Skates for Pom

The first snow came to Muddy Lane in the night. By morning the whole lane was white and smooth, without one footprint in it.

Pom pressed her snout to the window. Pom was a round little pig, and she loved stomping best of all. Every time she stomped, she said “Clomp!” She wanted the whole snowy world to hear it.

All week she had been waiting for her new red boots. Today they were coming.

To get ready, she stomped round the kitchen in her socks.

“Clomp!” said Pom. Her socks went pat.

“Clomp!” said Pom, louder. Her socks went pat, pat.

“Socks are no good at all,” said Pom.

Then over the hill came Goose, the postman. Goose pulled the parcels on a sledge. It was so cold that his spectacles had fogged right up. He wiped them on his tail feathers, and they fogged up again at once.

There were two parcels on the sledge. One was for Number One Muddy Lane, where the pigs lived. One was for Number One Icy Lane, just over the hill by the frozen pond, where the penguins lived. Goose squinted at the labels. Through all that fog, Icy looked just like Muddy, and Muddy looked just like Icy.

He knocked on Pom’s door.

“Parcel! Parcel for you!” said Goose, in his big honky voice.

Pom took the parcel. It went jingle.

“Boots don’t jingle,” said Pom. But Goose was already off up the hill, with one parcel left on his sledge.

Pom tore off the paper. Inside were four tiny ice skates, with little silver bells on the laces. There was a card that said: Two skates, and two more just in case.

Pom counted her feet. One, two, three, four.

“Just in case you are a pig,” said Pom.

They were not boots. But the snow was waiting, and Pom could not wait one minute more. She put a skate on each trotter and stepped out of the door.

“Clomp!” said Pom.

“Jingle-whee!” said the skates.

And off she slid. Down Muddy Lane she went, round the bottom of the hill, and all the way to the frozen pond. Pom had time to say “Oh!” and “Oops!” and “Wheee!” before she sat down in a soft snowdrift at the edge of the pond.

Flump.

Out on the ice stood a small penguin called Tuck. He had two big red boots on his feet and two more on his flippers. They were far too big for him.

Clomp, went the boots on the ice. Clomp, clomp. Tuck did not slide one bit.

“Hello,” said Pom from the snowdrift. “What are you doing?”

“Skating,” said Tuck. “Only it doesn’t work. I think my new skates are broken.”

Pom looked at Tuck’s feet. Tuck looked at Pom’s feet. Pom’s skates gave a little jingle.

“Those are my boots,” said Pom.

“Those are my skates,” said Tuck.

They looked at each other. Then they laughed so hard that Tuck sat down on the ice with a bump, boots and all.

“Shall we swap back?” said Tuck.

Pom thought about it. She was already wearing skates. Tuck was already wearing boots.

“In a minute,” said Pom. “First, show me how to skate.”

So Tuck showed her. “Bend your knees,” he said. “Push with one foot. Then the other.”

Pom pushed. Jingle. Pom pushed again. Jingle-whee! And because Pom was so round, when she turned, she kept on turning. Round and round she spun like a top, with all her bells ringing.

“You spin beautifully,” said Tuck.

“Now you,” said Pom. “Stomping is easy. Lift your foot up high. Put it down hard. And say Clomp!”

Tuck lifted one foot, and his whole body tipped that way. He put it down. “Clomp!” He lifted the other foot, and his whole body tipped the other way. “Clomp!” Head, tummy, flippers and all.

“You stomp with all of you,” said Pom. “That’s the best stomping I ever saw.”

Then they swapped back. Tuck laced up his skates. Pom pulled on her four red boots at last. Tuck skated round and round the ice, and Pom stomped all along the white bank beside him. Her red boots made big round footprints in the first snow.

“Clomp!” went Pom.

“Jingle-whee!” went Tuck.

“Clomp! Jingle-whee! Clomp! Jingle-whee!”

* * *

Goose heard them from the far side of the hill, because a penguin with bells on his skates is easy to hear. He came back with his empty sledge to see. He wiped his spectacles on his tail feathers, and this time they stayed clear.

He saw a pig in red boots. He saw a penguin in silver skates.

“Oh dear,” said Goose. “Did I muddle up Muddy and Icy?”

“You did,” said Pom. “And now I can spin.”

“And I can stomp,” said Tuck.

“Then that was the best mistake I ever made,” said Goose.

Tuck twisted one little silver bell off his laces. He held it out to Pom and made his voice big and honky, just like Goose.

“Parcel! Parcel for you!” said Tuck.

Goose laughed so hard that his spectacles fogged up all over again.

The sky was turning blue, and the lamps were coming on in the windows. Pom’s legs were tired from all that stomping and spinning. So Goose sat her on his empty sledge and pulled her all the way back up Muddy Lane. Tuck waved from the pond. Jingle, jingle.

At home, Pom stood her four red boots in a row by the stove to dry. She put the silver bell on the windowsill, where she could see it from her bed.

Mom rubbed Pom’s cold trotters until they were warm. Then she tucked the blanket right up under Pom’s chin.

Pom closed her eyes. She thought about the ice, and the bells, and spinning round and round and round.

“Clomp,” said Pom, very softly. “Jingle-whee.”

And Pom fell fast asleep, the happiest pig on Muddy Lane, with warm toes and a new friend just over the hill.