‘Then I don’t want it,’ growled Grimstone.
‘My little chicken chops, still the same old grumpy-pot. Are you sure you don’t want some of Mummy’s lovely sponge?’
Professor Jelly licked his lips and gazed longingly at the cake. ‘Um, I don’t mind eating it,’ he said, and Seraphina pushed it across to him.
‘Hey, you!’ yelled the guard, Petty Officer Fudd. ‘Don’t touch that cake until it’s been checked. I know what you visitors are like, smuggling in duplicate keys and things. You’re just as bad as this lot behind bars. Pass that cake up here for checking.’
Seraphina smiled cheerfully and pulled the cake away from the drooling professor.
‘There we are, Officer,’ she bubbled, wiggling her fat fingers at him. ‘Why don’t you try some yourself? I made it with my own dinky little hands.’
Petty Officer Fudd eyed the cake with enormous suspicion. ‘That is exactly what worries me,’ he began. ‘You may have put something in this cake, perhaps something to put me to sleep, or even something poisonous that would kill me!’
‘Good heavens above!’ cried Seraphina in mock horror. ‘As if I would do such a thing. You prison wardens are such a suspicious bunch. That sponge is my best, my most luscious, delicious chocolate delight.’
By this time Jelly’s eyes were almost out on stalks and his tongue was dangling from his mouth like an octopus’s tentacle.
‘Right,’ said Fudd. ‘I’ll soon have this checked out.’ He seized his truncheon, plunged it into the centre of the cake and began stirring it round and round, reducing the cake to a soggy mash. Jelly began to whimper quietly.
‘Hmmm. Can’t see anything suspicious in here,’ announced Fudd. ‘You may as well have it back.’
The plate crashed back down in front of Professor Jelly. In front of him now sat what looked like a cow pat that had been sprinkled with hundreds and thousands. (Actually most of the hundreds and thousands had disappeared into the sludgy mixture, so all that was left on top were a few tens and units.)
‘You see,’ said Seraphina evenly. ‘It was a chocolate cake all along. I told you. Look how much you’ve upset Professor Jelly.’
‘Stop snivelling,’ hissed Grimstone. ‘Once we get out of here we’ll find that treasure, and then you can have a whole mountain of chocolate cake.’
‘Promise?’ sniffed Jelly, but his partner had turned back to Seraphina.
Just what is your plan, Mum?’
(It may come as a surprise to learn that arch-criminals call their mum ‘Mum’, but they do, because that is exactly what they are. And they call their dad ‘Dad’, too.)
‘I am still working on it,’ said Seraphina, smiling and tapping her nose. ‘All I can tell you at this time is that trousers are involved.’
Even as she spoke, Seraphina’s eyes were darting round the prison, taking in all the details. She wanted to know where all the doors were and where they led. She wanted to know how many guards were on duty and where they stood. She wanted to know how the prison operated and, most of all, she wanted to know how she was going to spring her son and his fat friend.
Professor Jelly had finally overcome his disgust and was busily dipping one finger into the chocolate accident and popping it into his mouth. It didn’t taste too bad after all, at least not when compared with prison food.
Seraphina lowered her voice. ‘The next time I come a-visiting, I want you both to be ready. I can’t tell you exactly what the plan is, but make sure you are ready to drop everything and make a run for it.’
Grimstone’s mouth twisted into a tight smile. ‘Escape at last! And then we can hunt down that stupid pompous Pharaoh and all his silly friends. That treasure is as good as ours.’
‘That’s my boy!’ murmured Seraphina, and she gave Grimstone a kiss on the cheek.
‘Urgh! Urgh!’ he growled, pushing her away and wiping a sleeve across his face.
Seraphina turned to Petty Officer Fudd and laughed. ‘He never was a mummy’s boy,’ she purred. She got to her feet and sidled up to the guard. ‘He never did like a kiss and a cuddle. How about you?’
Officer Fudd gave a sudden yelp as something pinched his bottom. ‘Gerroff! Leave me alone or I’ll call the guard!’
‘Yοu are the guard,’ Seraphina pointed out. ‘I love men in uniform. I was only being friendly.’
‘Well, you can kindly be friendly with someone else,’ said Fudd, hastily unlocking the door so that Seraphina could leave.
‘Bye, boys!’ she cried as she waved back to them. ‘See you next time!’ She fluttered her eyelashes at Officer Fudd. ‘Bye-bye,’ she cooed. ‘I’ll see you again, too.’
Seraphina made her way home, deep in thought. A plan was taking shape in her wicked mind. Yes, it should work well!
Escaping from the prison was going to be so easy, but first of all she needed to do some shopping. There were some vital things she required to put her plan into action, and top of the list was –
Duplicate keys to the cells? No.
A file for the prison bars? No.
Dynamite, maybe? No.
What Seraphina needed first of all was a big bag of cherries.
3 What a Shower!
Carrie was speechless. This was a big improvement on the normal situation as far as Ben was concerned, but it didn’t last long. Carrie raced round the house, showing the letter to everyone, rattling the paper in their faces.
‘Calm down, calm down,’ said Mrs Lightspeed. ‘Show me what it is.’
‘It’s a letter!’ squeaked Carrie.
‘Yes. I can see that.’
‘It’s the letter!’
‘OΚ, it’s the letter, but what does the letter say?’
‘I’ve got a test!’
Eve Lightspeed was still in the dark. ‘Carrie, you had a test at school last month, a maths test, remember? You weren’t at all excited about that, so what’s special about this one?’
‘It’s not that kind of test,’ explained Carrie, slowly returning to Planet Earth. ‘It’s more like an audition. It’s that competition for the “Face of the Future”. They liked the photo I sent in. They want to see me! Me!’
Ben pointed a finger at her and screwed up his face in horror. ‘You’ve got a test for the supermodel thingy? You? Ugly mug?’
Carrie wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Yes, so, you see, this ugly mug obviously isn’t as ugly as you think.’
Mrs Lightspeed was reading through the letter. ‘I didn’t know you’d entered yourself for this.’
‘I did tell you, Mum.’
‘Was I listening?’
‘No, but I did tell you.’ Carrie’s face fell. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’
Mrs Lightspeed beamed at her daughter. ‘Of course not, Carrie. I think it’s marvellous. You might get on the telly.’
‘The nightmare continues,’ groaned Ben.
‘Don’t be horrible,’ said Mrs Lightspeed, and she smiled at Carrie again. ‘I’m very proud of you. When is the competition?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Carrie answered dreamily.
‘Tomorrow!’ cried Mrs Lightspeed. ‘But that’s… that’s tomorrow! I mean, it’s like yesterday! It’s such short notice. You need to get your hair done. You need new clothes, you need –’
‘– a new face,’ Ben butted in.
‘Ha ha ha ha ha.’ Carrie gave an icy little laugh and turned to her mother. ‘It’s OK, Mum, stop fretting. It says here that they will give me clothes to wear when I get there, and they do my make-up and hair and everything.’ She was doing little on-the-spot jumps all the time she was speaking. ‘I’m so excited I can’t stay still.’
‘That’s all very well for you, Carrie, but in that case I shall need to get my hair done and get a new dress. I don’t want those magazine people thinking your mother is some old fishwife. Has your father finished putting in the new shower yet? Trust him to go messing about with important things like showers at a time like this when we all need one.’
Ben went upstai
rs and poked his head into the bathroom. Tony Lightspeed was finishing off the ceiling with a coat of yellow paint. Sennapod was sitting on the toilet seat with Tiddles at his feet and Rustbucket on his lap, watching him work.
‘Wow,’ breathed Ben, and his father grinned.
‘It is pretty good, isn’t it? What do you think of the shower?’
‘Cool,’ said Ben.
‘Hot is the new cool,’ declared Sennapod, a remark that left Mr Lightspeed looking a trifle puzzled.
‘It doesn’t just do hot and cool. It also does all temperatures in between. I think your mother will be very pleased – and Carrie, of course.’
‘She’s been selected for a modelling competition, Dad,’ Ben grumbled. ‘If she wins, we’ll never hear the end of it. She’s always shovelling make-up on her face as it is.’
‘A modelling competition? Who would have thought it? Good for her.’
Ben could not understand why both his parents thought it was such a good idea. As far as he was concerned, his sister looked like a horse. However, he changed his mind a bit when Mrs Lightspeed pointed out that at least he would get a day up in London and maybe afterwards they could go to the cinema to watch Star Wars – Episode 5008: the Sequel to the Prequel’s Sequel of the Sequel’s Prequel.
‘What is modelling?’ asked Sennapod.
Ben yawned very loudly. ‘It’s incredibly boring, Senny. It’s when clothes designers show off their latest fashions that they want people to wear. They put them on young men and women who look good in them and then get old men and women to buy them because they think it will make them look young again.’
‘That’s a rather cynical view of the world you have,’ observed Mr Lightspeed with a little smile.
‘Dad, I’m ten.’
‘Oh. Right. That explains it, then.’
However, Sennapod was very interested in Ben’s explanation and he plucked at Ben’s sleeve. ‘I could buy these clothes and they will make me look younger?’
‘I don’t think you’ll look younger, but you might feel younger,’ said Mr Lightspeed.
Then I must go, too. I may want to buy some of these new fashions.’
‘Yes, well, you certainly look old,’ Ben pointed out. ‘And you certainly need a make-over.’
‘Make-over?’ asked Sennapod.
‘Yes. It’s like what Dad has just been doing to the bathroom. The old bathroom looked old and shabby, just like you do now. But Dad has put in a new shower and new tiles and painted the ceiling, and now the bathroom looks younger and fresher – in other words, it’s had a make-over.’
Sennapod nodded and smiled. He felt that this was just what he needed. His four-and-a-half-thousand-year-old bones sometimes creaked a lot, and some new clothes and a new image would make him feel younger and fitter. He got to his feet and made his announcement.
‘I shall come too. I need a make-over. Prepare my chariot.’
Mr Lightspeed sighed. ‘No chariot, I’m afraid, Senny. You know that. We’ll go in Mister Freezee, as usual.’
‘I wish you had a BMW, Dad. Tim Bragg’s dad has got a BMW.’
Mr Lightspeed smiled at Ben and flung a comforting arm round his shoulder. ‘Ben, surely you know, ice-cream vans are the new BMWs.’
The following morning was complete chaos, and that was only five minutes after everyone had got up. They all wanted to use the new shower, but Mr Lightspeed insisted that they all come into the bathroom together so he could show them how it worked. It was brand new, after all.
One by one they had to stand in the bath behind the shower curtain while Mr Lightspeed pointed out the different controls.
‘Dad, I have used a shower before,’ sighed Ben.
‘Yeah, like last century,’ Carrie muttered.
‘That’s the “ON” button,’ said Mr Lightspeed.
‘Does that mean it goes on when you press it?’ asked Ben.
‘Yes, it –’ Tony Lightspeed broke off. ‘You’re winding me up, aren’t you?’
‘I can read, Dad.’
‘OΚ, OK. Senny, swap places with Ben. Stand in the bath there.’
The Pharaoh climbed into the bath and gazed at the shiny new shower box. It all looked very interesting, and certainly he had never seen anything like it before.
‘What does it do?’ he asked.
‘It washes you,’ said Carrie.
‘Like handmaidens?’ Sennapod often found it difficult to forget his pampered past.
‘No, not like handmaidens, like a shower,’ sighed Mrs Lightspeed.
‘This dial controls the temperature,’ explained Mr Lightspeed. ‘Turn this way for cold and this way for hot.’
‘Hot is the new –’
‘Yes, we know. This button switches the water on. Look, it says “ON”.’
‘This button?’
‘Yes.’
‘I press it?’
‘Yes.’
Thinking this was an instruction, Sennapod pressed it. Surprise, surprise! A hard jet of cold water came swooshing out of the shower-head and struck him full in the face. He staggered back, stumbled against the end of the bath, crashed
forwards, grabbed at the shower curtain for support, ripped it from its runner and slid sideways into the bath, sending his feet shooting up at the far end, where they slammed into the little shelf above the bath, catapulting into the air the tin of yellow paint that Mr Lightspeed had been using. It spun upwards for a short distance before crashing down on to the inside edge of the bath. The lid sprang off and, while one big slop of paint splashed across Sennapod, several other dollops went on the walls, the floor and, of course, the bath itself.
For a second or two there was complete silence, apart from the noise of water still spraying out of the shower. While the others stared down at the fallen Pharaoh, Mr Lightspeed, with incredible self-control, gently leant towards the shower.
‘And if you press the “OFF” button,’ he
explained evenly, ‘the water is turned off.’
Sennapod struggled to his feet. His crown was crushed. His royal robe (which had once been Mrs Lightspeed’s dressing-gown) was covered in yellow paint. His face was thunderous. He pointed a bony finger at the entire family.
‘Worms!’ he screeched. ‘You are but worms beneath the gaze of Osiris!’
‘Demoted again,’ mumbled Ben. ‘Only yesterday he said I was human. Now he’s calling me a worm again.’
‘You have desecrated the living Pharaoh. You shall be torn apart by crocodiles, trodden on by hippopotamuses, ripped to shreds by vultures and stung by a million hornets.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Carrie. ‘Listen, Senny, this is all your fault. It’s no good blaming us. Besides, if we are worms, you really can’t
expect anything better. Worms don’t know how to operate showers, so you can’t blame us.’
‘Yes, that’s true.’ There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the family. They huddled closer together and gazed back at the Royal King of Egypt, waiting to see what he would do next.
Sennapod’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘But I want some new clothes,’ he moaned, fingering his paint-spattered robe. ‘How can I go out in public looking like this?’
‘The competition!’ squealed Carrie. ‘We’ve got to get to the competition! I’ve got to be the Face of the Future. What do I do? What do I do?’
4 Cherry Surprise
When Seraphina Grimstone returned for some more prison visiting she did not take a chocolate cake with her this time. Instead, she had the most wonderful Black Cherry Bombe. (Note: The dessert was a bombe, not a bomb. A bomb goes BANG! It makes a lot of mess and can’t be eaten. However, a bombe goes YUMMY! and everyone likes scoffing one.)
The outside of the bombe was made of meringue and it was almost completely covered with raspberries and morello cherries, which in turn were sprinkled with shavings of dark chocolate. The inside of the bombe was made of cream, mixed with brandy and then frozen, so that it was like ice cream.
&nb
sp; Seraphina put it on a large silver dish, covered it with a silver lid, and marched into the Visitors’ Room, bearing the platter in front of her as if she was a waitress at the poshest hotel in the world, and not delivering it to some grimy little prison. She beamed across at Grimstone and Jelly.
‘Hello, boys! Mummy’s here!’
‘Is that for us?’ asked Professor Jelly, with tears of joy in his eyes.
‘Indeed it is, my jolly pair, sort of.’
‘I don’t like sweet puddings,’ scowled Grimstone.
‘I know, dear. You never did. In fact I don’t think you have ever liked anything. Do you remember your first smile? Of course you don’t. You only ever smiled once, when your hamster died. Never mind. Listen up, my pair of cheery chickens, are you ready to rock and roll?’
‘Rock and roll?’ repeated Grimstone.
‘Shake a leg?’ Seraphina said suggestively.
‘Shake a leg?’
‘Wink wink, know what I mean?’ Seraphina added through gritted teeth.
‘Oh! You mean you’Ve got an escape plan!’ Grimstone cried.
‘Sssssh! Try not to tell everyone!’ Seraphina lowered her voice. ‘In a moment I am going to offer you this dessert…’
‘Oh, goody goody goody!’ moaned Professor Jelly.
‘… but I’m afraid you can’t eat it,’ Seraphina finished.
Jelly slumped forwards in despair and began to bang his head on the little table, over and over again. Bump! Bump! Bump! Bump! He moaned gently with each bump. ‘No cake. No cake. NO CAKE!’
‘When I offer it to you, the guard should come over to investigate, like he did last time. I want you boys to be ready for action. Is that clear?’
Grimstone nodded. Jelly was still busily banging his head on the table. Grimstone grabbed his companion by the scruff of the neck and lifted up the professor’s head. ‘Do you understand?’ he hissed.
‘I want to die,’ groaned Jelly.
‘No you don’t. You want to escape, and then you can have as much dessert as you like, all right?’
Let's Do The Pharaoh! Page 2