‘Thanks, Granny Betty!’ cried Ugenia, legging it upstairs.
Ugenia immediately rang Rudy and told him everything – all about Dante the Dalmatian, Shirley the sheep, and the Sugar Snaps who had a lead singer called Elvis.
‘Who’s Elvis?’ asked Rudy.
‘Oh, he’s just some guy I saw singing on my mum’s Breakfast TV show last week,’ explained Ugenia.
‘So what are we going to do?’ asked Rudy.
‘Rudy, I have a plan. It’s a bit of a tricky mission impossible called Borrow to Believe in Bronte!’ said Ugenia in her best action-hero, Hunk Roberts voice. ‘I need the best people for the job. I need dedication and loyalty. Call Trevor and Bronte right away.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Rudy.
‘Let’s all meet tomorrow,’ said Ugenia.
Rudy quickly made a couple of calls. Then he pulled out a pack of coloured marker pens and a large vision board and got to work.
First thing next morning, Ugenia showed Trevor and Bronte up to Rudy’s bedroom.
‘Welcome to our world!’ announced Rudy, who was talking on two phones, scribbling on a clipboard and firing off an email on his laptop.
‘Troops, take note!’ declared Rudy, pointing to his vision board, which read:
BORROW TO BELIEVE IN BRONTE
WHITE LIE 1: BRONTE HAS A DALMATIAN DOG CALLED DANTE.
ACTION: TREVOR TO BORROW DALMATIAN DOG CALLED DAPHNE – SLEEK, BLACK AND WHITE, GORGEOUS PEDIGREE – FROM NEIGHBOUR DAVID DAVENPORT.
WHITE LIE 2: BRONTE HAS A SHEEP IN HER BACK GARDEN CALLED SHIRLEY.
ACTION: UGENIA TO BORROW A SHEEP – FROM BOXMORE HILL PARK.
WHITE LIE 3: BRONTE PLAYS THE DRUMS IN A BAND CALLED THE SUGAR SNAPS, WITH A SINGER CALLED ELVIS.
ACTION: BRONTE TO BORROW DRUM KIT FROM NEIGHBOUR MR MARLEY AND LEARN TO PLAY DRUMS.
EXTRA ACTION: UGENIA TO BORROW ELVIS FROM HER MUM’S TV SHOW.
TOP TIP: BE VERY CHARMING WHEN BORROWING . . . YOU GET MORE FROM HONEY THAN VINEGAR.
EXTRA-SPECIAL TOP TIP: LIE IF NECESSARY.
WE HAVE EXACTLY ONE WEEK TO BE READY!
‘Like it?’ asked Rudy.
‘Love it!’ said Ugenia.
‘Very nice’ said Bronte.
‘Er . . . yeah, ok,’ said Trevor.
‘We have lots to prepare for Saturday!’ announced Rudy as he slammed shut his notebook and offered everyone a tarberry juice.
‘I’m the designated party-planner,’ he added, ‘so report to me. Everything must be ready by three o’clock for the party at Bronte’s.’
The next Saturday came round very quickly. Ugenia, Rudy, Bronte and Trevor all got up extra early and began to put the Borrow to Believe in Bronte plan into action.
Trevor knocked on David Davenport’s door. David owned the Dalmatian dog called Daphne.
But there was no answer.
Hmm, thought Trevor, I’ll try my other neighbour, Spike. He’s got a white dog, but no one will notice the difference. A dog’s a dog, innit?’
Spike was a builder who loved his dog, Savage, very, very much. Savage was a British bulldog. He was extremely chunky, with a squashed-in face that looked like he’d walked into a door.
Spike yanked open his front door and glared down at Trevor. ‘Yeah?’ he grunted.
‘Er . . . I’d love to take Savage out for a long walk today, if that’s all right with you?’ said Trevor.
Spike’s glare immediately changed to a smile. ‘Sure,’ he replied, ‘but mind you take good care of him. He gets really grumpy if his coat gets messy.’
‘That’s not a Dalmatian!’ said Rudy when Trevor turned up with Savage. ‘They have black spots and they’re tall and slim.’
‘No probs,’ replied Crazy Trevor, taking the animal over to Rudy’s garage, where he found a big tin of black paint and some brushes among Mr Patel’s DIY tools. Crazy Trevor began to paint dainty black spots on Savage’s chunky tummy.
Savage growled.
Boxmore Hill Park had big playing fields with swings and, in one area, peacocks, donkeys and sheep.
But when Ugenia got there the gate was shut and she saw a sign.
CLOSED FOR THE WEEKEND
GRASS BEING FERTILIZED
WITH MANURE
Ugenia peered over the gate and saw only mounds of horse poo.
Oh no! No sheep, only poo! Where are all the animals? They must have gone on holiday. Where am I going to get Shirley the sheep from? What am I going to do? thought Ugenia. Maybe I should ask my dad. After all, he is a professor and he is very clever and he knows pretty much everything.
Professor Lavender was working that Saturday, so Ugenia jumped back on her red bike and sped down Boxmore Hill, past the twenty-four-hour, bargain-budget, bulk-buyers’ supersized supermarket and into the town centre.
She went straight to the Dinosaur Museum, where her dad worked. It was an old grey building with two stone gargoyles peering down from the roof.
Ugenia wandered through the large, stone building, under the huge diplodocus skeleton, past a stegosaurus horn, down the stairs and along a dusty, dark corridor.
She tiptoed quietly past three men in white coats – including Charlie Darwin, her father’s assistant. The men were wearing their do-not-disturb frowns and peering intently down at a tiny piece of what looked like a dinosaur toe.
Ugenia knocked on her father’s door, which said:
But there was no reply. Then she saw a note stuck on the door:
OUT OF THE OFFICE – BACK SOON! Prof. L.
Injustice! What am I going to do now? thought Ugenia as she wandered back down the corridor, past the three men who were now staring at an animal with a woolly coat and two big curly horns that was lying on a table.
‘Ah, gentlemen, as you can see, we are looking at a very fine specimen of a ram,’ said Charlie Darwin. ‘Now, our task is to find out whether he could possibly be related in any way to the later dinosaurs.’
‘Are rams and dinosaurs related?’ enquired Ugenia.
‘Well, obviously he’s from the sheep family, but this particular breed is very ancient, and we don’t yet know when the first specimens walked the earth,’ replied Charlie Darwin, looking up at Ugenia.
Suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave.
Incredible! This ram is actually just a boy sheep with horns! thought Ugenia.
‘Actually, Charlie,’ Ugenia said importantly, ‘my dad has told me that he needs the ram for a special experiment. He’s asked me to take it home with me right now.’ Ugenia decided that this was only a little white lie and it was only to make Bronte look good, right?
‘Really?’ asked Charlie, looking unsure.
‘Oh yes, it’s extremely important!’ insisted Ugenia. ‘That’s why he sent me down here.’
‘Ok, but be gentle. He’s quite fragile. He died last week and he’s only just been stuffed,’ said Charlie.
Before Charlie Darwin could change his mind, Ugenia heaved the huge ram into her arms and dragged it out of the museum. She strapped the ram on to her bike and cycled as fast as she could back up Boxmore Hill to 13 Cromer road.
Now, I just need to borrow Elvis! she thought as she hid the ram with her bike at the back of the garage.
Ugenia went into the kitchen. Granny Betty was swinging her hips and gyrating on the kitchen table to some hip-hop music.
‘Granny Betty, where’s Mum?’
‘Ooh, she’s gone to return some wallpaper to the DIY store.’
‘Oh no!’ groaned Ugenia, ‘I need her help to borrow Elvis.’
Granny Betty stopped dancing. ‘Ugenia,’ she said softly, ‘Elvis is dead. He’s gone to the great heartbreak hotel in the sky.’
‘Dead!’ exclaimed Ugenia. ‘he can’t be. I saw him on Mum’s breakfast show last week. I need to borrow him for Bronte’s band!’
‘That wasn’t the real Elvis,’ said Granny Betty, climbing down from the table. ‘it was just someone doing an impersonation of him.
And if anyone knows about Elvis, it would be me. Elvis used to be an old friend of mine. We used to write songs and jam together. Have a look in my handbag.’
Ugenia peered into Granny Betty’s enormous handbag and found a photo of her gran, looking very young and standing beside a man in a white jumpsuit. His hair was in a big quiff and he had sideburns down each side of his face. He and Granny Betty were smiling at the camera and holding up jars of peanut butter at Boxmore Market.
Suddenly, like a thunderbolt of lightning, Ugenia had a brainwave.
‘IMPERSONATION!’ cried Ugenia. ‘if he was an old friend of yours, Granny Betty, YOU could pretend to be Elvis!’
Granny Betty thought about this for a quarter of a second. ‘Sure!’ She beamed – she’d do anything for Ugenia. ‘I’ll just have to apply a little black hair dye, but I think your mum’s got some in the bathroom cupboard and it washes out easily. What exactly is this for, Ugenia?’ Granny Betty asked curiously.
‘It’s for Bronte’s mother’s engagement party’ Ugenia said. ‘her name’s Pamela.’
Ugenia took Granny Betty outside and pointed at the large ram strapped to her bike. ‘I have this surprise engagement pressie for her.’
‘That’s lovely, dear,’ said Granny Betty, not looking the least surprised as she admired the ram tied on to Ugenia’s bike. ‘I know Pamela a little. I’m so glad to hear that she’s found love again after she split up with her one true love, Derek. He’s a local fireman, but he didn’t have enough money to buy all the shoes and handbags she wanted, so they fell out. It was such a shame because he really loved her.’
‘Wow!’ gasped Ugenia. ‘That’s such a pity. Ok, we’d better get you ready fast, Granny Betty. We’re going to be late. It’s ten past three!’
Ugenia desperately wanted Vera and Violet to believe in Bronte. But with all the little white lies, anything could go wrong. Thank goodness Ugenia had another special secret plan up her sleeve . . .
To Ugenia’s surprise, when she turned up at Bronte’s house with her new friend Elvis (Granny Betty disguised in a white jumpsuit and with her hair dyed black), the party was in full swing and going splendidly.
Rudy was handing out trays of cheese and crackers, and crystal glasses, some filled with champagne and some with sparkling tarberry juice.
Bronte was playing the bongo drums with her band the Sugar Snaps. Mr Marley, Bronte’s neighbour, was playing bass guitar and Trevor’s older sister, Mercedes, was on keyboards. But best of all, Granny Betty started singing with the band, swinging her hips and curling her top lip . . . doing a fantastic impersonation of her friend Elvis.
Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Ronald Brump with his big cigar and Pamela with brand-new shoes and a gigantic, sparkling engagement ring were dancing together. Even Violet and Vera seemed to be very impressed and believing in Bronte.
But five minutes later, Vera tapped Bronte on the shoulder. ‘Why is Shirley the sheep not moving?’ she demanded, staring out into the garden.
‘Oh, she’s very, very tired. She’s been working very hard making jumpers all day,’ explained Ugenia.
‘I didn’t know sheep had horns,’ said Violet.
‘Duh,’ replied Ugenia, ‘of course they do. It’s a male sheep – didn’t you know they could be distant relatives of the dinosaurs?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ said a very puzzled Violet.
At that moment there was a bark at the front door. It was Crazy Trevor with Savage.
‘Aah,’ said Ugenia, ‘that’s Dante the Dalmatian. He’s just back from the poochie parlour – all specially groomed for the party!’
‘He’s very fat for a Dalmatian,’ said Vera, staring at Savage/Dante, who was salivating at the sight of Pamela and Ronald’s enormous, pink seven-layered engagement cake.
‘Oh, he has to eat a lot as he’s a champion weightlifter. You have heard of the new doggy weightlifting shows, haven’t you?’ asked Ugenia. ‘They’re totally, absolutely fabulous.’
‘No, I hadn’t,’ said a very puzzled Vera, accidentally spilling chocolate mousse all over Savage/Dante’s coat.
Savage/Dante growled hysterically at Vera for messing up his coat, and ran furiously into the garden.
‘Ooooooh noooo!’ screamed Violet, running into the garden. ‘Dante’s attacking Shirley!’
Ugenia, Trevor and Vera followed Violet into the garden to find the ram lying on its side, stiff as a board. Its stuffing was all over the patio – and hanging from Savage/Dante’s mouth!
‘Dante’s murdered Shirley!’ screamed Vera.
‘Let’s go inside,’ said Ugenia quickly, trying to distract Vera and Violet. ‘We don’t want to upset the party.’
Ugenia ushered them inside to where Bronte was still playing with Elvis/Granny Betty, Mr Marley and Mercedes.
Ronald was just handing Pamela one last gift in a small and beautiful box.
‘Diamonds! Is it more diamonds? I love diamonds!’ shrieked Pamela excitedly.
‘No, sweetness, it’s something quite different for you,’ said Ronald, smiling and sucking on his cigar. He clearly felt very pleased with himself.
‘The girls – Vera and Violet – told me this is exactly what you wanted.’
Pamela opened the beautiful box and unwrapped the pink tissue paper – to find a large pair of BIG WHITE PANTS!
‘Is this what you think I’m worth?’ shrieked Pamela angrily. Vera and Violet giggled with delight.
‘Thanks for that special top tip you gave us last week, Ugenia!’ whispered Vera. ‘What a brilliant way to break up Dad and Pamela!’
‘You’re welcome,’ smiled Ugenia, who had suggested the big pants present back in Garrods, knowing full well how furious Pamela would be.
Still furious, Pamela threw the pants at Ronald’s face and they landed on his big cigar.
He brushed them away, tangling them up with his cigar as they flew across the room.
‘Bronte!’ yelled a very cross Ronald Brump. ‘This is all your fault, leading my darling daughters astray with your stupid friends!’
Ugenia and Bronte didn’t answer. Suddenly they had noticed a very strong smell of smoke coming from the corner of the room. Ugenia and Bronte peered behind the sofa.
‘THE PANTS ARE ON FIRE!’ cried Bronte as the big white pants started smouldering and burst into flames. Fire began to climb up the curtains and smoke began to drift across the room.
‘OH, DO SHUT UP, YOU STUPID LITTLE GIRL!’ roared Ronald Brump, who was too busy to notice any fire as he crawled under the table trying to find his cigar. ‘YOU’RE A LIAR! THE PANTS ARE NOT ON FIRE!’
‘How DARE you speak to my daughter like that!’ snapped Pamela.
‘INFERNO!’ cried Ugenia, grabbing the hose from the garden and squirting water everywhere. She extinguished the burning pants, soaking Mr Brump and Pamela and everyone else at the party.
Elvis’s black hair dye ran down his face, revealing Granny Betty.
All the black spots on Dante’s coat smudged, revealing a charcoal-grey Savage.
Vera and Violet glared at Ugenia and Bronte.
‘That is not a real Dalmatian,’ said Violet.
‘That is not a real Elvis,’ said Vera.
‘Bronte, you’re a liar!’ they cried in unison.
Bronte went bright red with embarrassment.
‘Bronte’s not a liar,’ said Ugenia, hanging her head in shame. ‘I am. I made it all up because I wanted to help Bronte.’
‘Actually, it’s me that’s the liar,’ said Pamela softly.
Ugenia looked at Bronte. Bronte looked at Ugenia. They both looked at Pamela.
‘I don’t really love you, Ronald,’ said Pamela. ‘I’m sorry, I lied. It’s the jewellery and shoes and handbags that I love.’ And she took off the gigantic, sparkling diamond and handed it to him.
‘But . . . but . . . but everyone loves me!’ wailed Ronald.
Suddenly there was a loud siren.
‘It’s the f
ire brigade!’ exclaimed Bronte. ‘I just called them!’
That second, a large fireman in a yellow helmet and a breathing mask strode into the room.
‘I see I’m too late! Everything is taken care of,’ said the rather handsome fireman, taking off his helmet and mask and thanking Ugenia, who was still holding the hose.
‘Hello, Pamela,’ smiled Derek the fireman.
‘Hello, Derek, it’s so lovely to see you,’ gushed Pamela, who was now realizing that she loved Derek more than her jewellery, shoes and handbags.
‘Daddy, I want a fire engine! Please can I have a fire engine?’ shouted Vera and Violet in unison.
‘OH, SHUT UP!’ snapped Ronald Brump. ‘We’re leaving right now. We have to be ready for the Venetian Ball this evening!’
‘We’re going to the beauty salon!’ said Vera.
‘We’re going dancing!’ said Violet.
‘What are you doing this evening?’ sneered Vera at Bronte and Ugenia.
Bronte said nothing. She smiled as she looked at Pamela and Derek.
‘Actually, we’re going out for a large cheeseburger with our best friend Brian, the zonkoid alien,’ said Ugenia. ‘HE’S TOTALLY, ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS!’
It was Friday morning, the thirteenth of July. The sun was already up, burning brightly down on Cromer Road.
Ugenia sprang out of bed as if her pants were on fire. She was ready to wrestle an anaconda snake and take on the world. She was sure it was going to be an especially incredible day.
Why? It was Ugenia’s birthday, that’s why!
Ugenia stretched in anticipation. She ran to the bathroom, thinking about the presents she would receive – and the cards, the flowers, the cake! If she was really lucky maybe she’d even get a puppy! She’d been dropping hints to her parents for weeks.
Ugenia Lavender and the Burning Pants Page 2
