“I don’t want to die in a cold, dark place,” said Bert. “In fact, I don’t want to die in a warm, light place either.”
“What are we going to do?” cried Cam.
Gramps glanced down at the water, which was now covering the floor. “I’ll tell you exactly what we’re going to do,” he said. “You two need to pull alternately against the rope that’s binding you together. If you rub it against the stalagmite, eventually, the rope will fray and break. I’ll do what I can but I can’t seem to move at all. Once you’re free, you can untie me.”
The twins nodded and began tugging at their rope.
“Not like that,” said Cam. “If we pull at the same time then we’ll never get anywhere.”
“You’re doing it wrong,” replied Bert.
“You are!”
“Pull when I say.”
“No, you pull when I say.”
“Stop fighting!” yelled Gramps. “For the love of cheese, why can’t you work together?”
Cam and Bert looked down at their feet. Their shoes were now completely covered in water.
“We can,” said Bert. “We had to during the Great Moose Cheese Chase.”
“And what happened?” asked Gramps.
“We nearly won.”
“Exactly!” cried Gramps. “Now get a move on!”
The twins began pulling the rope alternately. It didn’t move very much because they were so tightly bound, but even the smallest of movements helped.
“That’s it,” said Gramps. “You’re doing it. Keep going.”
They couldn’t see each other’s faces, as they both had their backs against the stalagmite. But as they settled into a rhythm it was almost as if they could sense what the other was doing. It was slow, exhausting work and they had to stop several times to catch their breath. All the time, little by little, the freezing water was rising. It lapped around their legs, turning them to ice and making everything harder. The sound of the constant stream pouring from the hole was hard to ignore.
“Try not to think about the water,” called Gramps. “You’re doing really well. I can see a nick in the rope.”
Cam’s teeth started chattering. “M-my wrists are raw,” she stuttered. “We’ve been trying for hours and I’m so c-cold. I don’t know if I can keep this up.”
“Y-you have to,” said Bert, shivering. “I c-can’t do it without you.”
They carried on as the river steadily rose, covering their bound hands. Cam gasped for breath as it slapped against her belly.
“At least the water has f-frozen my wrists,” she said. “I can hardly feel my lower half at all.”
“Keep pulling,” urged Bert. “The water will loosen the ro—”
He broke off as they were plunged into darkness. The flood had swallowed up their precious torch. Cam gave a little yelp.
“I’m all right,” she gulped. “J-just keep working the rope – back, forward, back, forward – together.”
“Don’t lose hope, kids,” called Gramps through the darkness. “There’s always hope.”
But the water had now engulfed their whole bodies.
“It’s up to my neck,” Cam whispered. “I can hardly move. S-somebody help us. HELP!”
“We’re nearly there,” said Bert. “I can feel it fraying.”
Suddenly the rope snapped. The twins kicked their legs and wriggled free. They reached out for Gramps in the darkness. The water was covering his chin. They both dived down into the cold black water. Cam pulled desperately at the ropes that tied Gramps to the stalagmite. She could feel Bert tugging the other end. They came up a minute later gasping for air.
“There’s nothing you can do for me,” yelled Gramps. “Get out of here before the whole place fills to the roof. GO!”
“We’re not leaving you,” sobbed Cam, as Bert ducked down under the water again. “HELP! SOMEONE! ANYONE! HELP!”
Suddenly a familiar aroma began to fill the cavern. Bert resurfaced just as a loud splashing sound came from the narrow passage that led into the chamber.
“Someone’s coming!” he panted. “HELP! HELP! DOWN HERE!”
A dark figure plunged into the cave. It was wearing a head torch so they couldn’t see a face. It swam over to the leaking wall and stuffed something round into the hole, stopping the terrible sound of flowing water.
“I knew that lucky Stilton would come in handy one day,” said Primula Mold.
Rescue Mission
(One hour to go…)
Primula Mold produced a knife from her pocket. She stuck it between her teeth, dived under and sliced through the rope. Gramps bobbed to the top of the water. She followed close behind and began swimming towards the narrow passage.
“Come on,” she cried. “My lucky Stilton won’t hold for long.”
They followed her through the alley, which was now almost full to the ceiling. A gap of about thirty centimetres allowed them to breathe. Suddenly a loud POP sounded behind them, followed by a huge surge of water. They were propelled through the passage into the large cathedral cavern that lay beyond.
“The cheese has blown!” yelled Miss Mold. “The whole place is going to flood.”
They waded through the rapidly filling cave to the other side. A pinhole of light shone through a tunnel at the far end.
“Hurry!” called Miss Mold.
They splashed through the tunnel, squinting against the light at the other end.
“It’s morning already,” cried Cam. “We’ve been in that cavern all night.”
They emerged in a shallow cave. Fungus was waiting there. He ran around excitedly, his ears flapping against everyone’s wet legs. At first Cam thought it was the same cave where Mr Zola had stored the moose cheese. But as she looked around her, she realized that they had come out in a different place.
“We’ll be safe here,” panted Miss Mold, leaning against the wall and catching her breath. “The water won’t get this far. Good boy for waiting, Fungus.”
Gramps grabbed the twins and hugged them tightly against his chest. They all slowly sank to the floor.
“You saved their lives, Miss Mold,” he said. “And mine too. How can we ever thank you?”
Miss Mold looked curiously at the three soggy people slumped on the ground like a heap of freshly caught fish. “You can start by telling me what on earth is going on,” she said. “Fungus and I just came down to the cave to collect our moose cheese.”
She pointed to a sparkling yellow cheese streaked with blue, tucked into a recess in the cave.
“I saw that Royal Cheesemaker fellow heading towards the State Banquet early this morning,” she continued. “And I thought the twins would be close behind. So I rushed over here to grab my moose cheese. The Queen is bound to prefer mine. I’ve added a blue vein.”
“Mouldy moose cheese,” said Bert in awe. “Do you think Mr Zola realized the caves were flooding when he came to pick up our moose cheese?”
“He couldn’t have done,” said Miss Mold. “It was very early when I saw him. The water wouldn’t have reached the outer caves by then. But by the time I got here, I could hear the water rising. So I popped my head inside the cavern to have a quick look and heard someone scream. I got Fungus to guard the cheese and then ventured further in. I could hear you shouting for help.”
“Thank you, Miss Mold,” said Cam. “I thought you hated us.”
“I don’t hate you,” cried Miss Mold. “And Fungus certainly doesn’t. I just don’t want you scaring my beloved goats with your constant fighting and screaming. My animals are very important to me.”
Fungus gazed up adoringly at her as she tickled his chin.
“Sorry about that,” said Bert. “We didn’t mean to frighten your animals. But I thought you wanted to buy our land and bulldoze our farm.”
“It’s no secret that I want
to extend my dairy,” said Miss Mold. “And your land would come in very handy. But the truth is I would never demolish Whey Farm. It’s a slice of cheese history. I was trying to wind up your Gramps so that he would enter the moose-cheese competition. We’ve been competing over the best cheese for more than fifty years. I was disappointed when he said he wasn’t entering. It’s not as much fun if I can’t beat your grandfather – which I usually do.”
“I beg to differ,” said Gramps, getting to his feet. “You might have won best in show for the past few years, but before that—”
“Would you two stop arguing?” interrupted Bert. “It’s so annoying listening to them bicker all the time, isn’t it, Cam?”
Gramps and Miss Mold stared at him open-mouthed.
“Yes,” agreed Cam. “You two need to stop fighting and work together. The Queen’s life is at risk.”
Miss Mold’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What’s going on?”
Primula Mold listened attentively as the twins told her about Mr Zola’s evil plan to poison the Queen.
“Rennet from the third stomach?” she gasped. “The villain! We must hurry. I saw the guests for the State Banquet arriving earlier. The Queen and Monsieur Grand-Fromage will be here anytime.”
“Let’s go!” yelled the twins.
“Are you ready, Mr Curd?” asked Miss Mold.
“Ready when you are, Primula,” said Gramps. “And call me Cornelius.”
Time’s Up!
The twins emerged from the cave, blinking in the bright sun with Gramps, Miss Mold and Fungus close behind. They scrambled up the steep path to the top of the gorge. It was very slippery from all the rain the night before. A huge purple marquee rose up in the distance with a red, white and blue helicopter hovering above it.
“That’s her,” shouted Gramps. “Quickly! The Queen has arrived.”
They broke into a run. Gramps and Miss Mold lagged behind the twins with Fungus even further back, his short legs scrabbling frantically to keep up with everyone. They could hear the faint strains of “God Save the Queen” coming from a small orchestra, followed by “La Marseillaise”.
“That’s the French national anthem,” puffed Gramps. “Monsieur Grand-Fromage has arrived too. Hurry!”
It was a warm day and the sides of the purple marquee had been taken down. Cam and Bert could see a long white table stretching the length of the marquee. Two large chairs were positioned in the centre. The gathered guests all got to their feet as the Queen came to the table. She was accompanied by a tall man with an extremely large nose.
“That must be Monsieur Grand-Nose,” panted Bert. “I mean, Grand-Fromage.”
As the twins got closer, a large soldier dressed in a scarlet jacket with a tall furry hat stepped in their path.
“Halt!” he said. “Only invited guests are allowed past this point.”
“But the Queen is in terrible danger,” cried Cam, trying to barge her way past the soldier. He grabbed her arm, stopping her from going any further.
“Stop right there!” he yelled.
“Wait, you don’t understand,” shouted Bert. “She mustn’t eat the moose cheese! Don’t let her eat the cheese!”
“What are you talking about?” said the soldier, pulling out a walkie-talkie.
Bert tried to get by but the soldier grabbed him too.
“I have a disturbance on the south-west side,” he barked into his radio. “Backup required.”
Gramps and Primula Mold came puffing up, closely followed by two more soldiers.
“They’re telling the truth,” panted Gramps. “Let them go.”
But the soldiers just stood in their way.
“Leave now,” said one of them, “or I’ll have you arrested for disturbing the peace.”
Suddenly there was a loud cheer from the assembled guests. The twins peered round the soldiers to see Mr Zola approaching the table with a large silver platter covered with a shining domed lid. He bowed low before placing the platter in front of the Queen. The guests applauded enthusiastically.
“NO!” screamed Cam.
“STOP THAT MAN!” yelled Bert.
“That cheese is poisoned,” said Gramps to one of the soldiers. “Your head will roll if you don’t do something to stop this.”
The soldier hesitated and looked at his colleagues.
“It’s true!” screeched Primula Mold.
But the Queen was already taking the lid off. She smelled the large glowing cheese before accepting a sharp knife presented to her by a smiling Mr Zola. Monsieur Grand-Fromage also smelled the cheese. Cam thought she saw him frown as the Queen cut a small wedge.
“You have to stop this!” shouted Cam, trying to break free from the soldier. But he held them both firmly.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Fungus come bounding up behind them. He jumped as high as his short legs allowed and nipped the soldier on the bottom. The soldier yelped and released Bert and Cam. The pair of them sprinted towards the banquet. They could hear the soldiers right behind them. Mr Zola’s face fell as he saw them approaching.
“STOP!” screamed Cam.
“IT’S POISONOUS!” shouted Bert.
But it was too late. The twins watched in horror as the Queen lifted the wedge of deadly moose cheese to her mouth.
The Moose Ranger
Cam and Bert continued to run towards the Queen but were rugby-tackled to the ground by the pursuing soldiers. From a crumpled heap, the twins watched as Monsieur Grand-Fromage leapt from his seat and knocked the wedge of moose cheese from the Queen’s raised hand. The Queen shrieked (in a calm and regal way) as two of her bodyguards seized Monsieur Grand-Fromage. They in turn were seized by two of his bodyguards. Some of the guests started screaming. Mr Zola turned on his heels and began to walk away from the chaos.
“Arret!” shouted Monsieur Grand-Fromage. “Ce fromage d’orignaux est toxique!”
“I beg your pardon?” said the Queen.
“Those children are telling the truth,” cried Monsieur Grand-Fromage. “This moose cheese is poisonous. I am a cheese connoisseur and I can smell the toxic rennet from here.”
Two burly soldiers lifted the twins to their feet as Monsieur Grand-Fromage’s bodyguards stepped away from the Queen’s.
“Where is Mr Zola?” asked the Queen.
Mr Zola stopped mid-step. Monty was twitching nervously.
“Are these the children from Cheddar Gorge that you were telling me about?” she asked. “I thought you said they had disappeared and you couldn’t find them.”
“It’s true, ma’am,” said Mr Zola. “I now believe that they were in fact trying to poison you.”
The Queen examined the stunned children and then turned to Mr Zola.
“If they were trying to poison me, Mr Zola,” she said, “why would they then battle their way through my soldiers to inform me that the cheese was toxic?”
Mr Zola was silent and Monty began to droop. Gramps stepped up behind him and pulled the red pot of rennet with the skull and crossbones out of Mr Zola’s pocket.
“Rennet from the third stomach of a Mongolian yak,” said Gramps, holding it high for all to see. “Deadly – and added to the moose cheese by this man!”
There were gasps of shock and horror from the crowd as two soldiers grabbed Mr Zola. He pulled against them.
“I admit it’s true!” he cried. “But the Queen was responsible for the death of my father. He died by moose and so shall she.”
“Well, that’s hardly likely any more, is it, Mr Zola?” said the Queen, calmly. “Thanks to these two children and Monsieur Grand-Fromage’s prodigious nose for cheese.”
She smiled and nodded to the twins and Monsieur Grand-Fromage before turning back to Mr Zola.
“I remember your father well,” she said. “He was a good man
, and he would shudder to think you had turned to a life of crime.”
“I am avenging his death!” shouted Mr Zola. “You forced him to make you moose cheese.”
“I did nothing of the sort,” retorted the Queen. “It was your father’s lifelong dream to produce a moose cheese. It was his choice to attempt such a feat.”
Mr Zola scowled. “You don’t know how I’ve suffered,” he muttered, madly. “I have been churned up like a milky mozzarella and it’s your fault! I’ve fallen from the towers of St Basil’s Cathedral, been threatened with arrest and nibbled by a crazed moose. I was whipped up by a whirlwind, plunged from a dam and rocketed through the sky in a deflating bouncy castle and … and…”
“Did I make you go on the Great Moose Cheese Chase, Mr Zola?” interrupted the Queen.
He looked at the ground and began to shuffle his feet.
“I seem to remember you volunteering,” she continued. “In fact, I seem to remember you wholeheartedly supporting this competition.”
Mr Zola continued to look at the floor, mumbling incoherently.
“You haven’t answered my question, Mr Zola,” said the Queen. “Did I force you to get involved in the moose cheese quest?”
“Erm … not exactly…”
“And I didn’t ask your father to either,” she said. “But he insisted on doing it. He was a brave man and a loyal member of staff, I might add.”
Mr Zola continued shuffling. He wouldn’t look at the Queen.
“Do you wish to apologize?” she asked.
“I think Monty does …” he murmured “… but I don’t want to.”
“Good, because it’s too late for sorry. I hereby banish you to Siberia, where you will remain for the next five years, or until you have resolved your moose issues. I will speak with the Russian authorities and arrange a position for you as Moose Ranger.”
“Moose Ranger?” shrieked Mr Zola. “B-but, Your Majesty, I can’t do that. I’m moose-phobic. I had a terrible experience on the Trans-Siberian Railway.”
“Well, it will allow you to face your fears, then,” she said, “which is always a good thing. Now, take him away!”
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