Artie and the Grime Wave

by Richard Roxburgh

  A step into the unknown, thought Artie. What did it mean?

  He turned back to the door and lifted his hand to knock. A step, he thought. Just a step. Before he knew it, he was stepping swiftly across the verandah, away from the door. Then the steps spilt into a run!

  He vaulted sideways over the railing, and took off down the side of the Unpronounceable-enkos’ house. Finding his secret entrance through the tiny gap in the hedge with the broken fence palings, Artie was into his own backyard in seconds. He was faintly aware of Mary and Funnel-web bellowing and tearing up and down the Unpronounceable-enkos’ driveway, trying to figure out where the skinny boy had got to. But Artie was barrelling through the back door of his own house, slamming and locking it. Then he catapulted through to the front door, which he double-locked.

  ‘What are you doing? And where have you been, you gherkin? You know you’ve had Mum worried sick, don’t you?’ It was Lola, screaming at him. Never had Artie been so overjoyed to see his furious sister.

  ‘What makes you think you can stay away for as long as you like without letting Mum know? You’re such a selfish … You’re a …’

  But the small boy had reached out to his sister and was holding her in a huge hug.

  Artie’s mum’s bedroom door creaked open, and her sad, resigned face peered out.

  ‘Oh, Artie, where have you been?’ she sighed.

  Artie could hear the voices of the gang calling to each other outside, still trying to hunt him down. He let go of Lola and took a deep breath. He was going to tell them the whole story.

  ‘Mum, can you hear those voices?’ He didn’t wait for her answer. ‘They’re very bad men, who are in a gang … the gang I told you about with the Cave-of-Possibly-Stolen-Stuff that turned out to be Definitely-Stolen-Stuff and I know you didn’t believe me about the cave but it’s true and then Bumshoe and I tried to get proof but we lost Angus’s camera and a man we call Mary on account of he’s got Mary on his face stole it and he was going to the toilet but then he chased us with Funnel-web and then they caught Bumshoe in the washing machine and Nate’s dad who’s the mayor is in charge and they’re robbing everybody and they stole Gareth the tortoise because the Mayor only eats pets because they’re tender and then they caught me in the factory and took me up to Grime House where everything was made from gold and they were going to make skewers out of Bumshoe and me but then Aunty-boy snuck in with Macaroni dressed as statues and shot them with a Prickle-ator and the Fartex and we escaped but I wanted to save Gareth so I went back and a lizard ran over me and they caught me again and I thought Mrs Grime might help me but she’s scarier than the lot of them and they tried to make me catch Gladys but I wouldn’t do it and I know you’ll never, never, ever believe me, but this time it’s true and …’

  Here Artie paused. He realised what a complete mess he was making of his story. The more details he added, the more ridiculous it all seemed.

  He sniffed, and tried to continue, but before he knew it his body was racked with sobs.

  ‘And they’re outside now and I have no idea what to do. And … I want … my mum. I want my mum.’ Artie could speak no more. It was as if a dam wall was collapsing and flooding the room with tears.

  Since the hugging incident, Lola had been silent, staring open-mouthed between Artie and her mum, Maggie, as if she was watching a really complicated game of tennis. She hadn’t even looked at her phone once.

  ‘As if!’ she finally said. ‘Mum, you don’t believe him, do you? You know what he’s like …’ But Lola didn’t seem quite convinced by her own words.

  Maggie Small knelt down in front of her son, staring at him.

  ‘No. He’s not – he’s not lying,’ she said quietly, and all at once she was reaching out for Artie and dragging him into her arms. She held him tightly and then, holding his face, she looked deeply into his eyes, blinking. It was as if she was coming out of a long, bad dream.

  ‘Artie,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, my boy … My poor boy. How could I … What have I been doing? I’m so sorry.’

  BOMPH BOMPH BOMPH BOMPH BOMPH

  There was an almighty pounding on the front door, and the sound of a window smashing. Lola screamed.

  Maggie was across the room like a flash.

  From her bedroom came the sound of cupboard doors being flung open. In seconds she emerged. Artie and Lola were amazed – for years they had only ever seen her shuffling about in her dressing-gown and slippers.

  But here she was, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and with a look of barely contained rage in her eyes.

  The pounding became even more insistent, as if the front door was about to be pummelled off its hinges.

  ‘RIGHT!’ Maggie bellowed.

  ‘THAT’S IT!’

  Chapter 25

  Maggie Small tore open the skinny cupboard beside the front door and came out wielding one of her old golf clubs, which had not seen the light of day since Artie’s dad died.

  Without pausing, she threw open the front door and walked straight into Mary, Funnel-web and Nate, who were at that moment attempting to kick the door in, and caught them completely off-guard.

  Her voice was guttural and low, like some kind of African animal’s. ‘You dare! You dare to lay a finger on … MY BOY?’ Maggie growled. ‘Well???’

  There was a slack-jawed silence from the gang members.

  THWACK!!!

  Maggie brought the golf club crashing down onto Mary’s toes.

  ‘WHAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAAAA-AAAAAAAAAAH …’ he bleated, and began leaping about on one leg. Clutching his nose (which was still bandaged from Macaroni’s assault) with one hand, and his squashed foot with the other, the enormous man took off, hopping away out of the yard.

  ‘I said, do you dare to lay … a finger … on my boy?’ Maggie seethed, staring wild-eyed at the two remaining at the door.

  Funnel-web shuffled his feet and looked about, plucking at a couple of prickles on his cheek, and then he and Nate turned as one and bolted as fast as they could for the front gate.

  But Maggie Small was not finished. Not by a long way. She flew after them, swinging her golf club at their rear ends.

  Artie, with Lola behind him, followed his mum out onto the street and watched in growing delight as Funnel-web and Nate piled into the back seat of the Rolls-Royce, locking the doors. Mayor Grime began berating them from the front.

  ‘I give you one simple task!’ he blustered. ‘And what do you do? You cretins! You complete cretins.’ He turned to Nate. ‘And you!’ he lamented. ‘My own flesh and blood …’

  BOPH!!!

  Maggie bashed the golf club hard down over the roof, just above Mayor Grime’s head. His tiny eyes nearly popped out of his face.

  ‘Are you mad?’ he roared from behind the glass. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Maggie in an eerie, even tone. ‘I believe you are the Mayor. It’s lovely to meet you.’

  With that Maggie smashed Mayor Grime’s windscreen to smithereens, and calmly strolled around the shiny vehicle, smashing every window that remained. Then, standing at the front of the car as if lining up for a golf stroke, she demolished first one headlight, then the other.

  ‘You dare … lay a finger … on my boy?’ she repeated as she walked around to the back, warming to her task.

  Artie could hear the Mayor, who by this time was cowering on the floor, bellowing for someone to start the car and get them out of there. Unfortunately for him, it was Mary who had the car keys, and Mary was at that moment still nursing his toes and nose, peeking out from behind a nearby shrub.

  Artie and Lola stood watching in jubilation as Maggie Small totally destroyed a spanking-new Rolls-Royce with a nine iron.

  ‘Cool!’ whispered Lola, who now had her trusty phone out and was filming the entire episode.

  ‘Epic!’ said Artie. He wished that Bumshoe was with him to witness the sheer fabulousness of this moment.

  ‘Whew!!’ exclaimed Maggie, pausing for a moment to wipe
a strand of hair from her eyes and admire her handiwork. ‘Not used to all this exercise!’

  She turned and beamed at her children.

  Artie felt tears rushing to his eyes. He hadn’t seen his mum smile for years.

  ‘ARGH. ARGH. ARGH.’

  During the brief cessation of the assault, Mary had taken the opportunity to sprint to the car (as best he could on his damaged foot), and was prising the driver’s door open.

  He leapt in, stuck his head out of where the windscreen used to be, gunned the engine and tried to take off. A meteor shower of broken glass flew up in the wrecked car’s wake and the tailpipe dragged along the road behind it, sending up a barrage of sparks.

  Maggie trotted behind the car for a little, smashing its rear end every now and then as it tried to escape, till finally, spluttering and growling, the broken Rolls-Royce picked up enough speed to roar off down the road.

  ‘Well!’ she said, returning to her children. ‘It’s nice to play a little golf again …’

  Chapter 26

  ‘C’mon!’ urged Maggie over her shoulder. Artie and Lola followed sheepishly behind her as she tore up the front stairs of Gladys’s house, still wielding her golf club.

  ‘What are you doing, Mum?’ called Artie.

  Although both Artie and Lola were over the moon that their mother appeared to have come back to life, they were also a little worried about where all this might be leading.

  ‘We haven’t even started yet!’ Maggie pronounced, knocking firmly on the Unpronounceable-enkos’ front door.

  The door was shortly opened by Gladys. She took in the bizarre vision of Maggie Small, dressed in day clothes and holding a golf club, and then turned to Artie.

  Before he knew it, Gladys was leaping towards him, squealing in delight. Artie had forgotten he’d been clutching Gareth under his arm the whole time!

  ‘Gareth! Where did you find him?’ cried the delighted girl, dancing around with her little tortoise.

  ‘Well, um, you see …’ began Artie, but he was cut off mid-sentence as Gladys began kissing him all over his face.

  ‘Thank you, Artie! Thank you! Thank you!’

  Artie’s eyes nearly fell on the floor. Being kissed by Gladys was freaky, and also a bit nice, but it did make his face once again turn the colour of Zoran’s beetroot soup.

  Oksana, Zoran and the twins arrived at the door. The parents stared open-mouthed at Maggie, as if seeing a phantom.

  ‘Erm … Mrs Small! How lovely to …’ Oksana finally said. ‘Erm … Would you like to come in?’

  ‘I know you probably hardly remember me, but please, call me Maggie. Oksana, I have a strange request: would you mind very much if I borrowed your car? Just for a little bit?’

  Oksana and Zoran glanced at one another and then exchanged a few words in Ukrainian.

  ‘Of course … Maggie,’ said Oksana. ‘Is there anything wrong?’

  ‘Is there something I can help with?’ enquired Zoran at the same time.

  ‘No. You’re very kind, but I’m on a bit of a mission, you see? This is something I need to do,’ Maggie replied.

  ‘Mum,’ Artie interjected. ‘It might be a good idea if Zoran comes along. He’s very … useful.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ exclaimed Zoran with a huge grin. ‘I’m very useful!’

  ‘Can I come too?’ said Gladys.

  And before Oksana could say no, they were all leaping into Zoran’s old car.

  Maggie paused for a moment.

  ‘Zoran,’ she said. ‘If you don’t mind, I’d really love to drive!’

  Chapter 27

  Maggie hurtled through the streets of town, squealing around corners, tooting the horn and roaring past cars. Artie sat beside her, shouting out directions to Grime House. He turned to glance at the passengers in the back. Lola and Gladys looked a little queasy, but Zoran seemed remarkably relaxed.

  ‘This is how everyone drive in Ukraine!’ he yelled. ‘It’s like I’m home again!’

  As they drove, Artie filled Zoran and Gladys in on what had befallen him and Bumshoe at the hands of the Grime gang.

  Zoran shook his big head in astonishment.

  ‘I’m very sorry we didn’t believe that story when you tell us at first, Artie! It just seem … like maybe you making up some little porky pies!’

  ‘That’s okay,’ said Artie. ‘I have been known to cry wolf sometimes … Mum! Sharp right at the next corner!’

  Artie grinned. He felt like a navigator in a rally-car championship. He realised he was having fun … Proper, world championship, completely illegal fun!

  He turned around to look at Lola, who, although terrified at their mum’s driving, had an excited smile on her face. She had her phone out the window and was filming everything. She met Artie’s eyes, and they began to giggle. Lola looked like a completely different person.

  The car began to climb the steep hill into the posh part of town. Maggie was sitting forward, her hands clenched on the wheel, her foot to the floor, willing the Unpronounceable-enkos’ old car to get up the hill faster.

  At last they skidded to a stop outside Grime House in a great plume of dust, and leapt out of the car. The electric gates, which looked as high as a circus tent, were shut tight, and there was no sign of life. Artie peered through the bars. A little distance away on a grassy mound perched the two guards who were supposed to be manning the entrance. They were covered head to foot in prickles, and were delicately picking them off each other. They looked like a pair of chimps at the zoo. Artie smiled. There was no doubt how Aunty-boy and Bumshoe had made their escape!

  Just then there was a loud groaning engine noise coming up the road, and roaring to a halt right beside them was the Bumshoe family in their big old converted school bus. Bumshoe was the first of millions to leap out.

  ‘Artie!’ he called, running to his friend. ‘I’ve been worried sick about you! I’m glad you’re not a kebab!’

  Artie was about to enquire about Aunty-boy when Angus, Bumshoe’s big brother, clambered down from the driver’s seat. He looked very worried.

  ‘Ah! Mrs Small … Have you heard about everything that’s happened?’ he asked. ‘Apparently it all started when the boys nicked my camera—’

  ‘Well, technically we borrowed it…’ corrected Bumshoe.

  ‘No, technically you nicked it. And technically I’d like to get it back!’ replied Angus.

  Before the argument between the two brothers could go any further, Maggie was moving over to the intercom system at the gate. ‘Oh, yes, I’ve heard all about it,’ she said, pressing the buzzer.

  After a moment a sound crackled over the speaker. ‘The Grime residence. Ow. How may I be of assistance? Ow …’ came the voice that Artie at once recognised as Funnel-web, (and obviously still suffering the after-effects of the Prickle-ator).

  ‘It’s Artie Small’s mother here! I’d like to come up and talk to the Mayor!’ said Maggie tersely at the intercom.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry but the Grime family – ow – is currently on vacation in St Tropez. Ow … May I take a message?’

  ‘No, you may not,’ said Maggie. ‘I’m going to deliver my message in person.’

  ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible, you see—’

  But Maggie had already given up on the intercom and was tugging at the bars on the humungous gate. These were made of thick steel, and even with her apparent new super-powers, the gate wouldn’t budge.

  Bumshoe poked his friend in the ribs and shook a packet of Chococaramel-Cococreambombs at him. ‘Oi! What’s with yer mum? When’d she get out of bed?’

  ‘Incredible, right?’ grinned Artie, with a shrug.

  ‘Alright!’ shouted Maggie to the assembled crowd. ‘Who’s got some rope?’

  Everyone looked about, shaking their heads.

  ‘Okay, here’s what’s going to happen! You’re all going to take off your jumpers and tie them sleeve to sleeve! And tight knots, please!’ she yelled.

  Within seconds the
assembled crew had tied all their jumpers together in one long jumper-rope, and everyone was wondering what was going to happen next.

  ‘Now! Who knows what a human pyramid is?’ called Maggie.

  ‘Oh, yeah, we know that, Mrs S!’ cried Bumshoe excitedly. ‘We do them all the time at home, when we have to clean the gutters on the roof and stuff, ‘cause we can never find the ladder!’

  ‘It’s true!’ announced Angus. ‘We’re actually pretty good at these things—’

  ‘This is how we do it, Mrs S,’ explained Bumshoe, strolling over to her. ‘My big brothers Angus, Travis, Nicky, Tom, Jarrod, Willy and Sam make a circle like this, with arms around each other’s shoulders. And then Ava, Chloe, Kieren, Rufus and myself climb up to form the next layer, and following—’

  ‘I’m really sorry, dear,’ said Maggie. ‘But I’m in a bit of a rush … Would you mind just showing me?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, of course, Mrs S!’ smiled Bumshoe. ‘Come on, gang!’ he bellowed.

  In a gale of excited chatter, the vast squad of Bumshoe siblings, most of whom were of very ample proportions, belted over to the gate, and in double-quick time were constructing a great tower of Bumshoes.

  ‘So … erm … what’s next, Mrs S?’ came the muffled voice of Artie’s friend from inside the pyramid.

  ‘Brace yourselves, kids!’ yelled Maggie. Taking a few steps backwards, and clutching the rope of jumpers, she sprinted full-tilt towards the group, leapt onto the pyramid and scuttled all the way to the top. Luckily for the Bumshoes, she was as light as a feather from having hardly eaten for so many years. When she was balanced at the apex, she reached over and lifted herself onto the top of the gate, where she perched precariously.

  ‘Be careful, Maggie, for goodness-gracious sake!’ yelled Zoran.

  ‘Yeah, Mum, be careful, please!’ implored Artie.

  Hauling up the heavy rope of jumpers, she tied one end to the top of the gate, and flung the rest of it over the other side to the ground.