‘Happy to have helped,’ said the large woman. ‘I owe you both something after what you did for little Timmy.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Well, I must get on. Have a nice holiday!’
Cyd and Archie went racing round to Cyd’s house.
‘I think we’ve still got time,’ said Cyd, a little breathlessly, as they ran. ‘If Mum can get a taxi and we go straight to the airport, I think we can still catch the plane.’
But when they got to the house, Cyd’s mother wasn’t there. Instead, there was a note on the door saying she had gone down to the police station to report the loss of her bag.
Cyd turned to Archie. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked.
Archie had no idea. They needed to find Cyd’s mother and tell her they had the bag but, by the time they found her, it would probably be too late.
‘I don’t believe it!’ said a voice. ‘I was just thinking about you two.’
A large green car had drawn up at the pavement, and the man leaning out of the driver’s window was the old man with the bald head they had met on Friday at the house with the leopard.
‘I wanted to say thank you,’ said the old man. ‘My son could have been in a lot of trouble if you’d told anyone what happened with the leopard that day. But you kept quiet and I’m very grateful.’ He paused. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you?’
‘No. No, we didn’t,’ said Cyd.
‘Could you give us a lift into town?’ asked Archie. ‘Only, Cyd needs to find her mother.’ He explained about Cyd going on holiday, the bag with the tickets in it being stolen, and how they had to tell Cyd’s mother they had found it, and then get a taxi out to the airport.
‘Of course I can give you a lift,’ said the old man. ‘We’ll find your mother and then I’ll drive you to the airport myself. It’s the least I can do after what you did for me and Kevin. Hop in and buckle up!’
It took a little longer to find Cyd’s mother than they expected – she had taken a route round the back of the houses rather than going along the main road – but, when they found her, Cyd gave her the handbag and told her how the old man was prepared to drive them straight to the airport.
Cyd’s mother was clearly pleased to have her bag back, but said that, unfortunately, it was too late to catch their flight to Miami.
‘If we haven’t checked in by two o’clock, they won’t let us on the plane,’ she said, ‘and there’s no way we can get to the airport by then. Not in forty minutes.’
‘Your mother’s right,’ the old man agreed sadly. ‘Even a Grand Prix champion couldn’t drive you there in forty minutes.’
Cyd looked at Archie. ‘There must be something we can do!’
‘Well,’ said Archie, slowly, ‘I suppose there is one thing …’
The helicopter landed in the field behind Cyd’s house in a gale of dust and noise, and a tall man in a dark suit stepped out and came towards Archie with a broad smile on his face.
‘Good to see you again, Archie!’ he said. ‘Mrs Henderson asked me to say she’s sorry she couldn’t come herself, but she and the other Archie are in India.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ Cyd’s mum stared in astonishment at the helicopter. ‘You’re taking us to the airport? Just like that? Why?’
‘I’m under strict orders to do anything for Archie and Cyd,’ said the tall man. He pointed to the two suitcases. ‘Is this all the luggage?’
Three minutes later, they were all strapped into their seats in the helicopter, and it was lifting off from the field and heading at top speed for the airport.
‘It’s going to be quite tight,’ the tall man told them, shouting above the noise of the engine, ‘but we should be OK. The pilot says we’ll be landing in thirteen minutes, and then we just have to get to the main terminal so you can check in. I think you’ll make it!’
Getting to the main terminal, however, wasn’t quite as easy as the tall man had hoped. He had asked someone to have transport waiting for them but, when they landed at the airport, they found a young man standing on the tarmac with a motorbike.
‘I thought it was transport for just one person,’ he said apologetically. ‘I didn’t realize. I’m sorry …’
The tall man turned to Cyd and her mother. ‘How long before you’re supposed to check in?’ he asked.
Cyd’s mother looked at her watch. ‘Four and a half minutes,’ she said.
‘It’ll take at least that long to organize a car,’ said the tall man. ‘And it’s about a mile to the terminal building … Anyone got any ideas?’
For some reason, everyone looked at Archie, who was about to say that, no, he didn’t have any ideas when …
‘I don’t believe it!’ said a voice. ‘What are you doing here, Archie?’
Looking round, Archie saw a man in green overalls driving a set of steps of the sort used to let people climb in and out of aeroplanes. It was, Archie realized, the burly man from the library protest on Wednesday, and he did not hesitate.
‘Can you get Cyd and her mum to the main terminal?’ he asked. ‘In less than four minutes?’
‘Course I can!’ said the burly man cheerily. ‘I can do anything for the lad who saved our library. Sit yourselves down on the steps and hang on tight!’
The burly man drove them at full speed across a runway towards the terminal building, narrowly missing a jumbo jet, almost overturning as he swung round the corner of the terminal building and then, two minutes later, screeching to a halt in front of the main entrance.
‘Thank you,’ said Archie, as he climbed down from the ladder. ‘We’re very grateful for—’
‘You haven’t got time for all that,’ said the burly man. ‘You go and make sure your friends check in! Desk number twenty-two. Straight through those doors and over to the left!’
With the tall man carrying the luggage, Archie, Cyd and her mother raced through the glass doors, ran across the lobby and arrived, panting for breath, at desk number twenty-two.
‘Are we too late?’ asked Cyd’s mother, ‘for the flight to Miami?’
‘Still a minute to go,’ said the girl behind the desk with a smile. ‘Do you have your tickets and your passports?’
‘Yes,’ said Cyd’s mother, taking out her bag. ‘Yes, we do!’
‘You did it, Archie!’ said Cyd, and her eyes were shining as she looked at him. ‘I don’t know how, but you did it! And I will never forget this. You are the best friend, absolutely the best friend, that anybody could ever have!’
And then, right there in the airport terminal, in front of everybody, she not only put her arms round Archie and hugged him, she gave him a big, smacking kiss on one side of his face, and then a big, smacking kiss on the other.
‘I could be wrong,’ said the tall man quietly, as they watched Cyd and her mother disappear through the gates to the departure lounge, ‘but I think she likes you.’
The helicopter flew Archie home, and the old man with the bald head was waiting at the field to drive him back to his house in Garfield Crescent.
The day had, he thought, turned out rather better than he’d expected. At least it had until he got back to the house and his mother met him in the hallway, carrying a pile of magazines.
‘One thing!’ she said, sounding very fed up. ‘I ask you to do one tiny thing for me and, three hours later, have you done it? No!’
She stormed out of the door.
‘Honestly! I don’t believe it, Archie!’
I Don't Believe It, Archie! Page 5