A selection of the illustrations for Dandelions and Gingerbread

Dandelions and Gingerbread (From page one, page seven and page ten, of fourteen pages)




A golden October day after the first storm of winter is a good time to go down to the sea. The waves are still jostling and growling deep inside the caves and around the dark rocks at the foot of the cliff, but the water is glittering in the sun, and glowing like new green leaves from the other side of the year.

We notice the changes. The wind and the rain have been briskly sweeping and washing. The grass is glossy and among the seeds and berries in the hedgerows, autumn flowers are sweetly scenting the fresh air. The wet branches are dark and shiny, and crystals in the stones are sparkling. Coming nearer to the waters edge, you feel the spray is warm on your face, reminding you that the sea has stored up the warmth of the summer.

Let us say that it is a holiday, and let us say that the morning has been passing unseen, here at the brink of the ocean. It is the sort of day that has slow seconds and speeding hours. You can feel that clocks tick slowly on such days, and here by the sea the waves seem to come from further away and to be curling up for longer before they break; but the hours tip-toe quickly when you are not looking, like grandmother’s footsteps.

Three children have come walking along through the lanes, and now they are finding their way along an old path that leads to the beach. Brambles tug at their sleeves and nettles wickedly tickle their legs with stings. They come out into the cove and run past the cottages where the fishing families used to live. For a long time now the cottages have been turning into pebbles and sand. The open doorways amongst the ruins no longer lead anywhere, and the windows no longer frame some flowers in a jug or a face looking out to sea.

Further along there is a rough stone quay, which is like a big strong arm protecting the cove from stormy waves. Running about on the beach, the children are calling to each other and laughing because their words are blown away by the wind. The children run to the end of the quay and sit on the end like a little row of swallows ready to fly away. They dangle their feet over and look down into the water. On the moving surface their reflections are sliding about like fish amongst the dazzling reflections of the sun.

‘One of my shoes is going to fall in, I just know it!’ says Eliza, who is the oldest and boldest of the three. ‘This one,’ she adds, stretching out her right leg and flip-flopping the shoe with her toes to show how very likely this is to be true.





Now all the while that the gingerbread man has been telling us his story, some strange things have been happening. A black three masted ship in full sail has come over the horizon and has been sailing towards the bay. As the ship enters the bay between high headlands, the sails lose the wind, the ship slows to a rest near the shore, and the lions, shining brightly, come roaming across the beach to meet the vessel. It is only when the ginger bread man stops and looks about himself, and his orange peel mouth curls into a smile that the children begin to notice these things. Jasper is gazing at the lions, whilst Annie is the first to see the dark ship, with a flag flying from the top of her tallest mast - the skull and crossbones.





Round and round whirls the wand, catching the rays of the sun and becoming a golden band of light. The children feel a strange breeze flurry through their hair, and their skin tingles. They feel the breath of the lions and hear the padding of their paws as they begin to run around in a circle. Like a merry-go-round of lions they thunder ever more swiftly in a flurry of sand, as the gingerbread man continues to whirl his wand and chant his song. Faster still and faster they run; the colour and light and motion merging with the colour and light and motion of the wand. Then this flying, dazzling ring rises up above the gingerbread man, the three children and the sleeping lioness and begins to move towards the pirate ship. The sound of running becomes the sound of the rushing waves pearling about the sea shore and hissing through the darkening air.

When the children open their eyes, they see the lions carved in the gilded gingerbread that encircles the ship. The lions glisten and shimmer in the last direct rays of the setting sun and the wavering ripples of light reflected up from the surface of the water. All is quiet for a moment, except for the waves lapping against the golden ship as she dips and rises and points herself towards the evening star.