ACT 1: SCENE 10
Mayor Naize awoke brightly. The sun was shining differently today. Everything suddenly felt so free. He sprung out of his oversized bed like a lad of sixteen with a new computer game to play. He even did a couple of situps before beginning the half mile hike to the dusty kitchens. For the first time maybe ever, he took a look in the larder. To his suprise, everything was well stocked and perfectly fresh. You could say what you liked about the Pantolandians, but they certainly knew how to keep a palace. Smiling faintly, he grabbed some eggs and cheese, wiped the grime from an ancient frying pan and tried to recall his wife's Saturday Morning Omelette recipe.
The first try was pretty good. The second was impeccable.
"Ridiculous", he muttered as he munched happily on his breakfast.
Next on the list were Bella Naize's Famous Pancakes. He found a good three pounds of flour hiding in a corner, rolled up his sleeves and began.
"Ludicrous," he chewed as he slopped syrup on the third perfect batch.
Finally came the piece de resistance. Roast Mutton. Sweating, he recalled the infinite Sundays he had wandered in, asked if he could help, and had been given a crossword to complete.
"Preposterous," said he, dabbing the corner of his mouth with somebody else's' monogrammed handkerchief, "I've been eating that poor woman out of house and home."
He scratched his head and gazed studiously at the plentiful leftovers.
"Hmm. Shepherds Pie, maybe? Or a nice big stew..."
Minutes later, Mrs Skuttle the washerwoman was taken by suprise when the Mayor of Pantoland marched at speed straight into a clothes line of damp underwear. She screamed and clucked and scolded in her usual manner as he attempted ineffectually to wrestle himself free from a large pair of spotty bloomers, but suddenly her voice petered out. She cleared her throat, then tried to talk again.
"What's the meaning of this, Mayor?"
"Terribly sorry, Madam," replied Naize, removing himself from an enormous brassiere, "I wasn't looking where I was going. Do forgive me."
There was no reply. Mrs Skuttle was sitting on an upturned tub, frowning to herself. She didn't notice him as he hurried off, blushing, or the stocking still stuck to his back. She cleared her throat again. That scream, her scream, had not been hers. It had been so... so female. It wouldn't have bothered her so much but this had been the second weird thing to happen to her so far that day. She hadn't needed to shave at all that morning.
Mayor Naize trotted past Daisy's field. The cow looked up from grazing as he shot by.
"...and I could bake a cake," he muttered to himself, "or treacle pudding. Morning Daisy!"
He didn't wait for a response, which was just as well.
"Moo" said Daisy. She blinked. She looked, as quizzically as a cow can, at her tail. Her tail swished at a fly silently.
"Moo," she said again. There was definitely something wrong, but she had absolutely no idea what it was. All she knew was that she really wanted to eat more grass.
As he rounded Penniless Lane he broke into a grin. The large, fushia shape that was Mrs Trellis had spotted him and started to sprint up the road. His smile dropped as she approached him. Her makeup was smeared and her eyes were red from fatigue and tears.
"Mrs T..." he murmured as she grabbed his shoulders and searched his face desperately.
"You've found them?" She panted, "They've come back? What's happened to them?"
Mayor Naize took her hands from his shoulders and held them gently."
"Are you all right, Mrs T?"
"Are they fine? If they're fine I'll kill them. If they're not I'll kill myself Mister Mayor, don't think I won't..."
"What in Pantoland are you talking about?"
"My children, Mister Mayor! I haven't seen them since last night."
"Oh." Mayor Naize frowned and mopped his brow. Mrs Trellis started to wring her hands.
"You didn't know."
"No, Mrs T. Why did you not report it?"
"I... I... I thought they'd be all right. I'd thought they'd come back again."
"Again?"
Mrs Trellis looked up at the Mayor sharply.
"If you didn't know about it, what are you doing here this early in the morning?"
The Mayor removed his top hat and stared at the ground.
"Um. I, er, was going to invite yourself and the kids to, er, dinner. At my place. That is, the old King's place. Palace. Ha ha. See, it suddenly dawned on me this morning. It's not fair, me taking advantage of a poor widow's hospitality. Besides, I... I think I..."
"No!" Mrs Trellis was frantic. "It's not supposed to be like this. You're not supposed to invite me over until you've had the soup."
"The soup? Mrs T, you aren't making any sense."
"Daisy said everything would be all right!"
"You mean the cow?"
Mrs Trellis blinked. "Maybe this is all a part of it, Mister Mayor. Maybe it's a part of the story. She might know." She patted her pockets. "Do I have my ciggies?"
"Mrs Trellis, your children are missing. This is hardly the time to..."
But she was already running up the road towards the cow field, her massive boots kicking dust up onto her pink petticoats.
"Women," sighed the Mayor. He jammed his hat back on and started to run after her.
She was leaning against the fence, speaking desperately to a very nonplussed looking Daisy by the time he caught up with her.
"Please, Daisy," she panted, "say something. Anything."
"Moo" said Daisy.
"Anything but 'moo'." Mrs Trellis held out a cigarette. Daisy ignored it. "Daisy, I think things may have gone wrong. They didn't come back from the Western Woods last night."
"The Western Woods?" spluttered the Mayor, "They're lost in the Western Woods?"
"And everything feels all wrong today. I feel different. I... I think I've been tricked. Mayor Naize invited me to tea and I didn't put the spell on him."
"Spell?" Mayor Naize's eyebrows shot up so high they nearly knocked his hat off.
"Will you please have a cigarette, Daisy? Will you please say something?"
Daisy chewed and gazed at Mrs Trellis with brainless bovine eyes. Then she turned around slowly. Mrs Trellis waved the cigarette at the cow's backside.
"Well?" she asked desperately, "what do you think?"
Daisy's tail flailed against a fly. It hit Mrs Trellis' hand and sent the unlit cigarette spiralling into the mud. A clumsy hoof trod on it as the cow wandered off aimlessly.
"You do realise," said the Mayor in the soft tones people reserve for the dangerously insane, "that you're talking to a cow's bottom."
"Yes," sighed Mrs Trellis, "and that should be a strange thing to do, shouldn't it, anywhere but here. And now it's strange here too. And that's very strange."
The Mayor put a hand on Mrs Trellis' shoulder. "Poor thing. You must be out of your mind with worry. Why on earth did Hansel and Gretel go into the Western Woods? They know how dangerous it is."
Mrs Trellis collapsed suddenly into noisy tears.
"Oh..." said the Mayor, and patted her on the back uncomfortably, "it'll be all right."
"It won't be all right," wailed Mrs Trellis, "my poor kids are lost in the haunted woods and everything's gone wrong and it's all my fault. I'll never see them alive again!"
"Nonsense!" cooed the Mayor. He looked up at the crowd that had gathered around the loud, dissolving mess of Mrs Trellis and gave them his best, most cheerful Pantoland 'Rallying The Masses' smile. "Hansel and Gretel have got lost in the Western Woods. But you'll help us find them, won't you, everyone?"
He was met with a multitude of averted gazes. A large proportion of the group remembered that they had Very Important Things To Do.
"Big posse like this, we'll have them safe and sound by lunchtime, eh?"
The crowd had more than halved, and the remainder were wandering away as nonchalantly as possible.
"What if it were your kids?" He pleaded.
"Our kids know the consequences of going into the haunted woods," replied a woman over her shoulder as she walked off, "you get lost there, you stay lost."
"Coward!" yelled the Mayor after her.
"Don't get me involved in this," said the Cow Herd, and promptly scuttled off, scratching his head over Daisy's completely untouched breakfast bucket of Scotch.
And then they were alone.
Mrs Trellis wiped her eyes and nose on her skirts.
"Don't blame them, Mister Mayor," she sighed, "they're only being sensible. There's no coming back from the Western Woods, even if you're in a search party."
She looked up at him, her face stony in sad resolve. "They're gone."
The Mayor removed his hat.
"Mrs T. I am so sorry."
"Yes."
"They were fine kids."
"I know."
The Mayor coughed nervously. There was still the feast waiting in the palace kitchens. And now there'd be nobody to look after her in her dotage unless he... did... something...
This wasn't The Time. This was the exact opposite of The Time but the Mayor had always been a plain speaking man, a man of action. Take him as you find him, seize the day and all that. He drummed his fingers on the brim of his hat.
"Mrs Trellis, er, Gladys. You shouldn't be alone at a time like this. I wonder if you'd care to stay with me in the palace for a while, I mean..."
"No."
It was a 'no' as flat and real and insurmountable as the horizon. It was a 'no' that had always been there, and always would.
"I see."
There was a short pause in which the Mayor's insides were pulled through the ground into the deepest pits of Hell.
"Well, if you ever need anybody to talk to..."
"I shan't be available to talk to anybody again, Mister Mayor. Do give everybody my regards. Give me house to the poor."
"You are the poor, Mrs T. The only person nearly as poor as you is old Mother Grizzle. And her house is much nicer than yours."
"Well, do something useful with it. Use it as a stable or pull it down for firewood or something. I shan't be needing it any more." She held her hand out stiffly towards Naize. "Goodbye, Mister Mayor."
The Mayor looked blankly at her hand. It looked less hairy than usual. "Are you off then, Mrs T?"
"Yes, Mister Mayor. For good."
"Oh. Where?" A horrible thought flashed into the Mayor's mind. "Not a nunnery?"
"No. The time has come for me to pull my socks up."
Hiking up her skirt, Mrs Trellis planted her left boot firmly against the fence and leaned on it. The Mayor mopped his brow anxiously and wondered what on earth would happen next. You were usually in trouble if a Pantoland Dame lifted her dress to the bloomers. What normally followed was a barrage of screams, rolling pins and pain.
Mrs Trellis reached down to her raised ankle and searched for something inside her boot. Finding it, she pulled upwards, revealing a bright, spotty sock. The elastic snapped into place just below the knee. The Mayor scratched his head as she silently repeated the action with her right leg, before demurely smoothing down her skirt and smiling sadly at him.
"That's better," she sighed, "but now I really have to go."
"Mrs T," cried the Mayor in exasperation, "what in Heaven's name are you talking about?"
Mrs Trellis shook her head. "There's no heroes any more, that's what I always used to tell my girl. No knights on white horses. Just you and me and all the other ordinary people who got left to live alone in a world without magic or miracles. You be your own hero. Nobody's going to sweep you off your feet, so you might as well just start walking the long, lonely walk..."
"You really aren't making much sense this morning, Mrs..."
"What it boils down to, Mayor, is that the times when I could sit about and fret and wait for a handsome young aristo to bring my children home unscathed are over. And now it seems the times when we could organise a search party to risk life and limb in going into the Haunted woods to find them dead or alive are also over. So I'm going to do the only thing I can. I'm going to go in there alone because it's a damn sight better than doing nothing."
At that, she turned on her heel and began marching off. The Mayor's hand caught hers and swung her back around suddenly.
"You will not."
"I beg your pardon?" Mrs Trellis shook herself from his grip.
"As I am Mayor of Pantoland I forbid you to go into the Western Woods alone."
It was all that Naize could do not to let his voice trail off in awe and fear. Mrs Trellis had drawn herself up to her full capacity as the indignant Dame. Her arms folded, her chest puffed out, her gaze was steely and worrying. She radiated haughtiness, all forearms and bosom. Put her in a satin frock and a black wig and she'd be the spit of his Bella. She really was that beautiful.
"Say... that... again" she hissed.
The Mayor squared his shoulders and raised his eyebrows in the hope that it might make his hat sit a little higher on his head.
"I forbid it."
"Because the woods are out of bounds?"
"Because they're very dangerous."
"And what will you do, sir, if I resist? Clap me in irons?"
The Mayor winced at the 'sir'.
"You know I couldn't do that. Not even if I wanted to."
Mrs Trellis leaned in towards him.
"Then what," she whispered, dangerously, "will you do?"
The Mayor mirrored her.
"I will go with you," he whispered back.
Mrs Trellis dropped back in shock. She blinked a little.
"Really? You'll really help me?"
"Of course." Naize smiled, "Isn't that what Mayors are for?"
"But it's so dangerous. And it's illegal."
The Mayor shrugged. "This is Hansel and Gretel we're talking about. I know you're their mum but I care about them too. They're nice kids. I've watched them grow up. Childless old Widower that I am, I almost see them as a..." he stopped himself. "I would do anything to see them safe again, is all."
Mrs Trellis stared at him for a moment, taking it all in. Finally, she nodded.
"All right. Well then, we'd better go."
The Mayor held up a hand. "Steady on, Mrs T."
"What is it now?" She asked, rolling her eyes with the impatience of a teenager. "Time is of the essence here."
"So is preparation." The Mayor ignored Mrs Trellis' sigh. "Look. I know we're not used to being practical in these parts, but we have to think about this. What are we going to do about food? Water? Will we need a torch? A compass? Blankets?"
"You're right," frowned Mrs Trellis. "Funny, I never thought of being practical about this. I just sort of thought I'd sacrifice myself."
"So you'd die and nobody would find Hansel and Gretel, so they'd die. What good would that be to anybody?"
"So," Mrs Trellis mused, "you actually think we can save them?"
The Mayor squeezed Mrs Trellis' hand.
"I think we can make a good try."
Mrs Trellis smiled gratefully at him. They turned together and began heading into town.
"Hang on. You said Old Mother Grizzle's got a nicer house than me."
"So?"
"She lives in a shoe. Are you saying that my house isn't as nice to live in as a shoe?"
"It's quite a big shoe. With sea views."
"Hmm. You've got a point..."
Nobody saw Mayor Naize at the palace that day, although it was later noted that several items had gone missing from his rooms and that the larder was somehow less well stocked than it had been that morning. Similarly, nobody saw two fuller figures scramble over the fence sectioning off the Western Woods and drop into the dark green obscurity below. However, at dusk, just as the Mayor's makeshift government were starting to seriously wonder where he had got to, a wild eyed, breathless Cow Herd was noticed running up the palace stairs. He burst into the old dining hall where the parliament now held their largely chaotic assemblies and, flushed, only managed to pant "come... now..." before he was off again.
The parliament of Pantoland had been made up in a great hurry by Naize, and consisted partially of people he considered to be Eggheads or Jolly Good Chaps, but mainly of people who's names he could remember, thus limiting the potential for awkward moments at dinner. Therefore it was largely made up of farmers, fishermen and market traders. In other words, they were not the sort of parliament to archly shrug the Cow Herd off as a lunatic and continue with the meeting but to rise as one noisy rabble and sprint after him, hoping that whatever he wanted to show them was something exciting like a fight or something.
What they actually saw was quite exciting. It was a cow standing peacefully in the middle of a field, wearing the Mayoral chains of office and a top hat.
"My word," said the Minister of Trout, "the Mayor's been turned into a cow."
"That's not the Mayor," replied the Cow Herd, "that's my Daisy. At least I think it's my Daisy. She's off her dinner. All she ever eats now is grass."
"Absurd," tutted the Minister of Herring.
"But why," interjected the Minister of Trout, "would Mayor Naize go missing and leave his hat and chain on a cow?"
"Maybe he went into the Western Woods after all."
The Cow Herd shifted nervously under the entire government's sudden scrutiny.
"The Western Woods?" repeated the Minister of Carp, "why would he go into the Western Woods?"
"He... he was saying all sorts of crazy things this morning. That some kids have got lost out in the Western Woods but that we should make a search party and go out there. But we didn't want to... because it's against the law..." he added, hoping in vain for Brownie Points, "and then he got all angry."
The Minister of Trout, being one of the Mayor's oldest friends, frowned. "Kids? What kids?"
"Hansel and Gretel Trellis."
The Cow Herd was suprised to be met with a chorus of sad, understanding "Oh"s.
The Minister of Trout sighed. "Then he has gone."
There was a long, mournful pause. Somebody blew his nose. Somebody else mooed softly.
"Well," said the Minister of Carp eventually, "what do we do?"
"We carry on," replied the Minister of Trout.
"But who'll be Mayor?"
"We'll decide it the way we usually do." The Minister of Trout vaulted the fence. "First one in the hat wins."
Acting Mayor Daisy Cow chewed the cud silently, ignoring the pina colada in her drinking trough. She stopped. An ear twitched. She was suddenly aware of scores of running feet on mud, coming up behind her. She turned in time to see the government of Pantoland pile on top of her. A little part of her subconscious somehow picked a rather fantastically offensive swear word from parts of her memory that shouldn't have existed. She raised her head and attempted to scream the obscenity. But all that came out was a very loud, very frustrated "moo".