Now the first Sunday after Jeremy James had been in bed with liquorice allsort flu, he and Timothy were out in Timothy’s tent, and Jeremy James had just been tied to the stake for the twentieth time.
‘Please can I tie you up after this?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Timothy. ‘It’s my tent.’
‘It’s not fair,’ said Jeremy James for the twenty-first time.
‘And it’s my garden, too,’ said Timothy.
‘Well let’s go and play in my tent in my garden,’ said Jeremy James.
‘Your tent’s too small,’ said Timothy, ‘and if we don’t play here then I’m not playing at all. And I’m older than you and I’m bigger than you.’
All of which was very true.
‘Well, I’ve had flu,’ said Jeremy James, which was also true but didn’t really have a great deal to do with the question under discussion.
‘I know,’ said Timothy. ‘I had flu when I was your age but I’ve grown out of it now.’
‘You can’t grow out of flu,’ said Jeremy James, ‘ ’cos my Daddy’s had it – the doctor said.’
‘I know,’ said Timothy, ‘but that’s different – the flu that grown-ups get can’t be grown out of. I learnt all about it at school. There’s grown-up flu, and other flu.’
‘Well I had the same as Daddy,’ said Jeremy James.
‘You didn’t,’ said Timothy.
‘I did,’ said Jeremy James.
And after five minutes of I-did-you-didn’ting, Timothy jumped on Jeremy James and captured him for the twenty-first time. As far as he was concerned, that proved that Jeremy James didn’t have grown-up flu.
Now Jeremy James was certainly smaller than Timothy, and younger, and not so richly endowed with experience of the great big world outside, but Jeremy James was also very determined. And what was even more important – he was right, and Timothy was wrong. So when the Great Apache Chief had got off his victim, Jeremy James scrambled to his feet and informed his tormentor that not only was he, Jeremy James, right, but also he, Timothy, was wrong, and he, Jeremy James could prove that he, Timothy, had not grown out of flu at all but could be given the same flu as he, Jeremy James, had so recently fought and conquered. The same. And he, Jeremy James, could prove it.
‘You can’t,’ said Timothy.
‘I can,’ said Jeremy James. ‘ ’Cos I know what I got it from – I got it from a special medicine, and you’ll get the same flu if you take the medicine, so there.’
‘I won’t,’ said Timothy.
‘You will,’ said Jeremy James.
‘Prove it,’ said Timothy.
At this moment, Jeremy James had a vague feeling that he should have reached for his six-shooter and shot Timothy through the chest, but he hadn’t got his six-shooter with him.
‘Wait here,’ he said, leapt on his horse, and galloped at breakneck speed through the gap in the fence, across the lawn, through the back door, through the living room, up the stairs, and into his own bedroom. And there, in a very, very secret place which no one must ever mention on pain of being tied to a stake, Jeremy James uncovered his treasure chest and, from the pile of biscuits, cakes, sweets and chocolate, he extracted a large brightly coloured box. Then he put his treasure chest back in the very, very secret place, leapt on to his horse, and galloped at breakneck speed out of his bedroom, down the stairs, through the living room, through the back door, across the lawn, through the gap in the fence, and into Timothy’s tent.
‘Here,’ said Jeremy James. ‘Flu medicine.’
‘I know what those are,’ said Timothy. ‘They’re liquorice allsorts.’
‘They may look like liquorice allsorts,’ said Jeremy James, ‘but they’re really flu medicine, and you’ve got to eat them all, and you’ll get flu just like the flu I had and Daddy had and it’s the same flu.’
‘You can’t get flu from liquorice allsorts,’ said Timothy.
‘Oh yes you can,’ said Jeremy James, ‘ ’cos the doctor said so, but you just have to be clever to get it, that’s all, and maybe you’re not clever enough.’ Now Timothy knew you couldn’t get flu from eating liquorice allsorts, because that was just the sort of thing he’d learned at school. But Timothy rather liked liquorice allsorts, and it wasn’t every day of the week that somebody put a whole box of liquorice allsorts in your hand and actually told you to eat them, and even though he was a very great Indian chief, and Jeremy James was only a miserable Indian or a miserable cowboy, a box of liquorice allsorts was a box of liquorice allsorts, and this was a very big box of liquorice allsorts, and . . . well . . .
‘All right,’ said Timothy, ‘I’ll show you.’
And he showed Jeremy James. One after another he gobbled up the flu medicine allsorts – pink ones, black ones, blue ones, stripy ones, square ones . . .
‘Maybe I should just have one . . .’ said Jeremy James.
‘No,’ said Timothy, ‘you gave them to me so they’re mine, and anyway it’s my tent and my garden.’
Which was true.
And down went the liquorice allsorts, and the packet got emptier and emptier, and Timothy’s mouth got blacker and blacker, and Jeremy James got hungrier and hungrier.
‘There you are,’ said Timothy, ‘all gone. And I haven’t got flu, you see. I told you I wouldn’t.’
Then they buried the packet as if it was a bone, and hurried off obediently in answer to a double Mummy call of ‘Tea-time!’ Jeremy James hurried considerably more hurriedly than Timothy. In fact Timothy couldn’t really be said to have hurried at all – he sort of unhurried to the house, as if he had something very heavy inside which had slipped down to his feet and made them difficult to lift.
That evening Mummy spotted Dr Bassett’s car from the window.
‘That’s funny,’ said Mummy. ‘Someone must be ill next door – I’ve just seen the doctor go in.’
‘I know,’ said Jeremy James. ‘It’s Timothy. He’s got flu.’
‘How do you know that, dear?’ said Mummy.
‘Hmmph,’ said Jeremy James.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Bathroom Lock
Daddy had been going to mend the bathroom lock straightaway for about two weeks now. Practically every day Mummy had said to him, ‘I do wish you’d get that bathroom lock fixed, dear,’ and Daddy had said, ‘I’ll do it straightaway – as soon as I’ve finished this.’ And this, which had also been that, those and the others, always kept Daddy fully occupied until lunch, tea, supper or bedtime. Thus the bathroom lock remained well and truly unmended, and every morning, when Jeremy James went to do his Number Two, Mummy had to say to him, ‘Don’t lock the bathroom door, Jeremy James,’ and Jeremy James would say, ‘Why not?’ and Mummy would say, ‘Because it hasn’t been mended yet,’ and Daddy would say, ‘I’ll get that seen to straightaway – as soon as I’ve finished this.’
But one morning, Mummy forgot to say to Jeremy James, ‘Don’t lock the bathroom door, Jeremy James,’ and Jeremy James locked it. As soon as he’d locked it, he remembered that he shouldn’t have locked it, and he waited for the house to fall down, but it didn’t, and so he sat down to do his Number Two, and wondered what all the fuss had been about.
‘Hurry up in there,’ said Mummy, when Jeremy James had only been sitting there for a quarter of a minute.
‘I’m doing my Number Two!’ said Jeremy James. These things can’t always be hurried.
However, this morning was a nice sunny morning, which should be good for climbing and tricycling and – with a bit of luck – strawberry and creaming, so Jeremy James quickly broke the world record for sheets of toilet paper, washed his hands with the nice-smelling soap that nobody but Mummy was allowed to use, and pulled open the bathroom door. That is to say, he pulled the bathroom door to what should have been open, but the bathroom door had other ideas and stayed shut. ‘Ah,’ said Jeremy James, ‘it’s locked, that’s why,’ and so he turned the key. That is to say, he pulled the key to what should have been a turn, but the key on
ly went halfway round and then refused to move another inch. ‘Come on, key,’ said Jeremy James, but the key wouldn’t come on, round, or out. It simply stayed where it was – like the Grand Old Duke of York’s Men, neither up nor down.
‘Mummy,’ said Jeremy James. ‘Mummy! Mummy!’
‘Did you call, Jeremy James?’
‘I’m stuck in the bathroom!’
Silence. Thump, thump, up the stairs. Creak, creak, as Mummy pushed the bathroom door, and the bathroom door pushed back.
‘You locked it, did you?’ said Mummy through the locked door.
‘I forgot,’ said Jeremy James.
‘John!’ shouted Mummy. ‘John! John!’
‘Did you call, dear?’
‘Jeremy James is stuck in the bathroom!’
Silence. Thump, thump, up the stairs. Creak, creak, as Daddy pushed the bathroom door, and the bathroom door pushed back.
‘You locked it, did you?’ said Daddy through the locked door.
‘Of course he locked it,’ said Mummy. ‘Otherwise he wouldn’t be stuck, would he?’
There was a long silence outside the bathroom door. Daddy must have been thinking.
‘Is anybody there?’ asked Jeremy James.
‘It’s all right,’ said Daddy. ‘I’m thinking. Now don’t worry, we’ll soon get you out of there. Don’t worry, son. Just keep calm.’
‘I was only wondering if anybody was there,’ said Jeremy James.
‘Now listen,’ said Daddy. ‘I’m going to pull the door. And when I tell you, I want you to try and turn the key. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Jeremy James.
The door creaked.
‘Now!’ said Daddy. And Jeremy James’s hand turned, but the key stayed where it was.
‘It’s not moving,’ said Jeremy James.
‘All right,’ said Daddy. ‘Now don’t worry, I’ll soon get you out.’
‘You’ll have to get a ladder,’ said Mummy.
‘Wait a moment,’ said Daddy. ‘Jeremy James, can you get the key out of the lock?’
‘No,’ said Jeremy James.
‘Well try,’ said Daddy.
Jeremy James tried.
‘No,’ said Jeremy James.
‘You’ll have to get a ladder,’ said Mummy.
‘Now look,’ said Daddy. ‘I’ll pull the door again, and when I tell you, try turning the key the other way. You understand? Try and turn it the other way – the way you weren’t turning it before.’
‘All right,’ said Jeremy James.
‘Now,’ said Daddy.
And Jeremy James’s hand turned the other way, but the key stayed where it was.
‘It’s not moving,’ said Jeremy James.
‘You’ll have to get a ladder,’ said Mummy.
‘Now don’t worry, son,’ said Daddy. ‘We’ll soon get you out. Maybe I’d better go and get a ladder.’
‘Mrs Robertson opposite has got a big ladder. She’s usually in at this time.’
‘You stay here, then,’ said Daddy. ‘Keep talking to him – you know, calm him down. Child must be scared stiff. Which are the Robertsons?’
‘Number 14, over the road.’
‘Is their name Robertson? I thought they were the Wilkinsons.’
‘The Wilkinsons are Number 16. Do go and get the ladder, dear.’
‘All right, Jeremy James,’ said Daddy. ‘I’m just going to get a ladder from the Wilkinsons.’
‘The Robertsons.’
‘. . . the Robertsons, and I’ll be back in half a minute. You keep calm, son, we’ll soon have you out of there. You’re all right, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, thank you, Daddy.’
‘Nothing to worry about.’
And there was a thump thump clatter crash, as Daddy raced down the first dozen stairs and fell down the rest.
‘Jeremy James,’ said Mummy, ‘is the bathroom window open?’
‘No,’ said Jeremy James, ‘it’s shut.’
‘Do you think you can open it?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ said Jeremy James. ‘I can climb on the bath.’
‘Then open it, only be very careful,’ said Mummy. ‘Mind you don’t fall.’
Jeremy James climbed up on the edge of the bath, and then stepped very carefully across to the other side. He was being very brave. After all, it’s not every day you have to step across a cliff that’s a thousand foot high with hundreds of crocodiles waiting down below with great big open jaws and rumbling tummies. Jeremy James balanced on the edge of the bath, and held on to the towel rail to make sure he didn’t turn into crocodile breakfast. Then he reached up, and with a flick of his hero’s hand, turned the catch that would save the world.
Through the open window he could peep down into the garden below. It was quite a long way down, and if you fell from there you’d certainly be killed.
‘Have you got it open?’ asked Mummy.
‘Yes,’ said Jeremy James, ‘and it’s ever such a long way down to the garden, and if I fell from here I’d be killed.’
‘Now you be careful!’ said Mummy. ‘Keep right away from the window!’
‘You keep calm!’ said Jeremy James. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.’
And just then there was a scratchy scrapy sound against the wall as Daddy persuaded the ladder to stand up against it. Then there was a bumpy bouncy sound as the top part of the ladder decided it would rather be with the bottom part of the ladder, and went racing down the wall, just missing Daddy, who had managed to jump aside at the last moment. Daddy then let out one or two of the words Jeremy James must never never use, and there was a long silence.
Jeremy James peeped out of the window.
‘Daddy’s hurt himself,’ said Jeremy James.
Mummy thump-thumped down the stairs and out into the garden, and Jeremy James leaned out of the window to look at Mummy looking at Daddy.
‘I’ll just get you a plaster,’ Mummy was saying, and Daddy was saying, ‘Blooming ladder . . . death trap . . . worple worple semantics,’ and things like that.
‘Are you all right?’ said Jeremy James.
‘You get back in, and keep away from the window!’ said Daddy. ‘It’s all your fault in the first place!’
‘If you’d mended the lock when . . .’ Jeremy James missed the rest of what Mummy was saying, because he’d stepped back from the window, forgotten where he was, and gone tumbling a thousand foot down into the watery jaws of the bathtub. By the time he’d killed twenty crocodiles – which took him at least twenty seconds – the ladder was up the wall and Daddy was up the ladder, his white face peering through the open window.
‘Jeremy James, Jeremy James, are you all right?’
Jeremy James finished off the twenty-first crocodile, and scrambled victoriously to his feet. ‘Hello, Daddy.’
‘Are you all right, son?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
With a heave and a grunt and a fouf and a few of those words, Daddy squeezed himself across the window-ledge and down head first into the bath, followed by a shower of bottles, toothpaste, sponges and motor boats. Fortunately the crocodiles were all dead by now, or Daddy really would have been in trouble.
‘Are you all right, Daddy?’ asked Jeremy James.
Daddy got his head up where his feet had been, and put his feet down where his head had been, and then gave Jeremy James a funny look. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Apart from a broken arm, a broken leg and a broken neck. And how are you?’
‘Not too bad, thank you,’ said Jeremy James. ‘But the crocodiles nearly got me.’
‘Crocodiles in the bath, eh?’ said Daddy.
‘But I killed them all in the end.’
‘Good,’ said Daddy. ‘I’m in no condition to fight crocodiles.’
Then Daddy got the bathroom door unlocked, and Mummy gave Jeremy James a big hug and a big kiss and promised him ice cream for dinner because he’d been so brave, and Jeremy James said it was nothing, and he wouldn’t mind being locked
in the bathroom every day, and Daddy took the ladder back to the Robertsons, and Mummy gave Jeremy James a sweet, and Daddy came back from the Robertsons, and Mummy said to Daddy, ‘Hadn’t you better go and mend that lock now?’ and Daddy said, ‘I’ll just get some plaster on this hand,’ and Mummy said, ‘Hmmph.’ But Daddy really did mend the lock as soon as he’d put the plaster on his hand. And when he’d finished mending the lock, he had to put some plaster on the other hand as well. Daddy always used a lot of plaster when he was mending things.
CHAPTER NINE
The Babysitter
Mummy and Daddy were going out. They were going to what Mummy called a ‘do’ and Daddy called a ‘worple worple nuisance’, and it meant that they had to put on very smart clothes, and Daddy would be ready very early and Mummy would be ready very late. So Jeremy James and the babysitter sat in the living room, and Daddy kept walking up and down, looking at his watch, and shouting, ‘Come on, dear, we’ll be late!’ and Mummy kept calling out, ‘Just coming!’ and didn’t come. And then she did come, and Daddy said, ‘Don’t you look lovely!’ and ‘That was certainly worth waiting for!’ and kissed her. Then he said, ‘We’ll be late,’ and Mummy said, ‘The place won’t run away,’ and she gave Jeremy James a nice kiss and she smelt just like a queen. When Mummy and Daddy went out, they seemed quite different somehow.
While Daddy stood outside the front door, Mummy told the babysitter when Jeremy James was to go to bed, what she was to do if he said he wouldn’t go to bed, where to find the tea, the biscuits and the cake, how the television worked, what number to phone if the house caught fire, where she had bought that lovely green tablecloth, what time they would be back . . . ‘Come on, dear!’ said Daddy, from miles away. ‘Coming!’ said Mummy – and ten minutes later, they were gone.
The babysitter was rather old – she must have been at least seventeen – and she had black hair and glasses and a soft voice. Jeremy James liked her soft voice, because he couldn’t imagine a soft voice like that ever saying, ‘Jeremy James, do as you’re told!’ or ‘Jeremy James, put those sweets away this minute!’ or ‘Jeremy James, you must go to bed immediately!’ A soft voice like that would certainly say, ‘Um . . . would you mind . . .’ and would keep quiet if you said you would mind. Jeremy James liked babysitters with soft voices.
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