One of Jack and Poppy’s most favourite things on the hill was something they didn’t even know the name of. When Jack and Poppy first saw it, Jack said, “What is this thing?” Poppy said she didn’t know, but it did look like a big pile of wool. Sheep’s wool. “But green,” Jack had said, nodding. And they both thought it was one of the prettiest things. “Really beautiful,” Poppy had whispered.
Whatever it was, the ‘thing’ was on a piece of flat ground, behind a big rock, with a small tree overhead. Sort of hidden; unless you actually decided to not take the normal way up the hill, but rather o around the rock. Then you’d see it. So probably they were the only people who had ever seen it. Imagine that!
The thing was behind the rock on the ground, in the grass, like a small heap of blankets, or pillows. Like a pile of wool, just as Jack had said. It looked like moss, too, but it was soft and dry and had delicate little red flowers sprinkled through it. And Jack and Poppy discovered it was soft and comfortable, like a woollen chair cushion. So they used to come up and sit on it. Quite often.
They’d share a snack and look out over their town and talk about school and watch the white clouds drifting above them. It was sheltered and quiet and one of the best places on the hill. Jack said, “We could come here for ever and ever, Poppy.”
But he was wrong. Very wrong. The next time they went around the big rock to sit on the thing … it had changed.
Jack said, “Poppy!” And Poppy said, “Jack!”
They couldn’t believe their eyes. Their big soft pile of ‘stuff’ (“Like wool,” as Jack used to say.) … the pile was now a heap. A big heap. And it didn’t seem like it was soft, anymore. More like scratchy.
Then suddenly Poppy grabbed Jack’s arm. She jerked him back. “Jack! Look. It’s moving.” And it was. Like something was inside pushing and heaving and trying to get out. The heap was stretching and growing and getting bigger.
Jack said, “We’ve got to stop it. Come on, Poppy!” And he jumped at the heap and landed with a big belly flop, right on top. Flop!
“Help me squash it, Poppy!” he called. So she jumped onto the heap too. Flop!
But nothing happened. They just got scratched. So they struggled onto their feet and jumped and flopped again. Boom! Flop! But again, the heap didn’t go down.
Jack said it should have flattened by now because they were both heavy. And so Poppy said, “Well let’s go and get someone heavy. Get some help. Like Dad, Jack!”
And so away they went. Running like the wind. Down and down and through the long grass and around rocks and under trees, to the footpath, through their gate and into the kitchen panting and puffing and both talking at one time.
“Dad! Dad! It’s growing.”
“It’s got bigger! We can’t stop it!”
Dad had just finished washing some dishes and he turned and gave them a big dad smile. “Slow down! Slow down,” he said. “Start again. Tell me what’s happened; slowly.”
Jack and Poppy explained about their favourite place and the woollen pillow thing they used to sit on and how it was now growing into a big heap. “And it’s not stopping,” Jack said. “It’s going to turn into a monster or something.”
Dad wrinkled his face up, like he sometimes did when he was trying to figure out how to do something hard. Then he said, “OK. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. Let’s all go up to your pillow together now and have a look. We’ll figure out something.”
So that’s what they did. Jack and Poppy raced up the hillside. Dad came lumbering and puffing behind them. The three of them shuffled around the big rock. And Poppy pointed at the heap.
Dad said, “Hmm. I see what you mean.” And he scratched his head and said. “OK. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll all sit on the heap together. Surely the three of us are heavy enough to squash it back down again.”
But they weren’t. They plonked down on the squirming heap but it just stayed big. And even got a little bit bigger. They got up and plonked down again. “One. Two. Three. Plonk!” All at the same time. But still the pillow didn’t get squashed.
Jack was worried now. He said, “Dad. We’ve got to do something quick. It’s getting bigger!” And it was. It was growing and heaving up and soon it would be ‘way too high to sit on. Even if he and Poppy went and got the wooden box they used to keep their toys and used it as a step to get on top of their pillow it would be too big. They had to stop it now. Somehow.
Dad said, “OK. I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ve call my mates and ask them to come and we’ll all plonk on the pillow together.”
So he got out his phone and made a quick post to his WhatApp. Straight away the notifications started coming in. Bing! Bing! Bing! He looked at Poppy and grinned. “My friends are coming to help,” he said.
And sure enough, there they were. Already the first of dad’s mates were getting out of their cars at the bottom of the hill and putting on gumboots. More arrived. And more. Soon a great swarm of dad’s friends were pushing and panting and laughing up the hill.
Dad showed them the big heap. Everyone lined up and, with dad yelling “One! Two! Three!”, they all jumped in one big leap. Boom! But the heap didn’t get smaller. Again. Boom! But still it was big. And getting bigger. Dad scratched his head. “Hmm” he said. “Looks like we need more people. But who?”
“I know where we can get more people,” Jack said. He gave Poppy a quick bright smile and said to dad, “Our class can come and help.”
And it was true. They borrowed dad’s phone and called their teacher and she sent out an email to parents and before dad could say ‘OK. I’ll tell you what we’ll do …’ there they were. Down at the road. The whole class was getting out of the school bus and romping and jumping up the hill. Dozens and dozens of their friends, calling and striving and puffing up and up. The teacher too, waving her keys.
They arrived jostling and shoving around the big rock. Then the gumboots and school shoes all lined up around the heap.
It was still heaving and wiggling and by now it was really big. Jack and Poppy were looking worried. Then dad called again “One! Two! Three!” and everyone jumped. Boom!
The heap stopped heaving. Jack and Poppy stared at it and Poppy was just about to say “We did it!” when slowly the heap sagged up. A little slow sag. But an up sag. It was still expanding!
Oh no! Everyone groaned. But Jack and Poppy weren’t giving up. They gave the count again, “One! Two! Three!” and all the gumboots and school shoes jumped again. Boom! And again. Boom! And the heap stopped heaving. They all looked at it.
“Do you think it’s stopped?” Jack asked in a tiny voice. Uncertain and a bit worried. Poppy wasn’t sure. “It has gone down a little bit,” she said to dad. “But it seems we need some more weight.” Dad said, she was right. The heap had gone down a wee tiny bit. Still, it might heave up again any minute. “Where can we get some more help?” he asked.
Poppy said, “I know!” She spun on her heel, raced off around the big rock, down and hill and before Dad could say, “OK. You tell me what we’ll do ..” Poppy was coming back up the hill with … Mrs Threadbare!
Their kind old neighbour who lived in the house with the weeds growing under the letterbox. Mrs Threadbare was coming to help! With her pink floppy hat and old granny glasses on her smiling granny face, with her big shopping bag on her arm. And this time, wearing gumboots.
Everyone cheered and shouted and they all lined up and made some room for Mrs Threadbare and her big shopping bag and Dad said, “One! Two! Surely this time we’ve got enough people. Three! ” And everybody jumped on the heap with their hardest, biggest, most enormous ‘Boom!’ And the heap went down! A little. Boom! And again it went down. And again. Boom! Boom!
It was working! The heap was being pushed back down. Smaller and smaller. With each jump the heap shrank. Smaller. Littler. Tinier. Until at least Jack threw himself on the pile, on his back and spread out like a starfish. “We did it!” he said. Poppy bent down and felt the green pile and said, “Soft! It’s soft and cosy again!”
Then Mrs Threadbare said she thought everyone needed a little something to celebrate. She reached into her big bulging handbag and pulled out a lollipop. She handed it to the nearest of Dad’s mates and reached back into the bag for another one. She gave that away and put her hand in again for another one. And another one. And another one. Mrs Threadbare’s bag had enough lollipops for everyone! Jack and Poppy could hardly believe their eyes, but it was true.
The last person to get a lollipop was their teacher. She grinned and waved her bus keys and said Thank you and announced it was probably time to get in the bus and take the class home. And with that everyone helped each other around the big rock and down the hill.
Down they all went, down and down, along the footpath, and just as Jack and Poppy and Dad arrived at their house Mum pulled up in her car. She’d been teaching the senior high school students about the influence of Maynard Keynes’ global economic theories on the 1944 Bretton Woods Conference. “What’s been going on?” she asked. Jack and Poppy told her and Dad said, “There was a big crowd up there, dear.”
Mum smiled and said it looked a lot like the big crowds that sometimes came to hear Jesus. Poppy nodded. She said in those Bible stories Mum and Dad read to them at bed time she’d noticed there were often big crowds. “Lots of people came,” she said.
Then Dad smiled and asked Mum if she’d noticed something else. Mum screwed up her face in a smile and said No. She hadn’t. And dad reached into his pocket and pulled out a lollipop. “I got an extra one for you!” he said. And he laughed and handed it to Mum.