‘He’s got a weird bottom. It looks like a peach trapped in a sock.’
‘No,’ said Hamish, stepping forward. ‘The crown. It’s the crown!’
‘Maybe Scarmarsh has tried to zap the King before now,’ said Elliot, ‘but the crown deflects the zap?’
‘Yes!’ said Holly, excited. ‘That’s why Scarmarsh is waiting for him to get a new one! Because he knows he’ll have to take the old one off first! He’s going to wait until the crown is off his head and the King is unprotected. Then he’ll zap him in front of millions of people!’
They’d cracked it!
Outside, the gang rushed around. They had plenty to organise.
‘We’ll need food!’ said Buster, sensibly.
‘Kebabs!’ said Alice, hopefully.
‘Yes,’ said Buster, humouring her, ‘or in the morning I’ll pop to Madame Cous Cous’s International World of Treats and buy a multipack of Turkish Twizzlers and some Barcelona Banana Balls!’
The PDF was the only thing that could stop Scarmarsh now. Hamish was pleased they were back together.
They’d need Buster’s technical know-how.
They’d need Elliot’s unique genius.
They’d need Clover’s mastery of disguises.
And they’d need Venk to . . . um . . . well, they’d find something for Venk to do.
Maybe he could hold their coats!
‘PDF!’ he shouted. ‘Wheels rolling at 6 a.m! We need to travel to Otherearth, locate Scarmarsh, rescue the King – and save the world!’
The Plan
Early the next morning, with notes for parents left on pillows, detailing monsters, parallel universes and how very important it is to always try and save the world, the PDF rocketed towards London in Buster’s ice-cream van.
They looked a determined bunch.
They were all wearing fake moustaches and enormous hairy sideburns that Clover had passed around, as well as blue boiler suits Hamish had borrowed from Slackjaw’s Motors. They’d rubbed oil on their faces to make them look more like grown-ups too.
Soon, they could see the city under grubby grey clouds. As usual, the first thing they could spot from the motorway was the huge BT Tower in the distance. It used to be called the Post Office Tower in the old days, and everyone agreed that was a much cooler name. A ring of dark cloud surrounded its peak. It jutted out of the ground, standing tall over all the other buildings for miles around.
Hamish felt nervous. He sat right at the back of the van and, in this quiet moment, thought of his dad.
Would he approve of this? Was Hamish doing the right thing?
Sometimes, it was as if he could feel his dad watching him. And, since his first conversation with Alex, every time he saw a blackbird he wondered if that was Dad, looking out for him. Except for the time he saw a blackbird poop on a bench. He didn’t think his dad would do that.
But he couldn’t help but wonder whether his dad would want him putting himself in danger. Mums and dads want their kids to stay safe. That’s the whole point of being a mum or a dad. Those are the only instructions you’re given.
But equally kids want their mums and dads to be safe. And that’s what this was all about. Finding his dad. And stopping anybody else from getting zapped.
So yes, this had to be the right thing to do.
He wished he’d had the chance to ask Alex more questions. Next time he saw her he was going to grill her on exactly where his dad was. Thinking about his dad, he suddenly felt filled with something. Bravery? Confidence? He knew for sure now that his father hadn’t just left him on Boxing Day. There had been a reason he’d had to go. And now Hamish was going to help him make it all worthwhile. He’d prove he was worth coming home for.
An hour or so later, as Buster parked up in the alley next to Arcadian Lane, Hamish got out one of his mum’s Starkley Town Council clipboards.
‘Everybody out!’ he shouted, and pointed at what he’d drawn on the other side of Holly’s MEGAPOCALYPSE presentation. ‘I present our plan!’
OUR PLAN!
A plan in FIVE stages by Hamish Ellerby
Split up!
Remember to drink lots of water, be polite and don’t drop litter!
Buster, Venk and Grenville – protect our otherhalves.
Scarmarsh will be sure to try and zap them if he gets wind of this, which would be curtains for us!
Wear plenty of tinfoil!
Clover – we will need a whole bunch of your super-great disguises so that we can blend in to polite society! Hamish and the others – protect the King!
Then we must see . . . to Scarmarsh!
‘Excellent plan!’ said Grenville. ‘I particularly enjoyed the drawings. I will train everyone to do my unique wrestling moves. My otherhalf is sure to be some poor little thing in need of defending, and a Bolivian Foot Stamp might just come in handy.’
‘Come on,’ said Alice, opening the door to Arcadian Lane. ‘I don’t know how we’re all going to fit in this photo machine, but let’s give it a go!’
The PDF were off to Otherearth.
Little did they know, but someone was expecting them.
Two great circular clouds hovered over the city like a pair of giant eyeballs.
‘Coo-ee!’ said Grenville, impressed. ‘Look at this place!’ The gang were standing under the big sign that read:
The word WELCOME had been underlined twelve times now. (Though they knew the bit about it being ‘a city like no other’ wasn’t quite true because, to be fair, it was quite a lot like their London.)
All around them, colourful taxis beeped cheerfully and people bustled. Most of the kids had never seen buildings as impressive as the ones in front of them. Everyone seemed very appreciative. Only Hamish remained quiet. Maybe he was being paranoid – or maybe it was just those massive clouds – but there was that eerie feeling again.
At least they were protected now. On the train, Elliot had handed everybody a small piece of tinfoil.
‘Keep it near your head!’ he said, as they began to walk through town. ‘If I’m right, the foil should deflect anything Scarmarsh tries to beam at us if he spots us!’
Alan had carefully plastered his over his helmet.
Clover had used hers as a scrunchie to tie her hair back.
Buster had twisted small pieces into his Afro, which made him look a bit like he had metal spikes, the way a robot hedgehog might.
‘Look . . .’ said Hamish, pointing up at a big screen as they reached Piccadilly Circus.
Friendly news headlines ran across the bottom.
+ + + + + + + + + + + WOO-HOO! + + + + + + + + + + +
+ + + + + KING TO BE RECROWNED + + + + + + + + +
+ + + + + IN FANTASTIC CEREMONY TONIGHT!
+ + + + + THAT SHOULD BE QUITE GOOD!+ + + + +
Above that, they were showing a repeat of the latest episode of Question Me Sensibly. Lots of important-looking people were simply dancing around in their underwear.
Now there was an interview with the Hungarian Prime Minister. He was staring at the camera, blank-eyed, while the subtitles underneath read: ‘I LIKE TENNIS BALLS! TENNIS BALLS ARE ROUND! I LIKE ROUND THINGS!’
The kids walked on, with Hamish deep in thought.
‘I think Scarmarsh must be upping the pace!’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s because he knew we were in town yesterday!’
‘Uh-oh,’ said Venk, pointing.
There were more MISSING KIDS signs on lamp posts, complete with pictures of Hamish, Alice, Holly and Alan.
‘Maybe it’s time for proper disguises,’ said Clover. ‘Just in case he’s still looking for us?’
The low growl of approaching vehicles filled the air.
A long line of enormous police vans had turned the corner and was now heading up the street. Six of them. Each was big and white, but a little scuffed and dirty. Even from this distance, the kids could see that they were full. But full of police officers?
Not exactly . . .
‘Keep bac
k,’ said Hamish, pushing his friends into an alleyway. ‘Stay hidden.’
And, as they crouched to keep low, the vans began to pass, one by one.
Inside each one they could make out the unmistakably sinister shape of Terribles, hiding under police helmets. Elliot began to tremble as he noticed one long, thin arm dangling casually from a window. It was pasty. And wet!
And seemed to have dark brown mushrooms growing from the wrist!
‘The smell!’ said Holly, as the vans all trundled by ‘Oh my gosh, the smell! It’s worse than ever!’
‘I think they’re on the lookout for us!’ said Hamish, horrified.
In that small alleyway just off the main road, Clover set her bag down.
Just beyond, a group of French schoolchildren sat outside the National Portrait Gallery, while a teacher stood in front of them giving them a lecture. If you listened closely, though, you could hear she was just saying, ‘I am imagining an ice cream!’ over and over again while the children all sat there, making notes and looking confused.
Apparently, Scarmarsh was now targeting almost any authority figure he could. It was like he was warming up for the evening’s main event.
‘Right!’ said Clover. ‘We need to blend in. So this is what I’ve brought.’
She emptied her disguise bag.
The kids all stared.
Among others, there was a bear costume.
A ballerina dress.
A clown suit...
‘Hmm . . .’ said Hamish. ‘Clover, are you sure by blending in . . . we might not actually stand out even more? I mean . . . if I saw a clown walking down the road next to a ballerina, I might actually—’
‘Shhhh!’ said Alice, quickly, and with some horror.
Wandering past the end of the alleyway, she’d spotted a group of firemen and women slowly thrunkling by. But, to the trained eyes of the PDF, this wasn’t a normal group of firemen and women. They were huuuuuge. And they had their helmets pulled right down low. They were gruntling and trumpling and scanning the streets with their squinting, beady eyes.
‘They’re everywhere!’ said Holly, pulling the group to one side, to hide behind some bins.
‘Their uniforms mean they’re hiding in plain sight,’ said Clover, impressed by the ingenuity of their enemies. ‘It’s brilliant!’
The gang cowered a little longer, as the dreadful beasts disappeared down the road.
‘We need to get a move on,’ said Hamish, realising that if they’d been spotted, that would have been Game Over. ‘Buster – take Venk and Grenville and get to Sparkley sharpish.’
‘Sparkley?! How?’ asked Buster. ‘We didn’t bring the ice-cream van with us. And it’s not like we can just ask a policeman for help!’
‘Wait!’ said Alice, reaching into her pocket and bringing out a small green business card. ‘Maybe we do know someone who can give you a lift.’
‘Yo-Yo?’ said the lady in the taxi, pulling up to the payphone. She had enormous glasses and a little flat cap. ‘Did somebody order a taxi cab by any chance?’
Hamish smiled. This quiet and polite woman seemed to drive the only black taxi in London. The ID on the window read LEONA BANNISTER.
‘We’re friends of . . . well, a sort of relative of yours,’ said Alice, smiling sweetly at her, trying to win her over. ‘A gentleman called Leo.’
‘Leo?’ said Leona, confused. ‘Sounds familiar. But I’m not sure I know a Leo.’
‘Oh, you’d love him,’ said Hamish. ‘Drives a taxi. Hates his satnav.’
‘Hates his satnav? Oh, I adore mine. Anyway, where are you going?’
Grenville piped up.
‘Starkley,’ he said. ‘Britain’s Fourth Most Boring Town!’
Leona looked uncertain. Leona looked like she was someone who was often uncertain. This was not a cab driver who’d passed her Gift of the Gab test.
‘Do you mean Sparkley?’ she said, timidly. ‘On the coast? But I don’t recognise the description—’
‘To Sparkley!’ interrupted Buster, flinging open the door for Venk. ‘And step on it!’
As they were about to set off, Hamish tapped the window.
‘Remember, Buster,’ he said. ‘Keep our otherhalves safe!’
Buster gave him a big thumbs up, as Leona’s satnav said, ‘Destination: Sparkley!’
‘Good luck, H,’ he said. ‘And stay hidden!’
Saving the world seemed quite a big task, now that Hamish thought about it. Not only did it involve saving the King, but also stopping this Scarmarsh chap.
‘I’m not sure this bear costume really suits me,’ he said, struggling to keep his paws on. ‘Plus, it’s rather heavy.’
Clover had taken the ballerina outfit and appeared delighted, especially because she’d added another, bigger fake moustache to complete the look.
Elliot was a small cowboy.
Alice was a policeman.
Alan just stayed in his American football clothes, because he said polyester clown suits can often catch on fire.
Holly looked very annoyed she’d been left with the estate-agent costume.
‘I’m very sorry Clover,’ she said, bringing out her pen. ‘But you’re going in the RevengePad for this.’
‘People must think we look weird,’ said Alice, frowning, as they passed a giant billboard with nothing but two huge eyes on it.
‘It’s not people we’re worried about,’ said Hamish, staring up at it, nervously. ‘It’s Scarmarsh and the Terribles. If they’re looking for us, they’re looking for kids. Not estate agents and ballerinas.’
‘Hiding in plain sight!’ said Elliot, clicking his spurs. ‘Well done, Clover! Using his own trick against him.’
‘Yes,’ said Hamish, still not able to shake the feeling of being watched. ‘But, if we’re going to stop him, we need to know where he can be doing this from. How can he see so many people to zap them?’
They found their way to a small square with a park in the middle. It seemed like a pretty safe place to sit down and have a think for a bit. A sign said FITZROVIA SQUARE and they kneeled down on the grass together.
OtherLondon was a busy place. Even though it was pretty friendly, and everyone wearing a hat still tipped it and said hello, they all still had somewhere to be and something to do. They rushed around, not paying the world quite as much attention as they might have. No wonder the Terribles were having such an easy time of it.
Buses passed by.
A chopper whizzed across the sky.
The nearby giant Post Office Tower cast its shadow across the grass.
Hamish checked The Explorer, as in the distance Big Bertha’s bell struck 2 p.m. In just over four hours, the King would be getting his new crown and, if they were right, Scarmarsh would strike. Time was of the essence.
‘Hmm,’ said Hamish, thinking. ‘Maybe Scarmarsh is in a helicopter. Maybe that’s how he sees everything everywhere?’
‘No,’ said Elliot. ‘How would he zap people from a chopper? I don’t think it would be steady enough for focused zapping.’
‘Wait a minute,’ said Alice. ‘What if it’s something to do with TV? I mean, the King is going to be on TV tonight, and the PM was on TV when it happened to him.’
‘That’s true,’ said Elliot.
‘And Vapidia Sheen’s been zapped,’ added Alice. ‘And that weatherman. And remember how blank everyone looked as they stared up at the screens that day?’
‘Do you remember the satellite trucks in Starkley?’ said Clover, a thought striking her. ‘Remember how huge they were? Well, aren’t satellites a way of zapping and beaming and targeting and so on?’
Elliot clicked his fingers. ‘Satellites!’ he said.
‘Does that mean Scarmarsh . . . is in space?’ said Hamish, his heart sinking. That would explain why no one had seen him. And how he could see everybody.
Hamish looked up into the deep blue sky. He’d seen a whole show about satellites once – how they could spot even the smallest thing on Ear
th as they moved slowly and sinisterly through space. What if Scarmarsh was up there right now? In the cosmos? Staring at him? He felt for the tinfoil in his collar, hoping it was enough to protect him.
Now they all looked up into the sky, feeling tiny and pathetic and hopeless – this bear, this cowboy, ballerina, policeman, American footballer and estate agent.
‘Wait . . .’ said Elliot, slowly, as he dropped his gaze ever so slightly and noticed something.
‘What is it?’ said Hamish, trying to see what Elliot was staring at.
‘What if he’s not in space?’ said his friend, adjusting his glasses. ‘I mean, it’s a little inconvenient to be way up there when you’re planning world domination.’
They all turned to look at him.
‘But satellites are in space, aren’t they?’ said Hamish.
‘Not all of them,’ said Elliot, wisely, like he was really going to enjoy this.
‘Then where is Scarmarsh hiding?’ asked Alice.
‘What if,’ replied Elliot, dramatically, ‘just like the Terribles, and just like us right now . . . Scarmarsh is hiding in plain sight?’
He raised his hand, and slowly pointed.
Sparkley
An hour and a bit after they’d set off, Buster, Venk and Grenville stood on the edge of Sparkley and stared, amazed.
Leona had driven them there in record time. It seemed satnavs really did work. Leo would be furious. She’d been absolutely appalled to hear about what Scarmarsh had been up to. She said she’d have to tell the other cabbies. And that would take courage – Leona liked to blend in. She didn’t see the point in standing out. But, if the police and the fire service had been compromised, maybe London’s taxi drivers would have to step up and help keep order. She’d fired up her satnav, spun the car round and shot straight back to the city to spread the word – gift of the gab or not!
The boys patted each other on the back. They had a mission of their own. And they were home . . . sort of.
But there was no boring beige town sign here.
No – this sign was huge, and all lit up in bright Hollywood lights.
Hamish and the Neverpeople Page 9
