The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Airport

by Sorrel Anderson

  ‘Wait,’ said Purvis. ‘Listen.’

  Everyone listened.

  ‘All I can hear is Howard ,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ said Howard, offendedly, ‘I… oh.’

  Purvis was right: a distant thrum had become a

  roar and the sky was

  darkening.

  ‘Is it Mr Bullerton?’ Allen.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ wailed Mickey Thompson.

  as a little plane down narrowly missing the tops of their heads, landed with a thump and along fast.

  ‘WHEE!’ said the plane as it swerved and and bumped into the side of the airport, nose cone first, with a crunching noise.

  ‘Bother,’ said the plane. ‘There goes another one.’

  ‘Quick,’ said Howard, ‘let’s get out of here before someone finds us and… oh dear.’

  said a pilot, running up. ‘Thank goodness you got here so quickly.’

  ‘Err,’ said Howard. ‘Yes!’

  ‘We take off in less than an hour. Will you have enough time?’

  ‘Err,’ said Howard. ‘Yes?’

  said the pilot. ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Um, over, err…’ Howard wafted his hand in the general direction of the airport.

  ‘Ah,’ said the pilot. ‘Good. I’ll leave you to get on with it then.’

  ‘It?’ said Howard.

  ‘Yes,’ said the pilot.

  ‘It being?’ said Howard.

  ‘Fixing the plane, of course,’ said the pilot, giving Howard a funny look. ‘Hurry up! Miss de Gamba won’t want to be kept waiting. We’re all depending on you.’

  Howard made a noise as the pilot strode away.

  ‘What am I going to do now?’ he said, panickedly.

  ‘Fix the plane?’ suggested Purvis.

  ‘But I don’t know how,’ said Howard.

  ‘Why’s that then?’ asked Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Surprisingly enough the need’s never arisen, what with me not being an aeroplane engineer and everything.’

  ‘Steady, Howard,’ said Purvis. ‘I’m sure we can sort something out. I’ll and have a little chat.’

  ‘Who with?’ said Howard.

  ‘The plane – he’ll probably be able to give us a few pointers.’

  ‘Eh?’ said Howard.

  ‘You know,’ said Purvis. ‘Hints and tips.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘I’ll come too.’

  ‘No, you wait here with Howard,’ said Purvis. ‘Look at him – he’s all upset.’

  ‘Pop up and pointers, tips?’ said Howard, . ‘They’re all depending on me.’

  Mickey Thompson patted Howard, reassuringly.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Allen.

  ‘I’ll look after him. You two go and see what you can find out.’

  ‘OK,’ said Purvis. ‘Come on, you.’ He onto the wheel of the plane, hoicked Mickey Thompson up and together they climbed along a wing, over the fuselage and onto the nose cone to introduce themselves.

  ‘ to meet you too,’ said the plane, once they had. ‘I’m Drummond. How does it look?’ He wiggled his nose cone and the mice studied it.

  ‘It is quite crumpled,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I thought it might be,’ said Drummond.

  ‘Does it hurt?’ asked Mickey Thompson, giving it a gentle prod.

  ‘Not in the least,’ said Drummond, ‘but I’m going to be in trouble. Again.’

  ‘Has it happened before?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘It happens all the time,’ said Drummond. ‘This is the ninety-ninth nose cone I’ve broken this year.’

  ‘Drummond!’ said Mickey Thompson, sounding impressed.

  ‘The thing is, I’ve only one chance left,’ said Drummond, worriedly. ‘If I reach a hundred the airport authorities will ground me for good.’

  ‘Tell them it was our fault,’ said Purvis. ‘We were in the way and put you off.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ said Drummond. ‘I’m just not very good at landings.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Or take-offs.’

  ‘I see,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I’m all right in the middle bits.’

  ‘There you are then!’ said Purvis, encouragingly.

  ‘As long as I don’t have to go too high; I’m not that keen on heights because they make me feel queasy.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate, in the circumstances,’ said Purvis. ‘Have you ever considered a change of career?’

  ‘Gosh, no,’ said Drummond. ‘I love ; it’s wonderful along through the air with the birds and clouds.’

  ‘Ooooh,’ said Mickey Thompson, dreamily. ‘Do clouds taste like candyfloss?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Drummond.

  Mickey Thompson looked bitterly disappointed.

  ‘I meant to say not usually,’ said Drummond, quickly. ‘You only get the full flavour at certain times of the year when the weather conditions are exactly right.’

  ‘What times, when?’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Drummond probably isn’t allowed to say,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Actually, it’s impossible to know in advance when it’s going to happen,’ said Drummond, ‘which means it comes as a pleasant and rare surprise.’

  ‘Ahhh,’ Mickey Thompson, happily.

  ‘Yup,’ said Drummond, ‘’s great. It’s me that’s the problem, what with the heights, and the take-offs, and the—’

  ‘Landings and feeling queasy,’ finished Purvis, nodding. ‘Right, how can we help?’

  ‘You can tell me this,’ said Drummond. ‘On a scale of nought to five, with nought being “not at all” and five being “extremely”, how crumpled would you say my nose cone is?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Purvis, studying it again, carefully. ‘I’d say it’s about a—’

  ‘Six,’ blurted out Mickey Thompson, and Purvis shushed him.

  ‘You can’t have six,’ he . ‘Drummond said go up to five: five for extremely.’

  ‘Six for mega-extremely,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Or seven for double-extremely. Or EIGHT for I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.’

  Drummond gave a start. ‘Is it as bad as that?’ he said.

  ‘No,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mickey Thompson, and they started a small scuffle.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ called Drummond, as they scuffled themselves across his nose cone and onto the top of his head.

  ‘Sorry, Drummond,’ said Purvis, as they scrambled back down again. ‘We’ve agreed to settle for four.’

  ‘And a half,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Four,’ said Purvis, firmly, ‘for very crumpled.’

  ‘In that case it’s too noticeable and will have to be replaced,’ said Drummond. ‘There should be some spares in that aircraft hangar next to the airport. Do you think you could manage to bring me one?’

  ‘We’ll try,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Quick as you can, then,’ said Drummond. ‘There isn’t much time.’ So as quickly as they could, Purvis and Mickey Thompson clambered back over the fuselage, slithered along the wing and

  the wheel onto Allen, who was lying on his back gazing up at the sky, looking serious.

  Howard was solidly asleep beside him.

  said Allen, as they landed on his stomach.

  ‘ATTENTION!

  ATTENTION!

  WE’VE DETECTED

  AN URGENT

  DAMAGE

  SCENARIO,

  CATEGORY FOUR

  AND A HALF,’

  shouted Mickey Thompson,

  pretending to be a lab assistant from Mega-Collider Five.

  Purvis shushed him. ‘Hush,’ he said. ‘Howard’s sleeping.’

  said Mickey Thomspon.

  ‘Category four and a half?’ Allen, struggling upright. ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘It means we need a new nose cone,’ said Purvis, setting off. �
��Come on.’

  The three of them left Howard snoring and hurried over to the giant aircraft hangar, which was full of gangways and cranes and pieces of plane but had, as far as they could find, no nose cones.

  ‘Drummond must have been mistaken,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Oh no,’ groaned Mickey Thompson. ‘What if he’s used them all up? He probably muddled the numbers and thought he was only on ninety nine when he’d already reached a hundred.’

  ‘In which case,’ said Purvis, ‘he’s used his last chance too.’

  ‘He’ll never again and taste the clouds,’ wailed Mickey Thompson. ‘He’s going to be so upset.’

  ‘He’s not the only one,’ said Purvis. ‘Drummond was supposed to Bangy de Gamba, remember, and if he can’t neither can she so Howard’ll be in trouble for not fixing him, which he couldn’t, and for kicking the hat, which he didn’t, and for saying Allen’s a film star, which he isn’t, and you know what that means, don’t you?’

  Allen and Mickey Thompson their heads, .

  ‘It means we won’t be going away on holiday.’

  ‘Um,’ said Allen.

  ‘ away,’ said Mickey Thompson, to the ground. ‘Oh, I really, really wanted to.’

  ‘So did I,’ said Purvis, too.

  ‘Err,’ said Allen.

  ‘What’s up, Allen?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘Did you just say I’m not a film star?’ said Allen.

  ‘Yes, Allen,’ said Purvis. ‘Of course you’re not.’

  ‘So I won’t need to do any stunts then, will I?’ said Allen.

  ‘No, Allen,’ said Purvis. ‘Of course you won’t. I hope you’re not too—’

  ‘I’M SO HAPPY!’

  Allen, .

  ‘…disappointed,’ finished Purvis.

  ‘This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ said Allen, running around in a circle.

  ‘I didn’t know the film star thing was worrying you,’ said Purvis. ‘I wish you’d said.’

  ‘I didn’t like to,’ said Allen. ‘It’s such a relief!’

  The mice sat and watched him away across the hangar and out of the door, then suddenly to a halt and turn, and run back.

  ‘It’s them,’ he panted. ‘They’re there.’

  The mice crept over to the door and peeped out. Allen was right: Mr Bullerton was lurking in one direction and the security guard was skulking in the other direction while, in the distance, Drummond was looking worried.

  ‘Oh, no,’ groaned Mickey Thompson. ‘What are we going to do now?’

  ‘We must think of a plan,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Mickey Thompson and he and Allen looked at Purvis expectantly.

  ‘What?’ said Purvis.

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘I said “we”, not “me”,’ said Purvis.

  ‘But you’re clever at thinking up plans,’ said Allen, and Mickey Thompson nodded.

  ‘OK,’ said Purvis. ‘Give me a moment or two.’

  So Purvis perched on a spare aeroplane tyre to think while Mickey Thompson ran about with his arms sticking out,

  and Allen kept a look out for wandering security guards and roving Mr Bullertons. After a moment or two Purvis leapt up and said, ‘Got it!’ and the others ran over.

  ‘The plan is called “Operation Nose Cone”,’ announced Purvis, secretly pretending to be a clever and scientist. ‘First I shall summarise the facts. Drummond needs a new nose cone. Agreed?’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  we haven’t got a new nose cone. Agreed?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Allen.

  ‘Say “agreed”,’ Mickey Thompson, nudging him.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Allen. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘And the plan is,’ said Purvis, ‘we use a disguise!’

  Allen and Mickey Thompson looked at Purvis, blankly.

  ‘Can you elaborate?’ asked Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Instead of replacing it we cover it up and make it look like a high-spec-top-grade- supersonic-super-duper all round better kind of a nose cone,’ said Purvis. ‘Then no one will notice it’s crumpled, no one will get into trouble and we can have our holiday.’

  ‘Good plan!’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Purvis, taking a small bow.

  ‘Yes, well done, Purvis,’ said Allen, and Purvis bobbed a curtsey.

  ‘But what shall we use?’ asked Mickey Thompson. ‘There’s nothing suitable here.’

  ‘We’ll have to go back to the airport and look in the shops,’ said Purvis.

  ‘Um,’ said Allen.

  ‘Off we go,’ said Mickey Thompson, setting off towards the door.

  ‘Err,’ said Allen.

  ‘Let’s hurry,’ said Purvis, also setting off towards the door.

  ‘STOP!’ Allen, and the mice , and stopped.

  ‘What about them,’ Allen. ‘They might see us, and catch us.’

  ‘Whoops,’ said Purvis. ‘I’d forgotten about them. Good point, Allen.’

  ‘I know what we must do,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘What?’ said Purvis.

  ‘We must think of a plan.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I was hoping you might be able to fill in the details,’ said Mickey Thompson. Purvis and sat down on the spare aeroplane tyre and then leapt up again.

  ‘GOT IT!’ he shouted. ‘WE USE A DISGUISE!’

  Allen and Mickey Thompson looked at Purvis, confusedly.

  ‘Isn’t that the same as the other plan?’ asked Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Sort of,’ admitted Purvis.

  ‘So you want us to dress up as top-grade-super-thingy nose cones, too?’ asked Mickey Thompson.

  ‘No,’ said Purvis.

  ‘I’m a little bit worried three nose cones walking about might attract their attention,’ said Allen. ‘It isn’t something you see every day.’

  ‘I know,’ said Purvis. ‘I—’

  ‘And it won’t work, anyway, Purvis,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘We can’t go to the shops without the disguise and we can’t get the disguise without going to the shops.’

  ‘I know,’ said Purvis. ‘I—’

  ‘We’re stuck,’ Mickey Thompson, sadly. ‘Completely stuck.’

  ‘WILL

  YOU

  PLEASE

  LISTEN

  TO ME!’ said Purvis, loudly.

  ‘We disguise ourselves as an aeroplane tyre, not nose cones, by hiding in this one here and rolling along in it. If Mr Bullerton and the security guard see an aeroplane tyre rolling along they’ll think it’s simply part of normal airport business.’

  ‘Good plan!’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Yes, very well done, Purvis,’ said Allen, so they all climbed inside the spare aeroplane tyre and jiggled about until it started to roll, bumpily, out of the hanger, smoothly across the runway and extremely quickly down a slope to the airport.

  they went as they picked up speed.

  went Mr Bullerton and the security guard, leaping out of the way.

  ‘I feel dizzy,’ groaned Allen.

  ‘I feel sick,’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘WE’RE GOING TOO FAST,’ Purvis. ‘We’re going to—’ went the tyre into the side of the airport and they all fell out and lay on the grass, panting.

  ‘Quick,’ Purvis. ‘We haven’t got time to lie around here.’ So they all struggled up and ran into the tunnel, up the ramp, through the room, down the stairs, under the bridge and back to the airport shops where people were busy tidying, re-stacking things and mopping up spillages.

  ‘It’s very messy,’ commented Purvis. ‘I wonder why.’

  ‘And I wonder what all this sticky stuff is over everything,’ said Mickey Thompson, licking. ‘Mmm! Coffee-shop cupcake!’

  ‘Ah,’ said Purvis. ‘I think that might have been our fault.’

  ‘It was Mr Bullerton’s fault,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘We wouldn’t have knocked things o
ver if he hadn’t been chasing us.’

  ‘True,’ said Purvis. ‘Right, we’d better start finding things to use for Drummond’s disguise. Let’s split up and meet back here in ten minutes, and remember to make a note of what comes from where so Howard can pay for it all afterwards.’

  Nine minutes and 59 seconds later Purvis stood waiting. Stacked in a neat pile beside him was a book entitled: “Clouds: a spotter’s guide”, an even book entitled: “Advanced Aerodynamics”, a ball of string, a tin of travel sweets, a football, and a smart umbrella with the phrase: “Fly me to the moon” printed on it over and over again.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t doing any good just sitting around in that Lost Property Office,’ he told himself, as he it.

  Eleven minutes and 43 seconds later Allen raced up clutching a sheet of wrapping paper decorated with chubby-looking aeroplanes and a plastic doll dressed as an air stewardess, complete with little felt hat.

  ‘I thought Mickey Thompson might like the hat,’ he explained. ‘He hasn’t said so, but I think he still misses that sombrero.’

  ‘That was a kind thought,’ said Purvis. ‘I’m sure he’ll love it. Once he arrives.’

  Seventeen minutes and 17 seconds later Mickey Thompson raced up.

  ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he , ‘I…oooh that’s a nice hat.’

  ‘It’s yours,’ said Purvis.

  ‘No!’ said Mickey Thompson.

  ‘Yes!’ said Purvis. ‘Allen got it for you.’

  So Mickey Thompson tried on his hat and and twirled for a pack of imaginary photographers while Purvis and Allen examined what he’d collected: a spray can of burnished gold paint, an apple core, a long string of fairy lights and a box of squashed doughnuts in a variety of shapes and flavours.

  ‘I found it all in a bin at the back of the BRABAZON LOUNGE,’ he said.

  ‘So what were you doing the rest of the time?’ asked Purvis.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘Nothing much.’

  Purvis his eyes.

  ‘I popped in to see Ortrud.’

  ‘And?’ said Purvis.

  ‘Bangy de Gamba.’

  ‘I see,’ said Purvis. ‘How was she?’

  ‘Covered in mud,’ said Mickey Thompson.