They rounded a bend and walked into a cramped stone room. Neville squinted to see, it was so gloomy.
‘Grab on,’ came a voice. ‘Stop being a gonk and take hold of the string.’ It was Clod and Herbert bent over what looked like a wishing well. Clod was holding a fishing rod and dangling it down inside the well. ‘Come on, Margarine!’
‘What is this place?’ Neville asked Malaria. His eyes were watering from the revolting stench in the air.
‘’Orrible place, this,’ she said, kicking aside a stray toad. ‘Down that well is where all the nasty bits in the sewers wash up. Even trolls don’t come to these parts without a blunkin’ good reason.’
Neville ran to the edge of the dooky hole and looked down. He couldn’t see anything.
‘Come on, Mum!’ he shouted.
Rubella started giggling again.
‘Quickly, darling,’ whined Herbert. ‘I don’t like it down here.’
There was a sudden tug on the string and Clod yanked the fishing rod up and away from the hole. ‘Just you wait, Margarine,’ he chuckled. ‘We’ll have you clean and squibbly in no time.’
Bit by bit, Clod reeled in the fishing line. Neville could hardly bear to look as Marjorie slowly emerged from the dooky hole. Clod’s fishing hook had caught her pink blouse by the back of the collar and she dangled there like a human-sized mud pie clinging to a tiny Napoleon-sized mud pie. Every bit of her was smeared in thick grey sludge and there were globs of rubbish and fish guts, and other things that Neville didn’t even want to think about, stuck to her.
‘Mmmm … blurgle … buh … blah … boooh …’ Marjorie spluttered.
‘What’s she sayin’?’ asked Rubella.
‘Blug … m’bluh … groob … blum … bluh …’
‘I don’t know,’ said Clod. ‘But she’s a lot heavier than she looks.’
‘Blooo … buh … m’burgle … buh …’
Marjorie’s mouth was filled with slime and mud. Her eyes kept darting downwards and her hands flapped crazily up and down.
‘Are you all right, sugar blossom?’ said Herbert. He pulled a small tube of antibacterial spray from his pocket. ‘Would you like some?’
Marjorie swatted Herbert away and spat out a mouthful of sludge, hitting Rubella in the face with a sticky slap. Pong clapped and cooed wildly.
‘SHE’S GOT HOLD OF MY FEET!’ Marjorie shrieked.
‘Huh?’ Clod yanked the fishing rod higher into the air and a second human-sized mud pie flopped out of the hole.
‘MUMMY!’ Herbert said. ‘Is that you?’
A very grotty Jaundice jumped up and snarled at the unlikely gaggle of trolls and people before her.
‘Don’t you ever give up?’ she grunted.
‘YOU!’ said Malaria, rubbing her hands together. ‘I’m not finished with you.’
‘Oh yes, you are,’ cackled Jaundice. She ran out of the stone room and up the passageway that led back to the pipe chamber.
‘GET HER!’ yelled Clod, throwing the fishing rod aside. He galumphed out of the room.
‘Quick!’ Neville ran after Clod.
‘Mummy!’ Herbert ran after Neville.
‘Oh, pook!’ Malaria ran after Herbert.
‘Not again!’ Rubella ran after Malaria.
‘Oooooorrgh!’ Pong ran after Rubella.
‘Yip … yip … splutter … yip!’ Napoleon ran after Pong.
‘MY BABY!!’ Marjorie ran after Napoleon.
And they all ran after Lady Jaundice.
The Getaway
Neville caught up with Clod as they ran down tunnels and up pipes, across bridges and under archways.
‘Keep going, Nev,’ Clod wheezed. He wasn’t the fittest of trolls.
Ahead, Neville could see Jaundice skittering along at an alarming speed. She’d spent so much time away from the Underneath that she was changing almost instantly. Her silver hair was twisting and crackling into thick briary branches and she was growing taller and wider with every step. Instead of toadstools, she had carrots sprouting out through her coat across her neck and shoulders. Their green tops bobbed and flapped as she ran.
‘She’s heading for the town,’ wheezed Clod between heavy gasps of air. He was right.
Neville could see the big stone archway with WELCOME UNDER carved across the top and the shops and houses beyond it.
‘Come on, Dooda,’ shouted Neville. ‘We’ve almost got her.’
Neville was now in the lead with his two families close behind. He raced under the arch and into the junk-filled streets of Underneath. Everywhere he looked were trolls of all shapes and sizes. Some of them yelped and hurried past at the sudden appearance of an overling.
Neville spun round, looking this way and that. Where was she? He glanced across the busy street just in time to see a flash of sludge-covered, peacock-blue coat.
There was his grandma up ahead. She sprinted round the corner of the squashed squirrel shop and disappeared from view.
‘Grandma’s heading for the market square,’ Neville shouted back to his families. ‘Quick!’
The Bulches and the Briskets huffed into the market square and stopped.
‘Ugh,’ said Marjorie, suddenly noticing the scene around her. ‘Where are we?’
‘There’re s-so many … s-so many –’ stammered Herbert.
‘Trolls,’ said Rubella with a wicked leer. Herbert looked like he was going to cry.
‘There’s no time for that now,’ said Clod. ‘Where is the old griper?’
Neville scanned the square. Jaundice was nowhere to be seen.
‘She’s got to be here somewhere,’ said Malaria. ‘I knows these things. Plus I can smell that stinksome perfume she wears.’
‘I can smell it too,’ said Rubella, sniffing the air. ‘But where is she?’
Suddenly something small and metal hit Neville on the head and fell to the ground with a ting. He bent down and picked it up. It was a small bolt with a tiny piece of peacock-blue thread caught on one of the corners.
Neville looked up. They were standing right below the ticker-dinger-thinger. He peered through the cogs and swinging pendulums of the enormous junk clock.
‘I think I know – THERE SHE IS!’ Neville pointed excitedly.
Jaundice was high above them, swinging from pendulum to pendulum inside the ticker-dinger-thinger.
‘Well done, Nev,’ Clod beamed. ‘You’ve got eyes like a right blinker, you have.’
Herbert looked up and called out, ‘Hold on, Mummy!’
‘Right,’ said Marjorie suddenly. ‘How are we going to catch the weasel?’
‘Marjorie!’ gasped Herbert.
‘I haven’t been flushed down a toilet, dunked in sludge and paraded into a troll town just to let the old bat get away now.’
Marjorie put Napoleon down, rolled up her sleeves and gritted her teeth. Neville wasn’t sure, but he thought he might actually have heard her growl.
‘Let’s get her!’ shouted Rubella.
By now, other trolls were wandering over to see what all the commotion was about. No one had ever seen so many overlings all at once. They pushed and shoved to get a closer look. One even picked up a stick and prodded Herbert in the belly.
‘Do you mind!’ snapped Herbert.
‘Quiet, Hergberg,’ said Clod and raised his arm to the crowd. ‘Fellow underlings … The Troll That Stole is back!’ He pointed to where Jaundice was swinging high above. ‘She’s been hiding with the overlings and pretending to be one of them. We’ve got to put her away once and for all!’
A murmur rippled across the crowd.
‘WALLOP THE OLD SKUNK!’ screamed Marjorie.
The crowd of trolls all cheered.
‘Lock her up!’
‘Stop her!’
‘Let’s grab her!’
‘AAAAARRRGGH!’
‘Come on!’ shouted Neville, feeling more brave than Captain Brilliant. He jumped into the air and caught hold of a low-swinging pendulum as it hurtled past. ‘
This way!’
With that, hundreds of trolls ran to the base of the ticker-dinger-thinger and started to climb up through the mechanism with Neville, the Bulches and the Briskets in the lead.
The Troll That Stole
Jaundice ripped off a huge metal cog and threw it with all her troll-sized strength.
‘RUBELLA!’ Neville yelled. Rubella was hanging from a wooden beam, right in the path of the cog as it clanged down through the clock like a coin in one of those fancy moneyboxes at the supermarket. Just in time, Neville grabbed her wrist and yanked her safely out of the way.
‘GET OFF!’ she hissed.
‘I just saved your life!’
‘What d’you want? A medal or something? Pffffftttt!’
‘GIVE UP, YOU SLUGS!’ Jaundice bellowed, and continued to climb.
‘She’s gone all numb in the noggin,’ said Clod as Malaria caught up with them. ‘If she keeps climbing, she’ll have no place left to go.’
Neville and his families were now high up inside the junk clock. So high, it made Neville feel dizzy and sick. What was he going to do? If he caught up with Jaundice, he couldn’t fight her. By now, she had swelled to the same size as Rubella. His grandma would squash him like an ant.
CLANG-ANG-ANG-ANG! A clock hand careered past them on its way down to the market square below.
‘She’s getting scared,’ said Malaria. ‘Old Jaundice has got herself stuck like a toad in a toaster.’
‘Come on!’ shouted Rubella. ‘Let’s throw her off the top.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said Clod. ‘She’ll leave an ’orrible mess.’
Neville looked up. They were right at the top of the ticker-dinger-thinger. Above, he could see Jaundice desperately scrabbling to find things to throw from a little ledge between hundreds of swinging weights and arms and pendulums.
‘I’ll flatten every last one of you!’ she cackled. ‘Just you watch.’
‘Mummy,’ came Herbert’s voice from somewhere below. ‘This isn’t very nice.’
Then came the sound of Marjorie screaming again. Her bravery had run out when she’d realized how high up she was and now she clung to an old piece of lamp post with her eyes gripped shut and her mouth hanging open.
Another huge chunk of metal screamed past. Jaundice was practically tearing the clock to pieces. What could they do? Neville looked for something to grab or use. He just needed something to stop the crazy old troll from throwing any more clock parts.
That’s when he noticed the huge whirring cog above Jaundice’s head. It spun round, clicking noisily, and triggered hundreds of smaller cogs that made the pendulums swing to and fro.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ said Neville.
‘Oh, jubbly,’ said Clod. ‘What’s ’at then?’
‘Take off your belt, Dooda.’
‘Do what?’ said Clod. ‘I can’t do that. Me trousers will fall off.’
‘You’ll just have to hold them up,’ said Neville. ‘I need the hooks.’
‘Do what Nev says,’ said Malaria. ‘You know he’s the brain-bulgiest one. Get that belt off, my brandyburp.’
Clod removed his belt with all the hooks for hanging fish and handed it to Neville. ‘I hope you know what you’re up to, Nev.’
‘I hope so too,’ said Neville. His belly started growling with nervousness. This was it. He swung the belt above his head as fast as he could.
‘Get on with it, dungle dropping,’ said Rubella as a big piece of wood bounced off her head.
‘Shhhh, Nev’s concentratin’,’ said Malaria.
‘Good luck, Nev,’ beamed Clod, giving Neville a friendly wink. ‘You can do it.’
Neville spun the belt faster and faster above his head. He locked his eyes on the small platform between the pendulums and waited for a gap as they hurtled left and right, left and right.
He gritted his teeth, scrunched his toes and then, just when it looked like Neville was going to stand there swinging the belt all day, he let go of it.
Everything went silent as every troll on the clock held their breath and watched. The belt whizzed through the air and shot straight past Jaundice.
‘HA!’ she laughed. ‘YOU MISSED, YOU USELESS LITTLE NOBODY!’
‘I wasn’t aiming for you,’ Neville yelled back with a grin.
CLAAAANG-ANG-ANG-ANG-CRUUUUUNCH!
‘Wha–?’ Jaundice stiffened as an ear-splitting squeal of metal boomed above her. She looked up and saw Clod’s belt with all the hooks tangled in the gears and cogs. One by one the hooks caught inside the mechanism and the whole clock came to a screeching halt.
‘Erm …’ said Clod with a look of confusion. ‘I’m not sure stopping the clock is going to help, Nev.’
‘Watch,’ said Neville.
Suddenly all the hundreds of pendulums that swung around Jaundice stopped in one huge CLUNK. She looked about in horror and then threw her head back and howled when she realized what had happened.
‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!’
‘Well, I’ll be a winkle’s wotzit,’ said Malaria. ‘He’s only gone and done it.’
‘You got her, Nev,’ cheered Clod.
‘I could have done that,’ Rubella grunted. ‘That was … rubbish!’
Neville smiled to himself and felt his cheeks going red. He felt as brave as … no … braver than Captain Brilliant. The platform and all the frozen pendulums had formed a perfect and very impenetrable cage round Lady Jaundice.
The Troll That Stole was back in prison.
Too-Da-Loo
Herbert stood trembling and looked like he’d had his brains scrambled. Clod wandered over slowly and put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Not to fret, Hergberg,’ Clod said with a rosy smile. ‘I found out my mooma was half a hinkapoot when I was a lumpling. It don’t mean no nevermind.’
Herbert opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
‘It’s OK, Dad,’ said Neville. He was wearing a crown made from an old paint can that a happy troll had made for him at the top of the ticker-dinger-thinger. ‘Grandma is where she belongs. And besides, we could always come and visit.’
‘Fat chance,’ grunted Marjorie. ‘Now can we please go home?’
The Bulches and the Briskets were standing in the pipe chamber, next to the Bulches’ pipe.
‘I suppose we should get back,’ said Neville with a heavy heart. He liked being back in the Underneath. He didn’t even mind the toadstool that had sprouted on the side of his neck. ‘But what about the ticker-dinger-thinger? What will you do now that it’s stopped?’
‘Oh, don’t you worry,’ said Clod. ‘Now we’ve got her, Jaundice’ll be locked and lunked back up in proper jail. With a bit of elbow greasin’ we’ll have the ticker-dinger-thinger back up and running in no time.’
‘Indeedy we will, Nev,’ said Malaria. ‘Don’t you fret none.’
‘It really was a squibbly old trolliday,’ Clod whispered to Neville. ‘I hope your dad’s all right.’
Neville shrugged. ‘Who knows,’ he said. ‘At least it put a little bit of excitement into their lives.’
‘Oh, Nev, you are naughtsie,’ laughed Malaria. ‘I’m blunkin’ proud of you, my lump.’
‘What about me?’ snuffed Rubella. ‘I helped.’
‘Yeah,’ Neville mumbled sarcastically. ‘Couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘You too, Belly,’ said Malaria before Rubella could thump him. ‘I’m just glad my good looks have returned now that we’re back where it’s dark and dooky.’ She planted a big sloppy kiss on Neville’s head. ‘Say too-da-loo, Pong.’
Pong jumped out of his mooma’s arms and licked Neville’s cheeks.
‘See you soon, Nev,’ she smiled. Then she ushered Marjorie and Herbert towards the pipe.
‘Bye, foozleface,’ said Rubella flatly. ‘Don’t even think about hugging me.’
Neville smiled and hugged Rubella’s belly anyway. She grimaced and made throwing-up noises.
‘Come along, Neville,’
Herbert said. ‘NOW!’ Then without even saying goodbye to the Bulches, he turned and shot up the pipe.
‘Wait for me,’ Marjorie whimpered. She gripped Napoleon to her chest and vanished up the pipe with a slurpy, gurgling sound.
‘Bye, Dooda,’ said Neville, hugging Clod’s knee.
‘Next time you see the moon,’ said Clod, ‘say hello for me, will you?’
‘Of course,’ said Neville.
‘That’s m’lump. See you soon, hero.’ Then Clod kissed Neville’s head. ‘I’ll make sure to pass a few rat patties through the bars for your granny from time to time.’
Neville sighed to himself and smiled. It was fun having a mum and dad, and a mooma and dooda.
He wriggled into the pipe and shot off into the darkness. Neville barely noticed the whooshing and twisting, he was so happy.
With a splash of toilet water, his bathroom came into view. He stepped on to the tiles among a mound of dislodged bricks and cement, and shook the drips out of his clothes.
‘That was squibbly,’ he mumbled to himself.
Neville opened the bathroom door to go off to bed and instantly had a broom, a mop, some rubber gloves and a bucket stuffed into his arms. Marjorie stood before him in the hallway with a face like thunder. Neville wasn’t sure, but he thought he could almost see smoke coming out of her ears.
‘NEVILLE BRISKET!’ she screamed. ‘GET TO WORK!’
’Ello, my pluglets. By now, I’m sure you’re chatty-wagging left, right and under with all the trollish words you’ve learned. Here’s a few more for you to practise …
Blinker A person with very good eyesight
Boogle To burst
Brainy-bonker A very clever person
Bumfy Calm, cosy and comfortable
Chattywag A good ol’ gossip
Chuffer A very happy person
Dooky hole The grimiest place in the
Underneath
Exciterous Exciting
Fun-poked Teased
Holiday Hullabaloo Page 6
