The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Seaside

by Sorrel Anderson

  and eaten all the biscuits everyone set to work assembling Howard’s sandcastle.

  They patted the sand into shape and stuck on the shells, and when they’d finished they stood back to have a look.

  ‘It looks beautiful,’ said Allen.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Purvis, sounding uncertain.

  ‘It looks enormous, said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Hmm,’ said Purvis, sounding worried.

  ‘It looks really strange having a sandcastle sticking up from the middle of the carpet like that,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Yes,’ said Purvis, ‘it does. I think we need to make it blend in a bit.’

  ‘We could paint the carpet yellow, to match the sand,’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

  ‘I’d say the sand’s more a lightish brown kind of a colour really,’ said Allen.

  ‘And we haven’t got any paint,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Custard, then,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Eh?’ said everyone.

  ‘There’s probably loads of Custard in this hotel. If we get some and pour it over the carpet, the sandcastle won’t stand out so much.’

  ‘In a way,’ said Purvis.

  ‘But it would still be a little too yellow, I think,’ said Allen.

  ‘Mustard then,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Mustardy Custard. CUSTARDY—’

  ‘Shhhhh!’ said Purvis. ‘We want it to look like a beautiful beach, not a load Spilt dinner.’

  There was a small scuffle.

  Stop! said Elizabeth. They stopped.

  ‘Save it for later,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Let’s just get some extra sand and sprinkle it.’

  ‘Off we go again then,’ said Mickey Thompson, cheerfully, and headed for the door.

  ‘Err…’ said Allen.

  ‘What is it, Allen?’ said Purvis.

  ‘I was wondering,’ said Allen, looking around.

  ‘Yes, Allen?’ said Purvis.

  ‘Maybe I should stay here and guard the sandcastle. I just thought it might be a good idea.’

  ‘It is! Thanks, Allen,’ said Purvis.

  ‘We wouldn’t want anything to happen to it, would we?’ said Allen.

  ‘You’re quite right, Allen,’ said Purvis.

  ‘It’s probably best if I do it from up here, actually,’ said Allen, jumping on to the bed. ‘I’ll get a better view that way.’

  ‘Good plan,’ said Purvis. ‘See you soon, Allen.’

  There was no reply.

  ‘We won’t be long,’ said Purvis.

  There was a loud.

  snore from the bed, so the others set off: back-along-the-corridor-and-into-the-lift-and-out-of-the-lift-and-through-the-empty-foyer-and-all-the-way-down-to-he-beach, -and-filled-the-barrow-with-sand, -and-turned-to-trundle-back-again.

  ‘Wait!’ said Elizabeth.

  They waited.

  ‘More shells,’ said Elizabeth. They added more shells.

  ‘And seaweed,’ directed Elizabeth. So they gathered some seaweed.

  ‘Also pebbles,’ said Elizabeth, and they trotted off to find some pebbles.

  ‘Look at this,’ called Mickey Thompson, kicking a large flat one.

  ‘Oh!’ said the pebble. Mickey Thompson fell over back wards.

  ‘That isn’t a pebble,’ said Purvis, prodding. ‘It’s a crab.’

  ‘Oh, oh,’ said the crab. ‘Stop that. Stop it.’

  ‘Oo, sorry,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I’m bruised,’ said the crab. ‘You’ve bruised me all over.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said Purvis, ‘we didn’t—’

  ‘Great rough j-a-b-b-i-n-g fingers. Why must you use me so harshly? Mm? Mmmm?’

  ‘Oh dear…’ said Purvis.

  ‘Oh look!’ said Mickey

  Thompson. ‘Here comes Elizabeth! Help, Elizabeth.’

  Elizabeth arrived and peered down at the crab.

  ‘Allright, Lenny?’

  ‘Leonard,’ tutted the crab.

  ‘Good afternoon, Elizabeth and thank you for your kind enquiry but no I am not allright. I am very much not allright indeed.’

  Purvis and Mickey Thompson exchanged glances.

  ‘Why’s that then, Len?’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Leonard,’ said the crab. ‘Because I’m covered in bruises, that’s why.’

  ‘You’ll live,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Coming along with us then, Lenny-boy? Fancy a little outing? Might cheer you up.’

  ‘Leonard,’ said the crab, ‘and no I do not. I do not need cheering up: I’m perfectly fine.’

  ‘That’s the spirit,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Apart from the bruises,’ said Leonard, quickly. ‘So, err… where are you going, anyway?’

  ‘Hotel,’ said Elizabeth, nodding in that direction.

  HOTEL

  ‘You must be mad,’ said Leonard. ‘How can I be expected to undertake such a trip in my condition? Mm? Mmmm?’

  ‘Later then, Len,’ said Elizabeth, starting to walk away.

  ‘Wait,’ said Leonard. ‘Oh allright, I’ll come. I suppose.’

  ‘Hotel it is,’ said Elizabeth, so they plunked Leonard on top of the wheelbarrow and trundled back to the hotel.

  ‘Oh ow,’ said Leonard. ‘Mind, will you? You’re bumping me.’

  ‘Sorry, Lenny-boy,’ said Mickey Thompson, brightly.

  ‘Shoosh,’ giggled Purvis.

  ‘What’s all the shooshing?’

  Snapped Leonard, as they rushed through the empty foyer and arrived at the lift.

  ‘All go today, Elizabeth,’ said the lift, v - e - r - y s - l - o - w - l - y.

  ‘S’all go today,’ agreed Elizabeth, v - e - r - y s - l - o - w - l - y back.

  ‘Got Nev helping out too, have you?’ said the lift, looking at Leonard.

  ‘What?’ said Leonard.

  ‘He fancied a little outing,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Oh-ah,’ said the lift. ‘How’s you then, Nev?’

  ‘It’s Leonard,’ said Leonard. ‘El. En. Ud.’

  ‘Right you are, lovey,’ said the lift, and clunked them s - l - o - w - l - y up to the second floor.

  ‘Look, Leonard!’ said Purvis, when they arrived at the room. ‘What do you think of the sandcastle?’

  ‘Whatever on earth has happened to this door?’ said Leonard.

  ‘Oh… err…‘ said Purvis.

  ‘Spot of bother,’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘I sorted it.’

  ‘And why is there all this other mess?’ said Leonard.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Purvis.

  ‘It isn’t mess,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘It’s a present, for Howard.’

  ‘Poor Howard,’ said Leonard. ‘That’s the one,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Anyway,’ said Purvis, quickly, ‘we haven’t even finished yet.

  We’ve still got all this extra stuff to sprinkle.’

  So Purvis and Mickey Thompson sprinkled sand and shells and pebbles and seaweed over and around the room while the others watched and Allen snored.

  ‘It must be nearly tea-time by now,’ said Mickey Thompson, once they’d finished.

  ‘Wha’?’ said Allen, waking up.

  ‘Did somebody mention tea-time?’

  ‘At last,’ said Leonard. ‘I’m gasping.’

  ‘A-hem,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Not so fast. You could do a lot more with that seaweed, in my opinion.’

  ‘Oo,’ said Allen.

  ‘How do you mean?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘Make it more of a feature.

  ‘S’ nice bit of seaweed, that.’

  ‘Not that nice,’ muttered Leonard. Elizabeth glowered at him. ‘S’ very nice,’ she said, firmly. ‘We could drape it across the window,’ suggested Purvis.

  ‘Or dangle it from the ceiling,’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Or chuck it in the bin,’ suggested Leonard.

  Elizabeth glowered harder.

  ‘Not if you wants your tea and your ride back to the beach, Lenny-me-old-son.’

 
‘Allright allright, keep your hair on,’ said Leonard,

  Scuttling under Ortrud.

  ‘I’VE GOT AN IDEA!’ shouted Allen.

  Everyone looked at Allen.

  ‘Let’s write “HOWARD” with it, on the bed!’

  Everyone stared at Allen.

  ‘Err…’ said Allen.

  ‘Now that,’ said Elizabeth, ‘is a Very Good Idea.’

  ‘N—’ began Leonard.

  ‘What?’ said Elizabeth.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Leonard.

  So they wrote the word “HOWARD” with the seaweed on the bed.

  Suddenly there were foot-steps outside in the corridor.

  ‘Here comes Howard,’ said Purvis. ‘Quick, let’s hide in the bathroom and spring out as a Surprise.’

  Everyone bundled into the bathroom just in time as the footsteps stopped. Everyone held their breath as the broken door creaked open.

  And everyone jumped as there was a great roaring noise and Mr Bullerton started to shout.

  ‘VANDALISM!’

  Shouted Mr Bullerton.

  ‘MY ROOM’S BEEN VANDALISED!’

  Shouted Mr Bullerton.

  ‘I WANT THE HOTEL MANAGER!’

  Shouted Mr Bullerton.

  ‘We’ve made a mistake,’ whispered Purvis.

  ‘That’s why the door wouldn’t open, then,’ whispered Mickey Thompson, back.

  ‘MANAGER!’

  Shouted Mr Bullerton.

  There was the sound of running and someone arrived.

  ‘Oo-err,’ said the someone. ‘Whatever on earth have you done?’

  ‘ME?’ bellowed Mr Bullerton. ‘This was not ME! And why are YOU here? I don’t need a receptionist: I need the manager.’

  ‘The manager’s a bit busy at the moment, sir,’ said the receptionist.

  ‘How dare you?’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘I. WANT. THE. MANAGER!’

  ‘I think I’d better get the manager,’ said the receptionist.

  ‘MANAGER!’

  ‘MANAGER!’ Shouted Mr Bullerton.

  ‘MANAGER!’ shouted the receptionist.

  There was the sound of running and someone else arrived.

  ‘I am the manager,’ said the manager. ‘What seems to be the…oh!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘Oh.’

  ‘But how did you… why did you…?’

  ‘DON’T YOUHOWANDWHY ME,’ shouted Mr Bullerton.

  ‘No, sir,’ said the manager.

  ‘I’VEHOW’D AND WHY’D

  NOTHING

  Shouted Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Err, yes, I mean no, sir,’ said the manager.

  ‘This room has been VANDALISED, as any fool can see. Now DO SOMETHING.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ said the receptionist.

  ‘WHAT?’barked Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Who’s Howard? Are you Howard?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Mr Bullerton, icily.

  ‘Only that’s what it says on the bed there. Look.’

  They looked.

  ‘Oh no,’ whispered Purvis.

  ‘That’s torn it,’ whispered Mickey Thompson, back.

  ‘Howard Armitage,’ said Mr Bullerton, very quietly.

  ‘Who’s Howard Armitage?’ asked the receptionist.

  ‘Howard Armitage’ said Mr Bullerton, a little less quietly.

  ‘Do you know this Howard Armitage?’ asked the manager.

  ‘HOWARD ARMITAGE!’roared Mr Bullerton, extremely loudly. ‘GET HIM. BRING HIM TO ME.’

  ‘Now sir,’ began the manager, ‘if you’ll just try and keep calm I’ll…’

  Further up the corridor a door opened and Howard’s head appeared.

  ‘Hello?’ said Howard. ‘I thought I heard somebody calling my name.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘Mr Armitage. I wonder, Mr Armitage, whether you’d mind just popping along here for a moment, if you’d be so good. There’s something I think you might be able to help me with.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Howard. ‘I—’

  ‘NOW!!!’ roared Mr Bullerton.

  There was the sound of running and Howard arrived.

  ‘Oh,’ said the receptionist, ‘him. Yes I’ve seen him. He’s the one who tried to bring the dog in, earlier.’

  ‘What?’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Dog?’ said the manager.

  ‘No!’ said Howard.

  ‘You did!’ said the receptionist. ‘It was you,

  I’m sure it was. I said is it a guide dog cos if it is you can bring it in but if it isn’t you can’t and you said no it wasn’t so I said then you couldn’t and you went.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Howard.

  ‘And then you came back in again and—’

  ‘NO!’ said Howard. ‘Ha ha. No, no, no.’

  ‘I see,’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘No dogs are allowed in this hotel,’ said the manager, to Howard. ‘Not unless they’re guide dogs.’

  ‘I’d gathered that,’ muttered Howard.

  The manager gave Howard a NASTY look.

  ‘If I was to find you had brought a dog in here, sir, there would be consequences.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Mr Bullerton, through gritted teeth. ‘There would.’

  ‘Well I don’t have one on me at the moment,’ said Howard, ‘and you’re welcome to search my room. There’s definitely no dog in there.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we will,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘But first: this!’ and with a flourish he stepped away from the door. Howard peered in.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes!’ said Mr Bullerton, triumphantly. ‘Oh! And would you kindly explain to me why there’s the word” HOWARD”, written in seaweed, ON MY BED.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Howard. ‘Do you think that says “HOWARD”? It doesn’t look like” HOWARD” to me; it looks more like… err…’

  ‘More like err…?’ said Mr Bullerton.

  ‘More like, err…’

  ‘“HOWARD”,’ shouted Mr Bullerton. ‘IT LOOKS MORE LIKE EXACTLY LIKE “HOWARD”.’

  ‘That doesn’t necessarily mean I did it,’ said Howard.

  ‘He’s got a point there,’ said the receptionist.

  ‘We need to conduct a thorough investigation of the room,’ said the manager. ‘There will be evidence.’

  ‘They’ll find us!’ whispered Purvis.

  ‘We’re for it!’ whispered Mickey Thompson, back.

  ‘Leave it to me,’ said Elizabeth. Braying noisily, she charged out of the bathroom into the bedroom and galloped about, scattering sand and seaweed.

  ‘Not you again!’

  shrieked the receptionist.

  Elizabeth chargedout of the bedroom scattering the receptionist and the manager and Howard and Mr Bullerton and galloped up the corridor, snorting.

  ‘SHOO! Naughty donkey, you!’ said the receptionist, chasing after her.

  ‘There’s your culprit,’ said the manager, to Mr Bullerton.

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘How do you explain the “HOWARD”?’

  ‘I’m not so sure that’s what it says after all, now I look at it again,’ said the manager.

  ‘Well of course not now,’ spluttered Mr Bullerton, ‘but—’

  ‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ve got work to do,’ said the manager, setting off out of the bedroom and into the corridor. ‘She’s trouble, that donkey.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Leonard, CROSSLY. ‘How am I supposed to get back to the beach now, mm? Walk, I suppose—bruises and all.’

  Leonard set off out of the bathroom into the bedroom just as Mr Bullerton lunged at the manager, slipped on some seaweed, tripped over the barrow and started to topple.

  ‘WHOA!’ wailed Mr Bullerton.

  ‘NOOO!’ shrieked Leonard.CRASH! went Mr Bullerton on to Leonard.

  SNAP! went Leonard’s claws on to Mr Bullerton’s bottom.

  ‘WOO-WOOO-HOO-HOO-HOOOO!!!’

  Screeched Mr Bullerton, setting off up the corridor at a quic
k sprint, Leonard firmly attached.

  ‘Is that trolley still outside?’ said Howard.

  ‘Yes,’ said Purvis. ‘It is.’

  ‘Then let’s get out of here, fast,’ said Howard.

  And they did.

  HAVE YOU READ THE FIRST

  CRAZY Clumsies ADVENTURE?

  If not then what are you waiting for? It wasn’t

  Sunday Times children’s book of the week and Telegraph

  children’s book of the week for nothing, you know!

  Howard picked up an empty water glass and placed it over the mouse. “You’ll stay in there so I can eat my breakfast in peace. I shall deal with you afterwards…”

  But you can’t really deal with the Clumsies. From the moment when Howard Armitage first finds two talking mice under his desk, his life is turned completely upside down.

  Obsessed with biscuits and forever hatching silly plans, the Clumsies are not your average mice—and they’re only really good for one thing…

  Copyright

  First published in paperback in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2010

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  77–85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

  Visit us on the web at www.harpercollins.co.uk

  1

  Text copyright © Sorrel Anderson 2010

  ISBN: 978-0-00-733935-8

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  EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN: 978-0-007-42060-5