They wandered out into the garden to eat their chocolate, but before they could sit down, they stopped. Something was strange.
“D’you hear that?” asked Dad, with the biggest smile Jelly had ever seen.
She held her breath. Everything looked exactly the same as usual, but it was also completely different. Then she realized: it was quiet!
Completely and totally quiet. Not the sound of a car, motorcycle or truck. Only a few birds in the distance. Jelly had never heard birds from her house before.
Dad scrambled—with some difficulty—onto the garden recycling bin and from there onto the flat kitchen roof, showing his family a lot more of his bum than Jelly really wanted to see.
“Put it away,” Gran said, wincing. “You’ll put an old lady off her very last piece of chocolate.”
“What can you see?” asked Jelly.
“Nothing!” said Dad, his arms aloft. “Absolutely nothing! Come up—you’ve got to see this!”
“Already with you,” laughed Mum, climbing up the ladder she’d already grabbed from the shed. Jelly watched with a smile as she reached the top and hugged her dad.
“You two have got to come up as well,” Mum called down.
“What?” cried Gran. “I’ll never get up there.”
“Yes you will,” giggled Jelly, pushing her toward the ladder.
After some pulling of arms and pushing of bottom cheeks, Gran was manhandled up the ladder, closely followed by Jelly.
“Do you think this is safe enough?” she worried.
“I’m checking,” Dad said as she reached the roof. He jumped up and down like a crazed monkey on a trampoline.
Jelly, Gran and Mum gripped one another and held on to their chocolate on the napkins—Jelly imagined the whole roof collapsing, taking them crashing through the house and into the kitchen sink.
“I think it’s safe,” said Dad when no crack appeared.
Mum slapped his shoulder. “You flaming idiot! Don’t do that again.”
“What?” pleaded Dad innocently.
They huddled close to one another, taking in the most wonderful view of an empty and completely silent highway. All the chocolate had been delivered, and no other vehicles were coming to Chompton now—and because of the curfew, everyone was at home, just waiting for the Chocopocalypse.
Dad suggested bringing the garden chairs up before they ate their chocolate. It had seemed like a strange idea at first, especially as they were so desperate to tuck into the chocolate, but once they had been roped up and everyone was completely reclined on them, Jelly had to admit that it was the best idea Dad had ever had. He even went back to the kitchen and brought up a cooler full of cans of fizzy coconut water. Mum had her phone with her, but before she had a chance to update her social status online, it ran out of charge.
“Oh well,” she said, putting it away. “I’ll enjoy the blissful silence instead.”
“The soldier who gave you the chocolate, Jelly,” said Gran. “I mean, who was he? What was his name?”
Jelly shook her head. “I’ve no idea. I was just sitting outside the post office, and he gave it to me.” She didn’t want to tell them that she couldn’t see him properly because she had been crying so much.
Dad raised his can in a toast: “To the Unknown Soldier,” he said.
Mum and Gran and Jelly lifted their cans too, before cautiously giving them a sip.
“Geez Louise!” slurped Gran. “Are we really drinking this?”
“My mouth’s gone all squeaky,” giggled Jelly, while Dad rolled his eyes.
“Well, I quite like it,” he said.
Mum smiled at him, shaking her head. “Yeah, you would.”
Their attention then turned to the chocolate.
Should she eat the little bit and leave the big chunk to the end so it would last longer? Jelly wondered. Or the big chunk—and then the smaller bit would be like an extra treat at the end…
“I don’t know which chunk to have first!” giggled Gran.
“I was just thinking the same!” laughed Jelly and Mum together. They looked at Dad, chomping furiously on both bits at once with his eyes closed while wiping his nose with the Christmas napkin.
“Greedy pig!” muttered Mum.
The three of them agreed to have the little piece first as a “starter” and build up to the main chunk.
“So…,” yawned Dad, “who’s getting up tomorrow morning to ring in the Chocopocalypse?”
“What time is it supposed to happen?” asked Jelly.
“Nine minutes past seven,” answered Mum, “on a Sunday morning. Not a chance!”
They all nodded in agreement.
Dad gulped another mouthful of fizzy coconut water and let out a satisfied “Ahhhhhhhh!” Sitting back in his chair, he lovingly patted his belly. “I could murder a packet of cheese-and-onion chips right now,” he said, but no one was listening. They were each in their own version of chocolate dreamland.
Jelly let the silky smooth chocolate, which was much tastier than the plain wrapping suggested, gently melt and coat the inside of her mouth.
“And no work tonight,” sighed Mum with a smile. “Isn’t that just glorious!”
Once the first piece had completely melted away, they simultaneously placed the last remaining chunks of chocolate on their tongues. Mum snuggled up to Dad, sharing a comfy garden chair, while Gran and Jelly flicked their recliners into a more relaxed shape and drifted off into a chocolaty sea.
“You know,” said Gran, “if this is to be the end, then I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend it with.”
“Apart from Donny Daydream,” Jelly said with a wink.
“Oh yes,” laughed Gran. “Apart from my Donny, obviously!”
They all pointed and giggled at one another’s chocolate-covered teeth as the evening sun bathed them in a delicious warmth. Jelly closed her eyes and let the chocolate relax and smooth her senses, then realized something. Whatever happened tomorrow didn’t really matter anymore.
The thought dawned on her just like the ray of sunshine that glinted from behind the snooker club. Right now—at this very moment—everything was completely wonderful. If she let her worries about tomorrow take over, not just about the end of chocolate, but also about her science experiment and what Gari was really up to, she would miss this moment. And she was determined not to let that happen! Whatever happened tomorrow, they’d deal with it tomorrow.
And even though her experiment had not gone the way she’d wanted, she’d come to a conclusion anyway: Don’t worry about tomorrow—enjoy today.
She turned to tell Gran but stopped when she saw her face. Beautifully illuminated by the sun’s golden glow, her eyes were closed and a gentle smile danced across her lips as she sucked on her chocolate.
Mum looked like she might have fallen asleep on Dad’s chest, while Dad wrapped his arms delicately around her.
Don’t spoil the moment, Jelly thought. Sitting on the kitchen roof, surrounded by complete silence and the people she loved, she wanted this feeling to stay with her and to last forever. It was perfect. Settling back against the comfy cushions, she closed her eyes and let the last taste of the chocolate disappear from her mouth.
It was agreed that Jelly would sleep in the Gran-a-van that night, much to Jelly and Gran’s delight. Jelly had tried to sleep in the Gran-a-van before but had never managed a whole night. The highway noise was fine in the day—quite soothing, in fact—but at night it was like trying to sleep in a cookie tin in a hailstorm. That was why Gran wore her headphones to go to bed, drifting off to “The Sounds of the Rainforest” or her beloved Donny.
Tonight there was no need for headphones. It was as silent as…as…what? Jelly had never experienced silence like it, so she couldn’t compare it with anything! They even opened the windows. “It’s nice to have some company for a change,” said Gran, getting the extra duvet and sheets to make up Jelly’s bed on the sofa.
Jelly helped take all Gran’s stuff—boo
ks, bags and baked beans (baked beans?)—from the sofa to the windowsill, and as she was doing that, she noticed Mrs. Bunstable on her doorstep.
“What’s she doing out at this time of night?” she said, and Gran came to the window.
They waited for their neighbor to go inside her house, but instead Mrs. Bunstable did something truly incredible—she stepped off the front step and closed the front door quietly behind her. Quietly! No slam.
Gran and Jelly looked at each other in shock. There was something very suspicious going on. Mrs. Bunstable never shut her door quietly. They watched her tiptoe down the path, clutching her large handbag and glancing furtively around. She pushed the rusty garden gate, which stuck then opened so abruptly, she dropped her handbag on the pavement. Jelly and Gran couldn’t help chuckling as she tried to pick up the spilled contents, though it was too dark to see what they were. Then off she went up the road.
Jelly stopped chuckling. Now her mind was racing. Why would Mrs. Bunstable go out in the middle of the night, during a curfew?
What could be so important?
“Where’s she off to, the mad old bag?” asked Gran, echoing her thoughts, but Jelly had already opened the caravan door.
“I’ll just take a quick look,” she said.
She quickly crept out to the gate, where she trod on something prickly: a big old-fashioned hair curler. It must have fallen out of Mrs. Bunstable’s handbag. Bending down to pick it up, Jelly noticed a small piece of paper next to it. She held it under the streetlamp.
“What?!” she gasped.
“What is it, dear?…Ow!” Gran half whispered, half shouted as she stood on the hair curler in her thin slippers.
Jelly waved the paper in Gran’s face—she could hardly speak.
“Oh, I can’t see that—it’s dark, I don’t have my glasses on, and you’re shaking it around like a maraca.”
“It’s the official letter that came with the chocolate!” said Jelly at last, feeling like her head was about to explode. “It’s got our name and address on it! It must have dropped out of old Bum-stubble’s handbag.” Then Jelly realized what else had fallen out but that she had not been able to see in the dark. “She’s got our chocolate bars! She must have stopped the postman somehow! We have to follow her!”
Gran looked down at her bobbly yellow dressing gown and fluffy slippers. “But…but…I’ve just got ready for bed,” she spluttered, looking at Jelly, who was still wearing her jeans, T-shirt and comfortable sneakers. “I can’t just go out like this….What about the curfew? We might get arrested!”
But Jelly was too cross to think about any of that. “Come on, Gran!” she said. And before she could think it through, she was out the gate and running down the street.
“Wait for me!” puffed Gran, running behind her, trying to tie her flapping dressing gown around herself.
Jelly waited for Gran to catch up, and they crept along behind Mrs. Bunstable. At the bottom of Waffle Way West, a flashing blue light lit up the garden walls and hedges—the police were on patrol. Mrs. Bunstable hid behind a mailbox, and Jelly and Gran ducked down behind a garbage can.
“Where do you think she’s going?” whispered Jelly as the police car went slowly past.
“It’d better not be far,” moaned Gran, rubbing her feet. “These slippers are not designed for cross-country running. And neither am I!”
“Couldn’t you have found something less…bright?” Jelly said, looking at Gran’s almost-luminous yellow dressing gown.
“Oh, excuse me,” snapped Gran. “If I’d have known I’d be hiding from the police, I’d have worn my camouflage nightie!”
After a minute they saw Mrs. Bunstable sidle out from behind the mailbox, and they followed her to the end of the road and along Cookie Way.
Mrs. Bunstable doesn’t even like chocolate! Jelly fumed. It was only that day she’d heard her say exactly that: “Can’t say I’m that interested in chocolate myself.” So if she had their chocolate, but didn’t like it, what was she going to do with it?
Jelly stopped and grabbed Gran’s hand. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Gran?”
“I’m thinking I’m going to have to get some new slippers tomorrow.”
“But I know where she’s going.”
“Where’s that?”
“Somewhere to make herself some money…”
—
Jelly and Gran, kneeling behind a parked white van, watched Mrs. Bunstable take out bars of chocolate from her handbag and knock on the door of Chox.
She was going to sell their chocolate to Garibaldi Chocolati!
“That’s it!” Furious, Jelly stomped across the road, Gran hobbling behind. “That’s our chocolate!” she shouted at her neighbor. “You stole it from us. We waited and waited and waited. While you had them, you greedy—”
“I’m calling the police!” shrieked Mrs. Bunstable, making some loose curlers wobble about her head.
“Yes, do that,” said Gran, “and you can explain to them what you are doing here at this time of night.”
“Well, what are you doing here?” demanded Mrs. Bunstable.
“Following you!” said Jelly.
There was a clatter as the main door suddenly opened, and out popped Gari’s head, looking up and down the street like a spy on a mission.
“I knew it!” Jelly said. “You’re buying stolen chocolate!”
“Ladies, ladies,” he hissed in his strange accent, “why don’t you all come inside and we can talk this through like civilized people.”
Jelly paused at the doorway. The thought of going back into that horrible place made her squirm. But Gran had already followed Mrs. Bunstable inside, and Jelly didn’t want to be left on the street alone.
There were only a few lights on inside Chox, giving the place an eerie feel, and it was hard to tell where they were walking.
“Give us back our chocolate,” Gran was demanding.
“I’ve done nothing wrong,” Mrs. Bunstable said. “You’re the ones intimidating an old lady. I’m on medication, you know.”
“I saw the chocolate…and you dropped our letter,” Jelly argued, following them past the cash register and down a hallway.
“This way, ladies,” Gari said behind them, his voice echoing in the darkness as the shadow of his arm held something open.
Jelly was suddenly aware they had moved into a much larger space with a strangely familiar whiff of musty shoes and sweaty socks. She felt a shove from behind and fell forward, stumbling into Gran.
“Ouch!” said Gran.
They turned to see Gari closing some kind of large mesh door behind them and turning a key.
“What’s going on?” shouted Gran.
“Where are we?” Jelly said, looking around.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw they were in a large area filled with plastic balls and completely surrounded by cushioned black mesh fencing. Around them were soft plastic rectangles, like huge building blocks, and a cushioned spinny-pole thing…they were in the Barmy Bounce playspace! Even worse, they were in the ball pit!
Mrs. Bunstable grinned at them from the other side of the mesh door. “Ha, that’ll teach you! You can’t go around following innocent people—that’s harassment, that is….Ow! What are you doing?”
“Not too tight, I hope?” said Gari, who had backed Mrs. Bunstable up against the spinny-pole thing. Using his large purple handkerchief, twisted to form a short rope, he had sharply tied her hands around the pole, making her a prisoner too.
“You can’t do this to me,” squawked Mrs. Bunstable. “I’m a senior citizen. I do work for charity….I’ve brought you chocolate, just like you said. You told me you’d pay—”
Gari smacked a length of silver tape over her mouth and gave her a spin. “That will shut you up, you horrible old woman,” he puffed, dusting down his butterscotch safari suit and taking the chocolate bars from her handbag. He gave them a deep sniff followed by a frown and placed them into several pockets
scattered about his suit. “There is a curfew out there, ladies, and I don’t need any…complications.”
He hung the set of jangly keys onto a hook on a central column next to where his safari hat was resting. There was a panel of switches and a large red button on the column, which Jelly guessed was part of Dad’s handiwork and part of the reason the playspace had closed down.
“Now, what was I doing before I was so rudely interrupted? Ah yes, I was counting the last remaining pieces of chocolate…in the world!” Gari laughed a laugh that might have sounded evil if it hadn’t sounded so stupid.
“That laugh,” muttered Gran, squinting hard at Gari through the gloom. “I’ve heard that laugh before….”
Gari backed away. “I d-don’t think so…,” he stuttered.
“I remember!” said Gran, pointing a finger at him. “How could anyone forget a laugh like that? You went to the same school as me, didn’t you?”
“What?” said Jelly.
“You’re the one who would only ever eat chocolate-spread sandwiches for lunch, aren’t you?” Gran was laughing now. “Garibaldi Chocolati, my stars!” she laughed. “You’re Choccy…Choccy Cookie!”
“Choccy Cookie?” Jelly grinned.
“Don’t call me that!” snapped Garibaldi, losing his cool and suddenly sounding very different. “That is not my name.”
Gran tried to get a better look at him. “You look different with the mustache, and it looks like your spots finally cleared up.” She was enjoying this. “And didn’t you used to be ginger? Is that a wig?”
Everything started to click into place in Jelly’s head. The photos on the wall of Chox, the mealy bugs, the shop that no one liked, Gari wanting to buy Mrs. Bunstable’s stolen chocolate, the photo of him next to the large curved rock—which she now realized was egg shaped—Dodgy Dave and his special job…
“It was you!” she cried. “You started the Chocopocalypse!”
Gran turned to Jelly. “He used to run the school’s candy store and thought he was the cat’s pajamas…but the Chocopocalypse? That’s a bit much, isn’t it, dear?” Her eyes clouded with confusion.
The Chocopocalypse Page 8
