The Bolds to the Rescue

by Julian Clary

  But the Bolds were too kind to ask her to leave.

  And Sheila was right—the Bolds were indeed the talk of the animal kingdom. Word had gotten out somehow that 41 Fairfield Road was a safe haven for any animal who wanted to make the “jump” and start a new life as a human. Very soon other animals started arriving, all wanting to learn how to walk and talk and get jobs like people do.

  And as you will discover, the house was about to get very crowded indeed . . .

  Chapter 3

  A few days after Sheila’s arrival, Nigel McNumpty, the Bolds’ next-door neighbor, was strolling along Fairfield Road with his friend Uncle Tony. They had enjoyed an ice cream each in Bushy Park and were walking home in contented silence.

  Nigel—who had a keen sense of smell, being a grizzly bear—suddenly became aware that someone was following them. He stopped, looked behind him, and saw an elegant apricot-colored poodle gazing longingly at him.

  “What have we here? Are you lost, little dog?” he asked.

  Tony turned next and, although already stooped due to his age and arthritis, he stooped a bit more to pet the dog. “Nice dog,” he said. “Where do you live, then?”

  “Je suis destitute!” said the poodle in a strong French accent. “I am homeless!”

  “Oh dear!” said Mr. McNumpty. “You poor little dog. What is your name?”

  “I am Fifi Lampadaire,” replied the dog, tears welling up in her eyes. “Please—’elp me!”

  “But of course we will!” said Tony. “Don’t worry, little lost dog. Come home with us and we’ll call the animal shelter.”

  Fifi trotted along with the two old boys, glad that her plan was working. So far so good.

  Once they got back to Mr. McNumpty’s house, the two friends gave Fifi a bowl of water and found her some biscuits in the larder, which she ate, but with little enthusiasm.

  “Thank you. Merci,” said Fifi. “A little stale, but acceptable.”

  “You speak French and English—quite unusual!” said Mr. McNumpty. “You must be a very talented dog!”

  “Mais oui! Of course,” agreed Fifi, settling herself on a sofa.”And now I ’ave to tell you the truth. I am not homeless. I am seeking refuge here. I throw myself on your mercy, messieurs! I will not leave.” And indeed Fifi rolled on her back to prove her point.

  Tony and Mr. McNumpty looked from the dog to each other in astonishment.

  “What do you mean, Fifi?”

  “I want to live with the Bolds. I think they can ’elp me. You see, I ’ave heard about them. Animals ’elping animals to better themselves. Teaching them ’ow to live like humans. This is what I want. I am Fifi Lampadaire, a star of the future!”

  “Well, it’s true the Bolds are very kind people,” began Tony. “But I don’t know—”

  “Please ask them to let me stay!” pleaded Fifi. “Please, I beg of you. It will not be for the eternity, just until my talent is discovered and my star can rise brightly in the sky!”

  “What is your talent then?” asked Mr. McNumpty bluntly.

  “I am a singer, a singer extraordinaire!” exclaimed Fifi, gazing up to the heavens. “It is what I live for. The love songs, the ballads, you know?”

  “Goodness. Most unusual in a dog!” exclaimed Tony.

  “Oui. It is true. No one will take a singing dog seriously. My last owners, they just threw the bucket of water over me whenever I began a song.”

  “How very unkind!” said Mr. McNumpty.

  “This is why I need the Bolds to ’elp me. I am a singer trapped in a dog’s body. They could teach me to walk and act like a human being and I will launch my career and leave them in peace while I go on a world tour.”

  “Sounds reasonable enough,” said Tony. “There are animal rights, just as there are human rights. You have a right to sing, young Fifi, a right to express yourself!”

  Fifi wagged her tail enthusiastically and gave Tony an affectionate lick on his face. “Merci, Monsieur Tony, thank you. Merci beaucoup!”

  “You’ll have to learn not to wag and lick, though,” observed Mr. McNumpty. “And before we do anything else we had better speak to Mr. and Mrs. Bold. Their house is quite full, you know, especially since Sheila the crocodile arrived. They might think there isn’t enough room.”

  Fifi looked crestfallen for a moment, but then she had an idea. “Ouvrez la fenêtre, s’il vous plaît,” she said.

  “Come again?” asked Mr McNumpty.

  “Pardon!” said Fifi. “Could you open the window, please? I will unleash my talent and for sure they will not be able to refuse me!”

  “Good plan,” agreed Tony. “Clever dog. And you can always stay in my room with me. Provided Fred and Amelia agree, of course.”

  Next door, Mr. and Mrs. Bold were sitting on their garden swing, talking about Sheila.

  “Her mouth is so huge, I’m going to have to buy a new toilet brush to clean her teeth with,” Mrs. Bold was saying.

  “Stop it!” said Mrs. Bold. “You know I’m a little nervous about having her around Betty and Bobby.”

  The twins were playing beside them on the lawn. “Don’t worry, Mum, Sheila’s all right,” said Bobby.

  “Yes, I like having her around,” said Betty. “And she wants us to take her down to Teddington Lock one evening when no one is about, so she can go for a swim in the River Thames. Would that be OK?”

  “What do you think, Fred?” asked Mrs. Bold.

  “Well, that would be rather daring. It must be a bit cramped in the bath for her, but I’m not sure it’s safe having her swimming out in public.”

  At that moment their conversation was interrupted by a beautiful, trembling voice wafting over the fence, singing:

  “Paris in the sunshine

  Oh, nothing can compare!

  You can go for your holidays

  And eat fresh croissants there.”

  “Goodness, how lovely is that?” sighed Mrs. Bold. “Sending shivers down my spine.”

  “Hush, Dad,” said Betty. “It’s coming from Mr. McNumpty’s house. Do you think he’s got the radio on?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Bobby, listening intently now. “There’s no music, just that fabulous voice.” They all listened, transfixed for a few moments, as the song continued.

  “Paris in the moonlight

  Please make no mistake,

  It is a city of romance

  And very nice sirloin steak.”

  Eventually Mr. Bold jumped up to look over the fence. “Good grief!” he said to his family. “Nigel’s got a singing poodle in there!”

  And that is how Fifi came to be introduced to the Bolds. Of course they fell in love with her charming voice and agreed to help her in any way they could. A talent like that should not be hidden away. and they’re a very special family, as I’ve told you before.

  So now there were Mr. and Mrs. Bold, the twins, Uncle Tony, Miranda the marmoset monkey, Sheila the crocodile and Fifi the French poodle, all living at Number 41 Fairfield Road.

  You might think there wasn’t room for any more waifs and strays. But guess what? You’d be wrong . . .

  Chapter 4

  So how come all these animals had suddenly started arriving at the Bolds’ house? Well, you need to remember that human beings—like you and I—think we are the cleverest creatures on the planet. We think we know all the answers, but quite frankly we don’t. And one thing we don’t know much about is how animals communicate with one another.

  They speak to one another, of course, barking and squeaking or growling, and as we have seen, they are perfectly capable of learning our language if they need to. But they do other strange things too. Bees dance in different directions to tell their friends where the best food is. Chameleons change color. Whales sing!

  So when word got round about the Bolds’ life in Teddington and the daring rescue of poor Tony from the safari park, it was headline news in the animal world. Furthermore, many animals unhappy with their lot in life began to dream of
paying the Bolds a visit, to see if perhaps these kind hyenas could help them to start a new, exciting life. And of course, after Sheila and Fifi arrived at Number 41 and were allowed to stay, moving in with the Bolds became all the rage. A pregnant cat slipped in through the back door one day and had six adorable kittens in a closet. She made it clear she didn’t want to learn how to live like a human, though. She just wanted somewhere safe and warm to live.

  A week later a turtle made himself at home in the washing machine, and a flock of at least fifteen seagulls flew in from the Isle of Wight and perched on the Bolds’ windowsills, peering in at them, squawking and banging on the windows with their wings. (Fortunately they didn’t want to move into the house—they were just nosy. Nosy and noisy and messy, but the Bolds didn’t mind.)

  One morning a sheep called Roger, who had a black face and magnificent curly horns, appeared in the front garden.

  “I can’t face another winter in a field, buried in the snow. Honestly, I can’t,” he explained to the twins, who’d opened the door to him. “Do you think I might be allowed to stay here?”

  “Well, I’ll have to ask my mum,” said Betty. “But I don’t see why not. We can’t say yes to some animals and no to others.”

  Roger’s eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “I’d like to give living as a human a try, if I might. Do you think your family could teach me?”

  “Can you walk on your back legs?” said Bobby.

  “Oh yes, I can do that easily,” said Roger, and he raised himself up in a trice.

  “And what sort of human job do you fancy?” was Bobby’s next question.

  “Well, I’ve given it some thought,” said Roger. “And the truth is, although I’m a sheep, for some reason I’m not very outdoorsy.”

  “No wonder you wanted a change!” said Betty sympathetically.

  “I’m rather fond of children, though. Played for hours with the lambs in springtime. Maybe I could earn my sheep—sorry, keep—by babysitting for your parents to start with? Eventually I’d like to work as a nanny or an au pair, perhaps.”

  “You’ve thought all this through!” said Bobby admiringly.

  “Oh yes. Thought about it for years.”

  “A sheep! What fun!” said Mr. Bold when he met Roger.

  “He’d like to stay,” explained Betty. “He says he’ll babysit us if you want to have a night out sometime.”

  “That would be rather nice, Fred,” said Mrs. Bold. “I feel like we never have any time to ourselves now that the house is so full.”

  “And he can walk on his back legs already,” Bobby pointed out. “So you wouldn’t have to teach him much.”

  “Yes, of course he can stay!” said Mr. Bold. “Welcome to the madhouse, Roger! Glad to have you aboard. Space is getting tight, but I believe there might be a free corner in the dining room.” He paused, then added with a grin:

  “You’ll get used to Dad’s jokes,” said Betty, giving Roger’s woolly back a reassuring rub.

  Realizing that the Bolds’ house was now very full, Mr. McNumpty kindly offered to accommodate Roger in his back bedroom. And before too long it was also decided to take down the fence between the back gardens of Numbers 41 and 39 to give some of the larger animals more room to move about. There was a lot of coming and going between the two houses, and this made it easier.

  Before long both houses were overcrowded and more than a little untidy, but everyone got along fine, although Sheila could be a little bad-tempered if the hot water ran out. Mealtimes were not very well-mannered occasions, however, but perhaps it’s the same in your home too. Certainly knives and forks had not been mastered yet, nor had “please” and “thank you,” and food quite often ended up sliding down the walls.

  “If these animals want to blend in then we will have to teach them how to eat more politely,” said Mrs. Bold halfheartedly. “Just put a little bit in your mouth at a time, Fifi. No need to gulp things down in one go!”

  She turned to the crocodile in horror. “And, Sheila, that is a kitten, not a kebab, so please put it down at once!”

  Then she saw Bobby. “Stop winding spaghetti round Roger’s horns, please, Bobby! And you should know better than to wipe your hands on Mr. McNumpty’s back.

  “Now, poor Tony seems to have fallen asleep with his nose in the bolognaise sauce. Betty, could you wake him up gently and take him into the lounge where he can snooze in peace?

  “And could the seagulls please stop doing their business all over the curtains?” she went on. “If the Isle of Wight posse are peckish, there’s no need to scavenge: there’s some pepperoni and mozzarella cheese hanging from the light fixture. Help yourselves to that!”

  “Don’t fret so much, dear,” said Mr. Bold to his wife. “This is the one place where we can all behave like animals. I’m rather loving the noise and the mess myself!”

  “Oh, I am too, I am!” laughed Mrs. Bold. “And no one is taking any notice of me anyway, let’s face it! But unless we want these animals living with us for the rest of our lives, we really do need to teach them how to eat and behave like humans or they’ll never be able to move on.”

  “Would it be OK if Minnie came for tea soon and met everyone?” asked Betty. Minnie was Betty’s best friend from school, and she knew all about the Bolds’ secret identity. In fact, she was the only human who knew the truth about the Bold family, but she was a good friend and had never told anyone.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Bold. “I love Minnie dearly and it would be lovely to see her, but I feel a little anxious about her coming round when there’s a crocodile in the house. Don’t forget what happened to the previous Mr. and Mrs. Bold.”

  Suddenly there was a loud knock at the front door.

  “Hmmm,” said Mr. Bold. “If you ask me, that noise was made from a hoof, not a hand or a paw. Let’s see if I’m right.”

  Chapter 5

  Mr. Bold went into the hall, and Betty and Bobby followed him curiously. As he opened the door they were shocked to see two rather odd creatures, their faces barely visible beneath blankets wrapped around their heads like nuns’ wimples.

  “Good evening. Can I help you, er, ladies?” asked Mr. Bold brightly.

  “Mr. Bold?” whispered the one on the left, revealing a glimpse of two large, frightened eyes.

  “Yes, correct!”

  “Oh, thank goodness. Please let us in before he catches us.” Both visitors glanced nervously up Fairfield Road and looked pleadingly at Mr. Bold and the twins.

  “Come in at once,” said Mr. Bold, opening the door wide.

  There was a whinny of relief and a cloud of dusty breath from beneath the blankets.

  “Thank you, thank you so much,” said the one who hadn’t spoken yet, and Mr. Bold ushered them into the lounge, which was empty apart from Uncle Tony asleep in an armchair—a red, meaty residue drying into a thick crust around his wispy beard, and Miranda the marmoset monkey curled up on his lap. Her eyes opened wide in astonishment as she saw who was entering the room.

  Something in the fearful look of the strangers made Bobby and Betty glance out the window, although they had no idea what they were so scared of.

  “No one there. You’re safe now,” Betty said reassuringly.

  “Who are you and how can I help?” her father asked the new arrivals.

  The guests looked relieved, then shook the blankets off their heads to reveal fine equine features, beautiful, deep shining eyes and magnificent, flowing manes.

  “Horses!” cried Bobby.

  “I say!” exclaimed Mr. Bold and then, inevitably:

  “I’m sure that’s a very funny joke, but I’m afraid we’re too upset to laugh at the moment,” said the larger of the two horses. “We’re a bit jittery.”

  “I’m sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” smiled Mr. Bold as he admired the two fine horses now standing in his lounge, their rippling muscles quivering with nerves.

  The bigger one was a shiny black all over, with just a dash of white on his
forehead, and his female friend was a light honey color with a golden mane and long legs.

  “I’m Gangster’s Moll,” she said, bowing her head. “And this is Minty Boy.”

  “Delighted,” said Minty Boy, still glancing around him as if someone or something might leap out and grab him at any moment.

  “Please try and relax,” said Mr. Bold. “What is it you’re both so frightened of?”

  Minty Boy rolled his eyes with the horror of it all. “Oh dear, Mr. Bold, you have no idea what we’ve been though!”

  “Awful! Terrible! Unspeakable!” agreed Gangster’s Moll, her voice louder and higher with each word.

  “Please calm down, the pair of you,” said Mr. Bold. “You can tell me all about it later. Meanwhile, would you like something to eat or drink? Might help to settle you. Betty, go and ask your mother whether there’s any of that carrot risotto left. Bobby, see if you can find a bucket of water.” Mr. Bold could see that the new arrivals were of a nervous, highly-strung disposition.

  “Have you got a garden?” asked Minty Boy, his back legs crossing one over the other.

  “Yes. Just out the back,” said Mr. Bold. “Let me show you the way.”

  “Thank you. I haven’t been since we left Cheltenham. What I need to do will be very good for your roses . . .”

  “Ah, Cheltenham, where the racecourse is?” asked Mr. Bold. “Just as I figured. You two are racehorses, aren’t you?”

  “Indeed we are, Mr. Bold. And we desperately need your help.”

  Chapter 6

  Once the handsome stallion and the beautiful mare had made themselves comfortable in the garden, they returned to the lounge—where all the other members of the household (and Number 39) filed in to meet them. Mr. and Mrs. Bold, Bobby and Betty, Mr. McNumpty, Uncle Tony and Miranda, Sheila the crocodile, Fifi the French poodle, and Roger the sheep, not to mention the cat and her kittens, the turtle, and the seagulls, all sat crosslegged on the floor in front of them, eager to hear their story.