Emma in Buttonland, page 6
“I can,” said Emma, “but not through silk.”
“Neither can we,” wailed Louise. “We’re not fish, after all!”
Walter, feeling concern, nestled up against her.
“What do you mean by that, that I’m a fish?” The button with the fish tail narrowed her eyes. “I’m Albertine—a mermaid, you silly. Don’t you see that I’m made of mother of pearl? We’re all mermaids. And you’re no fun at all. You can’t take a joke.” She twisted her mouth into a pout. Then she called down into the lake. “Keep it up. These guys are a drag.”
Immediately the laughter and rocking started up again.
“Will you stop?” cried Gustav, now seriously worried,
Emma held on to the bow of the boat as though frozen. “Stop,” she whispered. That’s all she managed to utter.
“And one, and two,” screeched the voices from the lake. Albertine gave a mischievous wave to Emma and her friends and slid back into the deep.
“And three,” the mermaids shouted and laughed.
The boat tipped over. What had been on top was now on the bottom. Emma slid down and felt the cool layers of silk engulfing her, more and more. They lay on her, enfolded her, and took her breath away. It got harder and harder to stay on top, no matter how much she struggled.
“Help.” Feebly she choked out the words. “Help!”
SAVIOR IN TIME OF DISTRESS
“Hold on tight! Hold on tight!”
The words reached Emma as though from a long distance. What was she supposed to hold on to? She was just about to sink to the bottom!
In front of her appeared a disc, which, on closer inspection, turned out to be Walter. He had lain on his back and was now floating flat on the surface of the lake. Since he was so light and made of plastic, he acted like a life preserver. Emma barely hesitated; she grabbed him with determination. Just then she saw that Louise and Gustav were holding fast to the other side of Walter’s stomach.
“Is everything okay?” yelled Walter? “Are you all on?”
“Yes,” Emma burst out. A red-haired head popped up right next to her and looked at her reproachfully. It was a mermaid, but not Albertine.
“You spoil sports!” grumbled the mermaid. “That was so much fun!”
Emma didn’t answer. First of all, it seemed senseless trying to reason with this thing, and secondly, she just wanted to get out of the lake.
“Spoil sports! Spoil sports! Spoil sports!” chorused the other mermaids. They had all seated themselves on the overturned boat and were looking down at them. Their hair fluttered like red sails in the wind, and their mother of pearl glittered like silver in the sunshine.
Louise opened her mouth, but Emma beat her to it. “It doesn’t make any difference if they’re valuable or not. They’re nasty and malicious.”
Louise’s mouth snapped shut. Giving in, she nodded.
Just then Gustav called, “Look!” He stuck out his arm and pointed to something far away on the horizon. Land! There was land in sight!
“The island,” whispered Emma.
“About time,” muttered Louise. “I won’t be able hold on to my hat much longer.”
Walter rowed a little with his left leg and set course for the island.
“See you later, wimps!” Albertine yelled down to them. “We’ll wait here for you. You’ll have to come back sometime!”
The others laughed spitefully; one did a triple flip into the water.
“Heck, no,” murmured Gustav.
“I’d rather get melted down,” said Walter.
Emma realized that she hadn’t thanked him yet. “You saved us, Walter. Thank you very much!”
“Yes, Walter dear, that was awfully kind of you,” Louise hurried to say, and Gustav nodded in agreement.
“No problem, no problem.” Walter shrugged off the thanks. “At least I’m good for something.”
“Now, don’t be so hard on yourself,” said Louise. “You are the most helpful and practical button I’ve ever met.”
“Really?” stammered Walter. “You don’t think I’m ridiculous?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Thank you,” said Walter, touched.
They floated on for a while in silence; the only sound for miles around was coming from the rippling silk when Walter spoke up again.
“Do you know, when I was young and inexperienced, I had no idea that I was only a fake cowboy button. I hung with the other buttons on the imitation leather vest in the store waiting for whatever was going to happen. We dreamed about the vastness of the prairie, campfires, and tough, adventuresome, courageous men we’d be with our whole life long . . . ”
He cleared his throat. “And then this man with his hair parted on the side, wearing a suit, came into the store and asked for a vest he could wear to Mardi Gras. The sales clerk talked him into our vest, even though it was really tight over his stomach. The man griped a little about the price, which was already low, and took us home, where he put on a paper hat and buckled on a plastic gun. That really should have made us suspicious. But we were too excited. Then the man went into a bar full of people in strange clothes, running around, constantly flinging confetti over their heads, yelling, “Let the good times roll!” and drinking beer. It wasn’t the way we’d pictured the Wild West at all. And in the end, I couldn’t hold on against the pressure of his stomach—I burst off the vest, arched high in the air, and landed on the floor. Right away a high heel stepped on me, and the last thing I heard was “What an ugly, cheap costume Helmut’s wearing. That vest is the most tasteless thing here tonight!”
Walter said nothing. Louise stroked him gently on the stomach.
“You’re neither ugly nor cheap,” Emma assured him. “You saved our lives.”
Suddenly, there was a little jolt. They had arrived. The island stretched before them, and way up on top of a cliff loomed the majestic castle, which, Emma realized, was nothing more than a gigantic sewing basket with thousands of nested compartments.
AT THE TEA PARTY
A road of red velvet decorated with a gold border led to the castle.
“How comfortable it is to walk on this,” Gustav sighed with happiness. “And maybe my dearest Constance goes up and down here several times a day. Just the thought of it makes me happy.”
Louise had become very quiet; she just adjusted her hat over and over.
Even Emma was lost in thought. What should they actually say when they got to the castle? And what if the people in the castle didn’t hear them out, but instead locked them up right away? A cold shiver ran down her back as she thought of Isolde’s stuck-up face.
“What are we actually going to tell them?” Louise asked. She seemed to be able to read minds. “And what if they won’t even let Emma in? After all, she’s not a button.”
“Time will tell,” said Walter nervously.
Then the entrance to the castle appeared before them—a big wooden gate guarded by two safety pins. When they noticed the little group, they leaned against each other and blocked the entrance.
“Who are you?” they rasped in unison. “And what do you want here?”
Gustav extended his hand, which the two guards totally ignored.
“Gustav is my name. I’m looking for my fiancée, an exquisitely carved button who was attached to the same traditional costume I was. Her name is Constance.”
The right safety pin squinted at him nearsightedly and then consulted in a whisper with his colleague. The second one scrutinized Gustav and said, “We don’t know Constance, so she can’t be here. She’s probably even prohibited.”
“Nonsense,” Gustav objected, outraged. “How can she be prohibited?”
“All unknown things are prohibited,” explained the right safety pin. “And because we don’t know Constance, logically, she’s prohibited.”
“That thing there is also prohibited,” said the left guard, pointing to Emma.
“Exactly. We’re not familiar with it. It’s prohibited,” the right one agreed.
“Maybe it’s even a Constance,” the left one commented slyly. Both grinned. “A Constance and unfamiliar. Doubly prohibited.”
“What?” asked Gustav, confused.
Emma was getting really furious. “My name isn’t Constance; it’s Emma, and I want to see Lady Isolde,” she explained in her sternest voice. The kind of voice her mother used when she wanted Emma to clean up her room.
The safety pins remained completely unimpressed. “You’re prohibited, Constance,” said the left one, leaning on his long pointy leg. “You can’t get through here.”
“But I,” said Louise, making herself noticeable, “but I can get through.” She shoved her way in front of Emma and stood right in the sun, so that the red stone in her hat lit up like a glowing ball.
“My goodness,” said the left safety pin. “Why didn’t you tell us right away that you had somebody aristocratic with you? Come right in, come right in!” They snapped closed quickly and let Louise through. As Emma was about to slip in right behind her, they blocked the way again.
“Not you,” spat the right safety pin. “Not the other two either. The castle isn’t for common people.”
Louise turned around and walked back. “Either all or none,” she said. “You don’t want to argue with me, do you? After all, I could be extremely valuable.”
“But that’s impossible,” moaned the right safety pin and bit his wire lip all crooked. “I’m not allowed. I’m not allowed to let them in.”
“Of course you are,” retorted Louise. “After all, these are my servants.”
“What?” Gustav said indignantly, but Emma gave him a quick shove in the ribs.
“Yes, that’s true,” said Walter. “We worship her.” He looked at Louise with a flaming expression in his eyes.
“Well, if that’s the case . . . ” The two guards shrugged their shoulders and cleared the way. Emma hurried to get through before they changed their minds. But the two had found a new topic already.
“She had three servants; did you see that?” Emma heard one of them say. “And people like us have to do everything ourselves. How is that fair, I ask you?”
“Tell me about it,” the other one agreed. “Someday, I’m going to shove this job and get out of here. After all, there are jobs in security all over the place.”
Emma wasn’t listening anymore. She was too excited. Now they were going step-by-step up into the castle. The walls were hung and decorated with the finest embroidered tapestries. Tied-back draperies fluttered in place of doors, and all around a humming bustle prevailed. Nobody seemed to notice them. Emma saw elegant buttons with carvings or ornate patterns scampering on their tiny shoes through the corridors, little pins with small, colorful heads who were apparently working as chambermaids and racing right by them, and portly stag horn buttons strutting around with an air of importance, carrying some sort of documents.
“Excuse me.” Gustav tried to get their attention, but nobody stopped.
“Pardon me,” Walter whispered now too, but nobody heard his timid voice.
“Louise, where are you going?” asked Emma, because Louise was running purposefully from one corridor to another.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I’m simply following those really chic buttons.”
And sure enough—all the elegant buttons seemed to be running in one direction. But where were they going? Finally, Emma couldn’t stand it anymore. She stepped right in the path of a little pink-headed pin, who fell over, startled, with a clank.
“Excuse me, most gracious one,” whispered the little pin, who just wanted to run along.
“Now stay still,” said Emma, holding her with a firm grip. She could feel how the poor thing was trembling with fright. “Where are all the buttons running off to?”
“To the tea party,” whispered the little pin. “To Lady Wedgwood’s tea party.”
“Lady Wedgwood?” Gustav frowned. “Might a certain lady by the name of Isolde also be there?”
“Lady Isolde?” squeaked the little pin, now terrified. “I hope not . . . I mean . . . ” Her little pink head turned bright red. “Of course, I really hope that the charming Lady Isolde will be there,” she finished, glancing around nervously.
“How do we get there?” asked Emma, without letting go of the little pin, no matter how much the pin pulled and tugged.
“I . . . I’m going there too,” she finally admitted in anguish. “I was told to bring new tablecloths.” She nodded at the big pile of sparkling white tablecloths she had almost dropped when she fell.
“Oh,” said Emma, and let go of the little pin, who galloped off at once like a runaway horse.
“After her!” shouted Gustav.
The friends lost no time and chased after the little pin, who was fleeing in panic, through the corridors and archways, up and down stairs, and finally into a big room. A vast number of blue and white button ladies, most of them decorated with artistic reliefs, were gathered there. The light blue walls of the room were adorned with silhouettes, and many of the button ladies held delicate blue cups in their hands, with their pinky fingers elegantly in the air.
The little pin threw the tablecloths into a basket and ran straight out of the room again. Emma and her friends stopped and gasped for breath. After a couple of seconds, they noticed that the whole room had fallen silent, and all eyes were on them. Eyes full of horror, unease, and shock.
And then someone broke away from the tea-drinking crowd.
It was a big round golden button lady at whom Emma stared open-mouthed. Isolde herself.
“I don’t believe it,” she said, opening her golden eyes as wide as plates. “You rude thing, following me even to my own tea party! I reported you; why haven’t those idiot police officers locked you up yet? Or, do you want to turn yourself in as a nonbutton? Turn herself in, isn’t that funny, ladies?” Isolde looked around, seeking approval; and sure enough, several of those present let out a frightened giggle.
“Is that one really made out of plastic?” whispered a blue lady in a white wig, pointing at Walter. Her neighbor nodded and dropped her cup in fright.
“Take them away,” bellowed Isolde. “Take them away, the whole lot. What kind of impudence, not only not being a button, but also disrupting our tea party!”
But just at that moment Louise stepped forward and said, “No!”
A murmur went through the crowd.
LOUISE’S FATE
The way Louise was standing there, her little chin sticking out provocatively and the heavy hat on her head, with the red stone now seeming to shine twice as brightly in the center—that was really an impressive sight.
“Enchanting, quite enchanting,” said one of the blue ladies.
The other ladies whispered among themselves; one even stepped forward and took a monocle out of her purse in order to get a better look at Louise.
“Who are you?” asked Isolde. She scrutinized Louise with a mixture of distrust and envy.
“Louise is my name,” said Louise.
“Your hat, is that . . . is that by any chance . . . ?” Isolde eyed the red stone, full of desire, but didn’t dare to express what she was thinking.
“It looks like a semi-precious stone,” came a voice from the tea party, where a number of ladies were now having an intense discussion.
“What are they talking about?” Emma asked Gustav in a hushed voice. Isolde seemed to have forgotten all about them.
“Is a semi-precious stone valuable?” asked Louise, breathless.
The light blue ladies exchanged amused glances. Finally, one came forward from the crowd. “My dear, half of these ladies here would happily let the holes in their middles get walled up to be as valuable as a semi-precious stone.” She smiled at Louise and held out her hand. Louise turned hesitantly toward Emma, Gustav, and Walter and then took a step toward the ladies.
“Oh my goodness!” shrieked one all of a sudden. She had already turned dark blue from envy. “That’s not a semi-precious stone!”
“Not a semi-precious stone?” The ladies’ whispered, gossip grew louder, Isolde grinned in elation.
“No, no, not what you’re thinking!” The dark blue lady, overwhelmed with excitement, fanned herself so that she wouldn’t faint. “That’s a gemstone!”
There was a sudden commotion. If the ladies had held off up to now, they no longer showed any restraint and pounced on Louise, anxious to talk to her, shake her hand, serve her a little cup of tea, or even—if they were extremely lucky—to touch the bright red gemstone.
With her last ounce of strength, the lady holding the fan gasped, “A ruby.” Then she had to sit down for the time being.
“Very beautiful, very beautiful, I am so exceedingly happy for you, my dear,” said Isolde to Louise. Her face, however, expressed just the opposite. “Of course, you are extremely welcome here among us, dearest Louise; drink a little cup of tea with us, eat a little pastry.” Isolde turned around, searching. “Lady Wedgwood?” she yelled across the room. “Where did the worthless servants get off to with the pastries?”
Lady Wedgwood was nowhere to be seen; at the very least she wasn’t making herself noticeable. Instead, Isolde’s eyes fell on Emma, and a cunning look came over her face. “Now, as far as these three go, we are hardly dealing with gemstones, semi-precious or precious. Or industrial grade,” she added and let out a whinnying laugh. Then she got serious again. “The nonbutton by the name of child will be taken away, the pathetic plastic-face can work as a stable boy as far as I’m concerned, and the other one can be a servant, for all I care.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, get moving. Where is a safety pin when you need one?”
Emma began to tremble from fear and indignation. Nevertheless, she tried to make her voice steady. “Your dearest ladyship Isolde, I need your help,” she said loudly and hoped that this time Isolde would notice how polite Emma was. “I just need to touch you quickly; then I can get back to where I came from. That would be okay, right?”
