by Alan Snow
He was only about twenty feet from the gates when he found himself behind a short, stout woman. His knees really hurt and he was dying to stand up, so he decided it was probably best to try and get to the front before he couldn’t take any more. After a bit of thinking he came up with a plan.
After a bit of thinking, he came up with a plan.
Arthur had a piece of string in his pocket. He took it out and tied one end of it to the old lady’s basket. He then passed the string around the right leg of the man standing behind him, and then he crawled forward while playing out the string. There was such a crush at the front of the queue that nobody noticed him scrabbling around at their feet amid the general jostle. Finally, he reached a gap between the legs of people at the very front of the queue and the wall. He looked about. A policeman was standing by the gates and was signaling to the people at the front of the queue to enter the spa as soon as any patient came out. Arthur watched. When he saw the next patient coming out of the spa, he waited until they reached the gates, and he pulled hard on the string.
A scream came from behind. “THIEF! Someone is trying to steal my bag!”
As everybody turned to look, Arthur made his move. He jumped up and walked past the policeman.
With all the confidence he could muster, he spoke. “It’s my turn now.”
The policeman just waved him through the gate.
The policeman, distracted by the commotion, just waved him through the gate.
Arthur picked up speed and made for the front doors of the spa. He reached the steps, swung the heavy door open, and was greeted by a voice.
“Welcome to the Ratbridge Spa and Alternative Health Center.”
He swung the heavy door open.
Two very slimy-looking men confronted Arthur.
chapter 6
TREATMENT
Two very slimy-looking men confronted Arthur. They were dressed in clothes that looked as if they had been stolen from a badly-dressed chef. And a very dirty chef too, for though the clothes might once have been white, they were now completely caked in filth.
“Can we ’elp you . . . sir?” asked one of them in an oily voice.
“Yes. My grandfather’s really ill and needs help. Quickly!”
“Where is ’e, then?”
“In the queue.”
“Well, ’e’ll have to wait his turn.”
“You don’t understand. He is really ill.”
“Did you hear that, Nurse Puggly? Tragic!”
Nurse Puggly was giving Arthur a funny look.
“Are you the young gent what lives with all them creatures and the old lawyer?”
“Are you the young gent what lives with all them creatures and the old lawyer?”
“Yes. Why?” Arthur felt uneasy. How did the nurse know who he was?
“It’s of no matter,” replied Nurse Puggly. He turned to his companion and spoke very firmly. “Think we can make an exception here. Be tragic if one of this poor lad’s friends was to get away . . . without treatment. We better take the young man to see the good doctor.”
A large hand took hold of Arthur’s shoulder.
A large hand took hold of Arthur’s shoulder, and he found himself being marched abruptly into the spa. Arthur felt confused for a moment, but the main thing was that he was on his way to see the doctor. Perhaps he would get Grandfather treated in time after all.
They reached the “ward,” and while his guards went to find the doctor, Arthur looked about what had once been the boiling room of the old glue factory. He was not sure, but it looked as if very little had changed since the days of glue production. Large metal vats still occupied most of the floor space, and pipe-work crisscrossed between them. The only concession to its new purpose was iron bedsteads filling every gap, and absolutely everything had been badly painted a sickly pale green.
The only concession to its new purpose was iron bedsteads filling every gap.
The only color in the ward was the staff and the patients on the beds (and some of them were pretty green too). At the other end of the ward a crowd of the nurses were gathered about what Arthur guessed was the doctor—a very tall man pronouncing loudly about some patient who was hidden among the crowd. Even from where Arthur stood, he could hear the diagnosis.
A very tall man pronouncing.
“This is a case of terminal halitosis, and as you can see, the patient is in the latter stages of the disease. He would shortly go downhill and kick the bucket were I not to administer treatment. And does anybody have any idea of what sort of treatment we should give for such a condition?”
With one cry the nurses surrounding him shouted, “BLACK JOLLOP!”
“Correct. Hold him down!”
There were some muffled cries and then silence. After a minute or so the doctor broke the silence.
“There! What did I tell you? See! The color is coming back to his cheeks, and the stench is disappearing!”
The crowd started to clap.
“Thank you, thank you. I know, I know! I just can’t keep all this talent to myself. It just wouldn’t be right. Now release the patient and send him on his way.”
The crowd opened to reveal the patient. Arthur could see the man smiling and watched as he tested his new breath on one of the nurses. This had no effect on the nurse, and the man’s smile broadened.
“I’s cured!” shrieked the patient as he skipped past Arthur toward the exit.
“Who’s next?” called the doctor.
He tested his new breath on one of the nurses.
Arthur felt the hand on his shoulder tighten.
“Doctor! We have a lad here whose grandfather is in desperate need of attention.”
“Can’t you see I have lots more patients waiting in the beds?”
“I think this might be more important. The governor might be rather interested in making sure it happens.”
The doctor made his way over to Arthur and looked him up and down.
“What’s special about him?”
“What’s special about him?”
The nurse holding Arthur’s shoulder leaned over and whispered something in the doctor’s ear. After a few moments the doctor raised an eyebrow.
“I think we must see what we can do, then.” The doctor turned to Arthur. “Well, lead us to your poor grandfather. We shall see what we can do.”
Again Arthur felt a strong sense of unease sweeping over him. He had never seen any of these people before, but they seemed to be singling him out for special treatment. Perhaps it was just that they could see how very worried he was about his grandfather, and wanted to help him.
Arthur led the group out through the doors of the spa and back onto the street. The queue was waiting impatiently, and when they saw the doctor, there was a surge forward.
The doctor started to panic, and then spotting one of the Squeakers, he called out, “Keep order! There’s a very sick man out there that we need to get to.”
Several Squeakers came forward and raised their truncheons to make the queue part. Under the Squeakers’ protection Arthur and the doctor’s group made their way up the street to the place where Grandfather and the others were waiting. Willbury saw them approaching and was looking very worried.
“Not a moment too soon. He’s had a turn for the worse.”
In the barrow Grandfather had his eyes closed and was shivering as Titus mopped the old man’s brow with a cabbage leaf. Fish and the other boxtrolls were standing by the barrow and looking panicked.
“This is my grandfather,” said Arthur, pointing.
The doctor took a very quick look and spoke.
“Just as I suspected. In need of urgent treatment! Bring him straight to the main ward and I’ll sort him out.”
Willbury came forward. “I’m very thankful, sir. May we come with you?”
“Certainly. Wouldn’t want the patient to be lonely, would we?” the doctor replied. With this, he turned back toward the spa and set off at high speed.
&n
bsp; Brushing the others away, the nurses picked the barrow clean off the ground and followed the doctor. Willbury took Arthur’s hand.
“Well done. I didn’t think you’d manage it. How did you convince them?”
“I’m not quite sure. They just seemed to want to come and help. Maybe they could just tell it was serious.”
“Wonderful! The doctor really must care.”
On reaching the spa, the nurses had to lower the barrow to avoid banging Grandfather on the top of the doorway. As they reached the ward, Arthur noticed that Willbury seemed rather surprised.
“Isn’t it inconvenient having all this old equipment in here among the beds?” asked Willbury, addressing the doctor.
“Quite the reverse,” replied the doctor. “We need it for processing my wondrous cure.”
“In glue vats?”
“We did wash them!” The doctor seemed quite put out. Then he instructed the nurses to place Grandfather in a bed. There didn’t seem to be an empty one, so the nurses pushed an old lady with spots out of the nearest one and told her to find somewhere else.
“Are you sure that is necessary?” asked Willbury. The woman did look ill.
“Nothing is too much for such an urgent case,” replied the doctor.
There was a clearing in the center of the ward between the biggest of the vats, and in it were a large number of patients standing before a desk. Behind the desk were more nurses, this time with clipboards and spoons. Arthur watched as the attendants dispensed a dose of some foul-looking syrup from the barrel and gave it to another old lady at the front of the queue. She took the spoon in her mouth, made a horrid face, and was about to spit it out when one of the attendants pinched her lips around the spoon and looked menacing.
“Swallow up!”
One of the attendants pinched her lips around the spoon.
The old lady did as she was told. Then the attendant took his hands and the spoon away from her mouth and pointed her toward a bed.
“Lie down for ten minutes and you’ll be feeling better.”
It was all the old lady could do to keep from bringing the medicine up, but she settled back on the bed with her hand over her mouth.
“Now . . . treatment!” said the doctor as he cast an eye over Grandfather. “Fetch the jollop. Two spoonfuls, I think. Nurses . . . hold him down!”
“Hold him down?” Willbury looked shocked.
“Powerful stuff, Black Jollop! The human body does not always know what’s good for it.”
Grandfather tried to sit up, but before he could move, nurses descended upon him. Then the nurse with the spoon collected a dose from the barrel and came forward. As the spoon came closer, a foul smell filled the air. Whatever it was, it had more than a little of the boiled cabbage about it, only worse.
“Oh God!” muttered Grandfather. “Do I have to?”
“I think you must, sir!”
Grandfather opened his mouth, and the first spoonful shot in. His face went white as he swallowed and he opened again. “I think I would rather be . . .”
But before he could get the words out, a second spoon appeared and shot into his mouth. A nurse quickly pinched Grandfather’s lips closed.
“How long will it take in a case like this?” asked Willbury.
The doctor smiled. “Oh, you’d be surprised.”
“How are you feeling?” asked Arthur.
Grandfather reluctantly swallowed, and the nurse released his grip.
“I’m not sure. There is a very strange feeling in my stomach . . . and it’s spreading out from there . . .”
A smile broke out on Grandfather’s face. “IT WORKS! It really works!”
“IT WORKS! It really works!”
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur.
“I can feel the pain in my chest going.”
They all watched as Grandfather sat up and lifted himself from the bed. Arthur went to help, but Grandfather ushered him away. “Let me do it. Do you know what? Not only have the pains in my chest gone, but my hips feel better than they have for years. Remarkable!”
Grandfather lifted one leg from the floor and took a hop.
“Steady on, old man. Go easy!” said Willbury.
“It’s fine. I feel fabulous.” With that, Grandfather did a little dance. Everybody apart from the doctor was amazed. Grandfather tried a kick in the air, and to his surprise, his leg almost kicked Willbury’s nose.
His leg almost kicked Willbury’s nose.
“I haven’t been able to do that for years.”
“Take it easy!” ordered Willbury. “You could injure yourself . . . or me.”
Arthur was overjoyed. He had never seen his grandfather like this, and joined in the dance.
“Dancing ain’t allowed in the spa,” snapped one of the nurses.
The dancing stopped, and Grandfather looked at the doctor.
“Sir, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
The doctor looked very pleased with himself. “Not a problem. It would be churlish to keep all this talent to myself.”
“And coming out to fetch me before treating all the others.”
“When I heard you were connected with the lad, I insisted that we give you top priority. It would be our benefactor’s wish.”
Willbury looked puzzled. “Your benefactor? Who’s he?”
The doctor looked sheepish. “A local businessman who wishes to remain anonymous. He’s always felt that he wanted to pay back Ratbridge for what he’s received from the town, so he aids me with my research and with the funding for this fine spa.”
The doctor looked sheepish.
“If he wanted us to have priority, as you say, he must know us, and presumably we know him.”
“Shall we just say that he has run across you in the past and believes you are deserving of special treatment. Beyond that, I will say nothing.” The doctor put his finger to his lips and then smiled.
“Then will you pass along our thanks to him,” said Willbury.
“Of course, but do remember—it is I who have created this wonderful treatment.”
The doctor seemed a little put out that he was not getting enough praise.
“Of course, we cannot thank you enough, but do pass a little of the thanks on.”
“I shall. But now I really must get on—there are many others deserving of treatment.”
With that, the doctor turned his back on the group and made off to the next case.
Arthur looked over at Grandfather, who was smiling.
“He is a very odd man, and though he seems to have cured you, I can’t warm to him.”
“Great men are often a little strange. Never mind. Let’s get off home and celebrate. I feel wonderful!”
The friends set off. This time Arthur rode in the wheelbarrow pushed by the boxtrolls. In the street outside they got some very envious looks from the queue, but Arthur didn’t care. His grandfather was well again.
When they reached home, Willbury disappeared and then returned with a packet of some rather special cocoa that he’d been saving for Christmas.
“This calls for a celebration. Fetch the bucket!”
“This calls for a celebration. Fetch the bucket!”
Jumping about like newborn lambs.
chapter 7
FIXED!
“I wonder if they’d give me a drop of that Black Jollop for my knees. They get a bit stiff when it’s damp,” Willbury mused over his cocoa. Fish and Shoe also seemed interested in treatment and gurgled while pointing to various parts of their anatomy.
“One drop of that stuff and you’ll all be jumping about like newborn lambs. Get yourself down there first thing tomorrow,” said Grandfather.
Willbury shook his head. “Better leave it to those in real need.”
The boxtrolls looked disappointed.
“I think we could go for a walk this afternoon to test my hips and to let the crew of the laundry know I’m all right.”
“And to check on
how they are doing,” added Willbury.
The mention of the laundry brought everyone back down to earth.
“Is there anything you can do for them?” Grandfather asked.
“I might be able to appeal against the fine, but I doubt I will be successful. Judge Podger is well in with the Law Lords, and they are very unlikely to go against him.”
They set off to the Nautical Laundry in a somber mood. Grandfather did manage a few smiles along the way, but the thought of their friends’ troubles spoiled the relief of Grandfather’s recovery.
“He’s all right!” came a cry from the bridge. Kipper had spotted them and had seen that Grandfather was recovered.
Soon the whole crew assembled to greet them and listened to the story of the Black Jollop.
“We were so worried,” said Kipper. “That stuff sounds like a miracle.”
“That stuff sounds like a miracle.”
“It is indeed,” answered Grandfather. “And I thank you for your concern, but you have troubles of your own.”
“Yes . . . ,” replied Kipper, and the crew suddenly looked very glum.
“Have you come up with any ideas as to how you could pay the fine?”
“Only one. We could sell the ship.”
“SELL YOUR SHIP!” Arthur was appalled. “But you are pirates. You can’t sell your ship.”
“I think we will have to.”
“And even then we would be lucky to get as much as half of the money, so we would end up in prison in any case,” added Tom.
“We could do a runner?” suggested Bert.
“We have told you no already, Bert. We are not cut out for a life on the run, and besides, I think they would notice us trying to get the ship unstuck from the canal.”
“So . . . ,” asked Arthur. “What next?”
“What next?”
Quite a lot of arm wrestling.