She said, ‘But I think that I have no more time to try.’
And the snake she called Lanmo waited in the grass for her to come and meet him. But when she stood and took a step, he cried out, ‘No. No, Mary. You must remember that when you take very tiny steps the garden will grow and grow. Take only the very tiniest steps.’
But then she took another step and he called out, ‘No. No, Mary. You must take much smaller steps than that.’
But then she took another step and he called out, ‘No. No, Mary. You must remember that if you take no more steps then the garden will go on for ever and ever and will not end and nothing will end, not any more, not ever. Please.’ And that was the first time the snake had said please. ‘Please.’ And that was the second time. ‘Please.’
And that was the last time the snake ever said please.
And what happened next I cannot tell you. No one can make me.
So this is almost, but not quite, the whole of the story of how a snake’s heart learned to beat. And this is almost, but not quite, the whole of the story about a remarkable, wise little girl called Mary and the friend that she called Lanmo. And this is almost, but not quite, the whole of the story of something wonderful and terrible and strange.
And it may be that Mary and Lanmo are waiting with each other in the garden to this day. I know they both would have liked that.