by Charlotte Lo
Fabien bounced past us, and marked out the arena for his own glamorous animals contest. It had taken me and Margot ages to convince him not to enter it himself. I wasn’t sure I could take the embarrassment of him declaring himself the winner.
“I’ll go and wait for the bands and guests,” I said, after wolfing down a bowl of cornflakes.
Brice and his brothers were the first to arrive. I led them towards the festival area, and Margot swooned as they lumbered about the stage, practising. She was clearly in love.
By mid-morning, The Rocking Pensioners still hadn’t arrived. My fingers tapped nervously. It felt like I’d swallowed a big pebble. The festival was due to open in an hour, and our star act wasn’t here yet.
A boat appeared in the distance, and I breathed a sigh of relief. That had to be them now. Talk about cutting it close.
Doug, who was running a taxi service for the day, moored his boat, and Daisy Gifford climbed out. The pebble in my tummy came back again. It wasn’t Frank’s band, after all.
Daisy flashed her camera in my face. “Another excellent cover story for the Wishnook Gazette,” she said, handing over her ticket. “I can’t wait to see The Rocking Pensioners. I’m their biggest fan.”
I stared longingly across the sea, and wished they’d hurry up. Kai pointed Daisy down the path we’d marked out, towards the festival, and I sank down on to the sand. This was a disaster. The Rocking Pensioners were the reason that we’d sold so many tickets in the first place.
Doug’s boat whizzed back and forth across the sea, bringing person after person, but there was still no sign of Frank’s band. I collected the tickets glumly, and sold another ten to people who hadn’t bought one yet. Margot squeezed my arm with excitement.
“At this rate I’ll have enough money to buy a brand-new plane!” she said.
“Not if everyone asks for their money back. We can’t have a festival without the stars,” I replied.
“Relax, there’s no way people will want a refund when they hear Brice’s voice,” said Margot, her eyes going all dreamy.
“I’m going to start the sausages,” I said, ignoring her.
I dragged myself over to the north beach. It was so packed, I could barely see the sand. People were sitting on the hay bales, and standing between the fairy lights, laughing as they sipped glasses of lemonade.
Fabien grabbed a microphone from the stage, and bounced over to the show arena. I groaned. He was wearing his sheep costume again, but had smartened it up with a bow tie.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, does and bucks, boars and sows, cockerels and hens,” he rambled. “Please can all the glamorous animals make their way into the show pen.”
I watched as Farmer McAndrew led a small, hairy pig into the enclosure. Kai’s mum followed with one of his rabbits, and then the charity-shop lady with her dog, Kevin, and one of the fishermen with a live lobster.
Fabien perused the animals, and held the lobster up to get a better look at it. I winced as the lobster clicked its claws, and grabbed the end of Fabien’s nose. The crowd gasped. That had to hurt.
“Owwww!” he cried. “Owwww! It’s got my dose.”
Fabien leapt across the enclosure with the lobster still attached to him. The fisherman ran after the pair, and tried to pull the lobster off. I watched as it tightened its grip. Fabien howled again.
“Let go, Stanley,” said the fisherman.
I glanced at Daisy, who was next to me, taking photos of the show. “Stanley?”
“It’s the only lobster Jim’s never been able to sell. Says it looks like his old uncle, so he keeps it in a special tank and feeds it clams,” she said.
“Oh, OK,” I replied.
The fisherman finally managed to drag Stanley off, and the end of Fabien’s nose throbbed an angry red colour. He clutched it with his fingers, eyes watering, and glared at Stanley. The crowd burst into laughter and applauded, as if they thought it had been a stunt.
“He’s disqualified for trying to kill the judge,” muttered Fabien, turning his back on the lobster.
Jim clasped his hand over the lobster’s head, protectively.
Fabien assessed the other animals, declared Farmer McAndrew’s pig the winner and then stuck his face in a bucket of ice.
I checked Fabien’s nose was still properly attached, and then went to cook the sausages. There was still no sign of The Rocking Pensioners, but at least the barbecue would distract everyone for a bit. The sausages hissed and sizzled away until they turned black at the edges. I flicked one into a slice of bread, and folded the bread in half.
“Have you got anything for vegetarians?” asked somebody.
“Of course!” I replied. “We’ve got lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber…”
“Anything other than plain salad?” she asked.
Daisy came over and inspected one of the hot dogs. “Don’t you have any proper buns? This is just a burnt sausage in some bread.”
“But it tastes delicious!” I said.
I bit into one, and the sausage scalded my lip. I jumped up and down, waving my hand in front of my mouth. When the feeling returned to my tongue, I gagged. The sausage tasted burnt, and the bread soggy.
“I didn’t pay ten pounds just to watch your brother get his nose pinched by a lobster,” said one of Daisy’s friends.
A crowd started to form around us, and people prodded the bread. I tried to say something, but my mind went blank. People were starting to revolt.
Suddenly a casserole dish clattered down next to me, and I turned to find Dad standing at my shoulder. He lowered another dish on to the table, and I peered inside. Whatever it was smelled of warm spices.
“Anyone for Dad’s home-made chilli?” called Mum from beside him. “We’ve got a vegetarian one too.”
I gaped at them. Dad had cooked the chilli! I wondered what had got into him.
“I’m sorry I’ve not been a very good dad lately,” he told me. “It might take some time, but I’m going to try and be better from now on.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too,” he replied.
He and Mum took over the food stand, and I went to help Kai in the ice-cream van, full of happiness. A queue of people formed outside the window, their purses open. I shoved a cone under the ice-cream maker, and pressed the button. The ice cream poured through the nozzle, and landed in a wonky blob inside the cone. At least it didn’t smell of Stilton.
“Give the cone a wiggle,” said Kai.
I grabbed a new cone, and tried again. This time the ice cream formed a swirly tower, but then the peak slid sideways and fell on to my shoe. It took a good seven goes to get it right, but eventually my ice creams started to look like Kai’s.
Brice and Brothers took to the stage and the queue disappeared to watch them. I closed the van for a bit and headed into the crowd to make sure everything was OK. Maybe I could keep them and Kai playing all afternoon, so people wouldn’t notice that The Rocking Pensioners were missing? It was the only idea I had.
Margot danced over to me, a ring of flowers in her hair. She’d put on some make-up, and her lips were a rosy red. I followed her gaze towards Brice.
“Aren’t they brilliant?” she shouted, over the crowd.
“Yeah, great,” I said. “But I can’t believe Frank’s band hasn’t turned up.”
“Oh, they’re here,” she said, still not really looking at me.
My heart leapt. “They are? Where?”
Margot shrugged. “Dunno. I pointed them in the direction of the north beach, but I ran on ahead. I needed to get here to see Brice. I mean, to see Brice’s band.”
I clenched my fist and resisted the urge to thump her. Our star act was here after all, but Margot had lost them.
“Margot, you stay here and keep an eye on everything. Fabien and I will look for the band,” I said.
“All right,” she replied, although I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure she was actually listening.
I hurried through the crowd to fetch Fabien. Kai was due to go on any minute now, and straight after that it would be The Rocking Pensioners’ turn. There wasn’t much time to get them ready.
We raced back to the main beach, and looked for signs of the ageing band. A trail of footsteps curved across the sand, and disappeared in the direction of the house. There was an indent next to them, like it had been made by a walking stick. We followed the tracks up towards the house, and I saw the front door was slightly ajar. A clattering noise came from inside.
“No, I need a bigger spoon,” said a voice.
I poked my head inside the kitchen, empty of bats now, and found The Rocking Pensioners raiding the cupboards. They turned to look at me, and Frank bumped his head on the extractor fan in surprise.
“What are you doing?” I asked them.
Frank wobbled into the hallway, clutching his head, and Gwen followed him out with an armful of spoons, pots, and a cheese grater.
“We left Joe’s washboard at home, so we need to find a new instrument for him,” explained Gwen.
“I’m quite good at playing the spoons, but Frank says they’re too quiet,” said Joe.
“That’s why he’s going to play the pots too,” said Gwen. “Your sister said it was OK for us to have a poke around, and take what we needed.”
I shook my head with exasperation. Margot had probably been so busy thinking about Brice that she’d not actually listened to them.
“Are you going to play the cheese grater as well?” asked Fabien.
Joe snorted with laughter. “Don’t be silly! That’s for my cheese,” he replied, and he pulled out a slab of Red Leicester from his pocket.
I hurried them all along the hallway. “You’re supposed to be on stage any minute.”
“Cripes, best get down there!” said Frank, and he hobbled outside as quickly as his false hip would allow him.
We made it back to the beach and I collapsed next to Margot on one of the hay bales. Kai was halfway through a song, and was even better than I’d remembered. The crowd were clapping along. I caught my breath and joined in.
A few songs later, Kai took a bow and The Rocking Pensioners doddered on to the stage. The crowd roared with delight as Frank started to strum on his guitar, while Gwen blew into her flute, and Joe clicked a pair of ladles together. It took me a while to work out that they were playing Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face”.
“Let’s see everyone on their feet,” shouted Gwen, dropping her flute for a moment.
Brice pushed his way through the dancing crowd, and stretched his hand out to Margot. “Wanna dance?” he asked.
Margot gawped at him, and looked like she might die of surprise. Brice shuffled his feet awkwardly. The sound of Joe’s ladles seemed to get louder.
I elbowed Margot in the ribs, and she leapt up. “Yes!” she yelled, and then croaked, “Um … yes, that would be nice.”
“Cool,” replied Brice.
He took her hand and led her through the crowd. Margot’s knees wobbled into his. I stood at the back and watched everyone jig about. They really were having fun. I grabbed Fabien and jumped to the beat with him. Mum and Dad nodded along from their hay bale.
Eventually the band stopped playing, and the crowd mobbed Frank as he left the stage. I looked around for Margot and saw her standing at the side, her face like thunder.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“That boy is an absolute moron,” she said. “He thinks a Porsche 918 Spyder is the best mode of transportation ever made. That’s a car. He didn’t even know what Concorde was.”
I laughed. “I think that might be the shortest romance ever.”
Suddenly I heard a buzzing noise overhead, and looked up. A small plane dipped its wings and circled the island. I turned to Margot. This had to be something to do with her.
Margot clasped her hands together. “It’s a plane!”
“What’s going on? Who is it?” I asked.
The plane descended towards the main beach, lights flashing. Surely it wasn’t going to try and land? I watched as it got lower and lower.
It was coming down.
I followed Margot down to the beach. The plane was really low now. It banked left and flew back out over the sea.
“It’s a Caravan!” she exclaimed.
Fabien squinted at the plane. “It looks more like a plane to me.”
Margot shushed him. “The model is a Cessna 208 Caravan.”
The red plane drifted down through the sky. Its propeller whirled, and the lights on its wings flashed red. It wobbled to the left, and then to the right. Any second now it was going to touch down.
I clutched Margot’s arm in fear. “It’s going to crash!”
“Don’t be silly,” replied Margot. “They can land on water.”
As she said this, I noticed that the plane had a pair of floats at the bottom. They looked like huge metal bananas. I held my breath as they skimmed the water, and braced myself for a huge splash. Instead, the plane glided across the surface like a swan, leaving nothing but a neat line of froth behind it.
Its propeller slowed, and the plane bobbed towards us. Margot clutched my hand and grinned wildly. I thought she was going to burst with excitement.
The plane pulled on to the shore, and its pilot climbed out.
“Good afternoon!” bellowed the man. He was old, and wearing a pair of knitted slippers. I peered at them. They were in the shape of dolphins.
“Mr Billionaire!” yelled Fabien.
“You came,” I said.
“Of course. I couldn’t miss the event of the year,” he said.
Margot rushed over to the plane, and marvelled at its propeller. She was beaming. This was like all her Christmases rolled into one.
“That was brilliant!” she exclaimed.
Mr Billionaire smiled. “Why, thank you.”
“Can I sit in the plane?” asked Margot. “Just for a second?”
“We can take it for a spin, if you want,” said Mr Billionaire.
Margot’s entire body tensed with excitement. The veins in her neck bulged, and she turned a hot, bright red. I was pretty sure she’d stopped breathing. It was a wonder she didn’t explode then and there.
“AreyoukiddingofcourseIdo,” she said.
“Sorry?” he said.
“Yes!” she screamed. “Yes, yes, of course I do!”
“Splendid,” replied Mr Billionaire. “Best check with your parents first, though.”
I bit my lip. Margot might have loved planes, but that didn’t mean I did. I wasn’t even sure how they stayed up in the sky. It always seemed like some sort of magic trick. I wondered whether Mr Billionaire was a good driver.
Margot hurried back to the festival, and returned a few minutes later with Mum. She seemed a bit giddy from the adult punch Kai’s mum had brought, and didn’t take nearly as much convincing as I’d thought she would to agree to our flight.
“Just above the island,” she said. “And no stunts, Margot.”
“This is the best day of my life!” my sister squealed, clearly recovered from her heartbreak over Brice.
I climbed inside and looked around. In the back, there were two rows of single leather seats, which were scuffed and had holes in them. I sat in the front row, and Fabien sat across the aisle. The cockpit didn’t have a door like big planes do. I could stare straight out of the front windscreen.
Mr Billionaire got the plane ready for take-off, and Margot sat in the co-pilot seat and buried her face in a fat paper manual. Her hand hovered above the various instruments as she read it. Every once in a while, she said things like, “Oh, there’s the fuel gauge.”
I tightened my seatbelt and held on to the seat. Margot took notes as Mr Billionaire pressed buttons, turned dials and switched switches. The aeroplane’s engine buzzed into life, and the dashboard flashed like the London Eye at night.
We started to move and I pressed my face to the window. It was like being on a bus, only without
the screaming babies and folded-up bicycles. I wondered how fast it could go.
“Hold on tight,” said Mr Billionaire.
He drove the plane straight into the sea, and we bobbed over the waves. I watched the propeller start to twirl. It went round and round, faster and faster, until the blades were a blur.
Fabien reached across the aisle and grabbed my hand. The plane tilted skywards and I looked back to the window as the sea fell away.
We were flying.
I squeezed Fabien’s hand. “This is so amazing!”
“Look how small the boats are!” he replied.
They were like tiny Lego pieces. The plane circled the island and I peered down at the north beach. From here I could see the ice-cream van, and all the fairy lights, and the stage. The Rocking Pensioners were doing an encore, and the crowd was dancing together. It looked so fun and magical. I couldn’t believe Margot, Fabien and I had made all of this happen.
“Margot, would you like to take the controls?” he asked.
“Me?” she spluttered.
“If you want,” he replied.
Margot shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
I leaned forward. “You’re not scared, are you?”
“No, of course not,” she said.
“Then what’s wrong? This is your dream.”
Margot chewed the side of her cheek, leaned back and whispered to me, “It’s just… What if I’m not any good at it?”
“Impossible,” I laughed. “You’re the cleverest person I know. I bet you could fly the plane with your eyes shut.”
She smiled, sat up straight and nodded.
I held my breath and hoped I was right. Margot took the strange gearstick and steered the plane. She yanked it and the cabin rolled sharply on to its side. I grabbed hold of the seat in front of me and screamed.
Mr Billionaire seized the other control and righted the plane. “Whoa, whoa. A little less enthusiasm, or we’ll be doing a loop-the-loop.”
“Don’t kill us!” shouted Fabien.
“I feel sick!” I said.