“And you say his name is…?”
“Bertie,” said Mum. “It’s my fault – I should never have taken my eyes off him.”
The assistant smiled. “I’m sure he can’t have gone far. I’ll put out a message over the tannoy.”
She pushed a button and spoke into a microphone. Her voice carried through the shop.
“Will the little boy called Bertie please come to the Help Desk on the ground floor. His mum is waiting – with a hanky.”
Up on the fourth floor, the music was so loud that Bertie didn’t hear a word of the announcement. Every now and then someone at the front of the line went up the steps and disappeared from sight. Bursts of applause came from the other side of the curtain. Bertie wondered if the famous person had arrived. Maybe it was a footballer who would sign his shirt?
The others in the line were helping themselves from a box of footballs, tennis rackets and other stuff. Bertie chose a skateboard with go faster stripes. He was nearing the front of the line.
Suddenly, a door opened and a floppy-haired boy burst in.
“Hi!” he panted. “I’m Bernie.”
“That’s funny,” said Bertie. “I’m Bertie.”
“Right. Are you in the show? Where’s Laura? I’m not too late, am I?”
“Don’t ask me,” said Bertie. “Everyone here is mad! Late for what?”
“The fashion show, stupid. I’m a model, same as you.”
“A model? Ha ha!” hooted Bertie. You’d never catch him prancing up and down a stage in stupid clothes! Hang on a minute … he was wearing stupid clothes … and make-up!
Suddenly, the horrible truth dawned on him. This was a fashion show and HE WAS IN IT! ARGHHH!
“Bertie! You’re next!” hissed Claudia, grabbing him by the arm.
“But I…”
Too late, he was pushed through the curtain.
CHAPTER 4
Bertie gawped at the audience, blinded by the bright spotlights. Millions of people were staring at him. This was a nightmare! There’d obviously been some terrible mistake. That other boy, Bernie, should have been standing up here, not him! Bertie looked around for some way to escape, but Claudia was glaring at him from the curtain. She waved him forward on the catwalk where the other models were striking poses. Bertie gulped. No way was he doing that. Not in a custard-yellow tracksuit! It was time for a speedy exit. He set down the skateboard, scooted a few steps, and pushed off hard.
ZOOOOOOM!
He whizzed down the stage, past rows of surprised faces. The audience clapped, thinking it was all part of the show. Bertie looked up and gasped. The other models had turned round and were coming back. He was heading straight for them!
“Out of the way!” he yelled. “I can’t…”
CRASH!
He ploughed right into them. The models scattered into the audience. A football bounced off a lady in the front row, squashing her hat.
Bertie sat up and rubbed his head. Luckily, he seemed to be okay. But some of the models were clambering back on to the stage and they didn’t look too pleased. Bertie glanced round and saw Claudia advancing towards him. He was trapped … but maybe not. Jumping off the stage, he fled through the audience.
Five minutes later, he reached the ground floor and stood panting for breath. Luckily, no one seemed to have followed him. He unzipped the custard-yellow tracksuit and stuffed it into a nearby bin.
“THERE YOU ARE, BERTIE!” cried a voice.
It was Mum. Never in his life had Bertie felt so glad to see her. She hugged him in relief.
“Where on earth have you been?”
“Oh, um … nowhere special,” said Bertie. “I was looking for you.”
He decided it was probably better not to mention the business upstairs with Claudia. Mum would only start asking awkward questions.
“Didn’t you hear the announcement?” she said. “They read out your name!”
Bertie shook his head. He hadn’t heard anything.
“And what’s that on your face – make-up?” said Mum.
Bertie turned bright pink. He’d forgotten all about the make-up.
“Er, yes,” he said. “I got bored waiting, so I was just … um … trying it on.”
Mum frowned. She’d never known Bertie to be interested in make-up before. Still, the main thing was, she’d found him safe and sound.
“Right, just stay out of lifts in future,” she said. “Now, let’s see about those shoes.”
They took the stairs. On the first floor landing, Mum stopped to read a poster.
“What fun!” she said. “They’re holding a fashion show! Why don’t we take a…? Bertie?”
She looked round. But Bertie had vanished again.
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
Characters created by David Roberts
Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2010
Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2010
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2012.
eISBN: 978–1–84715–404–0
The right of Alan MacDonald and David Roberts to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
www.stripespublishing.co.uk
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