Ma Brackenbury made them clear a couple of elephant-dung pancakes off the harbour wall before they went, so add them to the Official Dung Count, if you’re keeping score.
“Do you reckon the real POGI made it safely to the island?” Mimi asked Sunny, sitting beside him up on Fingers’ back, as the elephant pulled the caravan behind him.
“With everyone’s eyes on our POGI, I bet she did,” he said.
“She?” said Mimi.
“It was something Jeremy said,” Sunny explained. “He described the POGI making his or her way to the island … and that got me wondering.”
“About what?”
“About a woman we ran into more than once along the way.” He looked at one of the orange plastic floats, dangling from a tangle of fishnets, and smiled.
Stories can, of course, end where you want them to end and I could easily end this one here. But, for me, this tale wasn’t really complete until Mr and Mrs Grunt were back where they started: with Old Mr Grunt in the grounds of Bigg Manor.
“Welcome home, son,” said Old Mr Grunt. He sounded bunged up because he had a finger in his nose, up to the knuckle. “Made you a present.”
“A present, Da?” said Mr Grunt.
“For your birthday, lad.” He thrust a parcel into Mr Grunt’s hand.
The wrapping paper was old newspaper. Sunny could clearly read the headline: HORRIFIC FIRE.
What a lovely birthday message, he thought.
The “ribbon” was made from an old, thin, rat-chewed tie, covered in musical notes. Mr Grunt pulled one end to undo the bow.
“Beautifully wrapped,” he said.
“I wish you went to this much trouble for my birthday,” said Mrs Grunt.
“You’re too old for birthdays,” said Mr Grunt.
“Younger than you,” said Mrs Grunt.
“You don’t look it.”
“Do.”
“Don’t.”
“Do.”
“Wrinkle-bucket!” said Mr Grunt.
Mrs Grunt picked up a small log and threw it at him. He ducked and it narrowly missed Frizzle and Twist.
“Sorry, Moomoo,” said Mrs Grunt.
“Mimi,” said Mimi.
“Quiet,” said Mr Grunt. “Don’t spoil the moment.”
He tore off the last of the newspaper to reveal a long, thin, knitted thing, which he proceeded to wind round his neck, throwing one end over his shoulder.
“Lovely scarf, Da!” he said.
There was a moment’s silence.
The calm before the storm …
Old Mr Grunt’s howl of rage could be heard in the furthest reaches of the ruinous Bigg Manor. Sunny and Mimi dived for cover behind a conveniently placed – and very familiar – stone wall.
“Ooof!” said Sunny. He turned to Mimi, sprawled on the grass beside him, and smiled.
Adventures were all very well, but it was good to be home.
Copyright
First published in the UK in 2013 by Nosy Crow Ltd
The Crow’s Nest, 10a Lant Street,
London, SE1 1QR, UK
This ebook edition first published in 2013
Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and / or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd
Text copyright © Philip Ardagh, 2013
Cover and inside illustrations © Axel Scheffler, 2013
The right of Philip Ardagh to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictiously. Any resemblence to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978 0 85763 072 8
www.nosycrow.com
Read more of the Grunts’
ridiculous antics in:
THE GRUNTS
IN TROUBLE
THE GRUNTS
IN A JAM
Search for
on the iTunes App Store for the free Grunts game for your iPhone, iPod Touch or iPad, The Grunts: Beard of Bees
Check out the buzz at
www.meetthegrunts.com
The Grunts All at Sea Page 11