There's a Viking in My Bed and Other Stories

by Jeremy Strong

  At last Sigurd decided he had done enough running. He cast a quick look over his shoulder to watch the long blue snake bobbing up and down on his trail, then he dipped along a short corridor and vanished, leaving nothing but a flapping door to show where he had passed.

  Twenty policemen and fifteen guests ran panting into a small room only to find it completely empty. There was no sign of Sigurd apart from an open window. Constable Pritty rushed over and stared out into the garden. Siggy was standing down there, waving to them all.

  Constable Pritty gritted his teeth. There was no way he was going to leap down into the garden from this height. He rushed out to the stairs and raced down to the garden. Sigurd had vanished again. ‘Search the place!’ screeched the constable. ‘He must be around here somewhere!’ The policemen ran round and round the garden like escaped guinea-pigs, shaking their heads.

  Mr and Mrs Ellis and Tim and Zoe knew exactly where Sigurd was and they couldn't bear to watch. Perhaps it was the terrible crashing of gears that finally gave the police the clue they so desperately needed.

  A car engine whined furiously and, with a lot of wheel spin, one of the police cars suddenly rocketed from the hotel driveway. The siren blared and, with another ear-shattering scrunch of the gears, Sigurd whizzed out through the hotel entrance and on to the main road. Mrs Ellis covered her eyes. Tim and Zoe jumped up and down with excitement.

  ‘Go on, Sigurd! Show them what you can do! Yeehah!’

  The police watched in disbelief, until a frustrated cry from Constable Pritty sent them scurrying to the remaining cars. The air was filled with howling sirens, stones were catapulted from spinning wheels and five police cars set off in hot pursuit.

  Slowly the sirens faded away and the dust settled on the hotel forecourt. Penny Ellis slipped one arm round her husband's waist. ‘What happens now, Keith?’ she asked. ‘I don't think I can cope with much more.’

  Mr Ellis stood staring out along the main road. At last he turned back to the hotel. ‘I'm going inside. I'm going to make a pot of tea and I'm going to take three aspirins for my headache – that's what is going to happen next. Then we shall sit down and wait. I am quite certain that it will not be long before we hear from the police again.’ Mr Ellis went wearily into the hotel. Zoe and Tim watched in silence as Mrs Ellis followed her husband. Tim looked up at his big sister.

  ‘Trouble?’ he asked.

  ‘Big trouble,’ said Zoe, and they sat down on the front steps and waited.

  The car chase did not last long. Sigurd's driving had certainly not improved since he had taken Mr Ellis's car for a swimming lesson in the hotel duck pond. Before he had worked out how to steer he had driven straight down on to the beach. Startled holiday makers took to their heels, screaming in alarm, as the roaring, wailing police car bounced round and round and finally took off in a series of sand-churning zig-zags before plunging nose-first into the waves. Perhaps Sigurd thought this car might float and he could just carry on driving until he reached Denmark. Of course it didn't work. The car came to a full stop with an engine full of sea water. Sigurd opened the door, stepped straight into a large wave, fell over, choked, came up gasping and collapsed right into the arms of Constable Pritty, ably assisted by nineteen other officers.

  Constable Pritty grinned. ‘You're booked, my son!’ There was a click of handcuffs and Sigurd was hauled away, bundled into a police car and whisked off to Flotby Police Station. The telephone call that The Viking Hotel was dreading came sooner than expected. Mr Ellis stood there with the telephone at one ear, grim-faced and looking very tired. It was Mr Thripp speaking from the other end, and he was obviously enjoying every moment of his triumph. At last Mr Ellis put the ’phone down. ‘He’s been locked in the cells. That's it. He doesn't stand a chance. The police don't take kindly to being threatened with swords and having their police cars stolen. What a mess! I don't know what to do now.’ He slumped down in an armchair.

  Mrs Ellis straightened up. ‘I know what to do,’ she said, going to the telephone. She dialled a long number which seemed to ring for ages before it was answered. ‘Hallo?’ said Mrs Ellis. ‘Is that you, Mrs Tibblethwaite? It's Penny here. How is your sister?’ There was a long speech from the other end, but at last Mrs Ellis said ‘Oh good. I'm so glad she's making a good recovery. How is everything here? Well, we do have a little bit of a problem. Yes. just a wee one. Sigurd is in prison…’

  There was a yell of horror down the telephone that even Mr Ellis and the children could hear. On and on went the rantings and ravings. At length Mrs Ellis put the 'phone down and smiled across at her husband and children. ‘Mrs Tibblethwaite is catching the next train to Flotby,’ she announced.

  ‘I don't see what good that will do,’ said Mr Ellis gloomily.

  ‘Well, put it this way, Keith. If you were Constable Pritty and you had just put Sigurd in a police cell, would you like to face Mrs Tibblethwaite and explain it to her?’

  A slow smile spread across Mr Ellis's tired face. He kissed his wife on the cheek. ‘You, Penny, are a clever and dangerous woman.’

  ‘That's as maybe, but I'm not half as dangerous as Mrs Tibblethwaite when she's on the rampage!’

  ‘Is there going to be a fight, Dad?’ Tim asked. ‘Can I join in? Is Mrs Tibblethwaite going to bash them all up?’

  ‘Tim! That's not a nice way to talk at all!’ interrupted Mrs Ellis. Tim sighed.

  ‘I was only asking,’ he grumbled.

  ‘Well why don't you go and do something useful – like tidy your room – before we have to go and meet Tibby's train. Go on.’

  Tim heaved another sigh and went upstairs. He tried tidying his room but he was far too excited. The next few hours of waiting were a nightmare.

  But if Tim was bored with waiting at the hotel, it was nothing compared to the rage and frustration felt by Mrs Tibblethwaite as her train slowly made its way towards Flotby. She couldn't believe a train could move so slowly. When the ticket collector made his way down the carriage she even asked if he would like her to get out and push. He didn't think it was at all funny.

  Mrs Tibblethwaite had spent the last few days nursing her sister, and already she felt that she had been stuck indoors for far too long, running backwards and forwards with cups of tea and hot-water bottles. She now had a great deal of unused energy, and as the train crawled into Flotby station the door was already open. Mrs Tibblethwaite leapt down on to the platform, suitcase in hand and galloped to the barrier where the Ellises were eagerly awaiting her arrival.

  ‘Where is he? Where is my Siggy?’ she cried.

  Mr Ellis took her by the arm and steered her towards the car, which had only recently come back from the garage, not only working, but dry. As they all got in Mr Ellis told her the whole story.

  Tibby sat in the back seat with tears struggling down her cheeks. She clenched and unclenched her fists, over and over again. Then she began to beat her knees with her fists and finally the back of the driver's seat. She nearly sent Mr Ellis through the front windscreen and the car over a red light.

  ‘For goodness sake!’ cried Mr Ellis. ‘Be careful!’

  ‘I'll kill that Mr Thripp! I knew it was all his fault. He's a mingy, mangy, mean little pipsqueak. I'll kill him!’

  ‘That won't help much,’ Mr Ellis pointed out. ‘Listen. We'll go back to the hotel and have a nice cup of tea and sit down calmly and think it all through. What we need is a plan.’

  6

  The Bomb Falls

  A cup of tea did little to calm Mrs Tibblethwaite. She sat at one of the dining tables drumming her fingers angrily on the polished surface. She hadn't even bothered to take off her coat. The Ellis's watched her, wondering what she was thinking, and what she was going to do.

  Tim was the first to break the silence. ‘Suppose we rush into the police station and shout “Fire! Fire!” Then everyone will come running out and we can nip in and rescue Siggy.’

  ‘How do we unlock his cell?’ Zoe demanded.

  ‘We cou
ld saw through the bars.’

  ‘Timmy! That's a crackpot idea.’

  ‘Well you think of something better then – Brainybottom.’

  Mrs Ellis threw a cold glance across the table at the children. ‘Okay, that's enough, you two. We have enough problems without the two of you arguing.’ Mrs Ellis turned to Tibby and patted her gently on the hand. ‘Would you like another cup of tea?’

  Mrs Tibblethwaite shook her head. It was plain to all that she was quietly seething inside, and they waited for her to explode. But she didn't. At last she pushed back her chair and picked up her handbag.

  ‘I'm going down to the police station,’ she announced. ‘Mr Ellis, would you kindly give me a lift please?’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I'm going to talk to them. I cannot believe that this policeman – Pretty boy, or whatever his name is – can be stupid enough not to realise what a terrible mistake has been made. I am quite sure it is all a simple misunderstanding. Come on. The sooner we go, the sooner this whole mess will be cleared up.’

  There was no stopping Mrs Tibblethwaite now, so everybody piled into the car and Mr Ellis drove to the police station. Just as they expected Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp were both there. They were sitting behind the front desk eating some large cream cakes and looking very self-satisfied. Beyond the desk could be seen a row of cells. One of them had a very sad looking heap of smelly rags piled in the corner.

  Mrs Tibblethwaite marched up to the desk and rapped on it with her knuckles. ‘I believe you have my husband, Officer, and I would like him back if you don't mind.’

  Constable Pritty was nonplussed. ‘I'm very sorry, Madam. You must be mistaken. The only person we have here is… hmmm!’ Constable Pritty glanced at Mr Thripp and they both began to snigger. ‘I can only describe him to you as being a raving madman, dressed in the smelliest, filthiest, most ridiculous clothes you've ever seen. He thinks he's a Viking! What a laugh! We do see some nutters in here, Madam.’

  Mrs Tibblethwaite smiled back at the grinning policeman. ‘That nutter is my husband, Officer, and for your information he is not mad. He is a Viking. Kindly release him.’

  Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp stared at each other. Mr Thripp had a chocolate eclair stuck halfway to his mouth. Both men looked across at the Ellis's.

  ‘She's telling the truth,’ said Mr Ellis helpfully.

  ‘God's honour!’ added Zoe.

  ‘Cross our hearts and hope to die!’ Tim put in for good measure.

  Constable Pritty leaned forward across the desk, unwittingly putting his elbow right on a cream doughnut. Jam and cream splurted out on all sides. ‘Well, Madam, I am afraid your husband is facing some very serious charges.’ And he went through the whole list, finishing with, ‘stealing a police car and trying to drown it’.

  ‘But he didn't know he was doing anything wrong. He's a tenth century Viking!’

  ‘Oh of course Madam! And I'm Donald Duck!’

  Mrs Tibblethwaite was rapidly running out of patience. ‘It was all done in self-defence,’ she said wearily.

  At that moment the ragged heap in the far cell burst into life and threw itself at the bars. ‘Smell the fence!’ bellowed Sigurd, shaking his bars as hard as he could manage.

  ‘My poor Siggy!’ cried Mrs Tibblethwaite, stretching her arms towards her imprisoned husband. ‘What have they done to you?’ She turned back to Constable Pritty and fixed him with a steely glare.

  ‘Please let him out, Constable – I'm sure we can settle the whole thing in court. He is perfectly harmless. There's no need to keep my husband like some caged-animal.’

  ‘Harmless!’ squeaked Mr Thripp, having finally managed to swallow the chocolate eclair. ‘He threatened me with a hedge trimmer!’

  ‘Let him out!’ snapped Mrs Tibblethwaite.

  ‘No.’

  Mrs Tibblethwaite plonked her heavy handbag on the desk. ‘Do you know what this is, Officer?’

  ‘It's a handbag, Madam,’ replied Constable Pritty very coldly.

  ‘Wrong. It's a blunt instrument…’ hissed Mrs Tibblethwaite as she whirled it round her head like a Viking axe. ‘And I use it for hitting stupid policemen over the head until they see some sense.’

  She began to batter Constable Pritty so hard that he had to duck down behind his desk, where he hurriedly pushed the alarm button. A siren screeched through the building.

  Sigurd rattled his bars in fury. ‘Let me out! Don't you touch Viking woman! By Thor, I'll ring your telephone!’

  Zoe shook her head. ‘I think you mean that you'll wring his neck, Siggy.’

  ‘Yes, yes! I ring neck and telephone! Leave Viking woman alone!’

  Why Sigurd was making such a fuss was a mystery to the Ellis's because Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp were getting by far the worst of the battle as Mrs Tibblethwaite continued to batter them with her handbag.

  But reinforcements were now arriving fast from other parts of the police station, and soon a major battle was under way.

  Tim jumped up and down and shouted ‘Fire! Fire!’ just in case it helped, which it didn't. The rest of the family retreated to the safety of the far corner and waited for the inevitable to happen.

  It was amazing how strong Mrs Tibblethwaite was, and Mr Ellis wondered where on earth she had learned all her wrestling tricks. Policemen went flying in every direction. She had the head of one gripped under one arm and was busy giving an armlock to another. But the odds were finally overwhelming.

  It was sheer weight of policemen that won the day. They piled on top of Mrs Tibblethwaite until there was a huge seething blue mountain. Out came the handcuffs and a few moments later Tibby was pushed into the same cell as Sigurd. They clung to each other in a touching embrace.

  Constable Pritty picked himself up from the floor, straightened his hat, and tried to appear calm and unmoved. Tim and Zoe managed to stop themselves from telling him that there was a rather squashed chocolate eclair sitting on his right shoulder like some weird giant caterpillar. ‘Any more of you like to be put behind bars?’ he asked.

  Mr Ellis slowly shook his head. He went to the cell and peered through at Sigurd and Tibby. ‘Don't worry. We'll have to leave you here for the time being until the matter comes up in court. We'll see you at the trial. I'm sure everything will be fine!’ he said, trying to sound reassuring.

  Mrs Tibblethwaite was surprisingly cheerful. ‘That's all right Mr Ellis. You go and look after the hotel. I've got Siggy and he's got me, and that's all that matters!’

  For the next few days The Viking Hotel was filled with a deep and gloomy silence. Even the guests wandered about with clouded faces. The main reason the hotel had so many customers was because of Sigurd. They liked to see the huge, hairy Viking wandering about the place getting into trouble and speaking his very strange version of English. Now that he was no longer there they realised how much they missed him. Even Mr Ellis felt it although he was the one who always had to deal with the problems Sigurd caused.

  They missed Mrs Tibblethwaite, too. She was central to the smooth running of the hotel. In fact Mrs Ellis thought that if Tibby had not had to go and look after her sister all these problems would never have occurred.

  Mr and Mrs Ellis found themselves rushing about working three times as hard as they used to. Tim and Zoe helped out as best they could but it was no fun for anyone. There was immense relief when at last the day of the trial came. Everyone from the hotel, even the guests, made sure that they had front row seats at the Flotby Courthouse for the trial of Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite.

  Mr and Mrs Ellis had to give evidence. They tried to tell the judge that Sigurd was a Viking from tenth century Hedeby. They tried to tell her the story of how Sigurd had come to The Viking Hotel in the first place.

  The poor judge was obviously very confused, but it was Zoe who finally managed to convince her that the story was true. She spoke with simple honesty, about their life with Siggy over the last year and she told Judge Farley how she
had taught Sigurd to speak and had learned about his home.

  Judge Farley was very impressed and things seemed to be going well for Sigurd and Tibby. Then Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp took the stand and things went from bad to worse. Crime after crime was mentioned, the last one being ‘causing a chocolate eclair to stick to a police officer's uniform’.

  The Ellis's watched Judge Farley's face closely. It was getting sterner by the second. From time to time she glanced across at. Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite with a deep frown. She shook her head slowly and scribbled notes on her note-pad.

  Mrs Ellis slipped her hand into her husband's and whispered to him. ‘I don't like it, Keith. Look at the judge's face. I'm afraid Tibby and Sigurd are really for it this time.’

  7

  Here Come The Vikings!

  ‘Sigurd of Hedeby,’ began Judge Farley, ‘you have been charged with several very serious offences. I have listened most carefully to all the evidence against you and it is quite clear that these crimes have taken place.’

  Mrs Ellis gripped her husband's arm tightly. ‘I told you – he's in for it now,’ she whispered.

  ‘Ssssh,’ muttered Mr Ellis as Judge Farley continued.

  ‘It is also clear to me that if I were a Viking warrior, hundreds of miles from home, in a strange country and, even worse, in a strange century, I might well have behaved in the same way, especially if I had come across Constable Pritty and Ernest Thripp.’

  By this time the entire Ellis family were sitting on the edges of their seats, nervously grasping the hand rails in front. Judge Farley coughed and went on, while Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp slowly turned paler and paler.

  ‘In the normal course of events the behaviour of these two men would have been quite correct. They both have jobs to do, and they were both doing them. But these events were not normal. They were faced with something that they simply could not understand. It was their own reactions that drove Sigurd, and Mrs Tibblethwaite to behave as they did. I therefore find both of the defendants NOT GUILTY.’