by Andy Stanton
‘If my calculations are correct, we’ll be there tomorrow morning,’ replied Jonathan Ripples, studying his map and sucking on a kiwi smoothie he’d picked up over in New Zealand. And that night Polly went to sleep with a contented smile on her face, dreaming that she was back home on Boaster’s Hill with Jake the dog, pretending he was a horse or a spaceship.
But the next morning, Jonathan Ripples looked worried.
‘I’m afraid my calculations weren’t correct, after all. Look, Polly,’ he said, pointing to an orange blob on his map. ‘I thought this was England, but it turned out to be a bit of chicken tikka I spilt the other night.’
‘Then where do you thinks we are?’ said Polly.
‘Well, according to my new calculations, which are based on countries rather than food stains,’ replied Jonathan Ripples, ‘we’ve been going in the wrong direction for days. We’re somewhere over the South Pacific, which is miles from anywhere. I think we’d better land at the next island we see and stock up on snacks.’
So Polly kept a lookout for land and later that morning she saw a small island, sitting in the middle of the ocean like a crouton in a very very very very VERY big bowl of fish soup. It was covered in lush tropical green with golden-white sandy beaches at the edges, and it looked very inviting indeed.
‘Land!’ shouted Polly. ‘Let’s land!’
‘Just think of all the snacks just waiting to be discovered down there,’ said Jonathan Ripples as he steered the craft skilfully towards the island.
‘Easy does it, easy does it,’ he muttered in concentration, sweat pouring down his smooth chubby face. ‘Polly, haul that rope in, would you? We don’t want it getting tangled up in the treetops.’
Polly watched in admiration as J.R. brought them closer to the dazzling sands.
‘Mmph,’ said Padlock, bouncing up and down with excitement. The wicker basket began to rock from side to side. ‘Mmph, MMPH!’
‘Control him, can’t you, Polly! He’s steering us off course!’ cried Jonathan Ripples frantically as the balloon descended.
‘Padders, Padders!’ urged Polly, ‘calm it down, boy, calm it down!’
‘MMPH!’ said Padlock. ‘MMPH!!’
Padlock’s jumps were getting worse than ever and the basket was tilting over to one side . . .
SHHHHOOOOOOFFF!
A great gust of wind caught them from below and the balloon was lifted far over the beach and hurled into the dark green treetops.
The world was a tumble of green, red, brown . . . They crashed through the branches, snacks flying everywhere – goulash, hot dogs, Pad Thai noodles . . . A deadly popadom whizzed past Polly’s ear and sliced into a tree trunk, cutting it clean in two.
‘Polly!’ yelled Jonathan Ripples desperately as the two of them were thrown from the basket towards the forest floor. ‘GRAB HOLD OF MY FLAB! GRAB HOLD OF MY FLAAAAAAB!’ And then everything went dark.
It was early afternoon when Polly came to her senses. She was covered in scratches and bits of potato ’n’ donkey yum-yum, but otherwise she seemed to be unharmed.
Something soft must have cushioned her fall – and looking down she saw what it was. She was lying on Jonathan Ripples’ stomach.
‘Oh, you big brave guzzler,’ cried Polly, climbing down and kneeling by his side. ‘Are you all right, sir?’
‘Got to . . . land the balloon . . . ‘ moaned Jonathan Ripples, his eyes squeezed tight shut in concentration. ‘Keep that . . . bear . . . under control or we’ll . . . crash!’
‘We already done crashed, sir,’ said Polly gently, and opening his eyes Jonathan Ripples saw the truth of it. His lovely red balloon, which he had worked so hard to build with his own podgy hands, hung raggedly from the treetops, all tattered and torn as it dangled on the breeze like a wilted ant.
‘What about . . . the . . . snacks?’ he gasped. ‘Tell me the . . . snacks are . . . all right, Polly.’
Polly looked away, unable to meet Jonathan Ripples’ hopeful, pleading eyes.
‘I’m afraid . . . well, I’m afraid the snacks didn’t make it,’ said Polly quietly. ‘I’m sorry, sir.’
‘NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!’
Jonathan Ripples’ roar of anguish echoed through the forest, shaking the trees and ferns to their roots. But after some time the fat man was able to pull himself together.
‘Well, snacks will come and snacks will go, I suppose,’ he said, getting up and dusting himself off. ‘The important thing is that we’re all right.’
‘Yes,’ said Polly anxiously, ‘but Mr Ripples, Mr Ripples, what ‘bout Padlock? He’s nowheres to be seen!’
Chapter 12
The Hunt for Padlock
‘Oh, hold on, there he is,’ said Polly. ‘Over by that leaf. I didn’t see him there for a moment.’
Chapter 13
Exploring the Island
‘Well, everyone’s basically all right,’ said Jonathan Ripples cheerfully. ‘Let’s see what this island’s got to offer in the way of snacks.’
Yes, it was an official Jonathan Ripples Snack Discovering Expedition, or ‘JRSDE’ for short.
So off they set through the rainforest, making their way beneath the low-hanging vines and creepers. From time to time, Jonathan Ripples would stop to investigate the plants and rocks for any snacks that might be hiding there, but Polly was far more interested in the natural beauty of the island. She had never seen anything like it.
‘Why, it’s like some sorts of paradise,’ she marvelled, gazing around the lush rainforest, unspoiled by Man or Shopping Centre. Insects the size of birds buzzed all around, birds as small as bees darted through her eyelashes and the colours were so dazzling she thought her brains would go mental with happiness.
‘An’ jus’ look at Padlock!’ laughed Polly joyfully. ‘He loves it here an’ he’s doin’ somersaults to prove it!’
It was true. Padlock was a-bouncin’ and aboundin’ ahead of them like the world’s furriest gymnastics guy. And when Polly saw him roaming so wild and free and hairy she realised the truth of it.
‘Why, this must be the Kingdom of the Beasters at last!’ she said in wonder. ‘That’s what’s makin’ Padlock so happy an’ filled with power an’ playtime!’
Giggling with glee, Polly went skipping after her friend, and there in a forest clearing she found him, rolling around in the huge violet flowers, rubbing his back in pleasure against the tree trunks and pooing wherever he flipping well felt like. He had never looked more like a proper fat shaggy rumble-me-tumble sort of a roly-poly flip-flap-flopper of a big brown bear than he did at that moment. And the sun it shone down and the butterflies bibbled and the day was as bright as Cleopatra’s nail varnish. And Padlock and Polly stood there in the clearing together, gazing into one another’s eyes with love and hope for the future. For they had done it. Padlock had finally come home – home to the Kingdom of the Beasts where he belonged.
It was a magical moment and the only thing that spoilt it was when Mr Gum and Billy William jumped out from behind a vine and whacked Padlock around the head with a big rotten log crawling with giant woodlice.
‘Ha ha!’ laughed Mr Gum. His horrible skin was red with sunburn, his horrible beard was red with just being red to begin with, and there was evil written all over his face. He had written it there that morning in biro.
‘Not so proud an’ strong now, are ya?’ he yelled at Padlock, who lay cowering on the ground in fright.
‘Ha ha!’ laughed Billy, putting his foot on Padlock’s head and pretending like he was going to squash it. ‘He knows who’s the boss – us!’
‘You good-for-nothin’ pair of hofflers! What on earth you doin’ here?’ demanded Polly furiously.
‘It was all part of me amazin’ genius plan,’ boasted Mr Gum. ‘See, we decided to sail to this island on purpose. We knew you’d turn up eventually with the bear – it was just a matter of waitin’ for you.’
‘Actually we just sort of landed here by accident,’ admitted Billy. ‘To be
honest, we’ve been drunk most of the time an’ – OW!’
‘Shut up,’ said Mr Gum, whacking Billy round the head with the log. ‘Now, little girl, take one step closer an’ I’ll finish off your precious “Padlock” once an’ for all. Billy, you repaired our boat engine yet?’
‘Yeah,’ said Billy William. ‘The Dirty Oyster’s back in business, Gummy, me old paint bucket.’
‘Right then,’ said Mr Gum, prodding Padlock in the back with a stick. ‘Let’s get off this stinkin’ island an’ go an’ make our fortune with Mr Funny, the Dancin’ Bear.’
‘I hates you, Mr Gum!’ shouted Polly, ‘an’ to be quite franks I don’t much care for you neither, Billy William! He’s NOT Mr Funny, an’ he’s NOT a dancin’ bear! He’s a wonderful animal with dignity an’ pride an’ pretty hazel eyes an’ he don’t belongs with you, he belongs here!’
‘So you don’t like to see a bear dancin’?’ grinned Mr Gum. ‘Well, bad luck, Girly McSwirly – you’re gonna get one last performance before we go.’
And then the villains started up with that terrible shanty they loved so well:
Dance for yer supper!
You big ugly tungler!
Dance for old Gummy an’ Bill!
An’ the wind she blows high an’ the wind
she blows low —
But Padlock wouldn’t dance.
He had had enough.
‘Dance!’ shouted Mr Gum wildly. ‘Dance, you filthy old flea-bear, dance!’
But no.
Padlock’s doleful hazel eyes looked deep into Polly’s and in that moment he seemed to find his greatest strength yet. Not the sort of strength that helps you lift a sack of babies over your head in a Baby-Lifting Competition, but the sort of strength that comes deep from the inside. The sort of strength that tells the world, ‘I am a bear, not a dancing clown! And I am proud like the wind, and free like the wind, and wild like the wind! Hey, maybe I am the wind! No, hold on, I’m a bear, yes, I’m definitely a bear! And you may poke me with sharp sticks and call me a tungler, but you will never again make me live in the World of Men!’
And Padlock threw back his head and oh, boy, he HOWLED, a noise so mournful and long and rich with ancient animal power that even Mr Gum drew back in alarm.
The beautiful, lonely sound carried to every corner of that island, calling to the creatures that lay hidden there, waiting for the signal of a brother in pain. And slowly, gradually, hundreds of eyes began appearing among the trees and ferns. Hundreds of pairs of eyes, blinking ominously all around the forest clearing.
‘What’s goin’ on?’ whimpered Mr Gum. ‘I don’t likes it, I don’t likes it one bit!’
Chapter 14
The Kingdom of the Beasts
Slowly a figure emerged from the trees. It was a bear.
Slowly a second figure emerged from the trees.
It was another bear.
Slowly a third figure emerged from the trees. It was Jonathan Ripples. ‘Hello, Polly,’ he said. ‘Have you found any snack – ooh, what’s happening here?’
‘Shh,’ said Polly, ‘it’s the Kingdom of the Beasters, come to full power at last.’
One by one, more and more bears stepped out from among the trees, until very soon Mr Gum and Billy were completely surrounded by a circle of the big brown creatures, all grinning and growling and showing their sharp white teeth.
‘What we gonna do?’ wibbed the villains, clutching on to each other. ‘They’re gonna rip us apart an’ suck the marrow out our bones, whatever marrow is!’
But now all sorts of other animals were beginning to show themselves as the news spread: apes, mice, bees, antelopes, parrots, toucans, wild horses, even wilder horses, completely livid horses, bright tree frogs so poisonous they kept killing themselves by accident, orang-utans, blue lizards, elephants, tigers, a rhino called Larry Bennett, stag beetles, beetle stags, giant centipedes, a little dog riding on a monkey and tons of other tropical weirdies you’ve never even heard of – all of them came trotting or flying or slithering up to join the party. A blue whale came running out of the ocean just to have a look, and a piglet sent a note to say he was terribly sorry he couldn’t make it but he was busy being eaten by a python.
And then, once all the animals were assembled, Padlock rose to his full height. And very slowly and deliberately he began to stomp his paws upon the ground.
STOMP.
STOMP.
STOMP.
STOMP.
One by one the other animals joined in, stomping their feet or swishing their tails in time, and what a racket they raised that day, my friends! You’ve never heard anything like it, or maybe you have, who knows what you get up to in your spare time? Anyway, what a racket! And the way those animals stared at the villains! You would have sworn they were trying to tell them something.
‘Oh, if only we poor animals could talk,’ exclaimed a large red parrot, flapping his wings in despair, ‘then we could tell you what was on our minds.’
But Jonathan Ripples had already figured it out.
‘Pardon me,’ he said to the villains, ‘but I think . . . um . . . well, I think the animals want you to dance for them.’
At this the animals threw back their heads and shrieked and stomped even harder than before.
‘WHAT?!’ shouted Mr Gum in horror. ‘I ain’t no fancy dancin’ man!’
‘Me neither,’ moaned Billy. ‘I ain’t flappin’ around like no disco boogie-boy for some stupid bunch of wildlife!’
But at this the animals began to growl and bare their teeth, stomping closer and closer and louder and louder, raising their hooves and paws dangerously.
There was nothing for it. Shaking with rage and embarrassment, Mr Gum and Billy lifted up their clodhopping old hobnail boots and, their faces redder than ever, they began to dance.
‘They’re makin’ us into their fun,’ sobbed Billy as he capered.
‘What if they never let us stop?’ whimpered Mr Gum, doing a twirl.
Never had such a sight been seen on that island. The animals stamped and brayed and nodded their heads, bellowing and roaring and squawking and buzzing and hooting. And indeed it did seem as if the beasts might carry on forever – but Polly was shaking her head. She just couldn’t stand to see another person in trouble, even if that person happened to be Mr Gum and Billy William the Third.
‘Oh, Padders, this isn’t right!’ cried Polly, hopping into the circle alongside the astonished villains and throwing her arms around the big old bear. ‘If you treats Mr Gum an’ Billy like they done treated you, then you’re no better than them! An’ the Kingdom of the Beasters will become like the World of Men, full of bad revenges an’ hatreds an’ makin’ people dance. Please, I begs you! Remember you are Beasters, not Men, an’ stop this dreadful punishment at once!’
Did Padlock understand Polly’s speech? Well, not exactly. He didn’t understand the words, of course. But animals are clever animals and they can sense all sorts of things that you and I have no way of knowing about, like emotions and feelings and dog food. So yes. When he gazed into Polly’s pleading eyes, Padlock sensed the truth of the matter and truly he was ashamed.
‘Mmph,’ he said softly, looking around the forest clearing at the animals he had called to that leafy place. ‘Mmph.’
All at once the other animals understood and they too were ashamed of what they had become. They ceased their excited frenzy at once, and one by one they crept back into their shadows to resume their peaceful lives of eating each other.
‘Quick,’ said Mr Gum, seizing the chance. ‘Let’s get out of here, Billy!’
Away they raced through the forest, away from the shining natural world of the animals, a world they could never understand or learn to stroke gently. Arriving at the beach, they fired up The Dirty Oyster and they were off. That was the last that was ever heard of them in the South Pacific Islands, and where they ended up only time will tell.
Chapter 15
The Spirit
&nb
sp; of the Rainbow?
‘Well,’ said Jonathan Ripples, who had finally discovered a snack on the island – a really small coconut that tasted like sick. ‘It’s all over. The time has come to return to Lamonic Bibber at last.’
‘But how can we, Mr Ripples, sir? Our ballooner’s all damaged up beyond repair,’ said Polly.
‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that,’ said Jonathan Ripples glumly. ‘Whatever are we going to do?’
But just then Padlock’s ears pricked up and he started dashing through the forest, turning somersaults as he went.
‘Why, he’s gone quite mad,’ laughed Polly as she and Jonathan Ripples followed him down to the beach. But there upon the shining white sands stood the hot-air balloon, fully repaired and as good as new, and surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of happy laughing creatures, frolicking in the sunshine and having their races.
‘Oh, my LORD! The animals have fixed the balloon!’ shouted Jonathan Ripples, falling over in disbelief and getting sand down his trousers.
‘Not the animals,’ laughed Polly, seeing that the basket was loaded with enough fruit chews to last them the entire trip back home. ‘You know, Mr Ripples, sir, I think the Spirit of the Rainbow’s been helpin’ us out again.’
‘Oh, Polly,’ smiled Jonathan Ripples. ‘Not that nonsense again! Just who is this Spirit of the Rainbow character supposed to be, anyway?’
‘Why, don’t you knows, sir?’ said Polly seriously. ‘He’s a marvellous little boy what’s probbly also a supernatural Force for Good an’ he often comes to our aid when we needs him most.’
‘Well, where is he then?’ said Jonathan Ripples, scratching his head and looking up and down the beach.