Charlie and Norman were on their way home up one of the narrow streets which led away from the river. They heard the cries echoing distantly from River Walk, then swift footsteps running up the street behind them. Norman glanced round, surprised. Then he gripped Charlie’s arm.
“Seems to be somebody chasing us. Quick, Charlie. Better be on the safe side. Can you make it to the corner, double quick, do you think?”
Charlie obediently broke into a jog-trot. They could hear Trevor gasping and heaving for breath as he loped up behind them. Norman and Charlie quickened their pace to a run. Trevor was gaining on them. They were nearly at the corner, where the brighter street lights shone, when he drew level with them. Ahead they could see a bus just pulling away from the kerb. Trevor shoved his way violently between them, sending Charlie reeling against the wall, and ran on into the main road. For a moment or two he sprinted level with the moving bus. As it accelerated he put on a desperate spurt and took a flying leap on to the platform. He nearly missed his footing but the conductor caught his arm and hauled him aboard. They saw his white face looking back at them before he disappeared up the stairs.
“He was in a bit of a hurry,” said Norman. “You all right, Charlie?”
Winded, Charlie was leaning against the wall.
“He didn’t half give me a shove,” he said, rubbing his elbow. “Worse than the dinner queue at school.”
“Must have been his last bus. I’m glad he wasn’t chasing us, anyway,” said Norman. He took Charlie’s arm. “We’ve got to get you home. Your Mum said nine o’clock, and there’ll be terrible trouble if we’re late.”
But before Charlie could collect himself another flying figure came up the street behind them. It was Ray, oozing water, his clothes flapping desperately about him. He lolloped towards them like a creature risen out of the primeval mud.
“Trevor, wait for me,” he was shouting, “Trevaaaah . . .”
Charlie was flung against the wall a second time as he plunged past. Reaching the corner, Ray paused for a moment, moaning, then ran off in the direction of the vanishing bus. Norman helped Charlie to his feet for a second time.
“Nutter night,” he said. “They’re everywhere. It’ll be Things from Outer Space next. Come on, Charl.”
They were just turning into the main road when somebody, walking briskly in the other direction, bumped straight into them. For the third time that evening Charlie was nearly knocked off his feet.
“Sorry,” said the man briefly, hardly bothering to stop. He didn’t recognize Charlie, but Charlie recognized him.
“Hey, Norman, do you know who that was?” he said, staring after him in surprise.
Norman was in no mood for guessing.
“The Incredible Hulk, of course,” he said, dragging Charlie forward by the arm. Charlie allowed himself to be dragged, but he was still looking back over his shoulder.
“Didn’t you see?” he said excitedly. “It was Duggie Bubbles! I know it was. I saw him quite close up at the hall yesterday. I wonder what he’s doing down here?”
“Another disappearing act, probably,” answered Norman, striding purposefully homewards.
12 Bonanza Day
Charlie woke up the next morning still thinking about Duggie Bubbles. He had been dreaming that he was sitting on the lid of a box, trying to keep it shut, while Duggie Bubbles, who was inside, kept trying to jump out like a jack-in-the-box. Later in the dream Charlie found himself trying to do magic tricks before a huge audience, but everything he did kept going wrong. Now, fully awake, he remembered it was Bonanza day, and it was late already.
He hurried out of bed and searched about for his favourite book. It was extra large and brightly coloured: Magic for Boys and Girls. He was beginning to think that seeing Duggie Bubbles on the way home last night had all been part of his dream. But he was determined to get his book signed at the Bonanza. Mum had told him that signed books were sometimes valuable. He had written his own name already, in bold writing on the fly-leaf: “This Book Belongs to Chas. L. G. Moon.” That signature was going to be famous too, he was quite sure.
The first thing he saw when he reached the hall was Ariadne, already encased in her robot suit, walking up and down on the steps in front of the main entrance. She had a blue light on her head which flashed on and off when she pressed a button inside. The Bonanza hadn’t opened yet but already quite a few people had collected and were watching her with curiosity.
“Where’s Dodger?” Charlie shouted into one of her small coffee-strainer ears.
“Round the back,” came Ariadne’s voice, rather muffled, from inside. “He’s getting into his half of the horse. Linda’s there too. You’d better hurry.”
Charlie couldn’t resist giving a few raps on her plastic casing. Ariadne flashed her light at him fiercely. Secretly he was rather jealous. Being inside a robot seemed much more fun than the back legs of a horse. He had tried to talk Dodger into letting him be the front part, but it hadn’t worked. When Charlie found him in the dressing-room place behind the hall he had already got the head on. The front legs were crumpled round his ankles like concertinas.
“Hee-haw, hee-haw!” he went when he saw Charlie, clattering the huge set of grinning teeth.
“You’re a horse, not a donkey,” Linda told him. She looked tired and bothered, but pretty, too, in her nice pink dress. “Now be careful with that costume, you boys. The Library Service are having Cuts, so we can’t afford to replace it if it gets damaged. Here, Charlie, let me hook you up.”
Charlie put down his Magic book in a safe place until later, when Duggie Bubbles was due to arrive. There was a great deal of frantic activity going on all around them. Busy helpers were running in and out, and Linda was answering their questions and giving last-minute instructions as she helped Charlie into his back legs. Once inside, he had to hold on to Dodger’s waist firmly. He could see very little, although there were some air-holes so he could breathe.
“For heaven’s sake don’t go walking backwards,” Linda warned Dodger sternly, “and give plenty of warning when you’re going to stop.”
She fixed large notices on either side of them: “Book Bonanza Today!”
They were off, cantering down the passage, with Dodger whinneying realistically and Charlie behind swishing his tail. The Bonanza had officially begun.
Down on the river, the morning was still and calm. A few seagulls rode the water behind the barge, hoping for breakfast. Mr Dix opened the cabin door a few inches and peered round. Then, having made quite sure that he was not being observed, he locked the door carefully behind him and walked on to the deck. He carried a large book casually under one arm, as though he was planning a morning stroll to the library. He hadn’t called the police to report the intruders the night before. He had very special reasons of his own for not doing so. Having chased after Trevor a little way, he had given up and returned to the barge in the hope of cornering Ray. But he was too late. Ray had found a rope-ladder hanging down into the water from another barge a little further up-river. Somehow he had managed to heave himself up it, dodge round the gardens, and make off.
Mr Dix crossed the gang-plank and let himself out through the garden gate. He glanced up and down the street a couple of times, then set off at a leisurely pace. As soon as his footsteps had died away round the corner, two faces slid into view at pavement level, looking after him through the railings of a basement area. Trevor was as foxily alert as ever under his clamped-down beret, but Ray was bleary-eyed and sulky.
They climbed up stealthily to street level and hesitated there for a moment. It was very risky to have come back, but Trevor had decided to take a last desperate chance. Ray had been against it. He had wanted to stay in bed and nurse his aches after the strenuous events of the night before. Being a burglar didn’t suit him. He much preferred a more peaceful way of making a living. He and Trevor ran a dubious Antique shop together, where they sold things which might or might not have been stolen by somebody else. They n
ever tried too hard to find out where they’d come from. Trevor knew just where he could sell a valuable drawing if he could get hold of one. But today it was far too dangerous to try to break into the barge again in broad daylight. So Trevor started off up the street after Mr Dix.
“It’ll be all up if he sees us this time,” said Ray, hobbling after him. “He’ll recognize me for sure and you, too, probably. He’ll have us arrested.”
“Call the police? You must be joking. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with the law, any more than we do.” Trevor paused on the corner and peeped round. “Nasty questions. Trouble. The last thing he wants.”
“What’ll we do if we catch up with him?”
“We’re tailing him. Just keep out of sight and do as I say.”
“I think I’ve done my back in, Trevor. Felt it go as I hit the water last night.”
“So it’s your back now, is it?” said Trevor unsympathetically. “What I’ve ever done to deserve such a useless, gutless, witless partner I don’t know. I’d have that drawing by now if I was working on my own.”
“I wish you were,” said Ray.
A huffy silence followed between them. Lurking in and out of doorways, they followed Mr Dix’s progress. Once or twice he glanced back over his shoulder but Trevor managed to keep out of sight, bundling Ray with him. When they reached the busy High Street it became easier not to be spotted, although once or twice they nearly lost sight of him amongst the shoppers. Through a street market and down another side-street, they arrived at the main square. Suddenly Mr Dix seemed to disappear. Anxiously Trevor quickened his pace. Forgetting all caution, he craned his neck above the crowd. Ray caught his arm.
“There he is, Trevor,” he said, pointing. “On the steps of the hall over there, where all those flags are. Book Bonanza it says. He’s going in there!”
“Come on, then,” said Trevor.
13 Horsing Around
Mr Dix was paying his entrance money for the Bonanza when Ariadne clanked past. She was so astonished when she saw him that she nearly dropped her banner. For a moment they came face to face, regarding one another. But Mr Dix was not the kind of person to be amused by an outlandish figure in fancy dress. He pushed on past her into the crowded hall.
Ariadne watched him carefully through her tin visor. He began wandering round the exhibition, stopping now and again to idly flip through a book on one of the stands. Children swarmed everywhere, chatting excitedly, devouring books, collecting badges, filling in quizzes and popping balloons. Ariadne started to make her way round the backs of the stands, pretending she was circling the hall with her banner. She was watching his every move. He strolled round casually in the throng, but he kept glancing about, his dark glasses ranging the hall for something. Or somebody. Once or twice he raised his eyes suddenly from a book and nearly caught Ariadne peering at him from behind the display, but she hurried on, flashing her light innocently.
She noticed that he carried a book under his arm. She couldn’t get near enough to read the title. But when a newly-arrived class of primary school children momentarily surrounded Mr Dix and swept him along in their midst, she managed to jostle near enough to read: Magic for Boys and Girls by Duggie Bubbles.
“That’s odd,” said Ariadne to herself, “very odd. Not at all typical. Oh dear, I wish Norman was here.”
Charlie, meanwhile, was already feeling hot and tired inside the back legs of the horse. They had been capering up and down the steps of the hall for some time, displaying their notices and trying to attract the crowds. Dodger, quite carried away with his part, was whinneying gaily, browsing in people’s shopping baskets for carrots and gnashing his teeth at them. He caused quite a stir. One little girl even timidly offered him a lump of sugar, which Dodger accepted with a great show, tossing his mane and licking his chops. All this was rather boring for Charlie, who felt that his supporting role of back legs offered no such artistic scope. All he had to do was to hold on to Dodger’s belt and go wherever he was led, occasionally kicking out his legs. He was just thinking of suggesting that they have a breather and go to see if there was any free orange drink going in the back room, when they were violently cannoned into by Trevor and Ray, who were running up the steps in a great hurry.
Dodger was caught off-balance and fell back on to Charlie. They sat down heavily, Dodger in Charlie’s lap. The two men tripped over both of them. Together they all rolled down several steps on to the pavement.
“Hey, mind my ears!” shouted Dodger, forgetting for the moment that he was supposed to be a horse. Charlie was furious. He couldn’t see anything. What was more, this was the fourth time he’d been knocked over in the last twenty-four hours. Blindly he fought his way out from the tangle of limbs. At this moment one of the seams on the horse costume gave way under the strain and Charlie’s head popped through, about where the saddle ought to have been. Trevor and Ray stumbled to their feet and ran on up the steps without a backward look. The same two men!
“Those two again!” muttered Charlie, scowling. “They seem to be making a hobby of pushing me over. How many more times are they going to try it?”
“Get your head down,” Dodger hissed at him. “You’re spoiling everything.”
Charlie popped back inside and followed obediently after Dodger as he trotted back up the steps and into the hall in the direction of the back room. They had both had enough of being a horse for the moment. It was certainly time for a breather.
“What are those two doing here, anyway?” wondered Charlie aloud as they were sucking up their orange drink. They were both still wearing their horse’s legs while a lady helper was kindly doing some running repairs to the torn seam. Dodger had thankfully removed the head, which sat on the table, grinning amongst the general confusion.
“Perhaps they’re following you about,” Dodger suggested. “Perhaps they’ve got up a special club to go about pushing you over. Some boys did that to me once in the school playground. It was awful. But me and my gang fought them off in the end.”
“But they didn’t even know it was me,” said Charlie. “And they don’t look like the sort of people who’d be interested in Book Bonanzas. When we get into our costume again let’s go and find out what they’re doing.”
14 Mixed Infant
A puppet show was in full swing. Trevor and Ray were stalking the main hall, keeping well to the side among the ornate pillars. They had already spotted Mr Dix who was still loitering rather aimlessly among the stands.
“What’s he want to come in here for?” whispered Ray hoarsely. “It’s all kids’ books in here.” Pausing, he pulled one down from a nearby display. “Fairy-tales! I like those. Giants, witches, princesses and that. I always wanted to be a writer of children’s stories you know, Trevor. Just look at these lovely pictures!”
He began to turn the pages with interest until Trevor grabbed the book and thrust it back on the shelf.
“Keep watching Dix,” he said irritably. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”
They began to work their way round behind the stands, still trying to keep Mr Dix in view without being seen. Every so often they passed and repassed Ariadne who was still circling in the opposite direction.
“A robot!” cried Ray, turning to look at her with delight. He seemed to have quite forgotten about his bad back. “Look, Trevor, flashing blue light and all. Clever, isn’t it?”
“Reminds me too much of a police car,” muttered Trevor, pushing him roughly on.
Charlie and Dodger, back again in their horse costume, were hovering behind them in the shadows.
“What are they doing?” whispered Charlie. It was maddening not to be able to see, and to have to rely on Dodger to tell him everything that was going on. Dodger poked his horse’s head round a pillar.
“Just walking round. Seem to be looking for somebody.”
“Let’s follow them.”
They set off at a stately pace, daintily picking up their feet. Ariadne, manoeuvring on the other s
ide of the hall, seemed to be making some kind of signals at them, waving her robot arm frantically. But Dodger couldn’t understand what she was pointing at.
The puppet show drew to a close, amid noisy applause. Linda’s voice came over the loud-speaker, announcing the next event. The Lady Illustrator had arrived and was going to draw some pictures for the younger children in the smaller room off the main hall. There was a general move in that direction. The spaces round the stands suddenly emptied out. Trevor and Ray were dangerously exposed to view, and, what was worse, Mr Dix seemed to be heading straight for them.
“Quick, Ray, he’ll see us. Get out of the way,” said Trevor.
They shuffled into a crowd of parents and small children who were filing into the smaller room, where an easel had been arranged with a large piece of blank paper pinned to it. The Lady Illustrator was there already, felt pen in hand.
“Now make yourselves comfortable, everybody,” called Linda, who was there to introduce her.
Trevor and Ray lowered themselves uneasily on to cushions on the floor among a drove of toddlers. The grown-ups, perched at the back of the room on chairs and tables, shot them an odd look or two, but the Lady Illustrator started off at once with some bright chat. She was large and artistic-looking, dressed in a colourful tent-like garment and hung about with beads. The effect was of an Indian squaw who was accidentally wearing her own wigwam. She asked the children what they would like her to draw. Some of them were too shy to suggest anything, but after some encouragement the braver ones began to call out some ideas.
“Draw a monster!”
“Draw Red Riding Hood!”
“Draw a wolf!”
The Lady Illustrator worked away obligingly, filling page after page with large felt-pen sketches. Sometimes she paused to answer questions about books and drawing. The children were getting braver and more inventive.
“Draw Rumpelstiltskin!”
“Draw my auntie’s budgie!”
“Draw the centre-forward of our team, scoring a lovely goal!”
The Charlie Moon Collection Page 14