Without further ado, he picked up the barrow and began pushing Diana away. “You coming, lads?”
Mr and Mrs Stump and Opum watched them cross the road and disappear into the dark before they themselves took to the back streets towards Diddling.
88 HERE COMES THE CAVALRY
Opum, trotting along with the Stumps had only got halfway down the first side road when he called for a hush, so they gathered into the shadows. Coming towards them around the corner came the Riot Squad. He stepped out into what little light there was and signalled for them to stop. The leader turned out to be Commander Button, who gave the order and the squad halted. Opum greeted Button with surprise and asked why he was conducting this operation. Button said his only reason was because Opum was involved and might be in danger.
“Rubbish, old chap!” Opum said with mock indignity, “I’ve survived this long, for heaven’s sake! But it’s good to have you at my back like old times. Now listen, Olly, the...”
Opum was suddenly distracted again. Listening intently, he said “They’re coming. Get everyone back. Round that corner.”
Button moved his squad back and Opum followed, then the two of them waited and watched.
Preceded by sounds of “Oi!” and “Ow!”, they could make out the white form that would be Fullon, still with most of his costume, being goaded by Horn past the end of the side street, on the main road.
Opum still waited. Sure enough, the shadowy forms of Blowback and Skinner also passed. But there was no sign of Lump.
“Listen, Olly. What you saw was this. The first fellow is Fairly Fullon. Owns Bortontick, this place, behind here. Entrance, first on the left down there just round the corner. Can’t miss it. He was taking the other one, Hans Horn, in there. Or Horn was taking Fullon. Whatever. “
“Perfect,” said Button, “I’ve got a warrant for Horn. Abduction. A few other charges pending. But where is the McLeash girl? D’you know?”
“All under control, Olly. Listen, two things. Take the boys round to the Bortontick place, but keep out of the house. The whole place has been rigged waiting for them. So you can afford to wait. Let them all go in and just wait for Horn to come out from the place. Save yourself a lot of bother.
“Second point, work on Horn. For instance. Why on earth would such a petty crim suddenly up his game and be so desperate to repeatedly try and carry off a girl like Diana McLeash. I suspect bigger fish -”
“Already on to that,” said Button, “Been around with you too long not to pick that one up!”
“Exactly,” agreed Magnus, “Be well worth it. Horn is bound to have enough information to get you going. A clear-up like that would look good on your CV, don’t you think? Take care old chum – Don’t forget the booby traps. Get the tech boys to clear the place before you enter.
“Oh, One other thing.” He added. “The McLeash girl.”
“Yes. What’s happening there. You got her? Her parents. I’ve kept ’em out of the loop to be safe, but -”
“It’s all good. Maybe get them in, bring them up to date. Get the Stumps in on it too. That’ll get them off your back. Just leave out the bigger picture, you know the drill. It’ll be daylight soon. Leave it today. Talk to you tomorrow about it. Eight O’clock? Good Luck tonight! Cheers for now Olly!”
Opum took his leave from his friend, collected Stump and his Mrs from the shadows, and they trotted off to High Aytus. He wanted to make sure the Stumps got back safely and to check that damage to their property wasn’t a problem.
Commander Button re-formed his squad, trotted them to the end of the road, then walked them quietly round the corner and to the entrance to Bortontick.
89 JUST DESSERTS
Horn had goaded Fullon up to the entrance to Bortontick. But right there, Fullon blocked and cringed with horror at the sight of his precious home now gaping ominously. The missing two doors had turned the front into an open black, toothless maw. Nothing would induce him to mount the steps to that horrible entrance, let alone enter the dark.
Horn, though, sensing he was now so close to the girl who would solve all his problems, reckoned he could do the rest without Fullon. Abandoning all thought of Fullon he took off and bolted up the steps. That was a mistake. Tripping on a string at the doorway, he fell, not onto the floor because it wasn’t there, but into a deep expanse of unset jelly. Once he surfaced, he found it was too deep to get out. He bellowed for Fullon.
Fullon, beside himself with the inexplicable change in his wonderful mansion from warm welcome to something evidently evil but drawn by Horn’s desperation, mounted the steps. He missed the string, but not the jelly splashes thrown up by Horn. He stood, hovering on the slippery top step, mortified, unconsciously trying to flick something nasty off his feet. So stunned at what he was seeing that when Horn demanded help to get out, Fullon gave it, slipped on the slops and fell in.
Trying to get out of the slime turned the occasion into a sort of silent bonding experience for them but even that didn’t actually work. Eventually, they worked out the only way that seemed possible. They had to jump out. By trial and error, they found if they hunkered down sufficiently, meaning totally submerging, they could leap sufficiently onto the top step to scrabble out. Doing all this displaced a huge amount of the jelly mix. However, there seemed to be plenty left for another swim later. When they finally got out, they put aside the idea of further bonding and wandered off sloppily trying to avoid each other. Fullon’s horror simply increased.
What has happened? My magnificent staircase! My stuff dumped everywhere! And the furniture? The larger pieces! Where are they? Where is everything? Fullon stumbled and slipped around in dismay and disbelief.
Even Horn was impressed with what had been done. For some reason, the stairs looked only half finished. Why? Then he realised that the bannisters were missing. Around him, furniture and shelves were gone, but everything from off the shelves was everywhere. What’s going on?
The two of them wandered about leaving trails of slop until Horn suddenly turned up in front of Fullon and threatened him with a piece of paper. He was steamed up again and getting more and more frantic.
“Wassthiss?” He demanded.
The paper said,
They looked at each other. Then with extraordinary civility, they proceeded together back to the entrance. With great difficulty they managed to negotiate the jelly pit without falling in and tackled the stairs. The climb itself was a major obstacle that became another learning experience. As well as the banisters and handrails having vanished, Jelly slime had been placed on all the stairs, more of which was coming with them. One step up was fine. Getting to a second required traction on the first. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, but they got a lot of practice in and did eventually manage it. But then what? At the top were various doors, with Fullon’s bedroom at the head of the stairs. On that door was another piece of paper.
They stared at it. Then they sat down and stared at it. They stared at the door. Caution had set in. The door was a worry. After all, things were not as they should be. They looked at each other trying to look as if they were thinking about it. None of which made the slightest difference.
Fullon decided enough was enough. After all, it was his bedroom. He got up and tried the door. Nothing happened. He turned the handle down again and pushed, again. No go. He tried harder. He pushed harder still. It would not open.
Now, to Fullon, this was the door to his own bedroom. It opened inwards. It always had. Therefore it always would. That’s how bedroom doors worked. That’s the fact about bedroom doors. They do it tirelessly, every day. No exceptions. So, he pushed really hard. Then Really, Really hard – well, at least it was for him. He put as much effort into it as possible. He even got an impressive mount of the unset jelly all over it, but no go. No Go. It was immoveable, locked, stuck, Un-Budgeable. Fullon thought of something. He check. There was no lock. He sat down.
Horn’s turn. Grit and determination. That would do it. If the girl was in there,
he would get in there. Even if he had to bash the door down. Horn of course was new to that door. He didn’t know which way the door should open. It really didn’t matter to him. After all, a simple door was never a trouble if you really wanted to get in. Also, having watched Fullon’s effort with great interest, he had concluded, probably correctly, that Fullon didn’t possess much of the get-up-and-go stuff. Horn would therefore conduct a master class in the art of making an unwilling door give way to his superior get-up-and-go stuff. Of course, having watched Fullon with that same great attention, he followed suite in assuming the door opened inwards.
With no success forthcoming, hostilities towards said door now increased exponentially. As this merciless pounding increased, the door’s ability to deflect the enormous impact of Horn repeatedly crashing into it was at the same time greatly aided by the coating of the unset jelly being generously donated onto the door by both participants. On the other hand, if, as and whenever Horn managed to crash into the door without jelly-sliding to one side or the other, the more he suffered from the impact, not the door.
Eventually, confronted with defeat by a simple door, Horn lost his temper. After so many crashings and shovings, each one more desperate and determined than the previous, out of sheer spite he gave the thing one huge, gigantic, frustrated pull.
The door opened with ease. So much so, that Horn flew backwards off balance trying to keep ahead of the door coming at him. Seriously preoccupied with regaining his balance, he still had a grip on the door as it swung wide, bringing Horn to an abrupt halt at the head of the stairs. Thus distracted, he completely forgot the printed instruction to duck. A bag of flour came swinging through the doorway like a rocket propelled pendulum on a string and exploded against him. There was only one way this would end. In a cloud of flour and looking just as white as Fullon, he hardly touched the slippery stairs on the way down, naturally, into the jelly pond.
Fullon, noticing Horn’s preoccupation elsewhere and the door now open, took advantage of the situation and headed into his own bedroom. He noticed that the room had stuff in it but was distracted by a string he tripped with his foot. Looking down and carefully stepping from the string left him woefully unprepared for the bucket of water that dumped on him as triggered by the string.
Shocked by the water, he shot upright. Thus distracted by the drenching, he too forgot to duck, failed to see the second bag of flour coming at him as triggered by the bucket. Duly plastered, he joined Horn in the jelly pond.
In trying to get out, the two excitedly explored several new versions of their bonding exercise, during which, once again neither of them actually said anything.
Looking very, very sorry for themselves, totally plastered with jelly and flour, and tastefully decorated with the occasional bedraggled feather, they finally slid down the front steps of the house, only to be confronted by the Riot Squad spread out in a single line, stationed in front of them. Those big burly dogs were trying hard to maintain their renowned fearsome demeanour, but gradually they all ended up rolling on the ground, squirming upside in howls of laughter.
As the entire Riot Squad reached this informal prone position, two pairs of eyes came into view peering on in dismay from under the bushes in the flowerbeds behind them. The owners of those eyes were not so worried by what they were witnessing, as what the outcome was going to mean for their own future.
90 SHADES OF THINGS TO COME
As Monty pushed Diana McLeash towards the river, she peered into the dark, trying to see ahead. The moon refused to give much light even when it did come out from the clouds. When she could see, the trees and shadows got in the way.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
Somewhere behind them Josh, Max and James would be following. Monty Stump liked that they were giving him room with Miss McLeash. However, in the moment it took Monty to formulate an answer to her question, another thought entered his head seemingly from nowhere about the difficulty of trying to talk while lifting a wheelbarrow with a girl in it and carting her as quickly as possible down the road. The exertion needed was not small. But it was suddenly important that it appear small. He was filled with an urgent need to impress. It even occurred to him it would be more points if he could impress the boys as well, but, an audience of one was better than none, and this one was quite, um...
“How would you like, My Lady,” Breathe. Keep it smooth. He had just the right line but it had to sound casual.
“How would you like to go on a cruise?”
________________
BOOK 2
A TOUR DE FORCE
Monty the fox and Diana his new companion find themselves trapped in a strange country full of paradoxes, dangers and perpetual war. Monkeys armed with stones, trees sending messages, rabbits trapping wolves and the wolves using fire. Monty is wounded in a fight for his life. On top of all this, he hears of a strange puzzle. Time is running out as he senses it is a key to the entire mystery.
BOOK 3
A TOUR DE FARCE
There are more dramas in store before foxes Monty and Diana arrive at a village full of eccentrics preparing for war, all convinced they are under attack from strange unknown forces. Amid air raids, tricky tunnels, flying furniture and mutiny on a ferry, Monty is unaware he caused it all. Fighting his own battles he is almost out-witted by a toad. Can he save the day and his dignity?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
P R M Kinloch lives in Australia where he has been watching the number of Kinlochs increase on that little island in the sun, very happily sharing responsibility for some of them, a grown son and daughter.
After successful careers with several multi-national companies, then as a trainer and monitoring officer in the NSW Government and extensive travels, he now lives with his wife, running his own business and writing.
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