“Bertie?” said the lady with the clipboard. “Miss Lavish will see you now. And please don’t pick your nose.” Bertie removed his finger. He bet the Artful Dodger picked his nose all the time.
Bertie stood in the middle of the stage and squinted into the spotlights. He’d never been on a stage before and he’d certainly never been asked to sing a solo. Miss Lavish sat a few rows back, scribbling notes. She was a large woman wrapped in a scarlet shawl. Bertie coughed nervously. Miss Lavish looked up.
“Hello dear. And you are?”
“Bertie,” said Bertie.
“Lovely. And what are you going to sing for us?”
“Oh um …‘I’d do Anyfing’. It’s from Oliver!” said Bertie.
“I know where it’s from, dear,” said Miss Lavish, peering over her glasses. She raised a plump finger. “Come in with the piano then.”
Miss Plunk played the opening bars on the piano. Bertie turned and walked off stage.
“Where are you going now?” cried Miss Lavish. “Come back!”
“You said to come in with the piano,” said Bertie. “I can’t come in if I’m still here.”
“I meant come in singing. Come in with the music!”
“Oh,” said Bertie. He wished she’d say what she meant.
Miss Lavish nodded wearily at Miss Plunk. “Let’s try again, shall we?”
The piano played. Bertie took a deep breath and opened his mouth. To his horror he realized that the words had gone clean out of his head. He had practised them a million times but his mind was a total blank. He began anyway, hoping the words would come back to him.
“I’d um … anyfing … um … you … um … anyfing! ’Cos you um … anyfing! … um er …”
Miss Lavish’s mouth had fallen open. Whatever Bertie was singing it wasn’t a tune. She raised a hand to put a stop to the awful dirge, but Bertie ploughed on, bellowing any word he could remember.
“I’d … er …ANYFING! And you’d um …ANYFING!”
“Stop!” begged Miss Lavish, waving her hands. “Stop, stop, STOP!”
Bertie stopped. He waited for Miss Lavish to start clapping. True, he had missed out one or two of the words, but no one could say he hadn’t sung out. He bet no one else had sung out quite as well as he had. Miss Lavish took off her glasses.
“Thank you, Billy, that was ah… lovely. But I’m afraid I have all the children I need.”
Bertie blinked. “Oh.”
“But thank you so much for coming.”
Bertie sniffed and wiped his nose. “You don’t want me to be the Artful Dodger?” he asked.
Miss Lavish shook her head. “No, dear, we have our Dodger already.”
Know-All Nick waved to Bertie from behind the stage curtain, with a “told-you-so” smile on his face.
“I could sing something else,” offered Bertie. “I know lots of songs.”
“No, no more, please,” said Miss Lavish hastily. “Run along now.”
Bertie dug his hands in his pockets and trailed off.
Miss Lavish’s assistant leaned over and whispered something in her ear.
“Wait one moment, dear!” she called. Bertie was back in an instant.
“I gather there is one very small part we have yet to cast,” said Miss Lavish.
“Yes?” said Bertie.
“Well, what we really need is a dog.”
“A dog?” said Bertie.
“Yes, the costume’s rather small but you look about the right size. What do you think?”
“Me?” said Bertie. “Play a dog?”
“Yes. If you wouldn’t mind?”
Mind? Bertie’s eyes shone. It was a dream come true!
CHAPTER 3
Mum was waiting for them when they got home.
“Well? How did it go?” she asked.
Bertie took off his coat. “Great. I got the part,” he said.
“Really? They want you to be the Artful Dodger?”
“No, better than that. They want me to be the dog,” said Bertie.
“The dog?” Mum turned to Dad. “What dog?”
“It seems Mr Dodds needs a dog. He’s playing Bill Sykes,” explained Dad. “And they asked Bertie to do it.”
“I get a costume and everything,” said Bertie. “Miss Lavish says I ought to start practising right away.” He padded past them on all fours and picked up Whiffer’s bowl in his mouth. He dropped it at Mum’s feet and began to whine.
Mum looked at Dad. “How many weeks do we have of this?”
“Ten,” sighed Dad. “Look at it this way, at least he won’t be singing.”
Over the next ten weeks, Bertie went to rehearsals with his dad. His part turned out to be less exciting than he had hoped. Most of the time he had to trot after Mr Dodds or sit quietly while the other actors talked on and on. His big moment came in the final act when he dashed to the front of the stage and barked to bring the police running. Bertie practised that one “Woof!” a hundred different ways, but he couldn’t help feeling his talents were going to waste.
In rehearsals he tried to add in a few “doggy touches” to liven up the dull bits of the play. Whenever Know-All Nick came on stage, Bertie bared his teeth and growled fiercely. But Miss Lavish said his growling was drowning out the words and could he please keep quiet. Bertie took to scratching his ear with his paw. But Miss Lavish said he was “destroying the atmosphere” and could he please keep still.
The following week, Bertie thought he could smell a cat and went sniffing around the stage. Miss Lavish lost her temper and threw down her script. Bertie sighed. He didn’t see how he was meant to play a dog that didn’t growl, scratch or even sniff. He might as well be a goldfish! To make matters worse, there was still no sign of his costume. Bertie didn’t have a chance to try it on until the dress rehearsal. It was an itchy brown suit. The head had floppy ears attached and was three sizes too small. Bertie complained to Miss Lavish but she said she didn’t have time for silly details.
CHAPTER 4
Finally the big night arrived. There was a buzz of excitement as Mum and Suzy took their seats and the lights went down. The curtain drew back to reveal the painted streets of London Town.
Backstage, Bertie was still in the dressing room. “Hurry up!We’re starting!” said Nick, pulling on his jacket.
“It’s this head!” moaned Bertie. “It’s got smaller. I can’t get it on!”
“Oh give it here!” said Nick, impatiently. He grabbed the dog’s head and jammed it down hard over Bertie.
“Mmmnff!” said Bertie in a muffled voice. “That’s the wrong way round! I can’t see!”
Nick wasn’t listening. He had hurried out of the door, anxious not to miss his cue. Bertie tried to twist the dog head back round, but it was jammed on tight and wouldn’t budge.
Mum and Suzy clapped as the first act came to an end
“Where’s Bertie?” whispered Suzy. “I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Shhh!” replied Mum. “This is his big entrance.”
Mr Dodds entered as Bill Sykes, making his way to Fagin’s hideout. He looked round for his faithful dog, Bullseye, but there was no sign of him.
“Bertie!” he hissed. “Bertie!”
Backstage Dad looked round. “Where’s Bertie? He should be on stage!”
At that moment, Bertie stumbled up the steps, still wrestling with his head.
“You’re meant to be on,” Dad hissed. He grabbed Bertie by the arm and shoved him on stage. There were giggles from the audience.
“What’s he doing?” whispered Suzy.
“Oh dear,” said Mum. “I think he’s got his head on back to front.”
Mr Dodds took hold of Bullseye’s head and tried to twist it round. The audience roared with laughter.
“Ow!” said Bertie loudly. “That hurts!”
Mr Dodds was sweating. “Shhh!” he muttered, thrusting Bertie behind a lamp-post where he couldn’t do any harm. “Stay!” he commanded.
Sykes and Fagi
n started an argument but no one was paying much attention. They were all watching Bullseye. Bertie was rolling around on the ground, tugging at his head with both hands.
“Is this part of the story?” whispered Suzy.
“I’m not sure,” replied Mum. “I don’t remember it in the film.”
Watching from the wings, Miss Lavish ground her teeth. At this rate Bertie would ruin everything!
“Miss Plunk!” she hissed. “Miss Plunk! Start the next song.”
Miss Plunk thumped on the piano. Fagin sang “You’ve got to pick a pocket or two” and Dodger and his gang began to dance.
“Bertie! Get off!” urged Dad. Bertie trotted blindly in the wrong direction – straight towards the dancers who were whirling faster and faster.
Know-All Nick took a step back, tripped over Bertie, and tumbled straight into an apple cart. Apples spilled across the stage and under the dancers’ feet. Miss Lavish watched in horror as Mr Dodds stumbled into a lamp-post and sent it crashing down on the streets of London. The tall scenery swayed dangerously.
“Look out!” shouted Dad. “It’s going to fall!”
“Arghhhh!” screamed the actors, running in all directions.
“What’s happening?” asked Bertie, left alone on stage.
CRASH! went the scenery as it came tumbling down.
There was a hushed silence. The audience waited to see if this was the end of the show. Slowly the dust cleared to reveal a mound of broken scenery. A door moved. From underneath it, Bertie scrambled out. He tugged at his dog’s head and finally managed to pull it off. Puzzled, he looked around. Where had everybody gone? The audience were all staring at him in astonishment. Bertie suddenly remembered he hadn’t given his one and only line.
“WOOF!” he barked.
The audience laughed and clapped and cheered. Bertie grinned and gave a low bow. He was still bowing when Dad brought the curtain down.
Turning round, he saw Miss Lavish, Mr Dodds and the rest of the cast advancing on him. Their hair was white with dust and their faces were grim.
“You wait,” said Miss Lavish. “You just wait…”
But Bertie didn’t wait. He did what any dog would do – he took to his heels and ran.
CHAPTER 1
Bertie could hardly wait – he’d been counting down the days to his birthday for weeks and now it was almost here. It was going to be the best party ever. Bertie already had his pirate captain’s hat and plastic eyepatch. All he had to do now was hand out invitations to his friends.
“A pirate party? Great!” said Darren. “When is it?”
“Saturday afternoon,” said Bertie.
“Not this Saturday?”
“Yes!”
Darren’s face fell. “But I’m going to Royston’s party!”
“Royston’s?” Bertie couldn’t believe his ears. Royston Rich was the biggest show-off in the school and no one in Bertie’s class liked him. “But you hate Royston!”
“I know but he’s having a swimming party. He’s got a pool in his garden with a wave machine and everything!”
“But what about my party?”
Darren shrugged. “Sorry, Bertie. Royston gave out his invitations last week. Didn’t you get one?”
Bertie hadn’t. Not that he cared. Who wanted to go to Royston’s rubbish party? He crossed Darren’s name off his list. Still, if Darren let him down at least he could rely on Eugene…
“Saturday?” asked Eugene.
“Yes. You’re coming, aren’t you?”
Eugene turned pink. “I’d like to but I’m going to Royston’s party.”
“Not you as well!”
“Sorry, Bertie. He’s got his own swimming pool with a—”
“I know! A wave machine and everything!” scowled Bertie.
“Yes and did he tell you about the inflatables? It’s going to be brilliant. Everyone’s going…” Eugene went pinker still. “Oh – aren’t you, Bertie?”
“No!” snapped Bertie. “I’m having my own party and it’ll be a billion times better than his.”
Scratch! Bertie crossed Eugene off his list. At break-time he gave Donna her invitation. Scratch! She was going to Royston’s party too. So were Alex, Dan, Stan, Sunil and Pamela. At the end of the day the only invitation left was for Angela Nicely. Bertie hadn’t wanted to invite her in the first place – he’d only included Angela because he’d gone to her party. Scratch! Out went Angela.
That left – Bertie looked at his list – no one at all. Well, see if I care, thought Bertie. I’ll have a great party on my own. Loads more cake and crisps for me! Hang on though, if no one came to his party he wouldn’t get any presents. And playing pirates wasn’t much fun when the only enemy was Whiffer.
CHAPTER 2
Bertie slammed the front door. He flung down his bag and clumped upstairs to his room. A minute later, Mum poked her head round the door.
“Ber tie, are you all right? How was school today?”
“Terrible,” grumbled Bertie. “No one’s coming to my party.”
“No one? Didn’t you give out the invitations?”
Bertie explained about Royston Rich’s swimming party.
“Oh dear!” said Mum. “Fancy it being on the same day as yours! Maybe we should move your party to next weekend?”
“That’s years away!” moaned Bertie. “If anyone should move I don’t see why it should be me. Why doesn’t he move his smelly old party?”
His mum sighed. “Bertie, things don’t always work out the way you want.”
“Huh!” said Bertie, bitterly. “I bet if we had a swimming pool everyone would come to my party. Why can’t we get a swimming pool in our garden?”
His mum gave him one of her looks and closed the door.
Bertie lay on his bed. It wasn’t fair. Who did Royston think he was pinching all Bertie’s friends? Just because he didn’t have any friends of his own! Well Black-Eyed Bertie, the scourge of the seven seas, wasn’t beaten yet. If Royston was boasting about his super swimming pool, he would just have to think of something better. He racked his brains. What did pirates do when they weren’t swabbing decks or splicing the mainbrace? Of course – they hunted for buried treasure!
Bertie tiptoed into his parents’ room. He went straight to the present drawer where his mum kept anything she didn’t want him to see. Inside he found party hats, balloons – and a big bag of chocolate coins. “Ahaar!” cried Bertie. “Gold doubloons!”
Out in the garden he dug a hole and carefully slipped in the bag of coins. He was just smoothing over the earth when he heard a ring at the door.
It was Royston Rich.
“Oh hello, Bertie,” said Royston, carelessly. “I brought your invitation.”
Bertie stared in surprise. “You’re inviting me?”
Royston shrugged. “Andrew can’t come so I suppose you might as well. I couldn’t think of anyone else.”
“Well I can’t come either, I’m having my own party,” said Bertie.
“I know, but no one’s going to yours, are they?” gloated Royston.
“Huh, that’s what you think! Loads of people are coming.”
“Yeah? Like who?”
“Like … loads of people.”
“Well everyone from our class is going to be at my par ty,” boasted Royston. He pushed the invitation under Ber tie’s nose. “Keep it anyway, in case you change your mind.”
Ber tie snatched it off him. “I won’t,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” said Royston. “You’ll be missing the best party of the year. We’re having a wave…”
SLAM! Bertie shut the door in his face.
He turned round to find Mum barring his way.
“Bertie, someone’s been nosing in the present drawer.”
“Oh. Have they?” said Bertie, innocently.
“Yes and a bag of chocolate coins is missing. I bought them as prizes for your party. Do you know anything about that?”
“Erm…” said Bertie.
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“Bertie, if I find out you’ve eaten them…”
“I haven’t!”
“Good, then you can give them back. Right now.”
“But Mum, I need them for the treasure hunt! You can’t have a pirate party without buried treasure.”
Mum put a hand to her head. “Buried treasure? Bertie you haven’t!”
“What?”
“Buried them?”
“Well I might have,” said Bertie. “But it’s OK, I know exactly where they are!”
“Where?” demanded Mum.
“Um … somewhere in the garden.”
CHAPTER 3
Saturday afternoon came. Bertie stood at the front room window staring along the road. He was dressed in his pirate hat and eyepatch. Whiffer, his faithful sea dog, sat at his side keeping watch. It was half past two.
His mum came and joined him at the window. “I’m sorry, Bertie, I don’t think anyone’s coming. Why don’t you go to Royston’s party? It’s not too late.”
“I don’t want to!” glared Bertie.
“I’m sure you’ll have fun,” said Mum.
“I won’t. I hate swimming!”
“Don’t be silly, Bertie. All your friends will be there.”
“Huh!” scowled Bertie. “I haven’t got any friends.”
Mum sighed. “Look, we’ll have your party another day. Why don’t you just go and enjoy yourself?”
“All right, all right!” said Bertie. “As long as Whiffer can come too.”
Mum frowned. “It’s a swimming party, Bertie, dogs aren’t invited.”
“Then I’m not going,” said Bertie stubbornly. “If Whiffer can’t go then I’m not going either.”
Pants! Page 2
