The Lady Who Wasn't Asked

Part One. The Golden Pond

On Monday morning, the school pond was the colour of honey, and it smelled like a birthday cake.

The water was still. The reeds had gone a soft yellow. And the bees, who should have been tucked up for winter, were buzzing round in a happy gold cloud, bumping into each other and apologising.

Sitting on the edge of the pond, with her feet in the water, was the woman in the yellow dress. Up close, she was even more dazzling than she had been from the gate. Her skin glowed like polished wood. Her dress was the colour of marigolds, and she wore so many brass bracelets on her arms that they jingled with every breath. Her hair was piled up in a great round crown, with a tiny gold comb tucked in at the side.

Her badge said Mrs Oshun, Pond and Puddings.

"Good morning, my darlings!" she sang out, as we all filed past. "Would anybody like a honey cake?"

She had a basket beside her, covered with a cloth, and when she lifted a corner, the smell that floated out made Ollie's knees wobble. They were small round cakes, warm and sticky, with a drizzle of gold on top.

Kenji took one. Ollie took three. Dot took two, one for each hand. And Alex and Felix took one each, and ate them very slowly, with their eyes half shut.

Willow stayed well back by the fence. She does not like bees. She sat with her ears flat, watching the gold cloud above the pond with deep suspicion.

"Don't worry, little cat," said Mrs Oshun, with a laugh like a bubbling stream. "They're friends. They only want to say hello."

Part Two. Maya Has a Mirror

"She's an orisha," said Maya.

She had been waiting by the coat pegs since eight, with her notebook on her knee, her pencil tucked behind her ear, and a tiny round mirror she had borrowed from her mum's handbag. She held it up to show us.

"Evidence number one," said Maya. "A mirror. Mrs Oshun has one hanging from her belt. Look."

We looked. A small, round, golden mirror flashed on Mrs Oshun's hip.

"Number two. Honey. Number three. The colour yellow. Number four. All that brass. And number five, the pond."

"What about the pond?" said Alex.

"It's turned into a river," said Maya. "Look at the end, where it meets the fence. There's a little stream running out of it that wasn't there on Friday."

She was right. A thin ribbon of water was winding across the field, bright as a golden thread.

"She's Oshun," said Maya. "Or Osun. She's from the Yoruba people of Nigeria, in West Africa. They tell stories about spirits called orishas, and she's one of the most important. She is the orisha of rivers, and sweet water, and honey. And love, and beauty. And everything that's shiny and good. In Nigeria there's a sacred river named after her, called the Osun, and a huge forest beside it, where people still go to give thanks."

"Is she nice?" said Felix.

"She's the nicest one there is," said Maya. "Which is what makes her story so unfair."

"What story?" said Alex.

Maya lowered her voice. "It's about a time when she was left out."

Part Three. The Sixteen and the One

Maya told it during break, sitting on the bench by the pond, while Mrs Oshun hummed over her honey cakes.

"Long ago," she said, "the Supreme God, whose name is Olodumare, decided it was time to make the world. He sent down seventeen orishas to do the job. Sixteen of them were men. And one was a woman, and that was Oshun."

"Seventeen?" said Kenji.

"Sixteen and one," said Maya. "And the sixteen decided that they didn't need her. They said, We're very important. We can do it ourselves. So they went off, without telling her, and started to work."

"That's rude," said Dot.

"It's very rude," said Maya. "But here's the thing. Nothing worked. They tried to grow crops. The seeds wouldn't sprout. They tried to make rain. The sky stayed dry. They tried to build houses. They fell down. Every single thing they did went wrong. And all the time Oshun was sitting in her river, quietly, waiting to be asked."

"Poor Oshun," whispered Felix.

"In the end they went back to Olodumare," said Maya. "And they said, Why isn't it working? And he said, Where is Oshun? And they went red. They said, Oh. We forgot to ask her. And Olodumare said, Then nothing will work until you include her."

"So they said sorry?" said Alex.

"They did," said Maya. "And Oshun, who is very kind, forgave them straight away. She flew up to the heavens as a bird, to ask on their behalf. And the rain came. The crops grew. The world began to work properly. All because they let her in."

Mrs Oshun looked up from her basket, and waved. We all waved back, a bit guiltily, as if we had been caught talking about her. She smiled, as if she knew.

Part Four. The Committee of Sixteen

The staff meeting was on Tuesday afternoon.

Mister Harris had called it, in a very serious voice, because the school had come into some money. A lovely grandmother in the village had left a very big cheque, with a note that said: For a new playground. Make it wonderful.

"I propose," said Mister Harris, standing on a chair in the staff room, with a clipboard, "that we form a Playground Committee. Sixteen members. One from each department. We'll meet every day, and we'll build the best playground this school has ever seen."

We were not meant to be in the staff room. But Alex and Felix and Maya had slipped in to return a book, and they stayed, tucked in the corner, behind the biscuit tin. Willow stood behind them on the radiator, looking superior.

There were indeed sixteen chairs in the circle. Sixteen familiar faces sat in them.

There was the Caretaker, with his hammer across his knees. There was Mister Hadad, with his little black cloud over his head. There was Ms Athene, with her owl. Mister Heston, with his tool belt. Mister Prome, with a lit torch (strictly against the rules). The Postman, with a sack. Mister Pann, tooting a pipe. Mister Jackson, with a ruler. Mrs Ibbs, with a pen. Miss Persey, with a pot plant. Mrs Lakshmi, with a bag of gold stars. Mister Maui, with a fish hook. Mister Raven, polishing a spoon. Mister Coyote, eating a sandwich that wasn't his. Miss Pele, steaming gently. And Baba Yaga, with a soup ladle.

"Sixteen," whispered Maya. "Exactly sixteen. And not one of them's Mrs Oshun."

"She wasn't invited," whispered Felix.

"She's new," whispered Alex.

"I know," whispered Maya. She had gone a bit pale. "But it's the same as the story."

Part Five. Too Many Ideas

It started well.

"I'd like a tower," said the Caretaker, thumping his hammer. "A great, tall, strong one. With a bell on top."

"A slide," said Mister Hadad. "A rain slide. Where the water pours down in the middle."

"A maze," said Mister Jackson, firmly. "With a library at the centre."

"A volcano," said Miss Pele, with a happy sizzle. "A small one. Only slightly hot."

"A fishing pond!" said Mister Maui.

"A nest on top of the tower!" said Mister Raven.

"A sandwich stall!" said Mister Coyote.

"An olive grove," said Ms Athene, "with an owl."

"A cabbage patch," said Baba Yaga.

"A garden," said Miss Persey.

"A smithy," said Mister Heston.

Nobody listened to anyone else. Everybody talked at once. And Alex put up his hand.

"Excuse me," he said, in a small voice.

Nobody noticed.

Felix put up his hand too. "Excuse me," he said, a bit louder. "We have an idea, please."

"A pond!" shouted the Postman, over the top of him.

"A bigger tower!" shouted the Caretaker.

"I said a maze!" said Mister Jackson.

"We're just saying," said Alex.

"Nobody's listening," said Maya, quietly. She put her hand on Alex's shoulder. "Come on. We'll go and tell Mrs Oshun."

Part Six. The Wonky Playground

They built it in two days.

Nobody checked with anyone else. Mister Heston forged a great iron frame, and the Caretaker hammered a tower on top of it. Mister Hadad dug a channel for his rain slide, and Miss Pele raised a volcano that puffed small clouds of steam. Mister Maui dug a fishing pond, and Mister Raven built a nest on the tallest beam. Baba Yaga planted a row of cabbages. Mister Jackson laid out a maze that crossed the whole field. Mister Coyote set up a sandwich stall, which was gone by lunchtime.

By Wednesday evening, it was the biggest, strangest, most tangled playground anyone had ever seen.

The tower leaned a little to the left. The rain slide ran uphill. The volcano hissed and spat. The maze led back to the front gate. The cabbages were huge and a bit mean. The paint wouldn't stick, and every colour faded to grey. And every time one person fixed something, another person's thing fell over.

"It's perfect," said the Caretaker, proudly.

"It's a muddle," said Maya.

"It's just a bit of a mess," said Felix.

Meanwhile, down by the pond, Mrs Oshun sat with her chin on her knees, watching the whole thing. Her feet were in the water. And the water, which had been golden on Monday, was growing pale and grey and still. The bees had stopped buzzing. The little stream that had run across the field had dried up.

"Are you all right?" said Alex, going to sit beside her.

"I'm fine, sweet one," said Mrs Oshun, with a small, tired smile.

"You're not on the committee," said Felix.

"No," she said.

"Why not?" said Alex.

"I wasn't asked," said Mrs Oshun, very quietly.

Part Seven. Left Out

Alex and Felix sat very still.

They knew exactly what it felt like. They had put up their hands in the staff meeting, and nobody had seen them. They had both said "excuse me", and nobody had listened.

"Didn't you want to be?" said Felix.

"Of course I did," said Mrs Oshun. She trailed her fingers in the water. "I have a great many ideas. I could have helped them. But when the sixteen made their list, there wasn't a seventeenth chair. I came along on the first day, with my honey cakes, and I stood in the doorway, and I waited. And nobody looked up."

"That's horrible," said Alex.

"It is not very nice," said Mrs Oshun. "But I can wait. I have always been good at waiting. Rivers are patient."

"But it's not fair," said Felix. He could feel a hot lump in his throat. "You shouldn't have to wait to be asked."

"No," said Mrs Oshun. She touched his cheek. "But that is the way of things, sometimes. And when it happens to you, my darling, you may want to shout. Or you may want to go away. I find it is better to stay, and be gentle, and hold out the honey. Even when it hurts."

Behind them, Willow had crept forward. She stepped delicately up to Mrs Oshun, ignoring the bees, and put her chin on her knee. And Mrs Oshun, whose eyes had gone a bit shiny, stroked her golden head.

"What a kind cat," she whispered. "You have a very old soul."

Part Eight. The Tower Begins to Lean

It was lunchtime on Thursday when the real trouble began.

We were all in the playground. The big tower, which had grown another floor overnight, was creaking. The Caretaker had added a rooftop terrace. Mister Raven had added a bigger nest. Mister Heston had added a very heavy anvil. The whole thing swayed in the wind like a giant wobbly giraffe.

At the very top, on the third floor, was a rope bridge. And standing on the rope bridge, holding on to the rail with both hands, was Dot.

"Look at me!" she shouted, in her biggest voice. "I'm the highest person in the school!"

"Dot!" shrieked Maya. "Come down!"

"I can't!" shouted Dot. "I don't know how!"

There was a long, groaning creak. The tower gave a great lurch. A rivet pinged out of the frame, and shot across the playground. The rope bridge dipped. And the whole structure began to lean, slowly, steadily, towards the dinner hall.

"It's going to fall!" shouted Ollie.

"Everyone stay calm!" shouted Mister Harris.

"I'll fix it!" boomed the Caretaker. He swung his hammer at the leg of the tower. It rang like a bell, and the whole thing lurched worse.

"Let me!" cried Mister Hadad. He pointed his staff, and a sheet of rain poured down. The metal went slippery. The tower slid another metre.

"Stop it!" shouted Maya. "You're making it worse!"

"They're all trying to fix it a different way," said Felix, in despair.

"Nobody's working together," said Alex. His face was white. "We need someone who can make them listen."

He turned to Felix, and Felix was already nodding. They both said it together.

"Mrs Oshun."

Part Nine. Please

They ran. They ran down to the pond, with Willow streaking ahead and Maya pounding behind.

Mrs Oshun was still sitting by the water, in her yellow dress. She had her mirror on her knee. She looked up, with her kind, tired eyes, and saw their faces.

"The tower," gasped Alex.

"It's falling," gasped Felix. "Dot's at the top. Nobody will listen to each other. We need you."

Mrs Oshun's hand had already closed round her mirror. She was half rising, with the water running off her feet. But she stopped there, quite still, and looked at them.

"I wasn't asked," she said, softly. It sounded as if she needed to hear somebody say the answer out loud.

"I'm asking," said Felix. He dropped to his knees in front of her, right in the mud. "I'm asking you, please. Please, Mrs Oshun. Please will you help us?"

"And we're sorry nobody asked you sooner," said Alex. "It wasn't fair. It was wrong. We should have said something louder."

"I should have written it down," said Maya, in a small voice. "I wrote it down, and I didn't do anything."

Mrs Oshun looked at them all. She looked at Willow, who was sitting patiently, tail wrapped round her feet. She looked at the three small faces, wet with tears and mud.

And she began to smile.

It started slowly, at the corner of her mouth. And then it spread, and spread, and spread, until her whole face was glowing. The water at her feet shimmered. A little ripple of gold ran out across the pond.

"That," said Mrs Oshun, "is the sweetest thing anyone has said to me all week."

She stood up.

Part Ten. The Peacock

She held out her arms.

The brass bangles on her wrists jingled, and sparkled, and began to spin. Her yellow dress rippled. A gust of warm wind blew the tiny gold comb from her hair, and it floated up into the air, and turned into a shining feather.

And Mrs Oshun changed.

Her arms grew long and graceful, covered in glowing feathers. Her neck lengthened. Her crown became a delicate crest of gold. And behind her, a magnificent tail unfurled, like a great fan, glittering with a hundred round shimmering eyes, each one a tiny mirror, catching the sun.

She was a peacock. She was the most beautiful bird any of us had ever seen.

"Climb on," she said, in a voice like music.

Alex and Felix scrambled on to her back, one behind the other. Maya climbed up after them, clutching her notebook. And Willow, with a look of great dignity, leapt neatly on to Maya's shoulder.

With a great beat of wings, the peacock rose into the air.

She swooped across the playground in a golden arc, with her mirrored tail flashing. Every eye on the field turned to look. Her feathers caught the light and threw it back in a thousand dazzling beams, so bright that the leaning tower lit up like a lantern. And down below, the people on the ground, the Caretaker, and Mister Hadad, and Mister Heston, all stopped and shaded their eyes.

Part Eleven. Honey

She flew to the top of the tower.

Dot was clinging to the rope bridge, with her eyes squeezed shut. The wind whistled. The metal groaned. A cabbage, which had been growing out of the beam, fell off and bounced on the roof.

"Dot!" shouted Felix. "Open your eyes!"

Dot opened one eye. She saw the peacock. She saw her friends on its back.

"I knew you'd come!" she shouted.

"Take my hand!" shouted Alex.

But before Dot could move, Willow leapt off Maya's shoulder. She landed on the rope bridge without a sound, and trotted across it like a gymnast on a balance beam, past the wobbling planks and the creaking rail, and sat down right in front of Dot's nose.

Willow gave one very clear meow.

"I'm scared," whispered Dot.

Willow gave a second meow, which meant: so am I, but come on.

She turned and walked slowly across the bridge, looking back after every step. And Dot, following the golden cat, put one foot after another, one hand after another, along the rail, until she reached the peacock's back, and Alex and Felix pulled her up between them.

"I've got you," said Felix.

"I've got you," said Alex.

"You're a very brave cat," said Dot, hugging Willow.

Willow sneezed.

Then Mrs Oshun lifted her beak and began to sing.

Part Twelve. The Song

It wasn't a loud song. It was soft, and low, and warm, like honey on a spoon. It drifted down over the playground, over the leaning tower and the hissing volcano and the sixteen puzzled grown-ups in the middle.

And as it floated down, something strange happened.

The shouting stopped.

The Caretaker lowered his hammer. Mister Hadad dropped his staff. Mister Heston put down his anvil. Everyone looked up, with their mouths open, as the great gold bird glided over their heads, singing.

From her beak fell a stream of golden drops. They spattered the iron frame. They dripped down the beams. Wherever they touched, the metal stuck together, as if glued, and the rickety joints tightened. The tower gave one last creak, and slowly, slowly, with a great groan, it straightened up.

"The honey," whispered Maya. "It's holding it together."

"It's making everything stick," whispered Alex.

"Because that's what sweetness does," said Mrs Oshun, in her singing voice, from somewhere above. "It's what holds things together. Without it, everything falls apart."

When the peacock landed, the playground was perfectly still. Alex, Felix, Maya and Dot slid off her back. Willow jumped down and sat in the middle, washing her whiskers, with a very smug look.

And in front of them, in a half circle, stood all sixteen members of the Playground Committee. They looked at the ground. They shuffled their feet. Mister Hadad's little black cloud had gone very pale.

Part Thirteen. Sorry

"Mrs Oshun," said Mister Harris. His voice shook. "I am very, very sorry."

"We all are," said the Caretaker, in a gruff voice. He took off his cap. "We left you out. We didn't ask. We were so busy talking, we didn't notice who was missing."

"We never noticed," said Ms Athene. She looked ashamed, which is rare for her. "And I, of all people, should have."

"I should have counted," said Mister Jackson.

"I should have listened," said Mrs Lakshmi.

"I'd like to say that it was my idea to leave you out," said Mister Coyote, "but I wasn't paying enough attention to have an idea."

One by one, all sixteen said sorry. Mrs Oshun listened to each of them. Her eyes were bright. When the last one was done, she stepped forward, and kissed the Caretaker on the cheek.

"Of course I forgive you," she said. "I have always forgiven. I'm a river. We don't hold on to things. We flow."

"But we should have asked," said Mister Harris.

"Yes, you should," said Mrs Oshun, quite gently. "And I should have asked, too. I should have walked up to you on the first day and said, I would like a chair, please. Waiting is not the same as asking. Next time, I will ask, and you will listen. And you can see now, can't you? What happens when someone is left out? It is not only unkind. It doesn't work. The thing falls over. Everybody needs a chair."

"And we are sorry to Alex and Felix," said Mister Harris, "who put their hands up and were not seen."

Alex and Felix went pink. "Thank you," they said, both together.

"A seventeenth chair," said Maya.

"And an eighteenth," said Alex.

"And a nineteenth," said Felix. "For anybody who puts their hand up."

Part Fourteen. The Real Playground

They built it again, together.

This time, they did it properly. Mister Harris pulled out a round table in the school hall, with chairs all the way round, so that nobody sat at the head. There were seventeen chairs for the staff, and then two more, kept empty, for anybody who put their hand up. There were small chairs on one side, for Alex and Felix and Maya and Dot and Kenji and Ollie, and a cushion for Willow. And every single person got a turn to speak, one at a time, while everyone else listened.

Mrs Oshun brought honey cakes.

It took four days. The tower stayed, but they strengthened it with honey and iron, and it stood perfectly straight, with a bell on top. Mister Hadad's rain slide ran downhill, into a stream, which wound through the middle of the playground, into a new pond, deep and clear and golden. Miss Pele's volcano became a warm little hill for sitting on. Mister Jackson's maze turned into a hedge with a gate at both ends. Miss Persey's garden and Baba Yaga's cabbages grew side by side. Mister Raven's nest was moved to a lower beam, where Dot could visit. And in the very middle of the new playground stood a single wooden bench, with a golden plaque. It read: There is always room for one more.

It was the loveliest playground any of us had ever seen.

"It works," said the Caretaker, in wonder, patting the tower.

"It works because everyone helped," said Maya.

"And because nobody was left out," said Alex.

"Not even the small ones," said Felix.

Part Fifteen. What Mrs Oshun Said

On the last evening, Mrs Oshun sat on the bench with the golden plaque, in the long amber light, with the new stream trickling at her feet.

Alex and Felix and Maya and Willow sat with her. Dot was lying on the grass, with her chin on her hands, watching the bees.

"I have been left out a few times," said Mrs Oshun. "More than I like to remember. It always hurts. But I've learned something, and I'll tell you, because you were the ones who came to find me."

"What?" said Felix.

"When you're left out, it isn't because you're not good enough," said Mrs Oshun. "It's because the people who forgot you haven't learned yet. That is their lesson. Not yours."

"And what do you do?" said Alex.

"You say so, out loud and kindly," said Mrs Oshun. "I'd like a chair, please. I learned that late, so I am telling you early. And then you stay sweet."

"Why?" said Maya.

"Because a sweet heart is not a soft one. Sweet things can be strong. Honey holds a tower together. A river carves out a valley, one drop at a time. Being kind is not the opposite of being powerful. It's the same thing, if you do it long enough."

Maya wrote it down. She wrote it in her very best handwriting.

"And you two," said Mrs Oshun, looking at the twins. "You were left out, in the staff room, and you could have gone away and sulked. Instead, you came to find someone else who was left out. And you stood in the mud, and you asked. That is the bravest and kindest thing I know."

"We were just doing what was right," said Felix.

"That," said Mrs Oshun, "is the whole trick."

Part Sixteen. The Ending, with a Hook

The sun went down in a haze of gold. The bees returned to their hive, the little pond glowed softly, and the evening air smelled of orange blossom and wet earth.

Alex and Felix were on their way home. Willow trotted between them, with her tail up. Maya walked beside Alex, still writing, with a half-eaten honey cake in her other hand.

At the gate, Felix stopped.

"Listen," he said.

It was a faint sound, high up, a long way away. It was like the sound of a very big wing, beating in the sky. Slow and steady and deep, whump, whump, whump, like a drum.

They all looked up.

A shadow was crossing the sky. It was huge. It was bigger than the school, bigger than the hill, bigger than the biggest cloud. It blocked the last of the sunset, and the whole school field went dim.

A single feather came drifting down. It was as long as a canoe, and as wide as a door, and it shone with every colour of the rainbow, silver at the edges, green in the middle, gold at the tip. It twirled slowly down through the evening air, and landed on the playground, right in front of the new golden bench.

Willow's ears went straight up. Maya's pencil dropped out of her hand.

From very far above, out of the clouds, a voice came echoing down. It was calm and deep and old, and it seemed to be speaking from the top of the world.

"Is this the school," it said, "that looks after small, lost things?"

Mrs Oshun, on her bench, lifted her head. She looked up. She smiled, as if she had been expecting this.

Alex and Felix looked at each other, with the great feather turning slowly on the grass. They said, at exactly the same time, "Monday."

The End.