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Chapter 89 Into the Forest (with apologies to CS Lewis)
England's house…
"Hey Artie dude! I've been kidnapped!" America yelled as he entered the house. He slammed around, found nobody home, apart from Alf the plumber who had fixed the hole in the ceiling (America already missed that hole already) and most of the bathroom and told him to 'sling his hook' and Turkmenistan who seemed to be on an acid trip.
"They're what?" America yelled again at Turkmenistan after Turkmenistan (nobody knew his human name) had tried to explain where they'd gone.
"They disappeared into the back of the wardrobe," Turkmenistan said again patiently.
"Are you high?" America asked him.
"You are still my hostage and I want my money!" Romano told America.
America ignored him.
"Get out of my way," Germany said, shoving the Italian out of his way. He entered the house looking dubious. "Mein Gott. It's worse than I thought. It's a hovel! I cannot believe how these English live!"
"Yeah yeah… listen Germania, all I want to know is where they are, where's my second breakfast and who's this dude?" America said.
"That's a plumber, I believe. Hello, have you been paid yet?" Germany asked Alf, shaking his hand.
"I don't care for Germans. My old dad was at Dunkirk…" Alf said.
"Of course he was," Germany said smoothly. He'd found most Brits didn't 'care' for Germans and most of them at some time or another had been at Dunkirk. "If you leave this place now without finishing up, I'll pay you double."
"Well I've already been paid!" Alf said.
"In what way?" Germany asked, suspicious.
"Someone gave him a brand new BMW! Imagine that!" America said.
Germany almost choked. "That's my brand new BMW!"
"Aye, I'm going to use it as my plumber's van," Alf said. "But I'll take more ready cash."
Germany's face went very very red. "That man knows no bounds."
"Artie? Nah he doesn't know any bounds." America agreed.
"Right clear the place of any valuables," Germany said to the two men behind him. "Including that wardrobe there!"
"You can't take the wardrobe!" Turkmenistan said, utterly horrified. "Russia is in there. And there's a tear in the space-time continuum, like a rip in the fabric of the universe at the back…"
"What rubbish! Bailiffs! Take that wardrobe. But make sure there's none of England's suits in there. We don't want those."
"The doors are jammed close, Sir," one of the bailiffs said.
"Damn."
"Honestly, dude, have you been watching too much Doctor Who again?" America asked Turkmenistan.
"Doctor what?" Turkmenistan replied. His anxiety increased when he saw the bailiffs attempt to pick up the wardrobe between them. "No don't take that! Miss Belarus will kill me or you'll be killed when Big Brother Russia wakes up inside your embassy!"
"Bad trip eh?" America asked him and then said, "Who are you again?"
"I'm Turkmenistan!" He wailed.
"Just kiddin' yer!" America said and punched him on the arm and headed back indoors. He was texting England as he did so. "YO ARTIE GERMANIA IS HERE AND HE'S NICKING YOUR STUFF. HE SAYS HE HAS SOME BAYLEAFS. I DONT KNOW WOT HE MEANS. IS PRU AND DEN WITH YOU? THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE GOING TO THE…" but his text message was too long and cut off at this point.
Also the two CIA men, still suffering from a hangover (each), appeared from upstairs, one of them was holding a bag of peas to his head (obviously England had started a trend). They had never felt this bad since bodyguarding Alfred on an outing with the Bad Touch Trio (on England's insistence) during which they'd managed to wreck the top deck of an Isle of Wight ferry.
"Party with Hamish eh?" America asked.
"The others disappeared inside a wardrobe, Sir," one of them said.
"Rubbish," Germany said and waved at the bailiffs to put the wardrobe in the back of a van. He then pointed at the television. "Take that, it looks fairly new."
"NOT THE TELEVISION!" America shrieked and flung himself towards the appliance and wrapped himself around it.
"Well this was a mistake," England said.
"I don't think we're in Kansas any more, Toto," Prussia said and then high-fived Denmark, who had no idea what he was on about, but high-fived him back.
"It was not snowing in Putney, non?" France said. "Well it was snowing in Penge High Street so perhaps…?" He didn't finish the sentence.
"Yes but this is proper bloody snow. Not British snow," England said.
"It's like Scottish snow!" Scotland said.
He was right. It was like Scottish snow. It was deep, very deep - up to their knees at least and very very cold.
The only time England had seen snow like this had been just north of Aberdeen. He looked at Charlemagne who was giggling like a lunatic in his arms.
Maybe the child was Scottish?
"This sucks," Den said. "Where are we?"
"Well this isn't Arthur's back garden is it?" Prussia said wisely.
"Non, eet eez not. I would zink zat it reminds me very much of…" But France did not finish his sentence as weirdly England's phone buzzed.
"It's bloody America! I'm going to text him and ask for help."
"Tell him to send wine!" France said.
"Or beer!" Denmark said.
But England's mobile signal died just as soon as America's all caps text came in. "I have no signal!"
"You are single? I am not surprised," France said.
"Aye it's like that sometimes." Hamish said incomprehensibly and began walking off. "It's just like the Highlands!" He called to them.
England was already looking for the back of the wardrobe but instead of any opening to his back garden there was just snow.
"I really think we should go back," he said.
"I agree mon cher. Already I miss my wine and my jacuzzi bath." France replied.
"What jacuzzi bath?"
"I didn't tell you... oh."
"This is great - come and make a snowman," Den said.
Pru did not want to make a snowman. He had spent too long in Russia's house and knew what real snow looked like and this was not English snow, this was the real deal.
For once he agreed with England. "I think we should go back," he said and began charging around looking for a wooden door of some sort.
"If this is Narnia then we need to defeat the white witch and meet Aslan," Den said as he made his snowman.
"It's not Narnia!" England yelled. Or was it?
France took Charlemagne from him and headed off in search of Scotland. "Your brother always knows what to do," he told England. England doubted this.
"I'm not bloody coming. This is utterly crazy and we should all stick together. I think we're somehow back in Penge High Street," England said stubbornly.
Prussia nodded and walked round and round in circles looking for a door.
Denmark appeared to be looking for a lion.
"I've found a tea shop!" Came a shout.
England immediately hurried off in the direction of the shout.
"I need beer if I'm going to save Aslan," Den said and went in the completely opposite direction
"We should all stick together!" Pierre said. "Ah poo." He said when he realised he was completely alone.
"You can't take it! It's my only reason for being here in this boring old house!" America shouted, holding onto the flat screen TV.
Germany's bailiffs put down the TV and looked at Germany for direction.
But Germany had a cunning plan, he took the giant 6 foot plus cardboard box that the wardrobe had arrived in and waved it in front of America. "Do you want this, Alfred? Do you?" He asked.
"I love cardboard boxes!" America said and grabbed it. "This will be great! I could make this into a rocket ship! Or a house! Or a car!" He sat inside and Germany closed the flaps.
"Hey! That's my hostage!" Romano protested.
"He was never your hostage," Germany said. "Now get out of my way while I try to find something, anything, valuable in this dump."
"Brum bruh!" America said from inside the box.
"You cannot just take everything! Turkmenistan said, following them from room to room. "I know Mr England owes you money… although I have no idea what for.."
"You have no idea what for? NO IDEA?" Germany lost his temper. "I'll tell you what for! He's ruined three of my cars. One was set on fire, one had a French antique desk dropped on it. French!" (Germany yelled this as if the fact the desk being French made it worse.) "And another given away to a plumber. He is a menace, a danger to society. Did you know he gave a dead mouse to a newly wedded royal bride? Did you? What kind of a man does such a thing? And France is just as bad!" Germany said the name 'France' with a particular shudder that ran through his whole body.
Turkmenistan did not know what to say to that. His brother Stans had done far worse at parties. But he didn't say that. He had never had much to do with Germany and didn't really know how to deal with him. Even less so with Romano who was raging about England not being there and probably being at his allotment.
"They probably won't be long," Turkmenistan said finally.
"Then we'll wait," Germany said and sat down on the couch (after first wiping it down and placing a clean handkerchief down before risking his clean suit).
"I'll make tea," Turkmenistan said. "One lump or two?"
"There's nothing of value upstairs," one of the bailiffs said. "Only six cats and this sword."
"A sword? Is it silver? It's probably stolen from one the many European Royal Families that England has trashed over the years. Like that time he managed to get the last of the Napoleon line killed or that time he made fun of George I just because he was a Hanoverian and spoke German. The man is a scourge of the ages!"
"Cup of tea?" Turkmenistan said.
"Danke… oh is this a joke?" Germany asked as Turkmenistan handed him a mug of tea, the receptacle being a 1966 World Cup mug.
"I don't understand?" Turkmenistan said.
"It's the only time England won the World Cup, against Germany," Romano said. "Stupido," he added. He looked around. "Where is my hostage?"
"You're the worst kidnapper I ever met," Germany told him. He turned to his bailiffs, "Let's go, it looks like all we've got is this television, a sword and a rubbish wardrobe probably filled with his awful suits."
"I think you'll regret that," Turkmenistan said.
Germany ignored him.
"I'm going to stay here and wait for England and he can pay me back for bringing back the hostage. I'm sure he will pay me. Do you think he will?" Romano asked Germany. "Do you have any money?"
Germany ignored him as well and walked out, wiping his feet on the doormat as he stepped outside.
"Do you have any signal yet?" England asked France, waving his phone around.
"Am I single yet? For you mon cher, of course I am."
"No! I mean, oh for God's sake. Where are we? And where is this tea shop?" England finally said.
"There is no tea shop. I fooled you. But zere is no point standing zere like a fool. We have to keep moving." France said, not moving.
"But if we stayed there the back of the wardrobe might have come back and now we're totally lost."
"Ahm not lost!" Scotland yelled. "Ahm never lost!"
"Okay where are we then?" England said.
"I dunno know but that disnae mean I'm lost." Scotland said and took a big gulp from a bottle stashed in his sporran.
"And we've lost Denmark and Prussia." England said. Although he thought this was Good Thing.
"And Pierre! Oh mon poor fils!" France wailed.
"He's not your son!"
"He could be. I treat him like my own."
"You mean he has to bail you out of police stations, pick you up from that airport in Bolivia when you almost caused a revolution by dancing with the President - who happened to be a man. That time when he stopped you from snogging President Trudeau. That time he paid for that poor Ambassador's family's therapy after you lived with them for two months? Or perhaps that time he talked you down after you tried to declare war on Poland after he said you weren't 'hip'?"
"Like zat."
"You're weird and I'm going back. There is absolutely no sign of any life anywhere and no tea shop." England said. He was right. There was just white. And trees. In fact there was a lot of trees. If he didn't know any better it looked like they were in a forest. There were no forests in Croydon that he did know. Even on his allotment. And they weren't at his allotment.
"Give me Charlemagne," England said. Three words he thought he'd never say.
"Non!"
"Give me the bloody kid!"
"Non! He stays with me."
"He's going to get bloody hypothermia."
"Ach as soon as it drops below five degrees you think you're going to get a cold! You know nothing about cold! Nothing!" Scotland said. "I once took him to Loch Lomond and he complained all the time," he said to France.
"We camped outside and the lake froze," England said.
"Ach it wasnae any less than minus 5. You're nothin' but a wimp."
"He likes it when it's mild and moist," France said to Scotland. "And ze weather as well hon hon hon!"
England took the child from him and walked off. "You should thank me for saving your child!" He called over his shoulder.
"I remember when I took him to school in the Highlands and he did nothin' but moan about the snow. It came over the tops of his wellies but he should have been grateful to have wellies. I never had wellies." Scotland carried on telling France.
German Embassy kitchen...
"So there is really nothing here that is enough to repay England's debt?" Germany was saying to the bailiffs, as he stood looking at the wardrobe which seemed have some kind of groaning noise coming from it. Probably the wood settling, Germany thought.
"He owes you…" here the bailiff got out his calculator "£122,527.57p."
"We've got goods valued at…" another pause "£57.42p. The television should be worth more but it's not. It appears someone has wrecked the contrast settings on it. We're not sure about the sword. It looks quite expensive."
"Wonderful." Germany said flatly. He turned round and ran into Austria. "What in Gott's name? Why are you here?"
"Well I say! That's not nice! I was summoned by your Ambassador. Firstly to psycho-analyse your asylum seeker and secondly for the ball tonight."
"A ball? Yay!" Italy yelled, utterly delirious with happiness. "I have to make pasta and pizza and some meatballs. Will there be pretty girls? I need to get my hair cut! No perhaps not. I don't have time! Aaaargh!" He totally panicked and ran up and down the kitchen.
Germany grabbed him by the collar and shook him. "Stop that. We don't have any panicking here. This is officially German soil." He then turned to Austria. "What ball?"
"Embassy ball," Austria replied. But he was looking with interest at the sword. "Isn't that…?" But didn't get to finish when the wardrobe shook ominously and a groan emitted from it.
"Turkmenistan was at England's house and he said something stupid about England, France and some of the others disappearing into that thing," Germany told Austria.
"Turkmenistan is still at England's house?" Austria shivered. Like all Nations, he had a dread of the Stans. Particularly when they were all together. "Just him?"
"Just him."
"Where is my fratello," Italy asked, in horror.
"I left him at England's house with his hostage," Germany said. "He's still hoping to get some money out of England I think."
"It'll never happen. He has severe psychological hang-ups about money and wealth in particular." Austria said confidently.
"He certainly wants to make me less wealthy. He still owes me over £122,000!" Germany said.
"Oh Luddy, money means nothing," Italy said as he began boiling a huge pan of pasta.
"That's because you have none."
"Indeed," Austria said. "Anyway, where's your refugee?"
"He's upstairs, third floor," Germany said. "And he's not a refugee. He's barely an asylum seeker. I don't understand why he's here. All I know is that a mysterious Mr P seems to have some hold over the Ambassador. It's outrageous."
"Mr P is Mr Panda!" Italy said.
"Don't be stupid, Italy."
Italy was about to protest but shut up anyway.
"Well I'm going up there." Austria said.
"He's being particularly rambunctious. He orders us all about. He claims to have some grandiose ideas about himself and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he tries to attend this ball tonight," Germany told Austria. "Good luck."
"I don't need luck," Austria said. "This is all about science." He strode off, came back, took some valium, and disappeared. He didn't like bears.
"Well this is just absolutely rubbish," England said to Charlemagne. "I don't know about you but I wish we'd never gone into that wardrobe. Whose idea was it anyway? I bet it was France's. Looking for a gay bar or something." (It had been Denmark's.) "Stupid bloody foreigners. We don't need them anyway. I never get lost. It's my in-built compass. Comes from years of being in the Navy." In all this time Charlemagne was staring at him as if he were a particularly interestingly large biscuit.
England stopped dead. "I'm sure it was around here, don't you?"
"Monsieur Angleterre!" Came a voice.
"Oh bloody hell. That's all I bloody need," England exclaimed. "I get rid of one bloody Frenchman and get another."
Pierre hurried up to him. "Where is Monsieur Le France?"
England shuddered (why on earth Pierre called France 'Le France' as if he was something great was a complete mystery to him). "He's over there somewhere with my bloody brother and good bloody luck to them. Do you know where we are?"
"I believe we are lost, monsieur."
"Stop pawing me, man. And here, hold Charlemagne. Not like that, like this. Don't you have children? Useless frog. I am never lost and I believe I know where we are."
"Where?" Pierre asked, holding Charlemagne at arm's length.
The child threatened to throw up on him but then began crying.
"Did you just make him cry? He was quite happy a minute ago."
"I think he is hungry."
"Oh for God's sake. I bet he's bloody American." (England seemed to change his mind every five minutes with regards to Charlemagne's parentage.)
"Look Mr England! There's a lamppost!"
"Well I say! Perhaps we are in Croydon after all."
They headed towards it, trudging through the thick snow. It seemed to be getting colder and thick flakes of snow were now falling. England, being a typical Englishman, hated snow with a passion and felt slightly distressed about any snow over a centimetre thick - thinking that the public transport would stop, there would be panic-buying in the shops and idiot children attempting to sledge on snow less an inch thick. It was really all too much.
And then salvation loomed out of the forest. Next to the lamppost was a small hill and set inside this small hill was a door. A round wooden door.
"Hobbits!" England suddenly said and then felt foolish.
Charlemagne suddenly stopped yowling.
Pierre looked at England questioningly.
"You wouldn't understand," England said and then knocked on the door. He then said, rather mystifyingly, "Do I look like a wizard?"
"Non," Pierre replied.
The door opened. It wasn't a hobbit. Or indeed any other fictional character. It was Estonia.