skin. It was a glorious dark green and polished with oil so that it glinted in the light. Charlie, who wasn’t tall by any means, was only a little smaller than the man and she couldn’t help noticing that he smelt of vanilla and unusual spices. And as odd as it was to find such a stranger in her house, strangely Charlie didn’t feel alarmed. His friendly appearance calmed her more immediate concerns, and for some unknown reason she couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew his face from somewhere. It was as though an old, old memory was trying to float to the surface of her consciousness.
Being a reasonably polite girl, she did her best not to comment on the man’s strange appearance. ‘I, uh, I was letting off steam,’ she replied with an embarrassed look. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any damage, honest.’
‘And why were ya letting off steam?’ the stranger enquired. Wooden bracelets clattered when he moved and his large ears were pierced with sandalwood hoops. ‘Ya don’t look like a steam engine or a new-fangled locomotive. So tell me, wot’s got ya so angry that ya’ve gotta go stompin’ around like an angry Hippotomi?’
Charlie had never heard of a Hippotomi, but she was getting more and more inquisitive. Regaining her composure, she began to reassert some of her natural curiosity.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, why are you in my house? Did my gran let you in?’
‘No, no, lass. I let meself in,’ the stranger replied.
‘Say what?’ choked Charlie in disbelief. ‘You can’t go around sneaking into people’s houses – that’s crazy!’ She was about to demand that he leave, but once again her curiosity got the better of her. ‘Where are you from anyway? And why’s your skin that colour? And while I’m at it, why are you wearing those funny clothes? Don’t you get cold?’
‘Oh, jeez, ya ask a lotta questions, don’t ya?’
‘Well, you’re the stranger in my house, so I think the least you owe me is some answers.’
‘Ah, good point.’ The stranger grinned sheepishly. ‘Well, me skin is dis colour cos I was born with it. And I wear these clothes because I look good in them and also cos it’s real warm in Bellania at the moment.’
‘Bellania?’ muttered Charlie to herself. She mulled the word over a bit in her head, like a new sweet on her tongue, one she didn’t know whether she did or did not like the taste of. ‘Bellania,’ she said again. ‘That sounds really familiar. Where is it?’
‘Wot? Ya mean ta tell me ya’ve never been ta Bellania?’
‘Hmm … well, I went to Paris once when I was younger, with my parents, but I don’t think I’ve ever been to Bellania. Is that in Europe?’
‘Europe? Oh, bless me Glade and cripple me Sapling!’ shouted the stranger, slapping his hand to forehead. ‘Hippotomi, we clearly gotta have a little chat. Yer very, very far behind in yer upbringing. Yer education is sorely lacking.’
Charlie didn’t know whether to be amused or angry. Just what was the proper procedure for addressing a green-skinned stranger who sneaked into your house and then insulted your schooling?
‘My education is fine, thank you very much.’ She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. ‘You know you’re almost as bad as Mr Crow, telling me I’m not good enough. Seriously, though, why is your skin that colour? And don’t just tell me you were born with it. I want a proper explanation.’
‘Yer an insistent little lass, aren’t ya?’ chuckled the man. ‘Do ya always cross yer arms and do that thing with yer feet when ya want questions answered?’
‘My house,’ reminded Charlie. But she did stop tapping her foot, although her arms remained firmly folded.
‘Oops, how could I have forgotten so soon?’ The stranger straightened his lips in an attempt to stop smirking at Charlie’s scowl. ‘Well, lass, me skin is green because I’m a Treman.’
‘Huh? A what?’
‘A Treman,’ repeated the stranger. ‘Do ya honestly mean ta tell me that ya’ve never heard of a Treman?’
‘A Treman? What’s a Treman?’ asked Charlie.
‘I’m a Treman, lass. Who’s yer teacher? Whoever he is, he ain’t doing a proper job. Tell me, little Hippotomi – and don’t stomp yer feet at me – do ya know wot a Stoman is, or a Human?’
‘Well, of course I know what a Human is! I’m one. But I’ve never heard of a Treman or a Stopman.’
‘Stoman,’ corrected the stranger. ‘She knows nothing! Nothing!’ he mumbled to himself. ‘So, were