Nicko lightened the atmosphere. “Doesn’t it say in your Queen instruction manual, Jen?”

“If you are going to be rude, Nicko Heap, I won’t tell you about my Journey. Or anything else, for that matter.”

“Oh, go on, Jen. You know you want to tell us.” Nicko’s stomach rumbled loudly. “You know,” he said, “the weird thing is I can smell roast potatoes.”

Jim Knee had once spent a short but not unpleasant life as a jinnee-cook in a Palace kitchen. As soon as he walked into the cross passage, Jim Knee knew he was back. After getting over his shock, Jim Knee remembered how much he had enjoyed his time there—until the very last ten minutes. And so, when Jenna, Septimus and Simon had gone into the hall, Jim Knee had taken a deep breath and, remembering the motto—in left, out left—he had pushed open the little left-hand door and stepped into the kitchen.

A trail of goose bumps swarmed over Jim Knee’s skin as he had walked into the room. It smelled the same. It looked the same. It was the same. This was where he had spent twenty years of his last life and to Jim Knee’s surprise, all was exactly as he had left it.

Because there was a Queen-to-be in residence, the kitchen and all its contents, like the candles in the Queen’s Way, had Magykally come to life. Jim Knee wandered around, looking at everything he remembered so well, and very soon he was pottering happily. He found a large roast chicken and a pile of cooked potatoes exactly as he had left them, and set about carving the chicken and roasting the potatoes using his high-speed fire method, which worked well and left surprisingly few scorch marks on the wall.

Ten minutes later Jim Knee pushed his way into the hall carrying a huge plate of cold chicken and hot roast potatoes. He paused a moment and studied the smoke-filled room. It was the just the same: the soaring beams, the inefficient fire, the crest on the massive lintel above it. Jim Knee gritted his teeth and inspected the wall behind him. Yes, there it was—low down, carved into the plaster in old-fashioned angular writing:

TALLULA CRUM

HAS A BIG BUM.

IF SHE EATS ANY MORE

SHE’LL GET STUCK IN THE DOOR.

Jim Knee harrumphed quietly to himself. He was surprised to find that it still annoyed him. He remembered the little brat of a Princess who had taken a dislike to her—for Jim Knee had been a her in that life. He remembered how the child had very carefully written the graffiti in her best pen and made sure she, Miss Tallula Crum, a cook of generous proportions—and portions—had seen it. And how the Queen had insisted it stay because “children must be allowed to express themselves.”

Jim Knee set his plate of chicken and potatoes in front of the fire. He offered it to all, as a jinnee is bound to do, but to his relief there was plenty left for him. And so, to the background swash of the waves outside and Jim Knee’s quiet sucking of chicken bones, Jenna began the story of her Journey.

31

JENNA’S JOURNEY

“Well, after she, I mean my mother, the Queen, nearly had a fight with Mum—yes, Sep, she was really rude to Mum—we went up to the Queen’s Room, like I expected, and through the Queen’s Way. Only we didn’t come out at Aunt Zelda’s, we came out into . . .” Jenna shook her head in disbelief. “Oh, it was so weird. One minute I was in a tiny dark cupboard with the ghost of my mother; the next I was standing in a boat.”

“A boat?”

“Yep. And not just any old boat. It was amazing. Long and narrow with a sweeping-up pointy thingy at the front—all right Nik, a prow—covered in gold. The inside of the boat was all shiny and black and there was a big red canopy at the back with lots of tassels hanging down from it. Underneath the canopy were three chairs, just like these . . .” Jenna waved her hand at the line of little red-and-gilt chairs that were set back against the wall.

“Two of the chairs were empty but sitting on the right-hand one was an oldish lady—a Queen—who had spoken to me at the Dragon House. I was really pleased to see her; I felt like I had a friend there.

“My mother took my hand very formally, like we were at a dance or something; she led me to the chairs and we both sat down. It was then I realized something really amazing. She wasn’t a ghost anymore—my mother was alive! I didn’t know what to say—I kind of wanted to jump up and hug her but she just sat on her chair and smiled at me like I was some kind of visiting aunt or something. But the old lady put her hand on mine and squeezed it and said, ‘Hello, Jenna, dear. I am your grandmother and I’ve been so looking forward to this.’

“I must have looked really shocked because she said, ‘Do not worry. We’ve all been on the Journey. It was just as strange for me.’ Which was lovely, but my mother still said nothing, which upset me. I’ve always been disappointed that she had never Appeared to me at home but since I read The Queen Rules, I knew there was a reason for that. But now there was no excuse for her being so distant with me. My grandmother seemed to understand, though. She kept hold of my hand and squeezed it tight. Oh, Sep, she was lovely.