall say we can. What does it matter as long as we get their money?’

‘It sounds downright wicked!’ cried Judy.

‘You only say that because you didn’t think of it yourself.’

‘I should be ashamed if I did think of such things. It’s wicked … telling lies to poor animals.’

‘Oh, you are goody-goody!’ jeered Sam.

‘I don’t care if I am. I’d rather be goody-goody than a thief.’

Sam shrugged his shoulders and grinned. ‘Have it your own way, goody-goody,’ he said.

Judy could bear it no longer. She turned on her heel and ran rapidly through the wood. And after her came the harsh echo of Sam’s voice, growing fainter and fainter as she plunged deeper into the shadows:

Goody-goody Judy

Judy, Judy

Goody-goody Judy

Judy … Judy …

THE SHOP UNDER the Willow Tree might just as well have been called The Shop In the Willow Tree, because it would have been impossible to say where the shop began and where the Tree ended. It was a very old tree indeed, so old that the trunk had split open, forming a sort of cave, in which there was always a candle burning at night. When it was cold, Mrs Judy slept in the cave; otherwise she slept in a hammock high up in the branches. She used to swing backwards and forwards in the wind, and if you had looked up through the branches, on a wild night when the clouds were scurrying across the moon, you would have thought that she was some strange bird that was resting there.

The main business of the shop was conducted in what Mrs Judy called the ‘Extension’. This was really an immense branch which had sagged away from the trunk, through sheer age, and had come to rest on the ground, forming a sort of arch. The branch was not dead; it was just old, and it felt that it had earned the right to sit down. And so the arch was a living arch, pale green in spring, gold in autumn, bare in winter – but always strong and warm. Underneath the arch Mrs Judy had dragged an old log, and it was this log which served as a counter.

Apart from the Tree itself and the ‘Extension’ there was another department which Mrs Judy called the ‘Bargain Basement’. This had originally been only a dip in the ground, but Mrs Judy had hollowed it out till it was about four feet deep, and cut some steps down to it, and scooped away the earth from the rocks, which were large and flat, and made excellent shelves. On these shelves were displayed an extraordinary variety of objects, ranging from coconuts for the tits to toy mice for the Manx children.

It was really a wonderful shop, and there were hundreds of things that would have interested you, stored away in the hollows of the trunk or hanging from the branches. But we have not time to look at any more of them just now, because Judy is coming home and we must get on with our story.

*

When Judy had told her grandmother about Sam, Mrs Judy looked very grave.

‘I was afraid this would happen one day,’ she said. ‘We are faced with Competition.’