Unless… Bertie thought quickly – maybe the damage could be repaired? First he’d have to fill in the hole. But what with? He looked in the food cupboard. Jam? Porridge? No, of course, peanut butter – brown and easy to spread! He took a spoonful and blobbed it in. Might as well use the whole jar.
Once it was done, he smoothed over the mashed potato to cover his work. The pie still looked like a gloopy mess but it was better than nothing.
Someone was coming. He shoved the pie in the oven and slammed the door, just in time.
Mum looked around. “Where’s my shepherd’s pie?” she asked.
“Oh, I put it in the oven for you,” replied Bertie.
Mum frowned. “I told you not to touch anything,” she said, turning the oven up. “And where’s that dog? I don’t want him here when the Nicelys arrive.”
Bertie sat at the table, sandwiched between Suzy and Angela. He ate a spoonful of tomato soup.
Suzy shot him a look. “Don’t slurp!” she hissed.
Bertie stuck out his tongue. Angela hadn’t stopped talking since she’d arrived but he hadn’t listened to a word. He was too worried about the shepherd’s pie in the oven. Maybe it wouldn’t look so bad once it was cooked? Or maybe the Nicelys would be so busy talking they wouldn’t notice anything? If Mum knew what Whiffer had done she would go bananas! And Bertie was bound to get the blame. He felt sick. Perhaps he could ask to be excused?
Angela was staring at him. “You’re very quiet today,” she said.
“Am I?” mumbled Bertie.
“Don’t you like tomato soup? I’ve eaten all mine!” said Angela.
Dad collected up their bowls.
Here it comes, thought Bertie.
Mum went over to the oven and brought out the shepherd’s pie.
“Oh! Good heavens!” she gasped.
The pie looked even worse than Bertie remembered. It seemed to have suffered some sort of landslide. Gravy dripped down one side of the dish. The Nicelys stared at it boggle-eyed.
“Goodness … how unusual,” said Mrs Nicely.
“What is it?” asked Angela.
“Shepherd’s pie,” said Mum, weakly. “It was fine when it went in the oven. I can’t think what could have happened.”
Bertie avoided her eye.
Mr Nicely laughed. “Well I’m sure it tastes delicious,” he said.
I wouldn’t bet on it, thought Bertie.
Mum served up the pie and passed round their plates.
Bertie held his breath. This was it – they were actually going to eat it!
The Nicelys raised their forks and chewed their food in silence. Bertie waited. No one choked or spat it out. Mrs Nicely pulled a face.
“What an … um … interesting flavour!” she said.
“Yes, it tastes sort of nutty,” said Mr Nicely.
Angela nudged Bertie. “Aren’t you eating any?” she asked.
“Course I am,” said Bertie. “I’m just … letting it cool down.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. It was going to be okay. The shepherd’s pie wouldn’t win any prizes but no one suspected the truth…
“URGH!” Mrs Nicely let out a sudden squawk.
Her husband looked up.
“Oh dear, darling, are you all right?”
Mrs Nicely shook her head and pulled something out of her mouth. Bertie stared at it in horror. It was a long, white hair – exactly like the dog-hairs on the sofa.
“EWWW!” cried Suzy.
“YUCK!” cried Angela.
Mrs Nicely had gone a funny shade of green.
Mum rose to her feet. “I am SO sorry!” she said. “I don’t know how it got in there. It’s certainly not one of mine!”
At that moment Whiffer trotted in. He still had gravy stains round his mouth. Mum stared. A horrible thought crept into her mind.
The same horrible thought struck Mrs Nicely. She dropped her fork and clutched at her throat. “THE DOG!” she gasped. “I think I’m going to be SICK!” The Nicelys did not stay for dessert. Mrs Nicely said she would never be able to look at a shepherd’s pie again. She needed to go home and lie down.
Mum tried to apologize while Dad went to fetch the Nicelys’ coats.
At the front door Angela turned round. “Thank you for having me,” she said politely. “But next time…”
“ANGELA!” snapped her mother. “We are going home!”
The front door slammed. Mum and Dad looked at each other.
“BERTIE!” yelled Mum.
They marched into the kitchen. But the back door was open and Bertie wasn’t there. He’d just remembered something – Whiffer needed a walk and there was no time like the present.
Collect all the
Dirty Bertie books!
Worms!
Fleas!
Pants!
Burp!
Yuck!
Crackers!
Bogeys!
Mud!
Germs!
Loo!
Fetch!
Fangs!
Kiss!
Ouch!
Snow!
Pong!
Pirate!
Scream!
Toothy!
Dinosaur!
Zombie!
Smash!
My Joke Book
My Book of Stuff
Copyright
STRIPES PUBLISHING
An imprint of Little Tiger Press
1 The Coda Centre, 189 Munster Road,
London SW6 6AW
First published as an ebook by Stripes Publishing in 2014.
Characters created by David Roberts
Text copyright © Alan MacDonald, 2014
Illustrations copyright © David Roberts, 2014
ISBN: 978–1–84715–540–5
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.littletiger.co.uk
Rats! Page 3
