There's a Viking in My Bed and Other Stories

by Jeremy Strong

  As soon as breakfast was over Tim and Zoe went out to see the pigs. Now that it was broad daylight they could see just how massive Big Betty was. She seemed quite happy, and none the worse for being poked with Nosepicker. Sigurd's wattle and daub fence looked pretty good too. Mr Travis was admiring the house that Sigurd had started.

  ‘I've not seen a proper wattle and daub house actually being built, you know,’ he mused. ‘It's quite fascinating. Just like a proper Viking town. Sigurd ought to make a whole village.’

  Zoe glanced at Tim, but he was busy scratching Big Betty's back with a long stick. She left her brother with Mr Travis and walked slowly back to the house in search of her parents.

  ‘Mum? Dad? I've had an idea that might help things.’ Zoe sounded so hesitant that both her parents looked at her with interest.

  ‘Really?’ said Mrs Ellis. ‘What sort of idea?’

  Zoe repeated what Mr Travis had said out by the pig-pen. ‘It made me think,’ she said. ‘Maybe Sigurd could make a whole village - well, a small village, five or six houses maybe. He could even live out there. He could keep pigs and goats and chickens, like in a real Viking village.’

  Mr Ellis laughed. ‘It's a nice idea, Zoe. It would probably keep Siggy happy, but how would it help us?’

  ‘Mr Travis said he thought it was fascinating. People would come to the hotel to see a Viking village with a real Viking.’

  ‘Oh I don't think so,’ said Mrs Ellis. ‘People wouldn't come here just because there was a Viking village in the back garden.’

  ‘Schools would,’ said Zoe.

  ‘Go on,’ murmured Mr Ellis, rubbing his chin hard.

  ‘Groups of school children could come here. They could learn about Flotby in Viking times and be part of a real Viking village, with a real Viking, and do real Viking things. Schools would think it was absolutely brilliant, and while they're in Flotby they would have to stay at our hotel.’

  Mr Ellis hugged his daughter so hard she almost stopped breathing. ‘That is a fantastic idea Zoe! It's totally amazing! Oh, it's so simple! Penny - what do you think?’

  ‘I can't see how it can fail,’ said Mrs Ellis. ‘It's a stupendous idea, Zoe. Well done!’

  ‘What's a stupendous idea?’ asked a large, burly man with a tweed hat perched on top of his head.

  ‘Ah, Mr Garret,’ smiled Zoe's father. ‘My daughter has just come up with a rather clever plan for our hotel. Let's see what you think of it. I'll tell you on the way out to Sigurd's pig-pen.’

  They found Sigurd already out there, hard at work. He was inside the pen, building up the walls of his little house, while Mrs T. rubbed down one of the pigs. Mr Garret was highly surprised (and delighted) to see how well his pigs had been fenced in and looked after.

  ‘You've got a natural way with farm animals,’ he told Sigurd gruffly.

  ‘I like pigs,’ said Siggy. ‘I like sheets and coats too, and wife.’ He grinned at Mrs Tibblethwaite. ‘Like wife most of all.’

  ‘That's all right then,’ smiled Mrs T., and gave him a kiss. ‘You daft dumpling.’

  ‘You must have been pretty good to get four pigs all the way down the road and shut up here,’ said Mr Garret.

  ‘We did have a bit of trouble with Big Betty,’ said Mrs Ellis. ‘But I'm glad you've got your pigs back.’

  ‘How can I thank you?’ Mr Garret asked. ‘They're worth an awful lot to me.’

  ‘There's no need for any thanks.’

  But Mr Garret wanted to do something for the Ellises. He had been desperate when he had discovered the loss of his pigs, and he was genuinely delighted to have them back. ‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘this idea of young Zoe's - your Viking's going to need a few bits and pieces. He'll need hens for a start. I haven't got any sheep, but I have got an old billy goat he can keep here, and when Big Betty has her next litter he can come up to the farm and choose a piglet.’

  Sigurd listened to this with growing excitement. He rushed across to Mr Garret, wrapped the poor farmer in his arms, kissed him on both cheeks and then rubbed noses with him.

  ‘Gerroff!’ shouted Mr Garret, trying to push Sigurd away. ‘You big hairy ox!’

  ‘You good man!’ cried the Viking. ‘I pray to Thor and tell him you very good and go to Valhalla when you die.’ Sigurd turned to Mr Ellis. ‘You good man too!’ he roared, and opened his arms wide. ‘Come to Siggy!’

  ‘Oh no,’ muttered Mr Ellis, backing away. ‘No Siggy, leave me alone. I don't want to be hugged. Siggy! Go away!’ He turned tail and fled, with Sigurd in hot pursuit. The others watched with delight.

  ‘I never knew Dad could run that fast,’ said Tim. A startled scream came from the far side of the hotel. Mrs Ellis giggled.

  ‘He can't,’ she said.