The Bolds in Trouble

by Julian Clary

  ‘It would have been a terrible waste. You did the right thing,’ agreed Uncle Tony.

  ‘But now a fox has probably got the blame,’ said Bobby, who was listening at the door with his sister.

  ‘What are you two doing up?’ asked his mother.

  ‘We couldn’t sleep. We wanted to hear about the meeting.’

  ‘Well it’s not something I want you hearing about.’

  ‘Too late, Mum, we’ve already heard. The foxes are in grave danger.’

  ‘We’ve got to do something,’ said Betty.

  ‘We warn foxy!’ piped up Miranda from her spot on the windowsill. ‘Tell foxy be careful. Peeps out to get them!’

  ‘That,’ said Mr Bold, ‘is an excellent idea, Miranda.’

  ‘You welcome,’ said Miranda.

  ‘We can speak to the foxes, animal to animal, and tell them the danger they’re facing. But we’d better act quickly. The pest control van will probably be here tomorrow. Those Binghams don’t want to waste any time,’ added Mrs Bold.

  ‘But how do we contact the foxes?’ asked Bobby.

  ‘We go to Bushy Park,’ said Uncle Tony. ‘I’ve definitely smelled fox when I’ve taken a stroll through the park. There’s a distinct aroma near the ice-cream van. If those ones aren’t the culprits we can at least get a message to them through one of their clan.’

  ‘Right,’ said Mr Bold looking at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘The park. Of course. It’s nearly nine o’clock now. It will soon be getting dark...’

  ‘Foxy come out at dusk,’ offered Miranda.

  ‘Or any time they’re peckish,’ corrected Bobby. ‘It was just before lunchtime when my sandwich went missing.’

  ‘We need to be careful, though,’ warned Mr McNumpty. ‘If our neighbours see us having a cheery chat with a fox, their suspicions will be aroused. The last thing we need is people suspecting we’re animals and capturing us too.’

  ‘Very true,’ said Uncle Tony. ‘Very true.’

  ‘This will have to be an undercover operation,’ concluded Mr McNumpty. ‘We will have to creep into the park at midnight, once everyone else is safely tucked up in bed.’

  ‘That’s rather late for the twins,’ cautioned Mrs Bold.

  ‘Please let us come,’ said Betty. ‘We promise to be good.’

  ‘Come on, Dad,’ said Bobby. ‘We’ve been on all your adventures before. We won’t be able to sleep anyway, knowing you’re out there trying to help other animals.’

  ‘What do you think, Fred?’ said Mrs Bold.

  ‘Well. This is an emergency. The future of these foxes is at stake. I think under the circumstances we’d better let the twins come with us.’

  ‘Very well, Bobby and Betty,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘You may come too. It’s Sunday tomorrow, so at least you’ll be able to sleep in.’

  What nice parents animals are. Most human parents would have said: ‘Absolutely not. Wandering round the park at midnight? No way. Go to bed.’ Bobby and Betty were very lucky pups.

  ‘There’s just one problem,’ said Mr McNumpty, rubbing his chin. ‘The park is closed at night. The gates will be locked.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Mr Bold. ‘Hadn’t thought of that.’

  ‘Well,’ reasoned Bobby. ‘If the foxes can get out, we must be able to get in.’

  ‘Maybe there’s a hole?’ suggested Mrs Bold. ‘We’ll find a way through, I’m sure.’

  ‘Could we dig?’ suggested Betty.

  ‘Or take the students with us,’ said Bobby. ‘They could help. Craig is very strong and Miss Paulina has sharp teeth.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘They’re not ready for such a serious excursion. They still can’t dress themselves and they might give the game away. Leave them here asleep.’

  ‘Come on then, let’s all try to get a little sleep before our mission begins,’ said Mr Bold. ‘We will leave for the park at midnight. These foxes need our help. We’ll find a way in.’

  So later that night, when all the lights in all the houses in Fairfield Road were out, the Bold family and Mr McNumpty quietly left Number 41 and crept along to the gates of Bushy Park.

  But how were they going to get over the wall? There was no sign of a hole. It looked like they would have to start digging, which Mr Bold worried would take too long and might alert someone to what they were doing. But as it happens, Mrs Bold had rather cleverly decided to wear one of her unusual hats and this one was made of old bed springs, just in case they were needed. And of course they were.

  ‘My dear, you’re a genius!’ declared Mr Bold. ‘We’ll tie them to our feet and bounce over the wall!’ And so they did – one by one. There were some mishaps, of course, where they didn’t quite bounce high enough and hit the wall, but after much stifled laughter and some trial and error, the whole party finally made it into the park.

  It was pitch black but luckily hyenas can see in the dark.

  ‘This way,’ said Betty. ‘Follow me,’ and she led the others to an area of the park that was quite wild and overgrown with brambles and ferns.

  ‘They should be around here somewhere,’ she said, peering into the darkness. They all waited for a while, but there was only silence and the odd hoot of an owl watching from the trees above.

  Then Mr McNumpty spotted two sly eyes peering at them from several yards away.

  ‘Yoo hoo!’ he called. ‘Mr Fox? Mrs Fox? Do you think we might have a word? It’s rather urgent. Don’t worry, we’re not really humans. We’re animals in disguise. I’m actually a grizzly bear and my friends here are hyenas.’

  Now you might think it unlikely that a grizzly bear could speak to a fox and expect any kind of answer, but there is a simple explanation: all animals can understand each other. What sounds to us like incomprehensible barks, growls, purrs or squawks are all crystal clear if you’re an animal, of whatever species. Thus a zebra can speak to a sparrow, a shark can chat with a salmon, a monkey can gossip with a caterpillar and so on. It’s one of the marvels of the animal kingdom that the BBC has yet to do a programme about.

  So it was therefore a surprise to Mr McNumpty when there was no answer. The eyes stared at him without blinking and then disappeared. And a rather pungent aroma seemed to float closer and get up everyone’s nostrils.

  ‘Oh!’ said Mr McNumpty. ‘That’s strange...’

  ‘Let me try,’ said Mrs Bold, and she cleared her throat.

  ‘Mr Fox? I know you’re here somewhere. We don’t mean to frighten you. Forgive us for calling on you uninvited, but there’s something we think you ought to know. You see, we live in Fairfied Road and – ouch!’ A sharp pain struck the back of Amelia’s hind leg.

  ‘Ow!’ cried out Bobby, spinning round.

  ‘Aaagh!’ shrieked Betty.

  ‘Ooh!’ exclaimed Mr Bold.

  Everyone, it seemed, was being nipped on their ankles, one after the other, apart from Miranda, who was perched safely on Uncle Tony’s shoulder. Mr McNumpty was probably bitten too, but his fur was so thick he didn’t notice. Everyone else was hopping about clutching their legs and wondering what on earth was going on, when an unfamiliar voice – rough and angry – hissed: ‘Now clear off and don’t come back or I’ll bite you properly next time!’

  There was a rustling of ferns behind them and the sound of whoever it was stealthily running away.

  ‘Everyone all right?’ asked a concerned Mr McNumpty.

  ‘Betty? Bobby? Come here, dears. Let’s have a look at your legs. Teeth marks! What a horrid fox!’

  As the attacker had said, they weren’t ‘proper’ bite marks – no blood had been drawn – just warning nips. But it was a shock nevertheless.

  ‘But we were only trying to help!’ cried Betty.

  ‘To save him from the pest control people!’ Bobby pointed out. The twins were both tired and upset with the way the mission to help a fellow animal had turned out.

  ‘Foxy no nicey,’ said Miranda, shaking her head.

  ‘No. Not nice at all,’ agr
eed Uncle Tony. ‘I shall probably have a noticeable limp for several days.’

  ‘Come on, everyone,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘Let’s get home before he bites us again. We’re not going to be able to warn him after all.’

  ‘Good riddance,’ muttered Mr McNumpty.

  It was very late when the Bolds got home after this unsuccessful trip to Bushy Park. They were all a little out of sorts, not to mention tired, so the twins were given a drink of milk and then everyone went straight to bed.

  The Bolds were all still feeling a little sorry for themselves the next morning over a rather late breakfast, when Minnie came to visit with Walter, whom she’d been taking for a walk. I say walk, but Walter didn’t like to walk more than a few metres. He liked to be carried, preferably tucked inside Minnie’s fleece, which is where he was this morning.

  The twins told Minnie about the late-night trip to help the foxes and the rather unpleasant welcome they’d received.

  ‘Gosh,’ said Minnie. ‘What a bad-tempered old fox.’

  ‘But the worst of it is,’ said Betty, rubbing her ankle, ‘we didn’t get to tell him about the pest control van.’

  ‘He wouldn’t listen!’ said Bobby. ‘He still doesn’t know the danger he’s facing.’

  ‘Oh don’t bother about him,’ said Snappy the goose, who had been trying for several minutes to get some marmalade out of the jar with his beak. ‘Foxes get all they deserve. I have no sympathy for them.’

  ‘That’s not very kind,’ said Miss Paulina.

  ‘Well it’s true. My grandfather was killed by a fox, and so were two of my aunts. It’s about time they got a taste of their own medicine. The humans are talking sense on this. I’m glad I’m going to be a human.’

  Mrs Bold raised her eyes and Mr Bold shook his head.

  ‘I once heard a wonderful story about a fox and a goose and the power of prayer,’ said Miss Paulina.

  ‘Not now,’ said Craig the wild boar, who was feeling rather bad-tempered over not being invited to the park the night before.

  Minnie thought for a moment. ‘Well from the sound of it, there’s only one thing that interests this fox.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Mrs Bold.

  ‘Food!’ said Minnie. ‘Did you take along a few tasty treats?’

  ‘No,’ shrugged Mrs Bold.

  ‘Well look at it from the fox’s point of view,’ said Minnie. ‘You crept onto his home turf in the dead of night. That frightened him for starters. He probably thought you were trying to trick him. Catch him, even. He knows foxes are not very liked around here. If you’d offered him some food he might have stayed around to listen to what you had to say.’

  ‘Good point!’ said Mr Bold. ‘I know he likes cheese sandwiches, so let’s take him some of those! I’ll start making some right away.’

  ‘The other thing is... How can I put it?’ added Minnie, looking awkward.

  ‘What? Out with it!’ encouraged Mr McNumpty.

  ‘Well. Foxes have a very good sense of smell, don’t they?’ began Minnie.

  ‘So do we,’ interrupted Mrs Bold. ‘We are hyenas after all.’

  ‘Well exactly. He’d have smelled you, you see. And Mr McNumpty. You might all be dressed as humans, look like humans and sound like humans, but to a fox’s sensitive nose you’re still a bunch of hyenas, a grizzly bear and a marmoset monkey! That must have been rather alarming and confusing for him.’

  ‘Can’t do much about that, can we?’ said a slightly offended Betty, giving her armpit a suspicious sniff.

  ‘Are you saying we’re all a bit whiffy?’ said Mrs Bold, just as indignantly.

  ‘No, not to me,’ Minnie replied hastily. ‘But maybe to a fox you are.’

  Mr Bold decided it was time for a joke.

  What did the left eye say to the right eye?

  Between you and me, something smells!

  Everyone enjoyed this joke, so he tried another.

  How many skunks does it take to make a big stink?

  Quite a phew!

  ‘I think our hyena smell is very nice,’ said Bobby.

  ‘Well, I think my grizzly smell is very attractive too,’ said Mr McNumpty. ‘But I take Minnie’s point. Maybe we didn’t think through our visit to the foxes properly.’

  ‘So to sum up,’ said Mrs Bold, jumping in before her husband told more jokes and everyone forgot about the problem in hand, ‘Dangerous as it is, we should have gone in daylight; we need to take sandwiches; and we should all have a good scrub in the bath. And I’ve got some perfume we can all have a generous squirt of before we go.’

  ‘What’s it called?’ asked Bobby suspiciously.

  ‘Well, your father bought it for my birthday. It’s called An Evening in Paris.’

  ‘Eew!’ responded Bobby. ‘I’m not spraying myself with that!’

  ‘Well your mother bought me some aftershave. You can use that instead,’ said Mr Bold.

  ‘And what’s that called?’ Betty asked.

  ‘An Afternoon in Hampton Wick.’

  ‘Right then, twins. That’s enough talk. Upstairs to the bath, please,’ said Mrs Bold.

  What bird steals soap from the bath?

  Robber ducks!

  Several hours later, after everyone had bathed and scrubbed and perfumed themselves, and Mr Bold had made plenty of cheese sandwiches, they set off, much like any other family going for an outing to the park. As it was a hot summer’s day, Mrs Bold wore one of her own hats – a large white umbrella-like arrangement, with garlands of flowers draped around it and several lifelike pigeons perched on top.

  When they got to the area where the foxes lived, they spread out the picnic blanket and placed the sandwiches and some cakes enticingly on it, then retreated a few yards to watch. They were anxious that no one saw them. They certainly didn’t want to draw attention to themselves or be seen talking to a fox, so they moved as far away as possible from other people, and Miranda kept watch up in a tree.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Within a minute a furry snout emerged from the ferns, twitching with interest. The large, well-fed fox then glided into view and headed straight for the Bolds’ sandwiches. He had a quick sniff and then began to gulp them down.

  ‘Ah, hello there!’ said Mrs Bold cautiously. ‘We thought you might like a cheese sandwich. Don’t mind us...’

  The fox stared coldly at Mrs Bold, then at Mr Bold, Bobby and Betty, Uncle Tony and Miranda, Mr McNumpty and finally Minnie. Walter gave a little whimper and retreated inside Minnie’s fleece.

  The fox’s eyes narrowed and he curled his lip, revealing a row of sharp white teeth.

  ‘Er, we’re the Bolds,’ said Fred brightly. ‘From Number 41 Fairfield Road. We’re animals too, well, most of us are. What’s your name?’

  ‘Mossy,’ grunted the fox, his mouth full of wholemeal bread and cheddar cheese. Then he looked behind him, towards the ferns and gave a gruff call.

  Another slimmer, more-elegant fox obeyed his call, and although startled by the audience, nevertheless approached the picnic blanket and delicately helped herself to a sandwich.

  ‘She’s Sylvie,’ said Mossy, nodding his head in the direction of the female fox. ‘Whaddya want? Hurry up!’

  ‘Pleased to meet you both,’ said Mrs Bold. ‘We’ve come to warn you. You’ve upset some of the people in Fairfield Road.’

  ‘Ha!’ said Mossy, unconcerned and pausing to spit out a piece of pickle that wasn’t to his liking. ‘Good!’

  But Sylvie seemed to understand, and nodded at Mrs Bold to continue. ‘Is it the stealing?’ she asked quietly. ‘I’ve tried to tell Mossy.’ She glanced at the bigger fox, but he rolled his eyes.

  ‘She’s right, Mossy,’ said Mr McNumpty. ‘We’re animals too, and we understand the need to find food wherever you can, but you’ve overstepped the mark.’

  ‘Oh really?’ said Mossy, sitting back on his haunches for a moment as he contemplated a French fancy. ‘How’s that then?’

  ‘Going down bins is one thi
ng. We’ve all done it.’

  ‘Well I certainly haven’t!’ said Minnie.

  ‘No, well, most of us have. But you’ve got too brazen, Mossy. Too greedy. You’ve been going into people’s houses, taking food from their tables!’

  ‘Digging up vegetables!’ said Uncle Tony.

  ‘Going through cat flaps!’ said Bobby.

  ‘In broad daylight!’ said Betty.

  ‘And now the humans are going to do something about it,’ said Mr Bold.

  Mossy flicked a fly away from his ear and began to eat his second cake. ‘I’m shaking from head to paw, really I am,’ he said sarcastically. ‘Now let me guess... Are they going to store the food away in Tupperware boxes? Lock the cat flap? Stay up all night waiting for me with a catapult?’

  ‘No it’s far worse than that,’ said Mrs Bold.

  ‘Oh, horror of horrors, are they sending for the pest control van? A couple of silly old fools in nylon overalls that will set a trap baited with a spoonful of cheap cat food and expect me to fall for it? Don’t make me laugh!’

  ‘I don’t think you realise the danger you’re in. Or the danger you’re putting Sylvie in,’ said Mr McNumpty gravely. ‘This is serious.’

  ‘Perhaps we should listen to them,’ said Sylvie, looking pleadingly at her fellow fox. ‘They’ve come here to help us. And they are the Bolds. Famous for helping animals everywhere.’

  ‘Shut up whining at me, vixen!’ said Mossy, wiping his snout on the picnic blanket and belching loudly. ‘Yes, I’ve heard of you Bolds. Everyone has heard of you. But do you want to know something? I think you’re a disgrace to your own kind.’

  The Bolds all looked at each other in astonishment. Wherever they went animals usually thanked them, admired how they had made a new life for themselves or at the very least gave them a conspiratorial wink. They’d never had a reaction like Mossy’s before.