by Deb McEwan
‘OK, boy, it’s great to see you too.’ She laughed and scratched behind his year. He loved that.
‘You’re staying with Granny and Granddad for a while yet, while we all go to Spain.’ Elvis put his head to one side and looked at Caroline, she was surely winding him up. ‘Are you going to be a good boy for Granny and Granddad?’ Asked Caroline in a voice normally used by a five year old.
In a huff, Elvis walked over to greet Phil in a much more sedate manner and Phil confirmed to him that he had another two weeks with the oldies. Great!
‘Are you coming in then?’ Shouted Trevor. ‘Or are you going to hang about in the front garden?’
‘Sorry, Dad, on our way.’ They all trooped into the house and the adults thanked Donna and Trevor for looking after the children. They exchanged stories of their trip to Falhaven and the childrens’ adventures with their grandparents then got their belongings together ready to leave.
‘Are you sure about Elvis? My mother and Bunny are happy to look after him if you’d prefer.’ Caroline thought Trevor and Donna looked a little tired.
Elvis pricked his years and sat up. Say Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. But Donna was miffed.
‘We love Elvis, Caroline and he’s very happy here.’
Trevor patted the dog and added. ‘We’ll have lots of fun, boy eh?’
Resigned to the fact that he was being dumped with the oldies again, Elvis did his cute look for them all and the matter was settled. Trevor, Donna and Elvis went to the front door to wave their family off and to wish them a lovely holiday.
Junior and his team had met Max and Vicky at the door for a quick exchange of stories. Max had radioed ahead and Junior was more than happy to stay with Donna, Trevor and Elvis while the others holidayed in Spain. It was the turn of Max and Vicky to have some leave and they planned on going away with the family but not filming any of the events. The Terries had already seen the family enjoying a Spanish holiday so they wouldn’t be missing anything.
Back in the living room Trevor started looking through the adult films.
‘Bit of a cheek thinking Bunny could look after Elvis better than us, love.’
‘I know.’ Agreed Donna. ‘Peter bleeding perfect that Bunny. He can’t do anything wrong.’
‘Talking about Peters.’ Said Trevor. ‘How about this one?’
He picked up a DVD and waved it in the air. Peter Penis and the Panting Pussies.
‘That must be the one Ethel gave me.’ Said Donna.
‘Apparently it’s the last one that Peter Penis made before retiring.’
Donna and Trevor had heard a lot about Peter Penis but hadn’t seen any of his films. ‘Yes, no, maybe, or shall I find another one?’ Asked Trevor.
‘Load it and I’ll go and put the kettle on. It seems like ages since we’ve had a quiet time in watching a movie.’
She was preceded to the kitchen by Elvis who couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.
Tea and biscuits laid out on the tray, Donna put the tray on the table together with a box of tissues, just in case. The credits rolled and the movie started.
Two women barely dressed and sporting furry cat ears and cat-woman masks pole-danced in a night club to the delight of their audience. As their shift finished they were escorted from the premises by a fair haired man who had an arm around the waist of each of the girls.
‘He looks familiar.’ Said Donna even though she could only see the back of the man.
‘Sssshhhh, I’m trying to watch this.’ Said Trevor.
Cut to the pussy bedroom festooned with animal print features and furnishings; chair cover, curtains, matching quilt cover, pillow cases. The cat girls were dressed only in matching lingerie. Cat one threw the quilt off the bed to reveal a black satin sheet and bull-whip. She cracked the whip and beckoned the man with her index finger. The man stripped off his trousers. The camera slowly showed the man from his feet, up to his leopard print pants which he stripped off.
‘Oh I say.’ Said Donna. ‘This looks promising.’
She rubbed her hands together.
Trevor was waiting to see the cats in their full glory so ignored his wife. The camera moved again. Up to his ripped stomach, up to his smooth chest, up to his lustful face.
‘Oh my God it’s Bunny. He’s not Peter Perfect, he’s Peter effing Penis!!!’
Donna was astounded.
Trevor looked at her. ‘Oh my God. I can’t watch this now.’
‘Never mind the bloody movie, Trevor. It’s effing Bunny.’
Trevor shook his head.
‘Stop swearing, woman. You’re getting to sound quite common.’
Donna started strumming her fingers on her thigh.
‘Don’t you get it? I’ve seen Bunny’s penis. How can I possibly face him again knowing that?’
‘Well. It’s either act as if everything’s normal, or we tell Bunny we’ve seen him, err, acting.’
Donna was thoughtful for a few seconds.
‘Jean’s disgusting isn’t she? Fancy going out with a porn star, and they seem quite serious nowadays despite the age gap. Who knows what he might have caught.’
‘They’re very clean these days, dear. I know what you mean though. She’s always been common that one.’ Agreed Trevor.
‘So we try and pretend we know no different then?’
Trevor nodded his head and ejected the movie. ‘I’ve lost interest in these for today what say you?’
‘Shall we watch The Street?’ Trevor nodded and turned off the DVD player and they settled down to watch their favourite soap.
Junior. ‘This sort of palaver is perfectly normal. Human beings appear to thrive on drama, without it their lives would be dreary and boring.’
Chapter 25
The Spanish holiday passed far too quickly and it wasn’t long before they returned to collect Elvis. The children returned to school in the autumn and Caroline started her cookery lessons with the energetic Sarah.
Caroline was feeling quite melancholic. They’d been married for nearly 12 years and Jack was in his last year at junior school. He’d be eleven next year and starting grown up school. She didn’t know where the years had gone.
The first week back at school following the summer holidays was always difficult, for the whole family. They had to get back into their normal routines and this particular week had been really busy. Caroline had received her first cookery lesson from Sarah on Wednesday and had come home with a delicious stew that lasted the family two nights. She felt a bit guilty about not telling them she’d actually burnt the onions and meat in her stew. Sarah had felt sorry for her and given her the Johnson family supper.
‘It’s really not a problem, I’ll rustle up chicken and veg pasta. In fact, we’ll get you to do another stew next week; house rules you keep trying until you get it right, then you can learn how to make a basic pasta sauce as well.’
This sounded too much too soon for Caroline and she voiced her concerns.
‘That’ll be too much for me. I think I’ll just stick to the one thing.’
Sarah laughed. ‘It’s OK, Caroline you can do both. I’m not going to force you to do anything you can’t manage.’
And now if was Friday and takeaway night. Yippee!
*****
Clive and Geraldine arrived at Largo, space lagged from their drug induced sleep, and were surprised at the heroes welcome they received. Hundreds of Terries had turned out to welcome them home and questions were fired at them about life on Earth, their spider companions, and the humans. They were whisked off by Pamela Birdflu and her staff and weren’t allowed to answer any questions.
Following re-acclimatisation, Clive and Geraldine were permitted to meet and chat with Terries but were not allowed to talk about Clive’s work to help Caroline unknowingly overcome her spider phobia.
‘Wonder why we can’t discuss that?’ Asked Geraldine.
‘Life’s good, honey and Pamela’s promised me lots of work and future fame if we’re successful.’<
br />
He knew Geraldine was wondering. ‘I don’t know any more at this stage but let’s enjoy the attention and not rock the boat.’
Sounded good to Geraldine.
*****
Max couldn’t believe the latest transmission from Largo.
They were sending Terry agents to borrow footballs to enable the youngsters to play back on Largo. The spiders were to go about their business as usual but assist the agents if required. Max had been given details of where and when the pods would land but this was to be a countrywide mission and he couldn’t possibly monitor all of them. He hadn’t even been consulted, and was miffed.
‘They think they can send untrained Terries here to steal footballs and not get caught?’
Max kicked the door in frustration then pretended he hadn’t hurt himself.
‘We just have to accept it, Max.’ Vicky touched him gently. ‘Is your leg OK.’
Max shrugged her off. ‘I’m fine, OK.’ She looked hurt.
‘Look, sorry. I’m fine. You’re right.’ He sighed.
‘Let’s get on, but before we do, can you send a transmission to Largo and tell them that this is the 21st century and that people in Graylesford don’t say What O?’
Vicky didn’t have a clue what Max was talking about, but carried out his orders anyway.
Jack and Sophie Byrne were in the garden after school playing Keepy Uppy. They’d let Jemima join them as she was in one of her more benevolent moods and being kind and considerate to everyone. Jemima was trying to balance the ball but it all went wrong and the football flew over the back gate. Jemima looked at Jack and he took the hint. Jack went to retrieve the ball and was stopped in his tracks. A man who was taller than his father picked up his football. He had funny fingers and was wearing a long coat, but the strangest thing about him was that his hands were orange. Not orange like that guy off the telly who’d been too much in the sun or on a sun bed, but proper orange. Like an orange actually.
‘Give me my ball back please.’ Said Jack. The stranger looked at him and said
‘What O, I work in the Chippy.’ Then he ran off and was faster than Usain Bolt.
Jack went back into the garden and told Sophie and Jemima what had happened. They didn’t believe him so he went inside and told his mother. Caroline wasn’t used to Jack exaggerating and when she saw how serious and concerned he was she knew something was wrong. She was worried, not particularly about the football although that was annoying, but about a big stranger hanging about. She tried to find a logical reason why Jack would say he was orange, but nothing came to mind.
Caroline phoned Graylesford Police Station and was put through to a Constable. When Caroline finished telling PC Smithson what had happened, he put her on hold for a minute and shouted to Sgt Donald.
‘Sarge, it’s another one of those big blokes nicking footballs again. This one was err, orange apparently, and said he works in the Chippy.’
Sgt Donald sighed. He didn’t know what the hell was going on - maybe it was rag week and students were doing dares or something - but would pass the information to the geniuses upstairs, let them earn their money for a change. He looked at the details on the computer and realised that this now brought the total to 45.
‘OK. Take the caller’s details and tell them we’ll be in touch.’
Sgt Donald had to work out which calls were from genuine people and which were from the nutters. This was going to be difficult when it involved reports of different coloured individuals.
Max. ‘Nutters are what some humans call ordinary people who have unusual habits or do unusual things. Examples are playing lots of practical jokes on family and friends, jumping out from behind a door in a darkened room and scaring people, and telling their intimate problems to strangers at bus-stops. Aristocratic or posh people with some of these traits are called eccentric. Their strange habits tend to be more extreme such as playing the piano on a fishing boat or riding a horse to chase a little animal while shouting Tally Ho.’
Shortly after PC Smithson told Caroline they’d be in touch, the phones at the police station went ballistic. Every call was a report of extremely tall people stealing footballs. This scene was replicated in police stations all over the country.
The headlines in the next edition of the Graylesford Express read. Police Take Their Eye Off The Ball! The lighthearted story detailed the mystery disappearance of thousands of footballs up and down the country and labelled it a prank by people on stilts covered in body paint. The editorial discussed whether it really was a prank or an attempt by a leading sports store chain to increase their football sales. The article confirmed to Phil why he wasn’t a regular subscriber to the Express. The children were with Jean and Bunny for the day for Caroline and Phil to have some “us” time.
‘Bloody ridiculous.’ Phil threw the paper on the floor
‘My son’s traumatised and all they can do is take the mickey.’ Caroline reminded Phil that lots of children had suffered the same as Jack and nobody had been hurt, so he needed to keep everything in perspective.
Max decided to err on the side of caution in his commentary and ignore the fact that the Terries had stolen the footballs. ‘Terry residents with offspring deemed to be of footballing age will shortly receive a very special gift...’
*****
The younger viewers on Largo were very excited. Dorset, Bobby and Flora’s middle Terry, was almost beside himself with delight. Terries usually showed their gratitude or excitement by smiling, shaking hands or thanking each other politely. Dorset didn’t know how to contain his excitement so he jumped up and down on the spot until his parents were in the unusual situation of having to tell one of their offspring to behave.
A short time later a Terry messenger arrived with two footballs for the youngsters, one each for Keesha and Dorset, which they could share with Nectarine if they wanted. The balls were vacuum packed because they could only be used in an inside forced air environment. They were not allowed to use the balls in their home and Dorset found it extremely difficult to restrain himself and not tear at the package. He could hardly wait to go to the large dome and learn how to use his present.
Max. ‘You should all now have your offspring’s gifts, and be very grateful to your brave agents for risking their lives to bring you these presents. The balls may only be used in the large communal domes and special areas have been cordoned off for offspring only use. Before any balls are used, every ball owner must watch the following football matches to enable them to learn to play the game.’
Graylesford Juniors had to postpone their football match the following Saturday. No one could get hold of any new balls. Factory workers up and down the country were deemed the new heroes by working overtime and delivering new balls to junior and senior, league and non-league teams. The delayed match took place a week later against Runston Park Juniors. They were currently top of the league and Sophie’s mother said that their top striker, Sean Clark, was a better actor than most people in Hollywood, and could dive better than most professional swimmers. Sophie was keen to play well as her father was visiting especially to watch her play football, and it had taken him 4 hours to get there.
The whistle went and Runston Park kicked off. Marie Bailey, the only other girl in the Graylesford team tackled Sean Clark and managed to get the ball off him. Sean’s father was screaming from the sideline and the linesman had a chat with Mr Clark, politely asking him to behave himself. Mr Clark smiled and said nothing. Jack passed the ball to Sophie and she ran down the pitch dribbling the ball. She looked up to check her positioning and kicked the ball. GOAL!!!!! Her team mates hugged, patted and high-fived her and Sophie’s father spent the next ten minutes telling anyone who would listen that the best footballer on the pitch was his brilliant daughter. Sean Clark equalised just before the whistle went for half-time and the children left the pitch for refreshments and a talk from their coach. Mr Baker, or Big Ron to the adults, was chewing gum like it was a race. Little drops of spittle h
ad solidified and gathered at the corners of his mouth.
‘Sophie, well done, let’s have some more. Jack, you’re doing a brilliant job in support. Marie, Sean Clark’s not that good so don’t feel intimidated by him, you’re the better player.’
He was constantly nodding his head while talking and furiously chewing his gum. Sophie was mesmerised by his nodding head and thought it would explode at any moment.
‘Ian. Don’t know what’s wrong with you today, but get a grip, boy. Do you want to come off?’
Ian looked at his shoes and shook his head.
‘Sure?’ More head shaking.
‘Well I know you can play better, give it 100 per cent, son. OK?’
Ian looked up. ‘Yes, Coach.’
‘Right, we can win this. Everyone up for it?’
‘Yes, Coach.’ In unison.
‘I can’t hear you.’
This time they all shouted.
‘Oh, and umm, don’t forget it’s not the winning, but the taking part that’s important. Enjoy yourselves.’
The children looked at their coach as if he had two heads. Big Ron had been told by the committee that he was getting too competitive. That should keep them sweet for now he thought.
The incident happened 10 minutes into the second half. Marie tackled Sean and he could see she was going to get the better of him. He took a dive onto the ground and stuck his foot out as Marie was about to pass him with the ball. Marie went flying into the air and landed on her butt on the grass. She wiggled her body and checked her arms and legs. Realising she wasn’t injured she got to her feet, gave Sean a disgusting look, and ran to join the other defenders. The referee blew his whistle and showed a yellow card to Sean. Back on his feet now because the referee was wise to his injury acting, Sean was upset and used some very colourful language to let the referee know his feelings. The referee took a red card out of his pocket, blew his whistle again and pointed to the sideline. Sean skulked off. His father was not amused and started abusing the referee, shouting at young Marie and at the supporters of the opposition. Mr Clark was also shown a red card by the referee and his face had turned almost the same colour as the card. Big Ron started marching over to Mr Clark to give him a piece of his mind before he left but he needn’t have bothered. Mr Clark’s face went from bright red, to pasty white, to almost grey and he collapsed in a heap on the floor. The St John’s Ambulance man had been watching and ran across from the other side of the football pitch.