“Well, actually, he is fine. I know he’s fine. Remarkably fine, actually. And I was rather hoping to reveal that to your family. In a kind of dramatic way, by opening the door and showing them their newly healthy chinchilla. I was looking forward to it. Well, you’ve stolen my thunder now. But still, I’d like to just—”
“I want to take him straight home,” said Malcolm, intensely. “He’s had a terrible experience and he needs to be back in his cage.” Malcolm turned to his mum and dad. “Cos he’s my pet and I love him!”
“You do?” said Jackie.
“Do you?” said Stewart.
“Yes,” said Malcolm.
Jackie and Stewart turned to each other. Tears were in their eyes.
“Please, Rodney,” said Jackie. “I’ll bring the chinchilla in first thing tomorrow for you to have a look at. But please let Malcolm take him home now.”
Rodney looked a bit unhappy, but nodded.
When they got home, Malcolm went straight up to his room. He opened the door, and rushed over to the chinchilla cage. He took off the top of the box, opened the door of the cage, and then shut it again. And then turned round to see his family coming into his room.
“Oh!” said his mum. “Chinny looks amazing!”
“He looks so well!” said his dad. “Like he’d never even left his room!”
“Yes! Exactly like he did before!”
“Mr Braden is clearly an amazing vet,” said Malcolm.
“Yes!” said Jackie.
“He could probably operate on people.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Stewart.
“I do,” said Malcolm.
Stewart frowned, but then Jackie said: “OK, everyone. It’s been a very tiring day. And night.” She checked her watch. “Five-thirty am. Time, definitely for bed.”
Ten minutes later, after he’d brushed his teeth and put his pyjamas on, Malcolm looked up at his parents from his bed. They looked back at him, their faces full of love and relief. In the corner of his bedroom, Chinny was running on his wheel.
“Will that stop you getting to sleep?” said Stewart. “We can take the wheel out if so.”
“No,” said Malcolm. “I like the sound of it.”
“So …” said Jackie, “we haven’t even asked. Did you have a nice time on the farm?”
Malcolm closed his eyes. “Yes. I did. I really did. Thanks so much for sending me.”
“And …” said Stewart, carefully, “that thing you said at the vet’s. Is that true?”
“Which bit?” said Malcolm.
“About the chinchilla. When you said, ‘he’s my pet and I love him …’”
Malcolm opened his eyes again. He was glad that had been his dad’s answer.
Because not everything he had said at the vet’s had been true. When he’d woken up from the anaesthetic, and discovered he was a boy again – which was only two seconds before his family had come in and seen him on the operating table – Malcolm had had to think very quickly.
He had thought very quickly, and decided, very quickly, to make up the thing about staying on the bus – and pretend that he had put Chinny into the box. Because Chinny wasn’t there – had never been there. Chinny had been looking out of Malcolm’s bedroom window the whole time.
Malcolm wasn’t a boy given to making things up. But in this particular case, he’d decided there was no point in trying to tell his family what had actually happened. They just wouldn’t believe him. No one, he knew, would ever believe him.
He knew he shouldn’t lie, under normal circumstances. But these were not normal circumstances.
And: one part of it had not been a lie. The last, and most important part: the part that his dad was asking him about now. It would’ve been a lie only three days ago, but now he could feel how true it was.
“No, Dad. I do really love Chinny.” And just to reiterate that, he turned to the tiny creature, who’d stopped running for a second on his little wheel, and said: “Te amo, Chinny.” At which point, Chinny seemed almost to nod … almost to smile … and then just started running as fast as he could, making that wheel spin for dear life. “In fact,” said Malcolm, “I love all animals!!”
Stewart and Jackie turned to each other, with tears in their eyes again, but smiles on their faces too.
“TATUFTB,” said a voice in the doorway. Everyone looked round.
It was Grandpa.
“What does that mean?” said Libby, poking her head round the door, with a toothbrush in her mouth.
“That’s a turn-up for the books,” said Grandpa.
Next Sunday morning, Malcolm insisted that they get to the zoo as early as possible. As well as, obviously, insisting on coming himself, for the first time for years.
They were the first people through the gates. Malcolm said “Hello!” to Sanjit and Luke, who looked confused, because he said it as if he’d met them before.
Then when they were in the zoo proper, Stewart said: “So! Where would you like to go first, Malcolm? Lions? Tigers? Reptile House? Insect House?”
“I’d like to go to the petting zoo, please.”
Stewart looked surprised – the petting zoo: wasn’t that a bit babyish? – but said: “OK!”
Stewart was even more surprised that, after they got there, Malcolm wanted to stay at the petting zoo for so long. But he did seem really happy, being able to stand right inside the pen and stroke all the animals in there.
Then Stewart checked his watch, and said: “Listen, Malc— Oh, sorry, Malcolm …”
“Malc is fine, Dad.”
“Is it?” said Jackie.
“Yes, Mum.”
“Well, anyway,” said his dad, “we want to go and see the … well, the chimps. I know you might not want to do that after the … the Monkey … you know …”
“Chimps are apes, not monkeys, Dad.”
“Are they?”
“Yes. And I’ll join you there in a bit.”
“Oh. OK. You sure?”
“Yep. Just make sure you – especially Bert – stand back a bit from the bars …”
Stewart nodded. “Right you are,” he said.
And they went. Malcolm watched them go. Then he looked around. No one else was in the petting zoo. Well. No other humans.
So even though there were a lot of other animals in there – and he wasn’t entirely sure if his ones were the ones he thought they were – Malcolm said:
“Ludwig. Mabel. Zsa-Zsa. Trotsky. Benny. Bjornita. Snowflake. Dolly. Dolly. Dolly. Listen. I can’t remember if all of you understand human, but I just wanted to say … firstly, I’ve told the keepers here where you’re from. They didn’t believe me at first, but then they rang the farm to check, and would you believe it, a cat, a dog, two pigs, a white horse, three sheep and a pair of tortoises were missing – so you’ll all soon be going back to Orwell Farm. Where I think you’ll be happier. And secondly, I just wanted to say … thank you. For bringing me back to my family. For saving me from my own cats. And just for teaching me how amazing animals are.”
Malcolm looked up. None of the animals seemed to be doing anything, or reacting. He felt a little sad about this. Maybe they didn’t understand human after all.
Or … maybe the whole thing hadn’t actually happened. Maybe he’d fallen asleep in front of the goat pen – or maybe even just on the bus back – and dreamt it all.
“Anyway,” he said, turning to go. “I love you all. I really love you all.”
As he said this, a cat, a dog, two pigs, a white horse, three sheep and a pair of tortoises emerged from all the other animals, and surrounded him, rubbing and stroking themselves against him.
Malcolm smiled, he really really smiled, as the cat purred, the dog wagged its tail, the pigs grunted happily, the horse neighed, and the sheep baa-ed.
Oh, and the tortoises made weird squeaky noises.
From quite far away.
“What are you doing in there?” said Mr Barrington. “Come on, it’s time fo
r bed!”
Mr Barrington was concerned. Last year on this trip to Orwell Farm a pupil had gone missing – for a small amount of time – and he held himself responsible. He was absolutely insistent that this wasn’t going to happen again. So, this time, every night of the week, he’d stayed up to check that all of Year Six had gone into the farmhouse at the end of the day.
Then, after checking the rooms, he’d walked through all the barns and all the animal pens to make sure there were no children not safely in bed. He had felt terrible about that boy – Matthew, was it? Michael? – who had disappeared briefly before. Even if he had turned up safe and sound eventually.
And now – wouldn’t you believe it? – there again appeared to be a boy not in his bed: in the goat pen, in fact. It was quite dark in there, and Mr Barrington was aware that his eyesight was not of the best. It had got worse since last year – and he was tired from doing this every night – but those eyes definitely seemed human. Didn’t they?
Mr Barrington opened the pen gate and went in. Hmm, he thought, looking down – bit muddy to go any further. He squinted into the dark. Yes, those were definitely two eyes, looking at him. Quite large eyes, and he couldn’t quite make out the colour (brown? amber?), but he felt sure it was a boy or girl. It couldn’t possibly have been an animal looking at him that keenly. Those eyes knew who he was, there was no doubt about that.
“Come on now. I know you might think you’ve got into trouble for staying out, but we’ll discuss that in the morning,” said Mr Barrington.
By Mr Barrington’s standards, that was fairly lenient talk. He even said it in what he thought was a gentle, friendly voice. But still, the eyes kept on staring at him.
“Look, I really don’t want to have to come in there and get you,” he said. Which he didn’t. He could feel his nice patent leather shoes – the ones Mrs Barrington said really suited him – sinking into the mud.
He decided to try a different tack.
“Look. We all love the animals. We all want to spend more time with them. This may sound silly, but sometimes, at the end of the day, I look out on the farm, at the sheep and the cows and the horses grazing, and I think, how wonderful it would be to be like them. To be an animal, with no money worries, no books to mark, no difficult pupils to make behave –” Mr Barrington was warming to his theme now, and starting, himself, to believe it – “not a care, really, in the world. It must be a wonderful life. But the truth is …”
He was about to say that the truth was that, obviously, we can’t become animals, just because it looks nice, and because, as humans, we’ll always be curious about how they think. We have to buckle up and get on with our own lives, and right now, that means coming out of the dark and going with me back to the farmhouse!
He was about to say that, very clearly, and he was sure that his speech would bring whoever was hiding in the goat pen out, and then everyone would be accounted for.
What happened instead was that he felt very … very … sleepy. It was late, and he was, as we know, tired. And somehow, while looking at those deep, amber eyes – the ones that seemed to know who he was, and belong to someone who was, clearly, listening and understanding him – that tiredness increased.
So he said:
“… obviously, we can’t … be … com … annii … we … no …”
And that was as far as Mr Barrington got before he fell asleep, face down in the mud.
There was a pause of about ten seconds while the amber eyes watched and blinked. And then K-Pax came out of the dark, sniffed at the head of the strange human – already changing into something furry – and went back into the dark.
Footnotes
Chapter Two: 700 cats, 800 dogs and five giraffes
1 True Dat. As well as using all the standard acronyms, Libby made up a lot of her own.
2 Oh My God Times Two.
Chapter Three: Mini-coloured Munch Balls
3 They lived on a street called Kendal Road. House number 43. You might think this is a bit too much detail, but you’ll be pleased I told you later on. Just you watch.
4 Although Malcolm did sometimes think they might have more money if they spent less of it on pets.
5 To be fair, though, one thing Malcolm shared with animals was that he did very much like sleep. Not only that, he was very good at sleeping, able to go to sleep really easily. And not just in bed, but wherever he fancied it: in the car, on the sofa, and more than a few times, in his school classroom. This is also important information for later on.
6 Apart from Libby, who was holding her phone.
7 I’ll leave you to work this one out.
8 Don’t Cha?
9 I Know Everything Always.
Chapter Four: The Monkey Moment
10 I Need To Know. Grandpa had picked up some of Libby’s acronyms.
11 Soz To The Max.
Chapter Five: The last present
12 Be Thankful.
13 An invoice, in case you don’t know, is a bit of paper grown-ups give each other when they’ve bought something, to show that they’ve bought it. If you did know, I’m sorry I told you again.
14 Although the B and the K and a bit of the P were faded out, as the Bracket Wood Primary School printer had run out of ink. Four years ago.
Chapter Seven: Stinky Blinky
15 Actually, Malcolm had thought about asking Gavin why it is that sheep will continue to run away from something they think is chasing them even after it’s gone past them – to the point that they will then be chasing the thing they’re supposed to be running away from – but he decided he couldn’t be bothered.
16 He started to say another word before “giggles”, but Maven shushed him.
Chapter Eight: K-Pax
17 Or any other language. Spanish, for example. Malcolm may have had issues with animals, but he was definitely not racist.
Chapter Nine: Kind of green
18 Although that had been the morning after a night when he’d been out at the pub. So that may have had something to do with it.
Chapter Eleven: Benny and Bjorn
19 Well, about as hurt as a tortoise can look, which isn’t that much. They always look a little bit in pain, don’t they? Like they’re groaning under the weight of their own shell.
20 Again, he didn’t frown quite like he would’ve done with his human face. He couldn’t, seeing as a tortoise face looks sort of like they’re frowning most of the time. So from now on, whenever I describe Malcolm’s face doing anything – frowning, smiling, raising an eyebrow – assume it’s happening inside.
Chapter Twelve: A sudden chill
21 I know. All animals look kind of quizzical all the time. Just go with it.
22 He didn’t. Tortoises don’t have shoulders. He just kind of wiggled.
Chapter Thirteen: Manky lettuce
23 The Baileys had gone camping last summer, which Malcolm hadn’t enjoyed much, as they’d taken all the animals; he’d ended up with the iguana on top of his face in the morning.
24 Obviously, these being humans, they were actually frowning.
Chapter Fourteen: That’s porpoises
25 Interestingly, as a tortoise, Malcolm did somewhat resemble Mr Barrington. If Mr Barrington did pick him up and stare at him, all Malcolm really needed was a pair of tiny tortoise glasses for it to seem like Mr Barrington was looking in the mirror.
26 This is something people say about stuff that’s easy. However, please don’t go to sleep when you’re on a log. Especially one that’s high up in a tree.
Chapter Fifteen: Hello M
27 You know, that boring ringtone that grown-ups who don’t know how to download any other ones have.
Chapter Sixteen: Slurp slurp slurp
28 This is quite hard to do, rolling disdainfully. Disdain is quite a hard emotion to get into a roll. But cats can do it. Cats can basically get disdain into every action.
Chapter Seventeen: Catamanny story
29 Would you believe it …
>
30 Obviously, being a dog, Trotsky could really do this.
Chapter Eighteen: So cat
31 This is something cats can do. I’ve seen it. It’s quite frightening.
Chapter Twenty: The Dollys
32 Who from now on I shall call Dolly 1. Sheep 2 will be Dolly 2. And Sheep … you get the picture.
33 And even if he did manage it, Malcolm’s hoof was so hard, he might knock himself out. He thought.
Chapter Twenty-Six: Bring me a manky apple
34 It was very manky: bruised on all sides, almost completely brown, with a bite already taken out of it, and covered with mud.
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Oh-so-clever pig
35 A low positive yelp and three small baas.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Whaaaaaaaaarrggggghhh …!!
36 Yes, I know pigs don’t have heels.
37 Snowflake wasn’t wearing a saddle. In the saddle bit, I mean.
Chapter Thirty: Cute but sad and lost
38 To Snowflake, not the man inside the pub.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Memories
39 Which, especially in the Elephant House, could take a long time.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Mud
40 Chimps aren’t monkeys. They are apes. However, this distinction had always escaped Malcolm’s family. Possibly because of the Monkey Moment.
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