‘WHOOSH!’ went the lift.
‘THUMP,’ went Mr Bullerton. ‘NOW!!!! GET ME OUT NOW!!!!’
‘COMING!’ shouted Howard.
‘Hang on—what’ll I do with it?’
‘Smear it?’ suggested Mickey Thompson.
‘No, fling it,’ said Purvis.
‘Oo I say,’ said the lift. ‘Do you know, I—’
Howard took off the lid, took aim, and flung.
‘PING!’ went the lift doors opening as the Lift Oyl
flew through the air.
‘EUGH!’ went Mr Bullerton, spluttering, as the Lift Oyl hit him in the face.
‘Mr Bullerton!’ said Howard.
‘I shall see you on the train,’ said Mr Bullerton, sliding out of the lift.
‘Yes, Mr Bullerton,’ said Howard.
‘I am going for a bath,’ said Mr Bullerton, slithering up the corridor.
‘Yes, Mr Bullerton,’ said Howard.
‘AND NOW GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!!’ roared Mr Bullerton.
‘Right away, Mr Bullerton,’ said Howard.
The Journey
Howard led the mice and Allen and Ortrud into the station.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘this way. Platform Eight’
‘Hang on,’ said Purvis, checking his notebook.
‘What is it?’ said Howard.
‘When undertaking a journey of any length, the wise traveller goes well-equipped with provisions to stave off hunger, or boredom,‘ read out Purvis.
‘Armed with a basket of home-made sweetmeats and the latest murder-mystery, or romance, one can face with equanimity any eventuality, disruption or delay.’
‘What?’ said Howard.
‘It means we should take things to eat and read,’ Purvis explained.
‘Especially eat,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Howard, ‘but there isn’t time. The train leaves in ten minutes.’
‘I’m feeling a little faint,’ said Mickey Thompson, staggering slightly.
‘Oh all right,’ sighed Howard.
‘Quickly, then.’
Nearby was a small kiosk selling sweets and newspapers, so everyone bundled over.
Ortrud chose a carton of apple juice and a wildlife photography magazine.
Purvis chose a raspberry flapjack and the Extended National Railway Timetable.
Mickey Thompson picked up a packet of sherbet fizz-bombs and a comic called Kerr-Blamm!!!
‘Let me look,’ said Howard, flicking through Kerr-Blamm!!! ‘I’m not sure it’s suitable.’
The kiosk owner gave Howard a funny look.
‘Bit young for you, isn’t it, mate?’
‘It is not for me,’ said Howard, trying to sound dignified. ‘It’s for … oh, never mind.’
He grabbed a newspaper and a packet of mints.
‘Right,’ he said, ‘come along, come along.’
But Allen was dithering in the gardening magazines’ section.
‘I can’t decide between Gardens and Lawns and Happy Gardening,’ he said.
‘How about that one, Allen,’ suggested Purvis, pointing.
‘Oo thank you, yes,’ said Allen. ‘He’d like this one,’ said Purvis, handing it to Howard. ‘Look—it’s got a free packet of seeds on the front!’
‘Marvellous,’ said Howard, bustling everyone over to the till and paying. ‘Now can we get a move-on, per-lease.’
‘Allen hasn’t got any sweets,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Or did you want to eat the seeds, Allen.’
‘Um no,’ said Allen, worriedly, ‘I’d wanted to plant them, really.’
‘We’ll get him something on the train,’ said Howard, starting to run.
Everyone raced after Howard and they all arrived at platform 8 just as the train was pulling away.
‘Off it goes,’ said Mickey Thompson, cheerfully.
‘NOOooO!’ groaned Howard, clutching his head and hopping about. ‘This is all I need. I’m for it now.’
‘Don’t worry, Howard,’ said Purvis, brandishing his book of extended timetables.
‘We’ve got this.’ He sat down and studied it, running his finger up and down the columns of tiny numbers.
‘Quick,’ said Howard.
‘Hmm,’ said Purvis. ‘Well.’
‘Well?’ said Howard. ‘What?’
‘The next train to Scrumley-on-Sea is in two hours.’
‘That’s too late,’ said Howard.
‘But wait,’ said
Purvis, turning to
a different page
and running his
finger along
another row of
numbers.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see.’
‘What do you see?’ said Howard. ‘What? What?’
‘There’s a train to Pimnster via Cluckermold.’
‘What good is that?’ squawked Howard, bouncing. ‘I don’t want to go to either of those places.’
‘I know,’ said Purvis, ‘but the Scrumley-on-Sea train also goes via Cluckermold. According to the timetable, the Pimnster train calls at Cluckermold at 11.54 and the Scrumley-on-Sea train calls at Cluckermold at 11.55, so if we get on the Pimnster train and then get off it again at Cluckermold we should be just in time to get on to the train we were supposed to be on in the first place.’ He looked up, triumphantly.
‘Brilliant!’ said Howard. ‘When does it leave?’
‘In two minutes,’ said Purvis, ‘from platform One.’
‘QUICK!‘ shouted Howard, sprinting off. Everyone sprinted after him and they all bundled on to the train just in time. It was very full.
‘Good morning,’ said a loud voice. ‘This is the 11.15 to Pimnster, calling at Bidderidge, Mimmersham, Cluckermold, Upper Cluckermold, Clucker-minster and Pimnster.’
‘Do you mind?’ said a different loud voice. ‘Your bag’s on my foot.’
‘Sorry,’ said Howard, picking it up. ‘Right, come along, you lot.’
He started down the carriage, dragging all the bags and Allen after him.
Purvis and Mickey Thompson climbed on to Ortrud and followed.
‘Tut,’ said a woman. ‘Mind my head.’
‘Ouch,’ said a man. ‘Watch what you’re doing.’
‘Sorry… yes… sorry,’ said Howard. But eventually they saw a spare seat in a corner by the window. Howard shoved the bags up above and Ortrud underneath and plunked down hotly, Allen on one knee and the mice on the other.
‘So many people,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Pimnster must be popular.’
‘Yes. Or Cluckermold,’ said Purvis.
‘Or Upper Clucker,’ said Mickey Thompson.
Or Cluckermucker,’ said Purvis, giggling.
‘Or CLICKERNICKER,’ shouted Mickey Thompson.
‘CLICKERNICKERNICK ERNICKERNICKERNIC KERNICKER!’
Ortrud started TRUMPETING.
‘ENOUGH!’ shouted Howard. Several of the people in the carriage gave him funny looks.
‘EXCUSE ME!’ shouted Howard. ‘BIT OF A COLD! HA HA!’
‘I didn’t know you had a cold,’ said Purvis.
‘Shoosh,’ hissed Howard. ‘Let’s just try and have a nice, relaxing journey, can we?’ Suddenly there was a crackling, whistling noise and everyone jumped.
“HELLO LADIES AN KKCCHHHHH STEWARD T KKCCCHHH FRASER,’ said the voice, ‘AND KKKCCCHHH PASTRIES, SNACKS…’
‘Listen!’ said Mickey Thompson, his eyes growing rounder.
‘…KKCCCHHHKKCC H WICHES, HOT BACON AND TOMATO ROLLS.’
‘Where?’ asked Mickey Thompson.
‘I don’t know, I didn’t catch it,’ said Howard.
‘Oh,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Err, Howard?’
‘Yes, Mickey Thompson,’ said Howard.
‘I was thinking I might go and have a little look around.’
‘Mmm,’ said Howard. ‘I thought you might. Don’t be too long.’
So Mickey Thompson went off to find the buffet car and everyone els
e settled down to enjoy the journey. Ortrud went to sleep, Howard read Kerr-Blamm!!!, and Allen and Purvis looked out of the window.
‘Howard!’ said Purvis, as another train pulled alongside.
‘You can see right in at everybody.’
‘Mmm,’ said Howard.
‘Look, Howard!’ said Purvis.
‘Mmm,’ said Howard, not looking.
‘It’s Mr Bullerton, Howard!’ said Purvis.
Howard dropped Kerr-Blamm!!!
‘What? Where?’
‘In that train,’ said Purvis. ‘I think he’s seen you: he seems to be saying something.’
They stared out of the window at Mr Bullerton and Mr Bullerton glared back, mouthing.
‘I can’t make it out,’ said Purvis.
‘Oh, now he’s waving.’ Purvis waved back.
‘He’s not waving,’ said Howard, sliding down in his seat. ‘He’s shaking his fist. Come away from the window.’
‘Now he’s—’
Howard’s mobile phone rang.
‘—using his phone,’ said Purvis Howard answered it.
‘Mr Bullerton!’ said Howard.
‘Yes, I know…yes it was but I can…no…sorry… yes…sorry, bye.’
Mr Bullerton disappeared from view as the train sped up and swung away.
‘NEXT STATION CLUCKERMOLD,‘ announced a loud voice.
‘Already?’ said Howard. ‘What about Bidderthing and Mimmerwhateveritwas?’
‘Gone,’ said Purvis. ‘You didn’t see: you were reading Mickey Thompson’s comic.’
They looked at each other.
‘MICKEY THOMPSON!’ shouted Howard.
‘MICKEY THOMPSON!’ shouted Purvis.
‘I told him to be QUICK,’ said Howard, grabbing the luggage and starting to run.
‘Hey!’
‘Well, really,’
‘Somepeople,’
said the people in the train as
Howard thundered past. Purvis, Allen and Ortrud thundered after him, squeaking, woofing and TOOTING.
They ran all the way up the back of the train, to the front of the train, and all the way down to but there was no sign of Mickey Thompson.
‘CLUCKERMOLD! CLUCK-ERMOLD!’ said the loud voice as they pulled into the station.
‘Howard!’ said Purvis, tugging at Howard’s trousers and starting to panic. ‘We can’t get off without him, Howard!’
‘Well of course not,’ said Howard, ‘but WHERE IS HE???’
Something prodded Purvis in the stomach. It was Mickey Thompson, with a sausage. There was a small scuffle.
‘Off! Off!’ said Howard, scooping up the mice and everyone out on to the platform and over to a waiting train.
‘On! On!’ said Howard, bustling everyone into it just in time as the whistle blew and the train drew away.
‘Phew,‘ said Purvis, once they’d found a seat and settled down again.
‘Quite,’ said Howard.
‘Oo look,’ said Mickey Thompson, pointing with the sausage at another train.
‘There’s Mr Bullerton!’
Everyone gazed at Mr Bullerton and Mr Bullerton gazed back as they slid slowly past in the opposite direction.
‘But…’ said Purvis.
‘NEXT STATION MIMMERSHAM,’ said a loud voice.
‘Mimmersham?’ said Howard.
‘MIMMERSHAM??? We’re on the wrong train! We’re going back the way we came!’
‘But we haven’t been on holiday yet,’ protested Mickey Thompson.
Howard’s phone started ringing.
‘I’ll check the timetable,’ said Purvis, quickly.
‘I can’t hear it,’ said Howard. ‘I won’t answer it.’
‘Hmm,’ said Purvis. ‘Now we’re going in the wrong direction I’m not sure we’ll get to Scrumley-on-Sea by one o’clock.’
‘We absolutely must get to Scrumley-on-Sea by one o’clock,’ said Howard.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Purvis. ‘I’ll check the map: maybe there’s another way round.’ He rummaged in his rucksack, took out a piece of paper that was folded up very small, and unfolded it until it was very big.
‘I didn’t know you had a map,’ said Howard.
‘You can’t go on a journey without a map,’ said Purvis. ‘The wise traveller—’
‘Yes, never mind all that,’ said Howard. ‘Just get on with it.’
‘OK,’ said Purvis.
‘Well…err…if we get off at Mimmersham I think we’ll be able to walk to a bus stop and catch a bus that’ll take us all the way there.’
So they got off the train at Mimmersham and began to walk. They walked up a lane, along a road, across a field, through some bushes and across another field.
When they came to a stream Howard stopped and put down all the bags.
‘Purvis,’ he puffed, ‘this can’t be right. Let me see the map.’
Purvis passed it to Howard and Howard stared at it for what seemed like quite a long time.
‘Where did you get it?’ he asked.
‘I drew it, before we came,’ said Purvis. Howard sat down on the grass and started making a groaning noise.
‘Moo!’ said Mickey Thompson, at Howard.
‘What’s the matter, Howard?’ asked Purvis, anxiously.
‘You must have drawn it wrong,’ said Mickey Thompson, to Purvis.
‘MoooOOO!’
There was a small scuffle.
‘No scuffling,’ said Howard, getting up. ‘It’s very nicely coloured-in, Purvis.’ Purvis beamed.
‘Right,’ sighed Howard. ‘Come along. We might as well keep going. I expect we’ll get somewhere eventually.’
He led the way over to the stream and took off his shoes and socks.
‘It’s very shallow. We can wade across,’ he said, starting to wade across. Everyone else stood on the bank and watched.
‘It doesn’t look all that shallow to me,’ called Mickey Thompson.
‘Well climb onto Ortrud then,’ called Howard.
‘Ortrud can’t swim,’ called Mickey Thompson.
‘I’m sure she can,’ called Howard.
‘She doesn’t want to,’ called Mickey Thompson.
‘Climb on to Allen then.’
‘Allen can’t swim either,’ called Purvis.
‘Nonsense,’ called Howard, ‘dogs love to swim.’
‘Allen doesn’t, do you, Allen?’ said Purvis.
‘Well,’ said Allen, ‘I can swim, but I’m not very keen on cold water, and that stream looks freezing.‘
‘He doesn’t want to, Howard,’ called Purvis.
‘Carry us, Howard!’ called Mickey Thompson. So Howard took the luggage over to the other side, then waded back and collected Ortrud, then carried her over to the other side, then waded back and collected Allen, then carried him over to the other side, then waded back and collected the mice, then carried them over to the other side. Then he lay down on the grass, panting.
‘Ah,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘Ugh,’ said Howard.
‘Oh dear,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘What?’ said Howard.
‘You’ve left your shoes and socks on the other side,’ said Mickey Thompson. Howard waded over and back again, crossly.
But eventually they set off over the field and up a hill, and up the hill some more, and up it even more. By the time they reached the top everyone was very tired. ‘I can’t go on,’ said Howard.
‘But look,‘ said Purvis. ‘There’s the sea!’
Sure enough, at the bottom of the hill was a town and behind it was the sea, looking twinkley.
‘I still can’t go on,’ said Howard. ‘It’s too far, and I’m too tired.’
‘You must ,’ said Purvis.
‘Mr Bullerton will be furious if you don’t turn up.’
‘He’s probably already furious,’ said Howard.
‘And you said we could have a holiday,’ said Mickey Thompson.
‘All we’ve had so far
is journey and journey and more journey.’
‘Harrumph,’ said Howard.
‘Hmm,’ said Purvis, looking around. ‘It’s straight downhill from here to the hotel. If only there was some way of… OO!‘ He raced over to a tree and dragged something out from behind it. It was an old shopping trolley.
‘No,’ said Howard. ‘Absolutely not.’
But the mice were already loading the bags and Allen and Ortrud into the trolley.
‘Push, Howard,’ said Purvis, climbing in.
Howard pushed.
‘Get on, Howard,’ said Mickey Thompson, as they began to roll down the hill.
‘I can’t,’ said Howard, gripping the trolley and running.
‘GET ON, HOWARD!’ shouted Purvis, as they clattered along faster and faster.
‘HELP!’ shouted Howard.
‘HOWARD! GET ON!’ shouted everybody.
Howard got on.
‘AAAAAGGG HHHHH!!!’ they yelled as they shot down the hill, crashed through the hotel doors just as a clock was chiming one.
‘WE MADE IT!’ shouted Purvis, as the trolley skidded across the foyer and crashed out again, bumping into something solid on the way.
‘WEEE-OWW!!!’ wailed Mr Bullerton, as he flew through the air, and ‘Umf,’ he said, as he landed.
Clumsies-On-Sea Part 1
Howard climbed out of the shopping trolley and walked back into the hotel foyer. Mr Bullerton was lying on the floor.
‘Hullo, Mr Bullerton!’ said Howard, brightly.
‘Eh?’ said Mr Bullerton.
‘Let me help you up,’ said Howard.
‘What just happened?’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘Did something just happen?’
‘You fell over,’ said Howard.
‘Where am I?’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘What pl ace is this?’
‘Scrumley-on-Sea,’ said Howard. ‘We’re here on a holid—err…’
‘What?’ said Mr Bullerton.
‘Who are you?’
‘It’s me,’ said Howard.
‘Who’s…’ Mr Bullerton leapt.
The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Seaside Page 2
