The Leprechaun Who Wished He Wasn't (4 page)

‘Ooh, don't say that, don't say that,' Laurence pleaded.

‘I will,' said Phoebe. ‘You're just not being fair.'

‘Fair?' said Laurence, puzzled. ‘What has that got to do with it?'

‘Look, Laurence,' said Phoebe. ‘You think being human has to do with size. Well, it hasn't. It has to do with things like playing fair and sticking by your friends and not getting other
people into trouble.'

‘Has it?' asked Laurence in surprise. ‘Are you sure?'

‘Quite sure,' said Phoebe.

‘Oh,' said Laurence, feeling extra small all of a sudden. How was he ever going to get to be human?

‘Where do you go when you disappear?' Phoebe asked Laurence one day.

‘Nowhere,' he said.

‘But you must be somewhere,' she argued.

‘I'm
there
all right,' said Laurence. ‘But you can't see me.'

‘You mean you're invisible?'

‘No.
I
can see me, so I can't be invisible. Disappearing has to do with making people
believe
I'm not there. Seeing is believing. Not believing is not seeing.'

‘Gosh,' said Phoebe. ‘You make it sound worse than grammar. And that's
the very worst thing. Except for long division of course. Long division is the very, very worst thing in the whole world.'

‘Anyway, why do you want to know about disappearing?' asked Laurence.

‘Well, I'd like to learn how to do it,' said Phoebe. ‘Or at least how to partly do it.'

‘What do you mean, partly?' asked Laurence.

‘I want to make some of me disappear. There's too much of me, you see. If I could get rid of some of it, there'd be less.'

‘Are we talking about being thin again?' asked Laurence.

‘That's right,' said Phoebe.

‘Have you tried dieting?'

‘My mother says I'm too young to diet. I tell her I'm
big
enough, but she says it's not the same thing.'

‘Oh, I don't mean serious dieting like eating only grapefruits for a month. I mean just not eating sticky buns and milkshakes and chocolate bars and
cherry log and chocolate mousse with whipped cream and slabs of toffee with roasted almonds in them and big fat chips with tomato ketchup and baked Alaska and sherry trifle and ice-cream sundaes and …'

‘Of course I haven't,' said Phoebe. ‘Life wouldn't be worth living!'

‘How right you are!' said Laurence. ‘You're a more sensible girl than you seem at times.'

‘So will you teach me to disappear?' asked Phoebe.

‘I don't think I can,' said Laurence. ‘It's like being able to sing or being able to see colours. You either are or you're not. You can't learn it. If someone is tone-deaf or colour-blind, they just have
to live with it.'

‘Do you think it's something only leprechauns are able to do?'

‘Yes, I think maybe that's it,' said Laurence.

‘So being a leprechaun is quite useful sometimes?'

‘I suppose so,' said Laurence reluctantly. ‘But being huming is very nice too. Humings are cool.'

‘Not fat ones,' said Phoebe sadly.

Laurence tactfully changed the subject. ‘Let's get on with our Irish lessons,' he said.

But Phoebe wasn't listening. ‘My Uncle Joe is coming to stay with us tomorrow,' she announced. ‘He's American. What do you think of that?'

‘A Murrican?' said Laurence. ‘Hmm.' Now I wonder, he thought to himself, what kind of trick could I play on a Murrican?

Uncle Joe arrived the next day. He was very tall and thin, not a bit like a normal American. But he did have three suitcases, check trousers and a very loud voice.

‘You're just cute, honey,' he said to Phoebe, pinching her plump cheeks.

Nobody had ever called Phoebe cute before. She wasn't sure if she liked it.

Now, Uncle Joe is a very nice man, I am sure. But he did wear everyone out. He wanted to buy lots of green cardigans and jumpers, because he thought that was what you did in Ireland.

‘We wear other colours too,' Phoebe tried explaining to him.

‘Yes, but real Irish sweaters are green,' insisted Uncle Joe.

‘Well, Aran sweaters aren't,' said Phoebe. ‘They're made of
báinín
, which actually means white.'

Uncle Joe didn't seem to understand.

He asked Phoebe to show him some shamrock.

‘We only have it on St Patrick's day,' said Phoebe. ‘The rest of the year we have roses and lilies and carnations and delphiniums like everyone else.'

Uncle Joe was disappointed. ‘I suppose the next thing you'll say is that you have no leprechauns either.'

‘Oh no,' said Phoebe, pleased to be able to give him some good news. ‘We have
those
all right.'

‘Hey!' said Uncle Joe. ‘Have you ever actually seen one?'

‘Of course I have,' said Phoebe coolly.

‘Go on!' said Uncle Joe. ‘A real live leprechaun? Did you get his crock of gold?'

‘Oh, that's only a story. They don't have any gold,' said Phoebe.

‘Did the leprechaun tell you that?'

‘Yes.'

‘Well, he would, wouldn't he?' said Uncle Joe.

‘But this leprechaun is different!' said Phoebe. ‘This leprechaun is my Best Friend.'

When Laurence heard this (he was hiding in Phoebe's pocket), he got a very strange feeling all up his back. He was somebody's Best Friend, and he hadn't even tried to be!

‘Oh, go on!' said Uncle Joe again. ‘I don't believe a word of it!' And he gave a very loud laugh.

‘He is, he
is
,' insisted Phoebe tearfully.

Laurence, inside her pocket, was beginning to get worried. Was she going to fish him out? And sure enough, before you could say begobs and begorrah, Phoebe had grabbed him by the feet and yanked him out of her pocket.

Quick as a flash, Laurence disappeared.

‘Look!' exclaimed Phoebe, waving Laurence at Uncle Joe.

‘Look at what?' asked Uncle Joe, for of course he could see nothing.

‘Oh!' said Phoebe, looking at her fingers and realising there was nothing
there. ‘He must have disappeared!'

And she burst into tears, partly because she was disappointed that she couldn't show off her leprechaun to her uncle, and partly because she realised that she really shouldn't have tried to produce Laurence without his permission.

Now when Laurence heard how upset Phoebe sounded, he made a very brave decision. She was his Best Friend after all. He reappeared, right there in front of Uncle Joe's eyes!

‘Hey!' said Uncle Joe, amazed. ‘But he's wearing denims! He can't be a proper leprechaun.'

‘Well, you're wearing a tam o'shanter,' said Laurence. ‘You can't be
a proper Murrican.'

‘This?' said Uncle Joe, feeling his head. ‘This is my Irish cap.'

‘
Raiméis
,' said Laurence. ‘Everyone knows those are Scottish!'

‘Oh really, are they?' said Uncle Joe, so concerned about his headgear that he
forgot to be surprised that he was having a conversation with a leprechaun.

Well, the long and the short of it was that Uncle Joe wanted to take Laurence back to America with him.

‘You'd have a wonderful time,' he assured Laurence. ‘You'd be famous, a celebrity. You'd be a TV star. Coast-to-coast. You might even get a part in a movie. Oh my, it would be splendid. You could have a brilliant career.'

‘Go on, go on!' said Laurence eagerly. ‘I'd be famous, would I?'

‘Oh yes, indeed. The country would go wild for you. They might even want to make you president! A real Irish
leprechaun.
Unbelievable
!'

Laurence came down to earth with a bang. ‘Unbelievable? I'd be unbelievable, would I?'

‘Oh, absolutely,' agreed Uncle Joe eagerly.

‘Well, thank you very much, your honour,' said Laurence, giving a stiff little bow. ‘But you know, I can be unbelievable right here in Ireland.'

And with that, he sat down comfortably in Phoebe's hand and
closed his eyes, and politely but firmly refused to have anything more to do with the conversation.