Batpants and the Vanishing Elephant

by Jeremy Strong

  Mum and Dad and Finn and I all looked at each other. We tried not to snigger, but it was impossible. There was Zak – the would-be rock-star, Zak the Mighty, Zak the Cool, Zak with the T-Shirt that had DEATH written across the front – there he was, on his knees, in the mud, rubbing an orang-utan with a towel.

  ‘So sweet,’ murmured Mum.

  ‘Wish I had a camera,’ Dad whispered back. He watched the pair at work for a moment. ‘That girl is a natural with animals. She’ll go far. One day she’ll be a better animal trainer than me.’

  ‘Not possible, Dad,’ I snapped.

  ‘She will, Tilly, she will. You wait and see.’

  I grinned up at him. ‘Oh, honey-babe!’ I mocked. Dad laughed but Mum cut in.

  ‘You make fun of India all you like, Tilly,’ she said. ‘But who’s looking after the elephant?’

  3 Who is Manky Pup?

  Everybody I know thinks it’s really cool to have a mum who works in films. I suppose it is a bit. She’s worked with loads of film stars and done some amazing things but there is a downside. Mum often has to go away for months. She might be filming in some faraway place.

  Plus, her work is dangerous, and I mean DANGEROUS – that’s why other people don’t do it. Sometimes she gets hurt. I always know when she’s been working on a really tough film because when she eventually gets home she goes and sleeps under the kitchen table. She reckons it’s the safest place to be.

  ‘At least I know I can’t fall off anything and nothing will fall on me, either,’ Mum says.

  I guess the one good thing is that when Mum is at home we enjoy it all the more. I mean, when your mum’s around all the time you get so used to it you get bored and fed up. Then you start thinking things like: hmmm, I wish my best friend’s mum was MY mum. My best friend’s mum is much nicer than my mum.

  Do you ever think things like that? So do I sometimes, but it’s not because I’m bored with Mum, it’s because I don’t see her enough. I wish my mum was around all the time, like an ordinary mum.

  I have to keep myself busy while Mum’s away filming so I don’t think about her too much, so it’s a pretty good thing that I have got an awful lot to do. Saving The World is a pretty big task if you ask me, especially if you are doing it all by yourself.

  I’m an eco-warrior and I am going to save the planet because that’s a VERY IMPORTANT THING TO DO and none of the politicians and grown-ups in the world seem to care two fiddlesticks about it, so I am going to have to do it instead.

  Actually, there are some grown-ups who worry about it, but I don’t think any of them live in our street, apart from Mum and Dad. I have been trying to tell people in our road what they can do to help. I write letters on Dad’s computer and print them off and then I pop them through people’s letterboxes.

  You wouldn’t think giving someone free advice about saving the planet would get you into trouble would you? Well it does, like when I saw this man sitting in one of those gigantic 4x4 SUV jobs and I went up to him and said he shouldn’t drive cars like that because they waste petrol and make lots of bad gases that go into the air and cause pollution. Do you know what he said back?

  ‘Stop being so nosy. I am a policeman doing my job, making sure the streets are safe for children like you, so mind your own business before I arrest you and put you in jail for being a nuisance.’

  That was nice, wasn’t it? So it seemed like I would be Saving The Whole World minus One Policeman. I didn’t like the look of him, anyhow. He had bristly hairs up the inside of his nose. It looked like an evil forest up there, complete with an evil witch and a house made of gingerbread and sweets and stuff.

  Mum and Dad are very proud of me for wanting to Save The World. Finn thinks I’m daft and Zak thinks I’m crazy. But he’s the crazy one. Zak wastes SO much electricity! He leaves lights on everywhere. I say to him, ‘Switch it off!’ And he says, ‘Switch yourself off!’ And he laughs because he thinks that’s funny.

  Huh. He won’t be laughing when there’s no electricity left because HE’S USED IT ALL UP – playing his electric guitar, mostly. I keep telling him he should get a clockwork one.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot. There’s no such thing.’ That’s what he shouts.

  ‘Why not? You can get wind-up radios and wind-up torches. Why can’t you get a wind-up electric guitar? All bands should be eco-aware and only play on wind-up guitars, that’s what I think’

  ‘I keep telling you, dodo brain, there’s no such thing,’ shouts Zak.

  ‘Yes, there is,’ I shout back. ‘I’ve just invented it.’

  Then he starts slamming doors. Mum says that’s what teenagers usually do. ‘It’s a kind of sign language,’ she says. ‘It means leave me alone. At least he keeps his room tidy,’ she added, meaningfully. You know what ‘meaningfully’ means, don’t you? It means she was having a go at me, because my room isn’t tidy. I think tidy rooms are SO boring and clean and uncomfortable. I like a comfortable room, and that’s how I keep my bedroom.

  Anyway, Zak’s in love with India now, so I suppose we’re going to have to put up with that for the next month or so. Zak will be moping about all over the place.

  Don’t tell Zak, but I think India is quite nice – in a dippy-daft sort of way, of course. She wants to save the world too, only she started with elephants instead of light switches.

  ‘Elephants are hunted for their tusks,’ India told me at supper. We were all sitting at the big kitchen table.

  ‘Nobody is supposed to hunt them. It’s against the law. But evil poachers go after them and kill them and take their tusks because they can get lots of money for them. And in some countries they are made to work really hard and they aren’t looked after properly. That’s what happened to Fudge, the poor darling. She was forced to pull huge logs to a saw mill to be cut up for furniture and stuff.

  ‘She got rescued by an animal charity and brought to Britain. I used to go down and help on their animal farm. Fudge and I got on really well and formed a bond. She would only trust me to bring her food and things like that. That’s how I became her keeper. I think I’m the youngest elephant keeper in the country!’

  ‘You’re so clever,’ said Zak, his face full of admiration. Finn looked at me.

  ‘Are we going to be sick?’ he whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘One, two, three –’

  SPLURRRRGH!

  Then we both sniggered. Zak turned red and scowled at us both. ‘What was that about?’ he demanded.

  ‘Finn wanted to know if I’d like some more potato salad,’ I answered cheerfully.

  ‘We’re not eating potato salad,’ snapped Zak.

  ‘That’s OK,’ I shrugged. ‘I didn’t want any, anyhow.’

  Finn burst out giggling. I thought he was laughing at what I’d said, which was, I thought, pretty funny, but Finn pointed at Batpants, who was helping herself to the little cherry tomatoes from a bowl on the table.

  ‘Tomato alert!’ muttered Finn.

  Batpants’ mouth was bulging more and more as she loaded her mouth with ammunition.

  Tomatoes are just about her favourite food, but she doesn’t eat them. Finn and I waited and watched, and then it came. Suddenly Batpants pursed her lips and –

  RATTA-TATTA-SPLATTA!

  Tomatoes sprayed from her mouth like machine gun bullets and BLAPP! One got Zak right on his head. BLAPP! Another got India on her shoulder.

  ‘Everyone duck!’ yelled Dad, but it was too late. The damage had been done. Batpants was delighted. ‘Hoo hoo haahhhh!’ she chanted, standing on her chair.

  ‘Sit down at once!’ demanded Mum angrily. ‘Who let Batpants get hold of those tomatoes? You know what she’s like with them.’

  I pulled Batpants back on to her chair and moved the bowl out of the way. India was laughing.

  ‘She is such a character! Fudge is a bit like that too. She’s a poppet, but she can do some wild things and I think she knows she’s being funny. She likes a joke. I must say I was wondering why yo
ur kitchen walls are a bit, well, kind of, um –’

  ‘Messy?’ suggested Mum. ‘In a tomato-pippy kind of way? Now you know why. Just make sure the tomatoes are kept well away from that ape. I don’t know who allowed it to happen today, especially when we have a guest.’ Mum peered round the table trying to search out the culprit. I knew I was innocent, but Finn was certainly looking guilty.

  ‘I think my elbow may have caught the bowl a bit and, maybe, sort of, pushed it, in her direction, possibly. But it wasn’t deliberate,’ he added quickly. ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘I’m gonna have to wash my hair now,’ Zak grumbled. ‘It takes ages to dry,’ he added, his voice like stone.

  We all looked at him, even India, who was trying to keep a straight face.

  ‘Poor Zak,’ Mum tried to say without cracking up, and India bit her lip even more. I just stared at the tablecloth. I thought, if I catch anyone’s eye now I shall just burst into a gazillion giggles.

  ‘OK, settle down everyone,’ said Dad, trying to restore a bit of calm. ‘Sorry about that, India. It doesn’t usually happen.’

  ‘You know what they say in films,’ smiled India. ‘Never work with children or animals.’

  ‘Quite right too,’ said Mum. ‘I wonder which is worse. The children or the animals?’

  ‘Animals!’ we all shouted, just as Dad said ‘Children!’

  He went on. ‘Listen up, I have some news for you. We’re going to have another guest with us for a while. Fudge is here to be trained up for this new comedy movie. That means she’s going to work closely with one of the stars of the film. So the actor is going to be here for a while so Fudge can get used to it.’

  Finn and Zak and I stared at Dad.

  ‘A film star is coming here, to stay?’ asked Zak.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who?’ I shouted. ‘Who is it? Frangelika Wotnot?’

  Dad shook his head and looked round the table at our expectant faces.

  ‘Is it Victoria Sponge?’ Zak suggested. (One of his favourites, of course.)

  Dad shook his head again. ‘It’s Manley Strutt.’

  So guess who almost fainted? Mum! And me a bit too. I mean, Manley Strutt! Even Batpants was impressed. She sat at the table, arms draped over her head, shaking her face so her big lips wobbled slobbily.

  ‘Blubble-ubble-ubble-ubble-blurrrrrrgh!’

  Dad was looking at Mum with a worried expression. She kept whispering ‘Manley Strutt’ over and over again as if she couldn’t believe it. She reached out a hand and put it on Dad’s arm. ‘Manley Strutt,’ she repeated, looking right into Dad’s eyes. ‘He’s almost as handsome as you, but he’s not the man I love.’

  Dad sighed with relief. ‘I was beginning to wonder!’

  Mum’s fingers drummed the table for a moment. ‘On the other hand, he must have a lot more money than you. Hmmmm, difficult choice.’

  In the meantime, Finn was panicking. He stood there, completely puzzled and shouted. ‘Will somebody please tell me: WHO IS MANKY PUP?’

  Mum burst out laughing. ‘Please, Finn, when this man comes to stay with us do NOT call him Manky Pup. He won’t be very pleased. His name is Manley Strutt and he’s played a rather hunky action hero in many films.’

  ‘He’s very handsome,’ India added, putting a lot of stress on the word ‘very’. Zak scowled at her, while Finn folded his arms. Neither of them were the least bit impressed, so far.

  ‘Can he do stunts, like you?’ Finn asked Mum.

  ‘Yes. In fact he’s one of the few actors who can do their own stunts.’

  Finn nodded. Maybe Manley Strutt would be OK with him.

  Zak sidled up to India. ‘Do you want to see my guitar?’ he asked. India turned to him, eyes twinkling and gave her head a little shake.

  ‘Maybe later. Just think, Manley Strutt, staying right here, in this house, with us!’

  ‘Yeah,’ muttered Zak, his voice like a bowl of cold porridge. ‘Brilliant.’

  As Zak went drooping past me I tried to cheer him up. ‘Never mind, Zak. India might fall head over heels in love with Manley Strutt, but there’s still Fudge the elephant. Maybe you could take her out instead?’

  ‘Shut up, dustbin-face,’ he snapped back.

  Dad heard us sniping at each other and sighed heavily. ‘Don’t you love happy families?’ he asked.

  Batpants went lolloping across to Dad, flung one long arm round both his legs, reached up with her other arm and stuck two hairy fingers in his right ear.

  Dad pulled her hand away. ‘When I want my ears cleaning, Batpants, I will let you know. Now, there’s work to be done. We need to get a room ready for Manley. India, you need to clean out Fudge. Tilly, you can help her. You like getting filthy so I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to help India clear up all the elephant droppings.’

  I looked at Dad, aghast. Elephant droppings? I couldn’t think of anything worse. But I was in for an even bigger shock!

  4 Fudge Cakes

  India collects elephant droppings. Well, I suppose everyone should have a hobby, but I was surprised by this one. I wonder how Zak will take it? Perhaps he’d like to help her. Ha ha! He can hardly bear to touch a dirty dinner plate. That’s his excuse for getting out of the washing-up and we end up quarrelling – something like this.

  ‘Urgh! The plates are all icky.’

  ‘But Zak – this was your plate. You are a washing-up wimp.’

  ‘And you’re a GIRL,’ says Zak.

  ‘Is that the best you can do for an argument? I’ll tell you what, I have a better idea. Let’s put everything in the dishwasher.’

  ‘That’s a pretty good idea,’ says Zak, brightening up at last.

  ‘I know. It’s because I’m a GIRL,’ I tell him. ‘Girls have brains, you see.’ And we put everything in the dishwasher and everyone’s happy. What would the world do without people like me? It would probably crash into little bits, that’s what.

  Anyhow, as I was saying, India collects elephant droppings. That doesn’t mean she picks them up and sticks them into a special book, like stamps or pressed flowers. Imagine a book full of pressed elephant dung! YURRKKKK! Although as things turned out, that wasn’t far from the truth.

  India told me something A-MAZING. I was watching her trudge round the garden with a bucket and spade, collecting Fudge’s droppings. They’re pretty big, I must say, a bit like large chocolate cakes which have just fallen from a tall building and gone SPLAT!

  And here’s Strange Fact Numéro Un: Elephant poo hardly smells at all because it’s made almost entirely of fibre. I bet you didn’t know that! (By the way, numéro un is French for number one. We’re learning French at school, and now you are too, except you’re probably at home.)

  And here is Strange Fact Numéro Deux. (You’ve worked out what that means already, haven’t you? Clever you!) Animal poo is a major source of bad gases that pollute the atmosphere. (Cows are one of the worst for this!) So if you can use the poo in a useful way it’s a Very Good Thing.

  And here is Strange Fact Numéro Trois. You can use elephant poo to make paper.

  IT’S TRUE! I’M NOT TELLING PORKIES!! IT’S THE TRUTH!!!

  I was watching India and she called across to me.

  ‘Hi, sweetheart! You want to help?’

  ‘Er, not really,’ I told her, because it’s not the sort of hobby that grabbed me really.

  ‘I thought you said you’re an eco-warrior?’ India straightened up, flashing her strobe-light teeth at me. Aaaargh! Blinded again. ‘You know, saving the world, and all that kind of thing?’

  ‘I am,’ I said, pointing to the twigs in my hair. I like dressing up in what I call ‘eco-fashion’. I weave long grasses and small bits of plant into my hair and rub mud on my face – that sort of thing. It makes me feel closer to the earth. I also do it so people will know I’m into eco stuff.

  India nodded. ‘You look lovely, honey, but why don’t you come and do something that will really help?’ She waved her spade and bucket
at me.

  ‘Collecting Fudge cakes will help?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s why I’m doing this. We use the dung to make paper.’

  India went on to explain how the dung is collected up, put into huge tubs and washed thoroughly. Then it gets passed through enormous presses. Elephants eat loads and loads of fibre and that holds it all together in the press. It comes out as sheets of paper. After that it’s dried and polished and you can write on it, or paint, or send people like Zak messages that say things like:

  So that’s how it is. You could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard that. Actually, you could have knocked me down with a Fudge cake. I grabbed another bucket and spade.

  We would have got that garden tidied up in no time if it hadn’t been for Batpants. She came waddling along with a bucket of her own. She followed us round trying to copy what we were doing, but most of the time she just spilt her dung back on the ground. We had to chase after her to get it. Batpants decided that was a very good game. She grabbed the dung and started scooting up the nearest tree with it. When we went anywhere near she threw it at us, which WASN’T VERY NICE.

  Dad had to creep up on her from behind and grab her. He took her inside so we could carry on in peace. It took us another half hour but eventually the job was done and we ended with a high five, which would have been OK if we weren’t still holding our spades, so it was more of a high SPLANGGGG!

  I guess India is all right really, as long as she doesn’t keep calling me ‘sweetheart’ and ‘honey pie’ and so on. She told me something else too. Zak has asked her to be in his band.

  ‘What instrument do you play?’ I asked.

  ‘Zak says I could be really good on the tambourine.’

  Huh! Tambourine, indeed. I bet Zak just wants to snog her.

  I was going to warn her about Zak, but we were interrupted by the arrival of Manley Strutt. There we were, standing in the garden with our buckets of elly doo-doo, when the hunk himself arrived.