Monkie Business
Page 20
It was a stirring performance. Everyone clapped. Bundy bowed. Then he peeled Chester off and gave him back to Grandma. ‘I’m weady to bwave the stage again.’
And that’s exactly what he did. The critics raved at his new confidence. Within a few months the roles were pouring in. Sherlock Holmes, Robin Hood – even a stint as Tracy Beaker – you name it, he played it, never once with a beard.
Except at Easter. Every April he returned to the west coast of Ireland and stepped into the huge beard (tied firmly round his head) of Cap’n Winkymalarkey O’Rourkemelads. His fame drew boatloads of fans. With his trusty crew of Grandma and Chester, he ferried them in the Fidgety Bridget to a funny little whirlpool in the otherwise-calm sea: all that remained of Remote Ken. With ‘Ahars’ and ‘Ahoos’ – not to mention a few ‘Cloot me rumscutters’ – he told a tale of ancient monks and Irish treasure, of world-weary Incas and the stoutest crook, of two brave schoolgirls and the friendship that sank an island. When anybody doubted the story (and somebody always did) Grandma simply put a finger to her lips and pointed to the strange little eddies that smacked and fussed with an unmistakable ‘Schnik’ sound. Then the doubters apologised and everyone threw a ceremonial doughnut into the water.
Dad went home and made a BBC documentary called ‘Sunken Monks: a Living Legend’, narrated, of course, by Bundy. When a Cambridge University historian wrote a letter to The Sunday Times accusing him of Hystoria, Dad wrote back and said, ‘Believe what you like, Dr Nurdapples, the viewing figures speak for themselves.’
The children came home to find the rest of the class rehearsing a Zoosical. On the last day of the Easter holidays the whole school sat in front of the African savannah area and watched Bradleigh Zoo’s ballet of the Lion King. It wasn’t the easiest choice, considering there were no lions at the zoo. But Mum and Wendy had been working so hard at costumes that you’d never guess Simba was played by a tapir (dancing did wonders for his shyness) or that Scar the wicked lion was actually Silvio the tiger. For an orang-utan, young Minnie did a wonderful job as the meerkat Timon. Her dad Vinnie made a less convincing Pumba. Despite the traffic cones sticking out of his mouth, the lazy orang lumbered far too slowly for a warthog. All in all, though, it was a splendid show, especially as it distracted Abbie from the difficulty she faced going back to school.
As the problem was mathematical, the obvious person to consult was Perdita. But Abbie came into the classroom next morning to find her best friend telling Claire Bristles breathlessly about their island adventure.
Or rather one of her best friends. When Perdita didn’t even look up, Abbie turned to another one.
‘Well,’ said Marcus. ‘You’ve got one seat next to you, and five days of the week. Why not sit by a different best friend each day?’ Twenty minutes later he’d helped her draw up a timetable.
Weekends, of course, were kept free for the zoo. Which is where she was on the second Sunday of term, helping to build a waterpark. Over the week, Matt had dug a ring-shaped channel at one end of the zoo pond, cutting off a little island. When it was finished, children would be able to cross over the walkway he’d built and explore the cave he’d constructed on the island. A hidden wind machine would whoosh them through a hole in the cave wall into an artificial lake that bubbled and churned.
Abbie looked up from the fibreglass cave she was painting with the rest of the class – or rather most of them.
‘Where are Perdita and Urse?’ Abbie put the finishing red touches round the mouth of the cave.
Matt shrugged. ‘Maybe they’ve got something better to do.’
Abbie felt a sting in her chest. Why hadn’t they invited her? It’s OK. She took a deep breath. They can do what they like. They’re still my friends.
‘I was thinking, maybe I could make the cave and the lake talk,’ said Matt. ‘Then you could write a script and Bundy could voice it.’
‘What? Oh, sure.’ Abbie swallowed. They don’t have to invite me to everything. It’s fine. Really.
‘Do you remember how Brother Finbar spoke?’ said Matt. ‘How he introduced himself?’
‘Um.’ She thought back to her conversation with the cave. ‘Something like, “In nomine Patris …”’ she trailed off miserably.
‘Et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti,’ chanted a voice.
‘Yes indeedie,’ said another. ‘Brother Finbar, pleased to meet you, top o’ the morning, Amen.’
Abbie gasped as two monks in brown robes glided across the walkway. Reaching the island they stopped and threw back their hoods.
‘For you.’ Ursula (who was wearing her new Guide uniform underneath) put down the golden, jewel-studded goblet she was carrying. It was as tall as she was. On closer inspection, the gold turned out to be Ferrero Rocher wrappers, the rubies Wine Gums and the diamonds Glacier Mints. The inside was dripping with Kit Kats and Yorkies, Fruit Gums and Crunchie bars.
‘Wow,’ is what Abbie would have said if she’d been able to speak. Instead she stood and stared while Perdita explained.
‘You found the treasure. And you never got to keep it. So the whole class chipped in and organised some real treasure – a year’s supply of chocolate bars.’
And even when Abbie did get her voice back there really wasn’t time to talk, what with all the eating and sharing – because, if there was one thing she knew, it was that there’s always enough chocolate and friendship to go round.
Have you read the first two books in the series?
Dead Hairy
Welcome to the Hair Museum, where history has hairdos and fish have beards …
When Squashy Grandma’s teeth get stuck behind the radiator, Abbie meets the Very Odd Job Man, Matt Platt, and his daughter, Perdita. Drawn into a hair-raising hunt for Perdita’s missing mum, Coriander, Abbie is helped along the way by Fernando, the heartbroken shrunken head of a Spanish conquistador, and Chester, a helpful patch of chest hair.
But waddling in the shadows is the white-suited, burger-shaped Hubris Klench. Abbie soon discovers that finding Coriander is one thing, but saving the world from Klench’s ‘eefil doinks’ quite another.
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Jungle Tangle
Welcome to the Amazon, where heads shrink and villains slink.
Abbie Hartley can’t wait to join her friend Perdita Platt on the trip of a lifetime. Their destination? The Amazon jungle. Their mission? To find the wife of their friend Fernando.
There’s only one problem. Fernando and his wife are shrunken heads and the Amazon jungle is huge.
Oh, and another one. Squashy Grandma insists on coming with her shopping bag on wheels and pet wig.
And just one more. Abbie’s arch-enemy Dr Hubris Klench is lurking in the undergrowth with some very wicked tricks up his very wide sleeve.
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About the Author
Debbie Thomas lives in Kildare. She worked as a reporter for the BBC and now works for a charity supporting people with leprosy and writes for various magazines. She runs a childrens book club and creative writing classes. Stella McDonald illustrates Dead Hairy. Stella is an award winning illustrator who previously worked on Really Rotten Rhymes and Do Teachers go to the Toilet?.
http://www.mercierpress.ie/authors/debbiethomas/
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