by Julian Clary
Group Therapy proved to be a vital part of their rehabilitation and recovery. With quivering voices they managed to tell everyone about some of the horrible treatment they had suffered at the hands of their previous owner, Tarquin Twit-Twot.
“Awful as it was, that is all in the past,” Mr. McNumpty told them. “Try to let it go. You’re among friends now.”
“Yes, you are,” confirmed Betty. “We will never let anything nasty happen to you again.”
“Thank you,” said Minty Boy softly.
“Do you promise?” asked Gangster’s Moll.
“Yes, we promise with all our hearts,” Bobby reassured them.
“Group hug, everyone!” cried Uncle Tony. And all the animals, of all shapes and sizes, gathered around the two frightened horses and gave them a long, tight hug, which made them feel much, much better.
So, day by day, week by week, the lessons continued. To reassure Gangster’s Moll and Minty Boy that they were safe and no one was still hunting for them, Miranda the marmoset monkey still spent most of her time on the lounge windowsill, watching out for anything suspicious. “I keep looky-eye out,” she told the horses.
But there was no sign of any horse trailers, or indeed of Dodgy Dean. Fairfield Road remained a quiet, suburban street, where very little happened that was out of the ordinary.
For now, anyway.
Chapter 9
Every day, as usual, Betty and Bobby Bold went to school but were always home in time for the Group Therapy sessions, which they didn’t take very seriously at all. In fact, the whole house seemed to be far too serious these days for the twins’ liking, and they missed all the laughter there used to be at Number 41. Well, they were hyenas after all.
One hot day in June they brought their best friend, Minnie, home for tea. She’d been desperate for weeks to meet the new Bold housemates and see the new Bold school she’d heard so much about from the twins. Mrs. Bold had finally agreed to let her come but had warned Sheila to be on her best behavior.
Perhaps someone should have warned the twins and Minnie to be on their best behavior too, because once those children were together there was always going to be some trouble and mischief. And today was no exception.
When the children got home from school, as usual they found all the animals in the middle of a group therapy session in the lounge, and Minnie was soon very bored. “I wish we could stop the session so I could meet everyone properly,” she said. “That poodle looks hilarious. I love her outfit.”
Bobby started to giggle. “I think I might have a brilliant idea,” he said, and, producing a whoopee cushion, he crept into the lounge.
Roger was standing up addressing the group about his fear of open fields, so Bobby sneaked up behind him and placed the whoopee cushion on the sheep’s chair just before he sat back down. The loud farting noise which followed made everyone laugh, but unfortunately had the opposite effect on Gangster’s Moll and Minty Boy, who flew into one of their tizzies and ran, whinnying, in circles.
To calm themselves down they stuck their heads and necks out the window to get some air. But unfortunately the local Teddington police car was patrolling down Fairfield Road just at that moment, and the police officers’ suspicions were quickly aroused.
“Hold up,” said Officer Pete, sitting in the front passenger seat. “That seems odd, Bernard. I swear I just saw two horses hanging out that window.”
“Did you really? How very odd. Should I put the siren on?” asked Officer Bernard, pulling gently up to the curb outside 41 Fairfield Road.
“No, Bernie, not yet,” said Pete. “Wasn’t there something on the news about two runaway horses around here?”
“You’re right, Pete!” exclaimed Bernard, narrowing his eyes. “I think perhaps we should pay this residence a visit, pronto.”
“Gotcha,” said Pete as Bernard put the parking brake on and turned off the engine. “There had better be a good explanation for this, or they’re in trouble.”
“Do we need our tasers or truncheons?” continued Pete, opening his door and getting ready to jump out.
“Both,” answered Bernard, his expression one of grim determination. “This could be just the case we’ve been waiting for, Pete. ‘Missing racehorses found in Teddington HOUSE.’ Imagine! We’ll get an award, medals, promotion . . . maybe invited to tea at Buckingham Palace . . .”
Miranda, who had been dozing at her post on the windowsill, woke up when she heard the car doors slam and the police officers striding toward the house. She slipped off the sill to raise the alarm, crying, “Men comes, men comes! Hide!” By then the horses had darted inside as quickly as they could, closed the window, and drawn the curtains.
“Police!” whinnied Minty Boy. “Maybe they saw us!”
“Police!” shrieked Miranda simultaneously in her high-pitched voice. “Parked outside! Mr. Boldy! Mrs. Boldy!”
“They’re coming! Police raid! Help! Help!” joined in Gangster’s Moll, hysterical now and running in circles with a sweating Minty Boy. The other animals scattered in all directions as they dived for cover to avoid the blur of hooves, fur, and horsey breath that filled the room.
Then came a firm, official-sounding knock at the door, and everyone froze in shocked silence.
“Emergency Drill!” said Mr. Bold in a very loud whisper. “Don’t panic, everyone! Emergency! Emergency! You know the drill! We’ve been rehearsing for just this moment for the last few weeks.”
Sheila, Fifi, Roger, Minty Boy, Gangster’s Moll, Bobby, Betty, Minnie, Uncle Tony, Mr McNumpty, Miranda, and Mrs. Bold all stared at him in wide-eyed dread. The room was full of the sound of thoughtful breathing.
Then came another, louder knock. “Police!” came a muffled call. “Open up, please, or we’ll have to break the door down with, er, something big and heavy . . . Police!”
Mrs. Bold was the first to snap out of it. “Action stations, everyone! Chop chop!” she said with authority. Suddenly all the animals sprang into life, remembering the Emergency Drill they had practiced. “Fred, you go and answer the door. Stall them for as long as you can, dear!” said Mrs. Bold.
Mr. Bold gave a final, nervous glance around the room. “Good luck, all,” he said. “And remember—we do this for animals everywhere!”
He hurried down the hallway, calling out as cheerfully as he could, “One moment! Sorry to keep you!” He patted his forehead to check that his bristly fringe was as neat as possible, and then arranged his face into a friendly smile. Finally he opened the door.
“Good evening, officers,” he said with exaggerated calmness. “How can I help you two gentlemen?”
“We have reason to believe,” said Officer Bernard, peering over Mr. Bold’s shoulder as if he expected to see something very large and unusual behind him, “that, er, something suspicious might be going on here.”
“Suspicious, ossifer? I mean, officer?” said Mr. Bold, the picture of innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Horses, sir,” said Officer Pete. “Missing horses, to be precise. My colleague and I were patrolling this street when I thought I saw, leaning out of your front window, what appeared to be two racehorses. Can you explain this, sir?”
“Horses?” laughed Mr. Bold nervously. “Neigh!—I mean, no! I’ve never heard such nonsense! This is an ordinary family home. Where on earth would we put two great big horses?”
“We’d like to come in and have a look around, nevertheless,” said Officer Bernard.
“Of course,” trembled Fred. “But how about a quick joke first?” He raised his voice to cover a flurry of activity from within.
“I don’t think we have time for that now, if you don’t mind,” said Officer Pete suspiciously. “This is a serious visit.”
“Oh, always time for a good joke, surely?” stalled Fred. “I make my living writing Christmas cracker jokes. You really must hear some. Here goes!”
The two police officers were stony-faced.
“Well, how about this one?”
But Fred wasn’t finished yet.
“I must say, that one was rather good!” said Officer Pete, breaking into a chuckle. “Which reminds me . . .”
Mr. Bold laughed as long and as loudly as he could. Shaking his head with mirth, he said, “Oh, very good, officer. Bravo! I must remember that one, I really must. I shall put it into a Christmas cracker, if you don’t mind.”
Officer Pete looked thrilled.
“Anyway, sir,” said Officer Bernard, rocking backward and forward on his heels with impatience. “If you don’t mind, may we come in now?”
Mr. Bold glanced nervously toward the lounge door. “Why yes, of course! You won’t find anything illegal going on here, I can assure you. No horses, ponies, donkeys, or mules under this roof. The very idea! Just one happy family.” He led the way along the corridor and into the lounge.
Inside was a perfect picture of domestic contentment. Mr. McNumpty and Uncle Tony were sitting at a small table by the window playing dominoes, Mrs. Bold was standing by the bookcase, busy with some ironing, and the twins and Minnie were sitting on the sofa doing their homework, a cute doll in a pram by their side. The two policemen came in and looked around.
“Evening, all,” said Officer Bernard. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“Oh, no bother,” said Mrs. Bold as she spread a large sheet over the rather wobbly ironing board. “I expect you’re only doing your job. I hoof—I mean, have just been doing a spot of ironing.”
“Are you looking for bank robbers?” asked Bobby as the officers walked around the room and stood to admire the two large lamps either side of the fireplace.
“Lovely pair, aren’t they?” said Mr. McNumpty. “Antiques. I believe they’re from the Far East.”
“Humph,” said Officer Bernard, moving in to take a closer look. He was about to step onto the fluffy apricot hearth rug when Minnie called out, “Stop! You can’t walk on the rug with your big policeman boots!”
Officer Bernard stopped where he was and looked down at the rug. “Beg pardon?” he said.
“It’s, er, priceless, you see,” jumped in Uncle Tony. “Very delicate weave from, er, Morocco.”
“Very nice, I’m sure,” said Officer Pete. “Went there once on holiday with the wife.”
After a few minutes of awkward silence during which the policemen continued to look around the room—even examining the ceiling, under the sofa, and behind the curtains—they shrugged at each other.
“Oh well,” said Officer Bernard. ‘Everything seems to be in order in here. Pete, you check the rest of the house.”
“Righto,” said Pete, who then disappeared for a few minutes to inspect the other rooms. “No sightings of any horses to report, Bernard,” he said when he returned. “Smells a bit feral up there, mind you,” he added. “But no law against that.”
“That may be my wife’s perfume. It’s called Animal Magic,” said Mr. Bold in a moment of inspiration. “Not to everyone’s taste . . .”
The two policemen stared at Mrs. Bold, who shrugged. “According to the slogan it’s designed to ‘bring out the beast in your man.’ ” She smiled coyly at Mr. Bold.
Officer Pete coughed. “Ahem. Guess we’ll be off then. Although I’m sure . . .” He trailed off mid-sentence.
Officer Bernard took over, sounding suddenly determined. “Now look here,” he said to the room in general. “If my colleague says he saw horses leaning out of the window of this room then he almost definitely did. Where did you put ’em, eh?”
Everyone looked at him in astonishment. Betty stifled a giggle.
“Horses, did you say?” asked Mrs. Bold, sounding incredulous. “That’s hilarious! What a funny suggestion! I haven’t seen any horses in here, have you, children? Tony? Mr. McNumpty? Mr. Bold?” Everyone shook their heads vigorously at the very idea of two horses being in a house.
“You should rein in your imagination a little,” said Mr. McNumpty.
“Ha ha ha!” laughed Mrs. Bold, and everyone apart from the police officers joined in. The lamp to the left of the fireplace began to tremble a little, but Mr. McNumpty jumped up and stood in front of it so the gentlemen of the law didn’t notice.
“No, officers. No horses in this room of any kind. As you can see. I suggest you try Bushy Park. Might see some there if you’re lucky.”
“Must have been a trick of the light, I suppose . . .” said Officer Pete, losing interest in the missing horses and rather enjoying the jokes instead.
Everyone laughed long and loud at Mr. Bold’s joke, including the two police officers—who had a few more of their own.
Mr. Bold ushered the two laughing officers toward the front door, tears of mirth running down their cheeks. By the time they fell out the door a few seconds later, they were laughing so much they could hardly stand up.
“Goodbye, officers!” said Mr. Bold happily, waving to Pete and Bernard as they drove off. “Do drop in whenever you’re galloping by, I mean passing by!”
He shut the door at last, and breathed a sigh of relief before hurrying back to the lounge.
“Phew, that was close! All clear, folks!” he said.
With a loud exhalation the two lamps on either side of the fireplace began to move. Then legs appeared and lifted off the lampshades to reveal Minty Boy and Gangster’s Moll.
“I was so nervous it wouldn’t work, but it did!” said Minty Boy, slipping back down onto all fours.
Mrs. Bold whipped the sheet off the ironing board and there was Sheila, lying flat and still across Roger’s back.
“I got cramp a couple of times, but I managed to breathe through it! Good thing the iron wasn’t actually switched on,” Sheila said, sliding onto the floor. “It was jolly hard work keeping stiff and still like that. Got any cheese I could eat?”
“I must say you are quite a heavy girl!” exclaimed Roger, rubbing his sore shoulders against the side of the sofa. “Did someone say cheese?”
“Heavy?” said Sheila indignantly. “I’m just big-boned, that’s all.”
Suddenly the apricot rug sprang to life. “Alors!” declared Fifi. “I was almost trodden on!”
“I saved you!” said Minnie proudly.
“Merci beaucoup! You deserve a little Camembert, perhaps?”
“Well done, EVERYONE!” said a beaming Mrs. Bold. “Our Emergency Drill worked like a dream, and I’m very proud of you all, each and every one of you.”
“Cheese on toast all round!” declared Mr. Bold, and he went to the kitchen to prepare a well-deserved snack for all the hungry housemates.
Chapter 10
After their close shave with the police, all the animals took their lessons a lot more seriously. The sooner they could walk, talk, and work as humans, the better: one slip-up by any one of them and the future of them all would be in jeopardy. The next time someone came knocking at their door they might not be so lucky. Everyone was focused and determined—everyone apart from Sheila.
“I’ve got an awful feeling I’ve made a terrible mistake,” she said during Group Therapy one day. “I love being a crocodile. I’ve realized that. It was living in the sewers underneath Teddington that I didn’t like.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Bold. “You mean you don’t want to live as a human anymore?”
“No. I don’t. I can’t be bothered with the dressing up and the table manners, the pleases and thank-yous. I have the overwhelming urge to stalk my own prey, snap and gulp it down in one swallow. I can’t help it! I’ve tried and tried to change, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.” Tears began to roll down the crocodile’s cheeks. “But what can I do?” Sheila sobbed. “I can’t fit down the toilet anymore, I’ve grown too much. And even if I could, life down there is terrible.”
“How about the River Thames? You could splash about in there, and there are lots of fish. I’ve seen them,” suggested Bobby.
“
Too dangerous.” Mr. McNumpty shook his head. “Imagine the fuss if a croc was seen in the Thames! I’m afraid the police would be involved again and this time they’d shoot you.”
This only made Sheila cry even more. “I’m trapped!” she wailed. “Stuck in a world I don’t want to be in. It’s all a terrible, wretched mistake.”
There was silence for a while. No one in the group could think of any way out of Sheila’s situation.
“Maybe you’re just having a bad day,” said Betty brightly. “It happens to me sometimes. Then I have a warm bath and go to sleep and in the morning I feel much better. I wonder what I was so miserable about.”
“Oui, ma chérie,” agreed Fifi. “Moi aussi! Me too! I have the artistic temperament, but always the sadness passes finalement.”
Uncle Tony passed the box of tissues that they always kept handy during Group Therapy, and Sheila wiped her big, green eyes.
“Yes, I expect you are right,” she said, not very convincingly. “I’ll feel better tomorrow, I’m sure.”
“This process isn’t easy,” said Mrs. Bold. “But we are all here to support one anther through the hard times as well as the good times. Would you like to try on one of my new hats? I’ve made one out of an old trashcan lid and some cling wrap. I think it will suit you.”
“Oh, Amelia,” said Sheila, brightening up at the thought. “Don’t mind if I do!”
The Group Therapy session finished with Sheila trying on several new hats, Mr. Bold telling lots of jokes and Fifi singing some cheerful songs. By the end of the hour Sheila was feeling a bit better, and she even announced that her desire to live as a crocodile again was probably just a phase.