by Alan Skinner
‘That’s wise,’ said a Muddle voice.
‘That’s where I’d start, too,’ said another.
‘Particularly if I was on a special mission,’ said a third.
All the Muddles nodded. They stood looking with approval at the two Beadles. No one moved.
‘Perhaps we should go and get him, then?’ someone finally said.
‘Good idea.’ ‘Right!’ ‘Find Wave.’ Several Muddles spoke at once. ‘Anyone know where he is?’
‘There,’ said Coll’s voice. Everyone turned. Coll was pointing to the Songpost. Wave sat at the base of the Songpost, eyes closed, tapping his leg to the beat of the music.
‘That’s him, all right.’
‘It’s Wave.’
‘He likes his music, that Wave.’
Brian groaned. He could never understand how Muddles got anything done.
With all the other Muddles at the Songpost, Grunge and Sky hadn’t noticed Wave. Grunge bent down and tapped Wave’s shoulder. Wave opened his eyes and smiled. ‘Hey, bro,’ he said, removing his ear pads.
‘Hey, Wave.’
‘This is just too good! D’you know how many songs there are on this thing? Hundreds!’
‘Someone wants to see you, Wave.’
‘See me?’ he said. ‘Really? Who?’
‘Beadles. And they brought their bus.’
‘The Beadles’ bus? In Home?’ Wave sat up straight. ‘Man! That is a surprise.’
‘I think it’s important. One is a special envoy.’
‘Really? That’s amazing.’ Wave stood up and peered over at the bus. ‘Which one? I’ll bet it’s the grumpy-looking one.’
‘That’s him.’
Wave started to walk towards the bus, then stopped. ‘Grunge … what’s an envoy?’
Grunge pointed to Brian. ‘That’s an envoy.’
‘Ah,’ said Wave, disappointed.
He walked with Grunge and Sky to the bus. The crowd of Muddles made way. Grunge and Sky stopped and let Wave go ahead. He strolled over and stood in front of Brian and Megan.
‘Hey,’ said Wave. ‘Nice bus.’
Megan smiled. ‘Thank you. You’re Wave, aren’t you? I’m Megan and this is Brian.’
Neither Muddles nor Beadles nor Myrmidots ever shook hands. In fact, it was considered very rude to ask another person to do so. The proper thing to do was just to be nice.
‘I am very pleased to meet you both.’
‘Thank you, Wave,’ said Brian quickly. ‘You are the Town Leader of the Muddles at present, I understand?’
Wave shuffled his feet and said apologetically, ‘It was my turn.’
‘I have come on a very urgent matter. A very serious matter.’ Brian paused, waiting.
Not used to dealing with envoys and very important matters, Wave wasn’t too sure what he should say. So, he took the safest course. He said nothing.
Brian’s irritation was growing. He couldn’t help it. Muddles were impossible. He had expected Wave to be more commanding and authoritative. Like Bligh.
‘Do you have somewhere private we could talk?’ Brian asked, just a little rudely. Some of the Muddles looked at each other and started chattering again.
‘Why does he want somewhere private?’
‘Maybe he’s shy.’
‘Maybe he don’t like talking in public.’
‘Maybe he stammers.’
‘Maybe he needs to use the, ah, you know …’
‘Ah, of course. That’ll be it.’
Wave was a bit unsettled by Brian’s request. ‘Private?’ he asked. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Of course not!’ snapped Brian. ‘But I can hardly be expected to talk about something very serious in front of everyone!’
Wave was relieved. ‘Why not? I’ll only have to tell them all about it afterwards. It would save time if they could hear it now.’
‘But this is official business!’ Brian protested.
Wave felt more sure of himself now. ‘Well, that settles it,’ he said. ‘Official business must always be done in public. It’s only fair.’
This was not going well for Brian. He knew he shouldn’t lose his temper. Megan knew it too, and she again decided to help Brian.
‘Of course it is. Forgive us. We’re used to doing things differently. You all have a right to know.’
To give Brian his due, he knew he was wrong to lose his temper. He nodded, and then spoke. Brian told the Muddles of the mysterious blue fire that threatened Beadledom. He told them how almost every night something was reduced to ashes by the fire. He told them how it was impossible to fight the fire and how they struggled to keep other buildings nearby from bursting into flames. Finally, he told them how they had not been able to discover either the source of the fires or who was doing this to Beadledom.
Every Muddle had fallen silent while Brian spoke. Megan could sense that they were horrified at what was happening in Beadledom.
‘We have come to ask for your help,’ Brian said simply when he had finished telling the Muddles everything.
‘You poor thing,’ said a Muddle.
‘Blue fire! That’s the worst there is,’ said a second Muddle.
‘Ain’t ever heard of a fire that’s blue before,’ admitted a third.
‘Neither ’ave I,’ said the second Muddle.
Wave became very serious. ‘How can we help? We don’t know anything about blue fire. I’m sure that none of us knows who’s starting these fires, or how to put them out. Maybe Crimson knows, though we’ve never had a fire of any kind in Muddlemarsh.’ Wave looked around and beckoned to a small Muddle nearby.
‘Mince, would you please run and tell Crimson we need her? Tell her it’s very important. Fast as you can, Mince.’ He turned back to speak to Brian when a sharp voice stopped him.
‘Wave! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! What sort of Town Leader are you? All this talking and you’ve not even manners enough to give our neighbours a cup of coffee.’ Whist ran the town’s coffee house and she was always mindful of being hospitable.
‘Sorry, Whist, you’re right, of course.’ Wave then addressed Brian and Megan. ‘May we offer you coffee?’ He turned back to Whist. ‘What sort of biscuits do we have today, Whist?’
‘Cinnamon.’
Brian loved coffee and was also very partial to cinnamon biscuits. Having recovered his manners, he gave Megan a small, questioning look. Megan nodded and said, ‘Yes, please.’ Brian turned to Wave and said politely, ‘We would like that very much. Thank you.’ Whist walked briskly back to the coffee house. There was no need to ask how they liked their coffee. From their very first cup of coffee to their very last, no Muddle ever put anything extra in their coffee. Except, perhaps, at Festival, when some of the older Muddles liked to add something special.
Whist returned with the coffee and biscuits. As usual, Whist remembered everyone and her serving and kitchen staff trailed behind her, bringing fresh pots of coffee, plates of biscuits and mugs for all.
‘Thank you,’ said Megan to Whist as she sipped her coffee and looked at all the coffee being poured and all the cinnamon biscuits disappearing off the plates. ‘This is very generous of you.’
Whist stopped, a puzzled look on her face, then she laughed. ‘Why, dear me! I’m not giving away my livelihood! The coffee house is owned by the town. Coffee is free for everyone in Home.’
Megan looked around at the Muddles, laughing and talking and drinking their coffee and eating their biscuits. The Muddles may be very infuriating sometimes but they did get some things right, she mused. She sipped her coffee and noticed Mince returning, dragging Crimson by the hand.
‘I hurried, Wave,’ he said proudly and lifted Crimson’s hand to show Wave, just in case Wave hadn’t seen her standing behind him.
‘Thank you, Mince. You’d better get a biscuit before they’re gone.’ Mince skipped off to get his prize.
Crimson accepted the coffee Whist brought to her. ‘What’s this all about? Mince did
n’t tell me anything except it was important and that there were Beadles in the town.’ She glanced at Brian and Megan. ‘You must be from Beadleburg. How do you do? I’m Crimson.’ She thought the female Beadle looked nice but the other one looked a bit unfriendly.
Wave introduce the Beadles and then asked Brian to tell Crimson what he had just told everyone else. All the Muddles listened the second time just as carefully as they had the first time they heard the Beadles’ story.
‘Got a good memory, that one. Told it just like the first time,’ said one.
‘They say a Beadle never forgets,’ declared another.
‘Specially if you owes ’em money!’ chuckled a third.
When Brian finished, Crimson shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Brian. I can’t help.’
Brian’s heart sank. He should have known he’d not get help from the Muddles. He looked away from Crimson and felt that he wanted to get away from Home as quickly as possible.
‘I have never heard of blue fire before. I don’t know how you put it out,’ Crimson continued. ‘I’m truly sorry.’
Brian hung his head and the heaviness in his chest grew. He felt Megan slip her hand into his and give it a gentle squeeze.
‘But if you think it will help,’ Crimson spoke hesitantly, ‘I’d be glad to come back to Beadleburg with you and do what I can.’ She was sure that the Beadles wouldn’t want her or her fire truck. They had surely just come to see if she knew anything. ‘It will take a bit longer than your bus to get to Beadleburg, but I can bring our fire cart.’
‘You’ll … you’ll come?’ Brian wasn’t sure he had heard her correctly. ‘With your fire cart?’ Crimson nodded and Brian couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. He saw Megan was smiling, too. ‘Thank you, Crimson. We would be so grateful,’ he said.
It was Crimson’s turn to smile. ‘I will need two volunteers to help with the cart. Will that be enough, do you think?’
‘More than enough,’ said Brian.
‘But I have to ask the others. It is their fire cart and it will leave Home without one until we sort this out.’ She looked at Wave. ‘Sticks, Wave,’ she said firmly.
Wave nodded. ‘Sticks.’
Immediately, all the Muddles began to talk. The cry of ‘Sticks! Sticks!’ was heard from nearly all of them. Wondering what was going on, Megan and Brian watched. They watched as every Muddle drew from their pockets two small sticks, one yellow and one blue.
‘What’s happening?’ Megan asked Crimson anxiously. ‘What’s “Sticks”?’
‘It’s how we decide what is best,’ Crimson explained. ‘When a Muddle is born, its parents ask two special people to be guideparents. It is the job of the guideparents to help teach them how to grow up to be good, what is right and what is wrong and what it means to be a Muddle. It also gives the child someone they can talk to when they can’t talk to their parents. One of the first things the guideparents do is to give the baby those two sticks. While the child grows, the guideparents will help the child understand the importance of those sticks. Each stick bears the name of the child. When we have an important decision to make, we meet, as we are now, and say what we want to do by which stick we use. Watch.’
Wave held his own sticks in his left hand. He raised that hand and showed the Muddles the sticks, and said simply, ‘Sticks.’ All the Muddles raised their sticks and together replied, ‘Aye.’
‘Who will stand and say,’ asked Wave, ‘and remind us of what we must decide?’ To stand and say was a task open to any Muddle.
It was Grunge who stepped forward. ‘I will stand and say, Wave. I will stand and say to remind us all.’
Wave nodded once and Grunge stood beside him and spoke to the Muddles before him.
‘You have all heard the troubles of our neighbours, the Beadles. You have heard how the blue fire has burned their homes, their workplaces, their shops. You know how the Beadles have fought to keep the heat of the blue fire from setting other buildings alight and how they keep watch every night but have found no trace of who is doing this. You have heard with your own ears that nothing can put out this fire. You have heard what I have never heard in my lifetime. You have heard the Beadles ask for our help.’ Grunge spoke clearly and evenly, without persuasion or passion.
‘Crimson has agreed to their request. She has offered to take our fire truck and two volunteers. We need to decide whether she should do this. We all know that we have never had a fire in Home. There has never been a need to save one of our homes from the flames. Perhaps that means that we will have no use for it…Yet, what if whoever is doing this terrible thing to the Beadles is just waiting to strike at us once Crimson has left? Perhaps it is part of their plan to wait until our fire cart and some of our people have left for Beadleburg, and then send the blue fire to Muddlemarsh.’
Quite a number of Muddles nodded, their faces grave. Even Brian had to admit to himself that he hadn’t considered the possibility that whoever was responsible for the fires was just waiting to strike at Muddlemarsh when it was helpless to defend itself.
Grunge continued. ‘If we send Crimson and the fire cart, we will be helping others to save their homes. But, if they go, we may be destroying our own.’ He paused. ‘I have stood and said. Does anyone wish to say more?’
None of the Muddles spoke. Grunge moved back and Wave came forward, raising his sticks. ‘Have you decided?’ he asked.
‘Aye,’ they answered.
‘Show!’ cried Wave.
A flight of sticks flew from their hands and clattered on the ground in front of Wave. Wave looked at the pile of sticks. Every stick was yellow. He looked solemnly at Brian. Brian’s heart beat hard in his chest. He gripped Megan’s hand.
Wave looked from Brian to Crimson. ‘Awesome, Crimson,’ he said. ‘You’re going to Beadleburg! That’s so cool!’
Chapter 4
Into the Fire
Calamity sat on the front seat of the fire cart, watching Crimson. On the floor of the firehouse lay all the types of equipment one might need to fight a fire. There were hoses, axes, shovels, sledgehammers, crowbars and blankets; hats, coats, boots, gloves, goggles and waterproof jackets. There was a first-aid kit with creams, bandages and pills. Next to the equipment, Crimson was laying out the other things she would need: food, clothes and all the books she could find on fighting fires.
‘I’m sure I’ve forgotten something,’ Crimson said to herself. She smiled at Calamity. ‘Well, Calamity, what have I forgotten?’ Calamity cocked her head to the side and studied the pile in front of Crimson. It didn’t seem possible that Crimson could have forgotten anything. It seemed like every last thing in the firehouse lay in piles in front of her. But something was missing …
Calamity jumped from the cart and scooted up the stairs. A few moments later, she scooted down again, carrying a red enamel bowl in her mouth. She ran to Crimson and dropped it gently in front of her.
‘Good girl,’ said Crimson, scratching Calamity behind the ears. Calamity gave a little bark and then jumped back on the cart to her seat, looking very pleased with herself.
Calamity was the fire station puppy. She didn’t exactly belong to Crimson. She belonged to the fire station. It was her place in the world. Looking at her pointed snout, her bright eyes and perky ears, you’d be forgiven for thinking she was the sort of terrier for which they are famous in a place called Staffordshire. But, if you asked anyone what kind of dog Calamity was, they’d look at you strangely and answer, ‘Puppy, of course.’ Which was perfectly true. Calamity was a puppy and had always been a puppy. If you were to ask Calamity the same question, she would give exactly the same answer. It would sound like a little bark, but if you were a Muddle, you’d know what she was saying. All the animals understand the Muddles. All the Muddles, on the other hand, don’t exactly understand the animals. They just know what they’re saying.
A large thud made both Crimson and Calamity look round sharply, just in time to see Grunge slide down the pole. He had his ar
ms wrapped tight around the pole and was carrying a small case in one hand. As his feet touched the floor, he bent and picked up a rucksack at the foot of the pole.
‘I remembered to hold on this time,’ he grinned. He placed the rucksack near the other things on the floor.
‘No guitar?’ asked Crimson.
‘I didn’t think there’d be enough room. I brought this instead.’ He held up the case. ‘My flute.’ He nodded to the gear on the floor. ‘Well, shall we pack this on the cart?’
Crimson nodded. ‘I think I’ve got everything. Calamity remembered her dinner bowl.’ Calamity gave a little bark. ‘I’ve put a special box on the cart for all our things.’ Just behind the tank, the cart had a large metal box for all the fire equipment. Next to it, Crimson had attached a slightly smaller metal box for their food and clothing. ‘Let’s get it packed.’
Crimson and Grunge started putting everything on the floor into the boxes on the cart. Soon, everything was stowed away in its place. Grunge picked up his flute. ‘I’ll keep hold of this myself,’ he said.
‘That’s a good idea. And Calamity can look after her bowl.’ Crimson hesitated a minute, gave Grunge an embarrassed smile and said softly, ‘It was very good of you to volunteer, Grunge.’ She hesitated again and blushed. ‘I’m glad you’re coming with me.’
Grunge gave Crimson an awkward grin. His blush matched Crimson’s. ‘I’m glad too, Crimson.’ They glanced shyly at each other. Neither spoke. Calamity cocked her head again and barked.
‘I think she’s impatient to get going,’ said Grunge, smiling. ‘Where are the Beadles?’
‘They’re picking up Reach. There’s not enough room on the cart for the three’ – Calamity gave another little bark – ‘four of us, so she’ll go in the Beadles’ bus.’
After the vote, Grunge had immediately volunteered to go with Crimson, which made Crimson feel very happy. As soon as Grunge had volunteered, Sky had also volunteered, which didn’t make Crimson feel so happy. Crimson was annoyed with herself for feeling that way because she actually liked Sky very much.