by Simon Mason
Will said, ‘Pass me the bullets.’
So it began. Will carefully aimed at the target on the birdcage, and fired.
Nothing happened.
He fired again. Nothing happened again.
He fired twice more, and still nothing happened.
Lucy put her arm round Will's shoulder to comfort him, and the gun went off, and a small hole appeared in the canvas roof of the arcade.
‘Lucy!’ Will said furiously. ‘Now you've made me use up all my spare shots! I've got to hit ten targets and I've only got ten shots left.’
Lucy backed away.
Muttering to himself, Will aimed at the birdcage for the sixth time, and fired. After a second's delay, the canary began to sing.
‘You hit it!’ Lucy cried in surprise. ‘You really hit it! Will, you hit it and made it sing!’
‘Shh,’ Will said in a short, thick voice as he aimed carefully at the stuffed bear. He fired, the bear's jaw dropped open and somewhere in the background there was a hollow growl.
‘You hit it again!’ Lucy squeaked.
Will didn't bother telling her off this time. He was too busy hitting the targets.
He fired. One of the card-players threw the Ace of Spades into the air.
He fired. The accordionist began to play a tune.
He fired. The picture of Niagara Falls swung sideways on the wall.
Mum and Lucy stood watching him in amazement.
‘Got my eye in now,’ he said briefly as he reloaded. Then he carried on hitting targets.
At last there was only one target he hadn't hit. It was on the hat of one of the card-players. Will had one shot left.
He aimed, and shuffled a bit, and aimed again. Then he fired.
Nothing happened.
For a second, no one said anything.
Mum said, ‘That's really bad luck, Will.’
Will slowly put the gun down. ‘I thought I hit it,’ he said sadly.
The man on the rifle arcade suddenly stamped his foot on the saloon floor, and there was a bang, and the cowboy's hat flew off.
‘Bit stiff, that one,’ the man said. ‘Needs oiling.’ He gave Will his prize. ‘Well done. Best shooting tonight.’
‘You won!’ Lucy said excitedly.
‘You won!’ Mum said proudly.
‘I won?’ Will said disbelievingly.
There was a pause while they all stood looking at the silver bullet.
‘Well, I told Dad I would,’ Will said. ‘Didn't I?’
They all looked round. And that's when they realized Dad was lost.
Waiting back at the lamppost, they scanned the crowds for a sign of Dad. But the crowds were thicker now, and it was impossible to see.
‘If he got lost, why didn't he come back here, like he said?’ Will asked.
‘Do you think he went on the Helter-Skelter again?’ Lucy said in a small voice. ‘And got hurt worse?’
‘Or perhaps the ice-cream has totally blinded him,’ Will said after a while. ‘And he'll never be able to see my silver bullet,’ he added sadly.
They waited at the lamppost.
‘Look at that man at the lamppost over there, Will,’ Lucy said, pointing. ‘He's won a giant squirrel.’
The man was bent double under the squirrel, which towered above him, grinning madly.
Will didn't care and said so. ‘I've got a silver bullet,’ he said. ‘He can keep his squirrel.’
‘It's big though, isn't it?’
While they were looking at the squirrel, the man turned round and started walking towards them. ‘Oops, wrong lamppost,’ the man said.
The man was Dad.
‘She said I had no chance of winning,’ Dad went on in a complaining voice. ‘She said hardly anyone wins, and anyway I was half blind with ice-cream. And then I won,’ he said bitterly. ‘It's so unfair. I ought to be able to get my money back.’
After they had all examined the squirrel, and Dad had examined the silver bullet, it was time to go home.
‘Here's your squirrel,’ Dad said to Will. ‘I can't tell you what a relief it is to get rid of it.’
‘It's OK,’ Will said. ‘I don't mind if you carry it. I've got my silver bullet to look after.’
‘Wait a minute,’ Lucy interrupted. ‘You've forgotten.’
‘Forgotten what?’ Dad said.
‘Forgotten my last big ride,’ Lucy said. ‘And I know exactly which one I want to go on.’ She pointed. ‘The Churner. And Mum does too.’
Mum looked pale.
‘That's what you said,’ Lucy said.
Dad looked quite carefully at Mum. ‘Poodle,’ he said slowly, ‘I'm not sure Mum wants to go on the Churner any more.’
Lucy's face scrunched up.
Mum said quickly, ‘It's OK. Really,’ she said. She took a deep breath. ‘I really, really want to go on the Churner with Lucy.’
Dad looked puzzled. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘I'm sure.’
‘I can't bear to watch,’ he said. He went to sit on the steps of the Dodgems, while Mum and Lucy queued for the Churner.
‘Are you sure?’ Lucy asked, looking at Mum. Mum nodded.
‘I could go on my own. I'm tall enough.’
‘I know.’
‘And I'm brave enough.’
‘I know. But you ought to have someone's hand to hold. Just to be comfortable.’
Lucy looked at Mum. Like everyone else, Mum had different faces for different moods, and usually Lucy knew what each of them meant. But this face was odd. It was sort of frozen.
They got near the front of the queue.
Lucy kept looking at Mum. Mum's frozen face was very pale, and a bit damp, and her mouth made Lucy think of feeling sick.
She said, ‘Mum? I don't think you want to go on it, do you, Mum?’
Mum didn't say anything.
‘Why not? Don't you like the tummy feeling any more?’
Mum shook her head.
Lucy said, ‘I don't mind going on my own. Really. I'll sit next to other people so I won't feel lonely.’
‘But I don't want you to sit next to just anyone,’ Mum said, as they reached the ticket office. Lucy held Mum's hand, and Mum gave a weak smile. ‘I wish there was someone we know who could go on with you,’ she said. And at that moment she had an idea. She started talking quickly to the lady in the ticket office, and then she called Will over. ‘Quick!’ she said. ‘Run back to Dad …’
‘What's going on, Mum?’ Lucy asked. ‘I don't think Dad can come on the ride with me. He couldn't even do the Helter-Skelter properly.’
‘Don't worry,’ Mum said. ‘He won't need to. I've thought of something else.’
Will and Dad stood by the Dodgems, looking up at the Churner.
‘I really don.'t want to look’ Dad said again.
‘Relax,’ Will said. ‘You're going to like this.’
Now that everyone was strapped into the Churner, it began to move. The row of people rose slowly and fell again, and rose once more. The machine speeded up, and the row of people jerked upwards and fell away, and revolved in a loop.
‘I can't see them clearly,’ Dad said, squinting. ‘I've still got ice-cream in my eye.’
The row of people rose, fell, revolved and flipped sideways at speed.
A number of people standing round Will and Dad began to laugh and point.
‘What's going on?’ Dad said.
‘You'll see,’ Will said.
The row of people shot up and hung in the air for a second. And Dad saw.
Strapped into the middle of the row was a chunky girl with bunches and a grin, and strapped in next to her was an eight-foot squirrel.
‘My god!’ Dad said, rubbing his eyes. ‘What is Mum wearing?’
It was late when the Quigleys caught the bus home. The bus driver threatened to charge Dad full fare for the squirrel, and Dad said he'd already paid for it to go on one of the rides.
‘It was a good fair, wasn't it?’ Mum said.
‘It was the best fair ever,’ Lucy said. ‘I got the tummy feeling, and Will got the silver bullet, and Dad got the cutest little giant squirrel. But what did you get, Mum?’
Mum thought about it.
‘I got out of going on the Churner,’ she said. ‘And perhaps that's the best feeling of all.’
Fatbrain's Big Adventure
Fatbrain's Big Adventure
Whenever the Peacheys went on holiday they asked the Quigleys to feed their cat, Fatbrain. Fatbrain was big and black and very stupid and sometimes he smelled, but Will and Lucy liked him.
‘I don't think he smells,’ Lucy said.
‘I'm fond of a cat that smells,’ Will said. ‘And he's so stupid he'd gnaw off his own foot without noticing. But I like that in a cat.’
One day in the summer holidays, Mum and Lucy went over to give Fatbrain his food and water. Dad was in London, and Will was busy reading the Beano. In the Peacheys’ house, Mum filled Fatbrain's metal dish with cat food and took it outside the back door, and Lucy banged the dish with a spoon. This was the signal for Fatbrain to come and eat. Usually, after a few minutes, he'd come padding up the garden, looking interested. But this afternoon he didn't appear.
‘Bang again,’ Mum said.
Lucy banged until her wrist was numb. Still no Fatbrain.
‘Do you think he's all right, Mum?’ she asked anxiously.
Mum told her not to worry. ‘Cats know how to look after themselves.’
Leaving the dish of cat food on the Peacheys’ patio, they walked back to their own house. It was a warm afternoon, and they went into their garden for a game of swingball.
‘You see,’ Mum was saying in a comforting voice, ‘Fatbrain may look and smell stupid but actually he's strong and cunning and tough.’
Suddenly Lucy said, ‘Look!’
Mum looked. High up on top of the Quigleys’ house, a large black cat was clinging to the roof, mewing for help.
‘Fatbrain!’ Mum exclaimed. ‘Oh god, he's going to fall and die!’
Lucy burst into tears, and Mum looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry.’ She tried to think of something else to say. ‘Perhaps he's enjoying himself,’ she said uncertainly.
But as they watched, Fatbrain skidded on his claws to the edge of the roof and clung to the loose guttering, which swayed out under his weight.
‘He's not enjoying himself,’ Lucy said in a fierce, unhappy voice. ‘He's been exploring, and he's got stuck on that broken gutter-thing Dad's always saying he's going to fix and never does. We have to rescue him.’
Mum saw the urgency of the situation. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, we do.’
‘How are we going to rescue him?’
Mum thought. ‘I'll get Will,’ she said. Will knew what to do straightaway. ‘We have to call the fire brigade,’ he said. ‘So that they can come roaring down the street in a fire-engine with its siren screaming, breaking the wing mirrors off all the parked cars.’ He grinned. ‘We haven't had a fire engine down our road for ages. Do you realize how lucky we are Fatbrain's got stuck on our roof ?’
Mum didn't grin. Mum wasn't keen on Will's idea. ‘Isn't there something we can do ourselves?’
They thought.
‘The thing is,’ Will said, peering up at Fatbrain, ‘he's very high up.’
‘You don't like high things, do you, Will?’ Lucy said. ‘You get scared.’
‘I could do it,’ Will said. ‘Or if I couldn't, Dad could, and I could help.’
Mum reminded him that Dad wasn't there.
They all thought some more. ‘I've got an idea,’ Will said suddenly. He went into the house, and came back a few moments later carrying his catapult.
‘What's that, Will?’ Mum said.
Will gave her a puzzled look. ‘It's a catapult, duh,’ he said.
‘So?’
‘Cat apult,’ he repeated. ‘So obviously it'll be good for shooting cats off roofs.’
After Mum had taken away the catapult, they all stood in the garden thinking again. Above them, Fatbrain was still clinging to the guttering, making small, sad noises.
‘Poor Fatbrain,’ Lucy said. ‘He missed his tea, so he's probably hungry.’
‘That's it!’ Mum said. ‘Food. We can tempt him down with food.’
‘Good idea,’ Will said. ‘Fatbrain's an extremely greedy cat.’
Mum went to get cat food from the Peacheys’ house, and a few minutes later, Will appeared in the garden with a tin of cat food in one hand and a spoon in the other. He waved the tin at Fatbrain and banged on it with the spoon. ‘This will work for sure,’ he said. ‘Any minute now, Lucy, you're going to see that cat dive headfirst off the roof into this tin.’
Mum said, ‘I think Fatbrain's roof-diving days are over. We need to go closer. You see how near Fatbrain is to the loft window? If we go up there, we can tempt him closer with the food, and grab him, and pull him through.’
From the loft window they had a much better view of Fatbrain. Or at least of Fatbrain's butt. His butt was balancing half on the roof-tiles, half on the guttering, and it was a very miserable and uncomfortable-looking butt.
‘I'm going to tempt him closer now,’ Will said.
‘Can I tempt him closer too?’ Lucy said.
Will shook his head. ‘Cats are very sensitive, even greedy ones. You have to speak politely to them.’ Will knew a lot about animals, so Lucy had to agree.
He took the tin and leaned as far as he dared out of the window, whispering, ‘Here, Pussy, Pussy.’
Fatbrain looked at him blankly, and didn't move.
‘He's not moving,’ Lucy said. ‘Are you being polite enough?’
‘I'll use his name,’ Will said. ‘Fatbrain,’ he crooned in a politely musical voice.
That didn't work either.
‘Maybe it's not his full name,’ Lucy said.
Will thought for a while. ‘Numbskull Flab-head Fatbrain,’ he said.
‘That doesn't sound very polite,’ Mum said.
For several minutes, Will waved the tin and crooned politely, and Fatbrain gazed bleakly at it. ‘Hey!’ Will shouted at last. ‘Are you stupid or what? Get your fat butt over here!’
Next Lucy had a go. ‘Please, Mister Fatbrain, won't you come in the window, please? Just for a bit.’
Then Mum took the tin, and began to wave it out of the window in large slow sweeps.
‘Careful, Mum,’ Will said. ‘You're meant to be tempting him, not hypnotizing him.’
It made no difference. Fatbrain just stared at them all. The only time he moved was when Will was testing the cat food for flicking and accidentally hit him on the nose. Mum had to explain, very firmly, that they were trying to rescue Fatbrain, not drive him over the edge of the roof to his death.
After that, they all went down to the garden to think again.
Mum said, ‘You know, if we could get onto the flat extension roof, we could reach up with a mop or something, and Fatbrain could scramble down onto it.’
‘But how can we get up there?’ Lucy asked.
‘We need a ladder. We had one, but I think we threw it away.’
‘No, we didn't,’ Will said. ‘Dad put it somewhere.’
They found it lying along the wall of the passageway, an old-fashioned, heavy ladder of dark wood, and pulled it out to take a closer look.
‘It's old,’ Mum said doubtfully. ‘Perhaps it's rotten.’
Will disagreed. ‘It's a bit old, but it's a good ladder,’ he said. He tried to lift it. ‘You can tell it's good because it's so heavy.’ He grinned. ‘They don't make ladders like this any more.’
They all tried to lift it. ‘It is heavy,’ Mum said. ‘Are we going to be able to manage it?’
It took them five minutes to carry the ladder ten yards to the patio, and another five minutes to haul it upright against the extension wall. The ladder was very heavy and moist, and soft in places, but Will insisted it was a good ladder, and Lucy said it was their only ladder, and in the end Mum agreed t
o use it.
‘Wish me luck,’ Will said.
‘I'm not letting you go,’ Mum said. ‘If it's risky, I'll go.’
Will argued bitterly about risks and how much he liked them, but Lucy helpfully reminded him that he was scared of heights, and, in any case, Mum was firm. Mum could be very firm. You could tell because of her eyes. She gave a deep breath and got onto the ladder herself.
‘I don't like this much,’ she called down after a while, clinging to the wet sides. ‘How far up am I now?’
‘You've still got your foot on the bottom rung.’
She opened her eyes, and began to climb. The children made encouraging noises like, ‘Good, Mum, now the other foot again!’ and ‘Hurry up, Mum, or the cat food will have gone off by the time you get there!’ When she finally reached the extension roof, Will and Lucy began to caper round the patio whooping. But they whooped too soon.
As Mum was pulling herself onto the roof, she accidentally pushed the ladder sideways with her foot, and felt it shift sluggishly beneath her.
Will and Lucy gasped.
‘Oh, help!’ Mum cried. She kicked out for support, and the ladder began to slide away.
‘Mum!’ Will and Lucy cried together.
‘Oh, look out, look out, look out!’ she yelled. She thrashed once like a swimmer in mid-air, and wriggled tummy-first onto the roof, and the ladder teetered creakily along the wall and fell suddenly with a bang onto the patio.
Will was the first to recover from the shock. ‘That was great,’ he said. ‘I want to do that. It's my turn to do it next.’
Mum looked down, white-faced, from the extension roof. ‘Are you two all right?’ she asked anxiously. Will, already busy with the ladder, didn't answer.
Lucy said, ‘I'm all right. Are you all right, Mum?’
Mum nodded, a little shakily.
‘Come on, Lucy,’ Will said. ‘Don't just stand there chatting. Help me get the ladder up. It's my go next, then you can have a turn.’ Together they pulled heroically at the enormous ladder. But they couldn't lift it. ‘It's no good,’ Will said, panting. ‘Come on, Mum, you have to help too. Mum?’