The Lady Who Kept the Apples

Part One. Apples on the Lane

On Monday morning, the lane to school was covered in golden apples.

They lay along the pavement in a glowing trail, as if someone had dropped a necklace. They sat on garden walls. They bobbed in puddles. There was one in the postbox and two on the bus shelter, and one was balanced on top of the lollipop sign, glowing like a tiny lamp.

We picked them up as we walked. We couldn't help it. They were warm, and they smelled of honey and spring and the first day of the holidays. Ollie wanted to eat one. Maya said no. Kenji sniffed one and went dreamy.

Alex and Felix had each kept theirs from last night. They had slept with them under their pillows, and in the morning the apples were still warm.

"Don't eat it," said Alex, firmly.

"I wasn't going to," said Felix.

"You were looking at it," said Alex.

"I was thinking about it," said Felix.

At the school gate, Willow stood in the middle of a pile of apples, with her paw up, as if she'd forgotten what she was doing. She gave one a poke. It rolled away. She poked another.

That's when we heard the creaking.

Part Two. The Old Gods

They came up the lane in a slow, wobbly line.

At the front was a tall man with a wide-brimmed hat and a long white beard. He was leaning on a stick. Behind him came a lady in a green cloak, with six enormous cats walking beside her like a guard of honour. Behind her came a huge man with a red beard, carrying a hammer, who was breathing hard and holding his back. And bringing up the rear, skulking and looking at his shoes, was a thin man with a clever face and a streak of red in his hair.

They looked tired. They looked old.

Their hair was grey. Their backs were bent. The tall man's hands shook. The lady had to stop and rest on a wall. The red-bearded man gave a long groan, like a gate that needed oiling.

Their badges said Mister Heimdall, Crossing Patrol; Mrs Freyja, Cats and Lovely Things; Mister Thor, Hammer and Heavy Lifting; and Mister Loki, Magic Tricks.

Ollie squinted at the huge man's red beard. "Hang on," he said. "You're Mr Thorley. The caretaker."

"Thorley was the name on my work badge, last time," wheezed Mister Thor. "It was the best I could do at short notice. This time I came with my proper name, and the whole family."

"And I was Mr Locke," said Mister Loki, to his shoes. "The supply teacher. I've still got a bit of tinsel in my pocket, if anyone wants it."

"The caretaking is still my job," said Mister Thor. "But Idun has gone, and we came to help."

Out by the gate, something with horns was eating the hedge.

"Your van is eating the hedge," said Kenji.

"It's a van," said Mister Thor, firmly.

"Good morning," said Mister Heimdall, in a creaky voice. He had very sharp eyes and enormous ears. "I do apologise for the state of us. We were not like this at breakfast."

"We were forty minutes younger," said Mister Thor.

"Something is wrong," said Mrs Freyja. She stroked the nearest cat, who was also looking rather grey. "Our orchard-keeper is missing. We came to find her, and now we are ageing by the minute."

"Idun," said Mister Heimdall. "Mrs Idun. Apples and Orchard. She arrived on Sunday night, early, to get the school orchard ready. And now she is gone."

Willow sat down in the pile of apples, and looked up at him, with her golden eyes wide.

Part Three. Maya Remembers

"It's the Norse gods," said Maya.

She'd been up since five, and had three pages of notes, a map, and a small drawing of a hammer.

"They're from Scandinavia," she said. "Norway and Sweden and Denmark. A thousand years ago, the Vikings told stories about them. They lived in a high, shining city called Asgard, in the sky. Odin, who has one eye. Thor, who has a hammer and makes the thunder. Freyja, who has cats. And Heimdall, who guards the rainbow bridge, and can hear grass growing."

"I can hear grass growing," said Mister Heimdall, sadly. "It's rather loud this morning."

"And the best thing about them," said Maya, "is that they are not really immortal. In the old story, they get old like anyone else. The only thing that keeps them young is a basket of golden apples. And the only person who looks after the apples is Idun."

"That's why they look like that," said Ollie. "But there are apples everywhere. Why don't they just eat those?"

"Because they're only apples without her," said Maya. "They keep the glow, but not the magic. The magic only works when Idun hands them over herself."

"Oh," said Ollie, and put his apple back down, rather sadly.

"They haven't had their apples," said Maya. "And without them, they get older and older. And that's not the worst of it. In the myth, Idun was snatched. A giant in the shape of an eagle carried her away, and he took the apples."

"Why?" said Dot.

"He wanted to stay young too," said Maya. "He's called Thiazi. He's very big, and very fierce. And he couldn't get past the gate by himself. He needed help."

She stopped. She looked at the thin man at the back of the line, who was staring very hard at the ground.

"Someone gave him that help," said Maya.

Part Four. Mister Loki Says It Out Loud

Nobody spoke.

Mister Loki went from pale to red to white again. He fiddled with his sleeve. He kicked a golden apple, and it rolled under a hedge.

"It was me," he said.

"We know," said Mister Thor, in a low rumble.

"I didn't mean to," said Mister Loki. "I was only trying to catch my own dinner. And he grabbed me, by the ankle, in the air. He said, Bring me Idun and her apples, or I'll drop you. And I said yes. I said yes because I was frightened. And once I'd said it, I couldn't say no."

"You lured her out," said Mrs Freyja, coldly.

"I said there was a tree with even better apples," said Mister Loki. His voice cracked. "I walked her out to the edge of the orchard. And he swooped. And she screamed. And I just stood there."

He covered his face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I've been a coward and a fool. I've been a trickster for such a long time, I forgot that tricks can hurt."

The twins were quiet for a moment.

"It's okay to be scared," said Alex, slowly.

"But it's not okay to pretend you weren't," said Felix.

"It's good that you said it," said Alex.

"It's brave," said Felix.

Mister Loki lowered his hands. His eyes were wet. "No one has ever said that to me before," he said.

Part Five. The Day Everyone Got Old

The ageing got worse.

By break time, the staff room looked like a room full of very sleepy grandparents. Mister Thor was lying on the sofa with a hot water bottle on his back. Mister Heimdall was wearing three scarves. Mrs Freyja's cats were asleep in a heap, and one of them was snoring with a whistle. Mister Hadad's thunder had turned into a rattle. Mister Raven had to be helped onto the windowsill. And Baba Yaga, who is already extremely old, had become so old that she'd gone all the way round to being quite young, and was running up and down the corridor in a very good mood.

"It is spreading," groaned Mister Heimdall. "It's the other gods too, the ones who aren't even Norse. Their magic has weakened. The whole staff is starting to wilt."

Then Mister Harris came in.

He was holding his clipboard. He was ninety. His hair was a white cloud, his glasses were as thick as jam jars, and his face was a map of wrinkles.

"What is going on?" he quavered. "My knees. They've gone. And my moustache is white!"

"You haven't got a moustache," said Maya.

"I do today," said Mister Harris.

"It's the apples," said Alex, quietly.

"We have to get Idun back," said Felix.

"But where is she?" said Dot.

"In a mountain hall," said Mister Heimdall. His ears twitched. "I can hear her. Very faintly. Very far. She is singing, and she is not at all frightened. She is making tea."

Part Six. The Falcon Cloak

"We need the cloak," said Mrs Freyja.

She opened the bottom drawer of the staff room cabinet. Inside, folded neatly in tissue paper, lay a cloak made entirely of brown and white feathers. It shimmered in the light. When she held it up, it seemed to ripple, as if it were breathing.

"It's my falcon cloak," she said. "Whoever wears it can fly. It's what Loki used, in the old story, to go to the giant's hall. But Loki is old now, and so am I. It would not carry either of us."

"It needs someone young," said Mister Thor.

"It needs someone light," said Mister Heimdall.

"It's big," said Mrs Freyja. "It could carry two small people, side by side. One in the left wing. One in the right. But they would have to fly together. Perfectly together. If one flaps faster than the other, they will spin."

Everybody turned and looked.

Alex and Felix looked at each other.

"We'll do it," said Alex.

"We always do things together," said Felix.

"Take Willow," said Maya. "She can ride in the hood. She'll know what to do. And I'll stay at the crossing with Mister Heimdall. I'll be Mission Control. If he can hear Idun from here, he can hear you."

"I'll help!" said Dot. "I'll look out for eagles!"

"You'll sit on the wall with the grown-ups," said Mister Harris, creakily.

Something buzzed in Alex's ear. He flicked it away. It buzzed again.

"Don't swat me," said a very tiny voice. "I'm coming too."

It was a fly. It had a small, clever, sorry face.

Part Seven. Left and Right

We saw them off from the roof.

The cloak settled round Alex and Felix's shoulders like a soft brown shawl. It split down the middle. The left half fell over Alex's arm, and the right half fell over Felix's. Between them, the feathers joined into one great pair of wings. Willow hopped into the hood, looking as if she would rather be anywhere else. The fly, which was Loki, perched on Felix's collar.

"Ready?" said Mrs Freyja.

"Ready," said Alex.

"Ready," said Felix.

"On three," said Mister Heimdall. "One, two..."

They jumped.

For a moment, they dropped like a stone. Then the wings snapped open, and they swerved violently to the left. Alex had flapped too hard. They spun in a circle. The school roof whirled by, and the playground, and the sky, and the roof again.

"Not so fast!" shouted Felix.

"Not so slow!" shouted Alex.

"Left!" buzzed the fly.

"I'm trying!" cried Alex.

"Together!" buzzed the fly. "Breathe in! Both of you! And breathe out! Now flap!"

They flapped. Alex on the left, Felix on the right. The wings beat once, together, with a great soft whump. They climbed. They flapped again. Whump. The spinning slowed. The sky steadied. The school fell away beneath them, tiny, with a ring of waving staff on the roof.

"We're doing it!" shouted Alex.

"We're flying!" shouted Felix.

Willow, in the hood, said nothing at all. But she held on very tight.

Part Eight. The Mountain

They flew north.

The fields shrank to patchwork. The river became a silver thread. Ahead of them, the hills grew taller and darker, and the sky turned the colour of slate. A cold wind began to blow, and snow flurried across their faces.

"It's freezing!" shouted Felix.

"Keep going!" buzzed the fly. "It's not far! Follow the sound of the singing!"

They climbed higher. The air was thin. The mountains rose around them like grey teeth. Alex's arms ached. Felix's fingers were numb. Every beat of the wings was harder than the last. A gust slammed into them from the side, and they tilted, and dropped, and nearly turned over.

"I can't," gasped Alex.

"You can," said Felix, through chattering teeth. "We can. One more."

"One more," said Alex.

Whump.

"One more," said Felix.

Whump.

"One more."

They kept counting, together. Each time, it got a tiny bit easier. And just as the snow began to thicken, the cloud broke, and there, on a high, bare crag, stood a great, rough hall of black stone, with a roof like a bird's wing and smoke curling out of a chimney.

From inside came a sound. It was high and sweet and cheerful. Someone was humming a tune.

Part Nine. The Tea Party

The great hall was not what anybody expected.

It was cold and bare and enormous. The ceiling vanished into shadow. A long wooden table ran down the middle, covered in dusty plates. And at the far end, in a small pool of lamplight, sat a lady in a green dress, pouring tea.

She had brown hair tied up in a bun and a kind, round face. A basket of golden apples sat on the table beside her. And sitting opposite her, hunched in an enormous chair, looking very small for a giant, sat an old man.

He was vast. He had long grey hair, and a grey beard, and big, bony hands. A great feathered cloak hung off his shoulders. His shoulders were bowed. His face was lined with worry.

"Sugar?" Idun was saying.

"Two," muttered the giant.

"Idun!" whispered Alex, from the window.

She looked up. She didn't look scared. She raised one eyebrow, and put a finger to her lips.

"Mister Thiazi has gone out for his afternoon flight," she said, loudly, to nobody. "He'll be back in a moment. How lucky that the tea is hot."

The giant blinked. He hadn't noticed the window. He lifted his head.

"I never go out for a flight," he said, confused.

"Then it's a good thing you're here," said Idun, "and not flying."

The fly buzzed in Felix's ear. "She's telling us she's fine," it whispered. "She's telling us to wait."

Part Ten. A Giant's Secret

"I don't understand," muttered the giant.

He was talking to his cup. His voice was low and gravelly, and very sad.

"I took you, you know," he said. "I stole you. I wanted your apples. And you give me tea."

"You looked cold," said Idun.

"I am cold," said the giant. "I am always cold. I live up here, on my own, on the top of a mountain, and everyone is afraid of me. And every year I get a little bit older. A little bit slower. A little bit sadder. And I look at the gods, down there in Asgard. Every one of them as young as spring. And I thought, That's not fair. And so I..."

He stopped.

"You took," said Idun, gently.

"I took," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Thiazi," said Idun. "Did you ever think to ask?"

The giant looked up. His eyes were enormous and wet.

"Ask?" he said.

"I would have shared," said Idun. "I would have given you one. I give them to anyone who needs them. It's what I'm for. If you had come to the door and knocked, and said, Please, I'm afraid of getting old, I'd have put the kettle on."

The giant's mouth fell open.

"Nobody ever told me that," he said.

Part Eleven. Flight with a Nut

Of course, they couldn't just walk out.

"You must go," whispered Idun, when the giant had gone to fetch more wood. She had slipped to the window, and was talking to Alex and Felix in a low voice. "The staff will be ageing. The school will need the apples. I'd come as I am, but he's fast. I'd never outrun him on foot."

"We can carry you," said Alex.

"Not as a lady," said Felix.

"No," said the fly, buzzing. "But I have an idea."

It was the one useful thing Mister Loki knew how to do. He flew onto Idun's shoulder. He whispered something in her ear. He waved a tiny leg, and there was a pop.

Where Idun had been, there was a small brown nut.

Felix caught it in his palm. It was warm, and it tingled. And a very faint voice, coming out of it, said, "Oh. This is peculiar."

"You'll be fine," said Alex, and put her gently into the pocket of the cloak, where he could feel her through the feathers. The pocket had a flap, but no button. The basket of apples he tucked under one arm.

"Go!" buzzed Loki.

They jumped. The wings opened. They dived off the window sill, out into the cold, grey sky.

Behind them, deep in the hall, a great voice bellowed.

"WHERE IS SHE?"

Part Twelve. The Chase

The eagle came out of the mountain like a thunderbolt.

He was enormous. He was bigger than a bus, bigger than a house, bigger than the sky. His wings spread out from one side of the valley to the other. His beak was a curved black hook, and his eyes burned gold.

"GIVE HER BACK!" he screamed.

"Fly!" shouted Alex.

"We are!" shouted Felix.

They flapped. They flapped as hard as they had ever flapped in their lives. Whump, whump, whump. The mountains blurred past. The snow stung their eyes. Willow, in the hood, dug her claws in and hissed like a kettle.

The eagle gained on them. They could hear his wings, beating the air like a drum. A great talon swiped past, and ripped a feather from the cloak.

"Left!" buzzed Loki. "Dive!"

They dived. The flap of the pocket flew open, and the little brown nut began to slide out.

Willow saw it. She did not hiss, and she did not wait to be asked. She shot out of the hood, down Felix's back, and landed on the pocket with all four paws, pressing the flap shut with her whole fluffy weight. She stayed there, clinging on, with her ears flat in the wind.

The eagle overshot, wheeled in the sky, and came on again. A hundred metres. Fifty. Twenty.

"I can't keep this up!" gasped Alex.

"We have to!" gasped Felix.

"The school!" buzzed Loki. "I can see it! Straight ahead!"

Far below, tiny in the evening light, lay the school. A tall column of smoke rose from the playground wall. And along the top of it, in a row, standing in the smoke, stood the whole staff.

Part Thirteen. The Smoke Wall

"Light the fire!" Mister Heimdall had cried.

He had heard them coming from a hundred miles away. He had heard the beating of the wings. And all the staff, creaking, wheezing, leaning on sticks, had rushed out to the playground wall and built a bonfire as quickly as they could.

Miss Pele had lit it with one breath. Mister Thor had fed it with a whole hedge. Mister Hadad had sent up a rolling cloud of grey smoke. And Mrs Pachamama, from somewhere below, had given the ground a little shove, so that the biggest heap of soft, steaming compost in the school's history had risen up behind the fire.

"Now!" cried Mister Heimdall.

The twins dived straight into the smoke.

It was thick and black and stinging. They couldn't see. They could barely breathe. But they could hear the eagle behind them, crashing into the cloud, spluttering and screaming. A great wing clipped the fire. A cloud of sparks flew up. The eagle's feathers smoked, and he gave a wild, startled squawk.

He lost his balance. He lost his height. He tumbled out of the smoke, upside down, head over claws, in a big, silly, flapping heap.

And landed with an enormous splodge in the middle of the compost.

Part Fourteen. Please Don't

Mister Thor stepped forward, gripping his hammer in both hands.

He had gone a very strange shade of purple. The thunder was rolling round his head, and he was growling like a storm a long way off.

"No!" shouted Alex.

"Stop!" shouted Felix.

They dropped out of the sky and landed in front of the compost heap, one in front of each side, with their arms spread wide.

"He's hurt!" cried Alex.

"He's frightened!" cried Felix.

"He was going to steal from us!" roared Mister Thor.

"He's sorry," said Felix.

"He told Idun he was sorry," said Alex.

The giant lay in the heap of compost, in a puddle of smoking feathers. He had a banana skin on his head. He was shaking. In the light of the bonfire, he looked less like a fierce eagle and more like a very old, very lost, very muddy bird with a long grey beard.

Willow stepped off the pocket, with great dignity. Felix reached in. He took out the little brown nut and placed it on the ground. Alex held up the basket of apples.

"Loki," said Felix.

"With pleasure," buzzed the fly.

Pop.

Idun stood on the grass, brushing down her dress.

Part Fifteen. Ask

"Hello, Thiazi," she said.

He stared up at her. His mouth opened.

"Don't be afraid," said Idun. "I'm not cross."

"I took you," he said, hoarsely.

"You did," said Idun. "And you were wrong. But you were sorry before the twins even arrived. That counts."

She took an apple from the basket. It glowed in her hand like a tiny sun.

"Here," she said.

The giant looked at it as if it were the Moon.

"For me?" he whispered.

"For you," said Idun. "I have enough. I always have enough. All you had to do was ask."

He took it in two enormous shaking fingers. He bit. Light poured from his mouth. The grey drained out of his beard, and the lines in his face softened, and his shoulders straightened. He sat up in the compost heap, and he looked about thirty years younger, and he burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm sorry I took you. I'm sorry I frightened everybody. I'm sorry about the mess."

"It's compost," said Mrs Pachamama, from under the ground. "It's fine."

Mister Loki stepped forward. He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry too," he said. "I started it. I said yes when I should have said no. And I kept quiet for too long. If I'd spoken up, none of this need have happened."

Idun looked at him for a long time.

"Thank you for saying it," she said, at last. "That was harder than flying."

Part Sixteen. The Apples Go Round

We had the party that evening.

Idun handed out the apples in the playground, one at a time, to every grey-haired, bent-backed staff member in the school. As each of them bit, a ripple of light ran through them like a wave. Mister Thor's back straightened with a click. Mrs Freyja's hair turned from silver to chestnut. The cats woke and stretched and began to chase each other round the bonfire. Mister Heimdall tipped his head and said that the grass had gone quiet, and thank goodness.

Mister Harris took a bite of his own, and shrank back from ninety to about forty, with his moustache vanishing in a puff.

"That was dreadful," he said, with great relief.

Thiazi was given a job. Mister Heimdall, who had always wanted an assistant, suggested it. The giant would become the school's Sky Postman, delivering letters on the wing. He seemed overjoyed. He tried on a small blue cap, and wept again.

"I wasn't trying to be bad," he said. "I was only trying not to be lonely."

"We know," said Alex.

"That's what most people are doing," said Felix.

Mrs Idun came and sat on the wall between the twins. She was holding two tiny things in her palm. They were small, round, shiny brown seeds.

"For you," she said. "Both of you. They're apple pips. Plant them side by side, in the orchard. They will grow as you grow."

Part Seventeen. What She Said

The sun set behind the school, red as an apple.

Alex and Felix knelt in the orchard and planted their seeds. They dug the holes with their fingers, one beside the other. They covered them with earth. Maya poured on a little water from her bottle, and Willow sat down beside them like a guard.

"I should say something," said Mrs Idun, standing over them. "Because you came to find me."

"What?" said Alex.

"If you need something, ask," said Mrs Idun. "You would be amazed how often the answer is yes."

"And if you make a mistake?" said Felix.

"Say so out loud, as soon as you can," said Mrs Idun. "It is much less frightening than you think, and it is the only way to mend it."

She looked at the two little mounds of earth, and smiled.

Maya wrote it down. Then she drew a big box round the word ask.

Part Eighteen. Welcome, Goodbye

The stars came out over the school.

Alex and Felix walked home with Willow between them. In the orchard, behind them, two tiny green shoots had already pushed through the soil, side by side, leaning towards each other like friends.

At the gate, Maya stopped.

"Look at the doors," she said.

Behind us, every door in the school was opening.

The main door swung wide. The classroom doors followed. The cupboard doors, the toilet doors, the staff room door, the cellar door, all of them, swinging gently open, one after another, as if someone were walking through the building and saying hello to every handle.

A tall figure stood in the front doorway, framed in golden light. He wore a long cloak the colour of old keys. In one hand he held a ring of keys, and in the other a staff.

And he had two faces.

One looked forward, out into the dark. The other looked back, into the school. Both of them were smiling.

"Welcome," said the face looking in.

"Goodbye," said the face looking out.

"Welcome," said both, together. "Goodbye. And do you know, you really should lock up properly."

Alex and Felix looked at each other, with the two-faced man smiling at them from the doorway. They said, at exactly the same time, "Monday."

The End.