by Julian Clary
Sometimes when they were playing, rolling around together wrestling, Betty would nip Bobby and he would yelp until Mrs. Bold picked him up and comforted him. But most of the time he was a cheerful little scamp who would tease his sister until she chased him round the house and into the garden.
Of course there came a time when Mr. and Mrs. Bold had to tell their children the truth about who they really were.
It was difficult for them. How on earth do you break it to a small child that they really aren’t a child at all but a wild animal? A hyena, no less!
But Betty and Bobby had to be told before they started school, because of their tails—which needed to be hidden at all times, for obvious reasons. Trust me, a big hairy tail dangling behind you during a gym class would not go unnoticed in most schools!
“But they are such happy children,” said Mrs. Bold sadly. “It seems a shame to give them something to worry about.”
“Yes, dear, it does,” agreed Mr. Bold. “But we must! It’s all part of growing up and passing as a human being. Like learning to cross the road.”
“And not blowing raspberries in public,” said Mrs. Bold. “They can’t seem to stop doing that.”
So when the twins were old enough for school, their parents decided the moment had arrived. And that night, instead of a bedtime story, they announced they were going to have a serious talk with their children. Well, as serious as they could manage.
“We’ve got something to tell you,” Mr. Bold began. “But it’s a secret.”
Mrs. Bold stifled an excited giggle.
“It’s like this,” Mr. Bold continued. “Have you ever noticed that we, as a family, are different from other people?”
“We’ve got more hair?” suggested Betty, stroking her furry arm.
“Yes, that’s part of it,” said her father.
“Other people get cross sometimes?” said Bobby. “We don’t. We just laugh at everything, no matter what.”
“Exactly!” said Mr. Bold.
“I don’t know how to be cross,” said Mrs. Bold. “The very idea of it just makes me shrieeek!” She began to laugh hysterically.
“Please, dear,” said Mr. Bold. “Don’t start me off.”
“I’m sorry, darling. Do go on.” She squeezed her long nose to stop the laughter.
“Yes. We must tell them. We really must.”
“Tell us what?” asked Bobby.
“First of all, you must both promise that what I am about to tell you will remain a secret. You can never tell ANYONE. Do you understand?”
The children nodded solemnly.
And so their parents told them the whole, almost unbelievable story. They showed them pictures and videos of Africa and of all the wild animals, including hyenas. And they revealed the secret they’d kept hidden for many years.
“But listen, Betty and Bobby,” said Mr. Bold, “no one, but NO ONE, must ever know we are not really human beings. Do you understand?” The twins could tell from their father’s unusually stern tone of voice that he meant it. “Don’t get me wrong—we are hyenas and we are proud of it—but if people found out, we’d be in trouble.”
The children were shocked but then Mrs. Bold revealed another secret she’d discovered during her time in Teddington. At first she’d thought she was mistaken, but no, the more she looked around her, the more she was convinced that the Bolds were not the only animals living secretly as humans.
“We animals can spot a fellow animal, my dears,” she told the children, “but humans have no idea. I don’t think they’d like it if they knew just how many animals were pretending to be humans and living close by—”
“Oh no, they wouldn’t,” interrupted Mr. Bold. “There’d be a huge uproar if they ever found out.”
“How many animals are there living as people?” asked Bobby.
“Oh, more than you would think,” said Mrs. Bold. “You see, we’ve realized that animals have moved in as people all over the place. It’s just that no one knows. I’m not one to tell tales, but there are a couple of giraffes living in Richmond. Shelf stockers at Waitrose . . . the perfect job for them.” She paused to let this fact sink in.
Betty’s eyes boggled. “You’re sure?”
“Uh-huh,” nodded her mother. “Have you ever noticed that some people look a little foxy? Or owlish? Or, ahem, hippopotamus like? Well, that’s because they are! Their true animal characteristics are there for all to see, but humans fail to put two and two together. If a footballer runs like a gazelle, then the chances are he is a gazelle. If someone eats like a pig . . . well, you get what I mean . . .” And she howled with laughter.
“Most important for us,” said Mr. Bold, serious again, “and all the other ‘secret’ animals, are CLOTHES. Clothes allow us to hide the main thing that would give us away. Our TAILS!”
Clothes—pants, underwear, trousers, dresses, and coats—it was explained, were the Bolds’ best friends. Tails waggled about when they were happy, and disappeared between their legs when they were nervous or unhappy (which, to be honest, wasn’t very often). They had to learn to keep them hidden.
The pups seemed to take this new information in stride. Children are very adaptable, aren’t they? With the help of some sturdy underwear and sticky tape, their tails were kept well concealed and they ran around charming everyone they met with their happy personalities.
Soon after this “serious” talk from their parents, the twins started at the local elementary school. Their slightly odd appearance was forgotten after a couple of days because they made everyone laugh.
Unfortunately, this also got them into all sorts of trouble.
“Where is your homework?” Mrs. Millin, the teacher, asked Bobby one day.
“The dog ate it,” he replied.
“That is a very poor excuse!”
“Well, it’s true. I had to smear it with dog food first, but he managed to get it down eventually.”
The twins, although they were always being scolded, made plenty of friends at school. They weren’t naughty, but they were silly. And as the years went by, they got a lot noisier and were constantly whooping and chattering, shrieking and laughing.
Their best friend was a girl called Minnie, who lived above the butcher’s shop in Teddington High Street, where her father, George, worked. Minnie was rather tall for her age and wanted to be a famous actress with a zillion Twitter followers when she grew up. She didn’t like lessons much and didn’t think she’d have much need for math or reading or writing when she was living in Hollywood, which meant she had plenty of time to mess around with the twins and get up to mischief. The twins and Minnie were always getting in trouble, usually for laughing during classes.
One day all three of them hooted so loudly during gym (when the twins climbed up a rope upside-down) that their punishment was to stay in the classroom during recess. Now, unfortunately, the twins’ fangs had recently started to grow through, and that day they both felt an overwhelming urge to chew things, much to Minnie’s amusement. So during that boring recess, when they should have been writing an essay about how wrong it is to laugh during classes, they chomped their way through their pencils instead. Having got the taste for it they couldn’t stop. After all, this would have been perfectly natural if they were hyenas growing up in Africa. It wasn’t their fault that they were stuck in a school classroom in Teddington.
“How about chewing the chair legs next?” said Minnie encouragingly. She had gotten used to their funny ways over the years and just thought they were hilarious. The twins were drooling with satisfaction.
“Delicious!” said Bobby, setting to work on the teacher’s wooden chair.
“Tastes like pork scratchings!” agreed Betty, spluttering bits of splintered pine over the floor.
“You two are so funny!” said Minnie, holding her sides with laughter. After a few minutes of very enjoyable gnawing, the bell rang. Reluctantly the twins wiped their jaws clean and returned to their seats just in time, before the rest of the
class returned and the next lesson began.
“Now then, children,” said Mrs. Millin, as she sat herself down. “Who can spell the word—?” But before she could finish the sentence there was a loud creaking and her chair collapsed, crashing to the ground. Poor Mrs. Millin landed on her back, her big navy-blue knickers on show to all the children—who couldn’t help but snigger. But it was the Bold twins who laughed loudest.
They were in big trouble once again.
Chapter
4
I haven’t told you much about Teddington yet, have I? Well, it’s a charming little place—I myself used to live there, many moons ago. There’s a high street and a broad street, a station with trains taking people up to London, and a lovely big park—Bushy Park.
As for Fairfield Road, well, that’s a pretty tree-lined street where the people like to keep themselves to themselves, which sounds perfect for our hyena family, doesn’t it?
But unfortunately there was one exception to this rule—a bad-tempered, nosy old man called Mr. McNumpty. He had no friends, and he never smiled, and he had nothing nice to say about anyone. Particularly the Bolds. And just their luck, he lived right next door to them.
It was hard to tell how old he was—that’s if he had ever been young. He had straggly white hair that poked out from under a silly fez hat, and a long, runny nose that he wiped on his sticky and stained sleeve. He had big, rounded shoulders and a lumbering walk, as if his legs were stiff and painful.
He would bang on the wall if the Bolds laughed too loudly, and throw garbage over the garden fence when he thought no one was watching.
“You live like animals!” he’d shouted gruffly once, when Betty and Bobby were having a lovely time rolling about in a muddy flowerbed on the morning of their seventh birthday. Little did he know . . .
He didn’t like children and he didn’t like laughter. If the Bolds passed him on the street he would refuse to answer when they called out a cheery “Good morning!” He just scowled and crossed the road.
“Poor Mr. McNumpty,” said Mrs. Bold. “I can’t imagine being so miserable and bad-tempered all the time. Perhaps I’ll make him a cake. That will cheer him up.”
But it didn’t. When she knocked on his door with a delicious Victoria sponge cake for him, he slammed the door in her face.
“What a horrid thing to do!” said Mrs. Bold, back in her own kitchen.
“Well, maybe he’d rather have a pie?” said Mr. Bold helpfully as the children wolfed down the unwanted cake.
“Or cupcakes?” suggested Betty.
“If you ask me . . . he’s a fruitcake!” said Bobby, and this made everyone laugh.
One sunny, summer day the twins and Minnie were playing in the garden and Mr. McNumpty was next door up a ladder, cleaning his windows. There was a danger he might empty his bucket of water over the noisy children, but they hoped not.
Minnie had invented a new game called “Red Carpets,” where the girls pretended to be beautiful actresses arriving at the Oscars, and Bobby was the paparazzi taking their photos.
Bobby set up his tripod (which was really three bamboo sticks held together with some string) and made sure there was some film in his camera (a tin of sardines). The girls had rooted around in the garden shed to find their ball gowns, which they made out of picnic blankets tied together precariously with some old tinsel and garden twine.
Minnie gave herself huge shoulder pads made from two empty hanging baskets, and Betty’s outfit was notable for its glamorous dusty veil—a large cobweb complete with spider.
“This is what everyone is wearing in Paris this year,” declared Minnie.
“Oh yes,” said Betty. “And no one in Hollywood would dream of leaving home without a veil on these days.”
“Hold it there, girls!” said Bobby, peering round the side of the sardine tin and raising one arm in the air. “Minnie, lower your chin a bit, please . . . Betty, it might make a better photo if you raised the veil a little so we can see some of your face. Lovely! Everyone say ‘Smelly pants!’ Beautiful!”
“Smelly pants!” said the girls.
Just then the spider on Betty’s veil—none too thrilled at being moved into the sunshine from the shed—made a run for it and tickled the back of Betty’s neck.
“What’s that?” she cried, alarmed, and then sneezed loudly.
The tinsel that was holding her gown together suddenly fell apart and the blanket slipped to the ground, revealing her rather long tail for all to see. Betty froze.
“Aaargh, no!” she screamed.
Several things then happened all at the same time.
Bobby leaped forward to quickly pick the blanket up and cover the unusual protuberance . . .
Minnie gave a shriek of surprise and pointed in horror at the large furry tail that had suddenly been revealed . . .
And there was a loud clattering and a splash from the direction of Mr. McNumpty’s garden.
Chapter
5
Half an hour later, Bobby, Betty and a rather pale Minnie were sitting at the kitchen table in silence and Mrs. Bold was pouring them each some orange juice from a large jug. She had just finished explaining to Minnie the story of who they really were.
She sighed. “So you see, Minnie dear, we Bolds are really hyenas. That’s all there is to it. You’re such a sweet girl, and have been a very good friend to the twins for a long time, and it felt wrong keeping it a secret from you, so in a way I’m glad you now know.”
They all looked at Minnie to see how she might react to the startling news.
After a long, tense pause the color began to return to her cheeks and she broke into a big grin. “Well, goodness me!” she began. “That’s the biggest shock ever. I never imagined such a thing! But I guess that does explain why you’re always laughing and why you do love wearing hats.”
“You’re not going to tell, are you?” asked Bobby fearfully. “We might get sent away.”
“Please, Minnie,” said Betty, holding her hand tightly. “You’re my best friend in all the world! Please don’t tell anyone, ever!”
“Listen,” said Minnie, placing an arm around each of them. “Of course I won’t tell! Cross my heart! You two are very special friends. You always were—and now you are even more special.”
The twins and Mrs. Bold all sighed with relief.
“This calls for some cookies!” declared Mrs. Bold, reaching for the cookie tin and placing it on the table. “If only people weren’t so peculiar about these things, we honestly wouldn’t mind everyone knowing. Maybe one day we will be able to tell the world, but for now we have to keep it under our hats.”
“Or in our pants!” quipped Bobby, giving his tail a wiggle.
“I’d love to have a tail,” said Minnie. “I honestly would. I’m very envious. They must be such fun.”
“Very good for keeping flies away on a hot night,” said Betty. “Swoosh your tail around and they’re gone.”
“I wish I had a secret I could tell you,” pondered Minnie. “But I can’t think of one. My father was born in Chatham—does that count?”
“Not really, dear,” answered Mrs. Bold. “Although I wouldn’t tell that to anyone until you know them quite well.”
They all sat there chomping happily on their cookies for a moment, until Bobby suddenly dropped his on the plate.
“Goodness!” he cried out. “Mr. McNumpty!”
“What about him?” asked his mother.
“Well, I forgot, what with everything that happened. But he was up his ladder when Betty’s tail came out. Supposing he saw everything?”
“Yes, you’re right!” said Minnie. “And wasn’t there a loud crash? Like he dropped his bucket in surprise?”
“Oh no! Now what shall we do?” wailed Betty.
Mrs. Bold paced up and down for a moment, scratching her head. Eventually she looked at the time on the kitchen clock. “I know,” she said. “We’ll wait for your father to get home. He won’t be long. I expect h
e’ll know what to do about Mr. McNumpty. Minnie dear, you had better run along home soon. Thank you for being such a good friend to the twins. And remember: not a word to anyone.”
Like a lot of grown-ups, Mr. Bold was in the habit of bringing his work home with him. This wouldn’t be much fun if you were a garbage man or an accountant, but fine if you worked in a chocolate factory or, as was the case with Mr. Bold, you spent your day writing jokes for Christmas crackers. So every day when he got home, it was Mr. Bold’s custom to poke his head round the door and tell a joke or two.
Today was no exception.
No sooner had everyone heard his key in the lock and the front door open than his head appeared through the serving hatch to the living room.
Mr. Bold was so happy with his jokes of the day that he always laughed the loudest, even though he had heard them before.
Mrs. Bold waited until Minnie had left and they were all having their tea before she told him about the day’s events and the unfortunate appearance of Betty’s tail in the garden.
“Minnie is going to keep our secret safe, but we are worried that Mr. McNumpty might have seen the tail and dropped his bucket in surprise. What are we to do?”
“I’ll go and talk to him. Man to, er, man,” announced Mr. Bold.
“But what if he knows the truth?” asked Betty, feeling a little guilty now that she was the one who had caused all this fuss.
Mr. Bold gave her a gentle pat on the head. “Don’t look so worried, sweet pea. Dad to the rescue! If need be, I will have to do that thing that humans do. Lie!” He got up from the dining-room table and rolled up his sleeves.
So Fred Bold marched next door and gave a no-nonsense rap on Mr. McNumpty’s door. After a long, meaningful silence the door opened a few inches and the suspicious eye of his neighbor appeared.
