The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Seaside

by Sorrel Anderson

  The

  Clumsies

  make a mess

  of the

  Seaside

  Illustrated by

  Nicola Slater

  HarperCollins Children’s Books

  For David (BWFR!)

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Howard Forgets

  The Journey

  Clumsies-On-Sea PART 1

  Clumsies-On-Sea PART 2

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Howard Forgets

  It was a Tuesday morning and the Clumsies were sitting around in Howard’s office eating breakfast.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Purvis, sipping his tea.

  ‘Mmm,’ said Mickey Thompson, with a mouth full of toast.

  ‘Could I have some more toast?’

  Purvis put some bread in the toaster.

  ‘I said I’ve been thinking.’

  ‘Could I have some more juice?’ asked Mickey Thompson.

  Purvis passed him the juice.

  ‘I said I’ve been…’

  ‘Could I have… um… an enormous cake?’ asked Mickey Thompson. ‘And a badger.’

  There was a small scuffle.

  ‘Go on then,’ said Mickey Thompson, once they’d finished.

  ‘Tell us what you’ve been thinking.’

  Purvis poured himself another cup of tea.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘I’m worried about Howard.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Mickey

  Thompson, buttering cheerfully.

  ‘He’s working too hard,’ said Purvis, ‘and he seems to be in a bit of a…’

  ‘Mood,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘No,’ said Purvis, ‘in a bit of a…’

  ‘Mess,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Err…’ said Purvis, ‘in a bit of a—’

  Suddenly the door Crashed open and Howard rushed in, ran around in a circle and rushed out again.

  ‘Rush?’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Purvis. ‘He needs a holiday. I’ve been doing loads of research: here!’

  He cleared a space and plunked down an old-looking book titled The Wise Traveller; a young-looking book called Flossy Has Fun at the Sea; a brochure headed European River Cruising; and a leaflet advertising Undiscovered Essex.

  Mickey Thompson picked up the brochure and studied it.

  ‘Doesn’t it look lovely?’ said Purvis, ‘I—’

  The door crashed open again and Howard rushed back in.

  ‘QUICK!’ Howard shouted, opening cupboards and drawers.

  ‘NO!’

  ‘Sausage?’ offered Purvis.

  ‘NO!’ shouted Howard, shutting drawers and cupboards.

  ‘I haven’t got time for breakfast.’

  Ortrud the elephant TRUMPETED in alarm.

  ‘No time for breakfast?’ said Mickey Thompson, sounding shocked.

  ‘I’M LATE!’ shouted Howard, running about.

  ‘But Howard,’ said Purvis.

  ‘You’re the same time as you usually are.’

  Howard stopped running.

  ‘I know, but today I needed to be early. The trouble is, I can’t remember why.’

  He sat down with a sigh and the Clumsies dived under the desk.

  ‘WHAT?’ shouted Howard, leaping up.

  ‘There’s someone coming,’ whispered Purvis. The door crashed open and in came Mr Bullerton, Howard’s boss.

  ‘You! Howard Armitage!’ barked Mr Bullerton. ‘You’re late. Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Err, I—’ began Howard.

  ‘Be quiet,’ snapped Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Sorry, I—’

  ‘And stop interrupting,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Well—’ said Howard.

  ‘You don’t look anywhere near ready,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘It starts at one you know. We must catch the eleven o’clock train or we won’t get there on time.’

  ‘There?’ asked Howard.

  Mr Bullerton stared at Howard.

  ‘You can’t have forgotten. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.’

  ‘No,’ said Howard.

  ‘You have, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Howard.

  Mr Bullerton went very red and stuck his face very close to Howard’s ear.

  ‘CONFERENCE!’ he shouted.

  ‘Wupf!’ said Howard, jumping.

  ‘CONFERENCE!

  CONFERENCE!

  CON. FER.

  RENCE!’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Howard. ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘How dare you oh dear?’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘It isn’t oh dear: it’s a Very Important event. In a Very Important place.’

  ‘Yes of course,’ said Howard, ‘I—’

  ‘And,’ continued Mr Bullerton, ‘it’s Very, Very Important that it goes extremely well. A lot of Very Important people are going to be there.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Howard. ‘Who?’

  ‘ME,’ said Mr Bullerton, ‘and I’ll be watching you, Howard

  Armitage, so you’d better make sure you don’t mess anything up this time.’

  ‘I’ll try not to,’ said Howard.

  ‘You will if you know what’s good for you,’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘The only thing is…’ said Howard.

  Mr Bullerton made a growling noise in his throat.

  ‘The only thing is, I haven’t made any arrangements for my dog. I’ll have to get him, and bring him.’

  ‘You most certainly won’t,’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘But I can’t leave Allen at home alone all night,’ said Howard. ‘I’m sure the organisers would understand.’

  ‘I am the organiser,’ said Mr Bullerton, ‘and I say no dogs are allowed. Especially not yours.’ He stomped out of the room and slammed the door.

  Howard sat down with a groan and the Clumsies came out from under the desk.

  ‘What’s going on, Howard?’ asked Purvis. ‘What’s a conference?’

  ‘It’s a kind of large meeting,’ said Howard, ‘in a smart hotel by the sea. We’re supposed to go there by train this morning and stay overnight.’

  Purvis and Mickey Thompson started squeaking and jumping about.

  ‘Now what?’ said Howard.

  ‘HURRAY!’ shouted Purvis.

  ‘WE’RE GOING ON HOLIDAY!’

  ‘No,’ began Howard, ‘it isn’t a—’

  ‘WE’RE GOING TO

  THE SEASIDE!’ shouted Mickey Thompson.

  ‘No, not y—’ began Howard.

  ‘Oh I can’t wait, I can’t wait,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘I’ve never been on holiday before.’

  ‘Quick, we’d better start packing,’ said Purvis, rummaging.

  ‘It’s just what you need, Howard. Look!’ He handed Howard Flossy Has Fun at the Sea.

  ‘Delightful,’ said Howard, ‘but listen, I’m afraid you can’t c—’

  ‘Howard,’ said Purvis, ‘hadn’t you better go and get Allen? We don’t want to miss the train.’

  ‘Well yes but how can I?’ said Howard. ‘You heard what Mr Bullerton said.’

  The mice gazed up at Howard, and Howard gazed down at the mice.

  ‘We can’t go on holiday without Allen,’ said Purvis.

  ‘We can’t leave Allen behind,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘No,’ sighed Howard. ‘You’re right. Of course we can’t.’

  So the Clumsies began to pack and Howard set off to collect Allen. He walked up the long corridor to the lift and was just about to press the button when there was a booming voice behind him.

&n
bsp; ‘Hoy,’ said Mr Bullerton, advancing.

  ‘Quick,’ said Howard, pressing.

  ‘YOU!’ said Mr Bullerton, approaching.

  ‘QUICK!’ said Howard, j-a-b-b-i-n-g.

  ‘STOP!’ said Mr Bullerton, arriving.

  ‘PING!’ went the lift doors, opening and Howard rushed inside.

  ‘PING! PING! PING!’ went the lift doors closing and opening and closing again as Mr Bullerton grabbed hold of Howard and pulled him out.

  ‘And where do you think you’re going?’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Well,’ said Howard, ‘I forgot to bring my overnight things, so I thought I’d better just pop home and—’

  ‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘You’ll pop nowhere.’

  ‘But—’ began Howard.

  ‘No popping,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘AND NO DOGS.

  Get back to your office.’

  Howard got back to his office.

  ‘That was quick,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I haven’t been anywhere yet,’ said Howard. ‘Mr Bullerton’s lurking. He won’t let me leave. And what’s all this… everything… everywhere?’

  ‘The packing,’ said Purvis.

  ‘There’s too much,’ said Howard.

  ‘We haven’t finished yet,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Yes,’ said Howard, ‘that’s what I’m worried about.’

  ‘It’ll be better soon,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Why don’t you climb out of the window, Howard?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Howard.

  ‘To avoid Mr Bullerton,’ explained Purvis.

  ‘We’re on the fifth floor,’ said Howard.

  ‘Well let’s see,’ said Purvis, peering. ‘There might be a ladder or something.’

  ‘We’re on the fifth floor,’ said Howard.

  ‘There,’ said Purvis, pointing.

  ‘You can climb down that scaffolding.’

  ‘Oh thank you,’ said Howard. ‘So very much.’

  ‘Eek,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘It makes me feel just looking at it.’

  ‘You and me both,’ said Howard. ‘I think I’ll try the normal way once more, if you don’t mind.’ He opened the door a crack, peeped out and shut it again, quickly.

  ‘Still lurking?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘Still lurking,’ said Howard.

  ‘Why don’t we ring your house and ask Allen to come here?’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Because he’s a dog,’ said Howard. ‘He doesn’t know how to use a phone.’

  ‘I’ll bet he does,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘You didn’t know he could talk until we told you.’

  ‘Maybe so,’ said Howard, ‘but I only have your word for that and—’

  The mice started squeaking, indignantly.

  ‘And anyway,’ continued Howard, ‘there are a lot of busy roads between there and here and I don’t want him crossing them alone. Somehow, I’m going to have to go and fetch him. Somebody put the kettle on so we can think.’

  ‘Maybe you could speak to Mr Bullerton and persuade him,’ said Purvis. ‘Make him think a dog would be a good idea.’

  ‘No,’ said Howard. ‘He won’t and it isn’t. He needs distracting, not persuading.’

  ‘Maybe we could hypnotise him,’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Ridiculous,’ said Howard.

  ‘…Or…or…lull him to sleep with a song.’

  ‘Mickey Thompson,’ said Howard, ‘if I go up to Mr Bullerton and start singing lullabies at him, he’ll think I’ve gone completely mad.’

  ‘He already thinks that,’ said Mickey Thompson, cheerfully.

  ‘Harrumph,’ said Howard. ‘Come along. Sensible suggestions, please.’

  ‘Oo!’ said Purvis, hopping. ‘This is what we do: we lure him to his room. We slam the door.

  We jam it shut and keep him in there: TRAPPED!’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ muttered Howard. ‘Hmm, not bad but I’m not sure about the luring bit. Had you anything in mind?’

  ‘I hadn’t got that far,’ said Purvis.

  ‘We could leave a trail of cake,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘It wouldn’t work,’ said Howard. ‘Mr Bullerton doesn’t like cake.’

  ‘Biscuits then,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Or bits of bread, even.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Howard. ‘No.’

  ‘How about this?’ said Purvis.

  ‘We ring his phone. He goes to his room to answer it. You keep him talking Howard and w—’

  ‘What!’ said Howard.

  ‘What what?’ said Purvis.

  ‘What am I supposed to talk to him about?’

  ‘Oh you know,’ said Purvis. ‘Just some sort of general chitchat.’

  ‘Fabulous,’ said Howard, ‘and how…oh never mind. I expect I’ll think of something. Well go on, go on.’

  ‘Right,’ said Purvis, ‘so it’s rings, room, answers, talking then we shut him in there: BANG! And then you go and get Allen,’ he added. ‘Howard?’

  ‘He’s gone to sleep,’ said Mickey Thompson, poking.

  ‘Stop that,’ said Howard. ‘I am not asleep; I’m attempting to block things out.’

  ‘So what do you think?’ said Purvis.

  ‘It won’t work,’ said Howard.

  ‘But it’s for Allen, Howard,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Woof,’ said Mickey Thompson, plaintively. ‘Woof.’

  ‘Yes, yes, all right,’ sighed Howard. ‘I suppose it’s worth a try.’

  So Howard dialled Mr Bullerton’s number and Purvis peeped out into the corridor.

  ‘It’s ringing,’ said Howard.

  ‘He’s moving,’ said Purvis. ‘Let’s go.’

  The mice climbed on to Ortrud and rode up the corridor to Mr Bullerton’s room. They arrived just as he was answering the phone.

  ‘Err,’ said Howard.

  ‘Howard Armitage,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘Well? What do you want?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Howard.

  ‘What?’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘I was wondering…’ said Howard.

  ‘What?’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Something,’ said Howard. ‘I was wondering… something… but now… I’ve forgotten.’

  ‘I shall hang up in a minute,’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Howard. ‘Mm?’

  ‘I’m hanging up,’ said Mr Bullerton and Slammed the receiver down just as his office door Slammed shut.

  ‘Got him!’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Lost him,’ said Purvis as the office door slammed open and Mr Bullerton shot out, tripped over Ortrud and rolled across the corridor straight into the lift.

  ‘TOOT!’ went Ortrud, trumpeting.

  ‘PING!’ went the lift doors, closing.

  ‘LET ME OUT!’ yelled Mr Bullerton, thumping.

  ‘Oo-err,’ said the lift. ‘THUMP,’ went Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Well really,’ said the lift.

  ‘Are you all right?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘It’s a bit much, isn’t it?’ said the lift.

  ‘I know,’ agreed Purvis.

  The lift gave a small cough. ‘And the trouble now, you see…’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘I don’t like to mention it, but…’

  ‘Go on,’ said Purvis.

  ‘The thing is,’ whispered the lift, ‘something seems to be stuck.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ whispered Purvis.

  ‘THUMP,’ went Mr Bullerton.

  ‘THUMP.’

  ‘Very,’ said the lift.

  Purvis and Mickey Thompson exchanged glances.

  ‘Listen,’ whispered Purvis, ‘we’ll get you some help as quickly as we can but…’

  ‘THUMP THUMP THUMP,’ went Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Take as long as you need,’ said the lift. ‘Tell you what—I think I might whoosh up and down a bit while I’m waiting. It’ll help to pass the time.’

  ‘whooosh!’ went
the lift, whooshing off.

  ‘WHAAAAH!’ went Mr Bullerton, whooshing off too.

  The Clumsies hurried back to Howard’s office, where Howard was waiting.

  ‘Err, Howard,’ said Purvis.

  ‘What have you done?’ said Howard.

  ‘It wasn’t us,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘It was the lift.’

  ‘What was the lift?’ said Howard.

  ‘It was the lift that trapped him, and stuck him,’ explained Purvis.

  ‘And now it’s whooshing him up and down,’ added Mickey Thompson.

  ‘So you can go and get Allen now,’ said Purvis. ‘Howard?’

  ‘He’s dozed off again,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘NO!’ shouted Howard, springing up and running about. ‘YES! NO! YES! RIGHT! QUICK! I’ll fetch Allen. You find the lift oil.’

  ‘Lift oil?’ said Purvis.

  ‘Well we can’t leave him in there, can we? LET’S GET GOING!’’

  Twenty minutes later they met back at the lift, which was still whooshing.

  ‘Where’s Allen?’ said Purvis.

  ‘WHEEEE!’ giggled the lift.

  ‘Waiting under the desk,’ said Howard.

  ‘Help,’ moaned Mr Bullerton.

  ‘MR BULLERTON?’ shouted Howard.

  ‘ARMITAGE?’ shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘GET ME OUT OF THIS THING THIS INSTANT!!!’

  ‘HOLD ON,’ shouted Howard.

  ‘WE’LL HAVE YOU OUT IN A JIFFY.’

  ‘NOW!!!!’ bellowed Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Where’s that lift oil, quick,’ said Howard.

  ‘Here,’ said Purvis, and he handed over a large jar with the words ‘LIFT OYL’ written on it, and something slimy in it.

  Howard opened the lid, sniffed, and closed it again fast.

  ‘Oo-err,’ said the lift.

  ‘What is this?’ choked Howard.

  ‘Well we couldn’t find any lift oil as such,’ explained Purvis, ‘so we improvised.’