Lulu: Then SACK HIM! Ha!
Lulu turns to the audience and encourages them to clap and chant.
(clapping) Come on! Sack Sampson! Sack
Sampson! Sack Sampson! Sack Sampson! Sack
Sampson! Sack Sampson!
Led by Old Hag, the audience began to clap and chant. Ricky thought seriously about standing up and bravely stopping the utter madness, but found himself clapping and chanting as well! Plays were jolly good fun after all! He was beginning to enjoy himself!
‘What are you doing?’ Amy shouted at Ricky. ‘Remember our super adventure? He will dominate the world if we’re not totally effective! We were doing so well!’
‘This is fun, Amy!’ yelled Ricky. ‘Come on, join in! Sack Sampson! Sack Sampson!’
Amy felt really grumpy. She looked up at Sampson on the stage. His face was red! He looked as if he was about to cry.
Sampson: Ah-guh . . . Ah-guh . . . eeeh-gag . . . gah . . . gah.
Amy leaned closer to Ricky and asked, ‘What’s he saying?’
Ricky stopped clapping and shrugged. ‘I think he’s having a fit and is about to turn into an evil mega-monster, due to the utter humiliation that we haven’t been able to stop.’
‘Good analysis,’ said Amy. ‘But stand up and take charge! You’re the man . . . boy . . . whatever you are.’
Ricky suddenly felt quite important again. ‘Yes! Yes I will!’ he said. He stood up and, at the top of his very own voice, shouted, ‘Stop! STOP!’
The audience immediately stopped clapping and chanting. Ricky felt quite powerful for a boy with his meagre talents.
Old Hag came shuffling to the front of the stage. ‘Ha!’ she cackled, pointing a haggish finger at Ricky. ‘Ricko! It’s you! And you’ve failed in your secret mission! See how Sampson is turning! Look! Ha! I’ve beaten The Secret Five! Rejoice!’
‘NO!’ shouted Ricky in very stern capital letters. ‘George, Andrew, you mustn’t sack him! You need a castanet player to offset the effective pathos of the bass guitar and the precise intervallic construction of the chords!’
Amy was momentarily quite proud of Ricky, and looked up adoringly at what she still thought of as just an ugly stupid brother.
‘That’s true, yeah!’ said Andrew from the stage. ‘We do need a castanet player in the band.’
‘What about Ricko!’ shouted Old Hag, pointing at Ricky. ‘He can play. He has rhythm. Not much else, but ha! who cares?’
‘Great idea!’ agreed George. ‘He did say he could play. Cool! Come on up, man!’ He turned and pointed to Sampson. ‘And you can go. Leave the stage immediately, utterly humiliated and utterly embarrassed.’
‘What?’ cried Ricky.
‘He said,’ said Amy, rather helpfully, ‘and you can go, leave the stage immediately, utterly humiliated and utterly embarrassed.’
Ricky couldn’t believe his ears, eyes, nose or, while we’re at it, that old wives tale about wearing a dried body of a frog in a silk bag around the neck in order to avert fits.
Quite suddenly, Sampson threw his castanets to the floor! ‘You bastards!’ he called. ‘Especially YOU!’ He pointed a small finger and a big glare at Ricky, who cringed with fright.
Amy nudged Ricky. ‘Stop cringing with fright!’ she said. ‘And what does bastard mean? Can he say that? I don’t think he can. It sounds quite rude.’
Ricky shook his head. ‘Erm, Sampson,’ he called. ‘Can you call us all something else, please. We don’t actually have that sort of language where we come from, you see. It’s not in the constitution.’
‘Sorry!’ Sampson said. ‘How about scamp?’
‘Better,’ said Ricky, after getting the nod from Amy.
Sampson retrieved his castanets, repositioned himself on stage, and threw them to the floor again. ‘You scamp!’ he yelled, again pointing at Ricky with his finger. ‘ You have humiliated and disgraced me!’ He skulked to the side of the stage. ‘I’m really upset!’ he said. ‘I’m now going to skulk right off, and probably turn very evil. Very evil indeed!’
‘Ha! That’s my boy!’ shouted Old Hag. ‘The world needs more evility!’
‘Thank you, Mummy,’ said Sampson, strangely yet tenderly. ‘I don’t know why you are quite suddenly looking so old, but you’re right. The world needs evility. And once I’ve had enough practice I might even try to dominate that very world!’
The audience applauded and cheered and called oh no you won’t, as they thought it was all part of the play. Sampson obviously thought they were cheering his utter humiliation so he stormed off the stage, pausing only to glare an even bigger glare at Ricky.
‘Right, he’s gone,’ George called down to Ricky. ‘Come on up! Your castanets await you.’
Ricky looked quite confused. ‘Erm, did I cause Sampson to turn evil just then?’ he asked Amy.
Amy joined in with all the glaring at Ricky.
‘Ricky!’ Andrew called, walking to the edge of the stage and holding out his hand. ‘Come on! You’re in a band!’
‘In a band? Cool!’ said Ricky, instantly forgetting the calamity he had thrust upon the future world. He quickly clambered up onto the stage and grabbed the castanets. ‘This is so cool! One minute I’m sitting in the audience, minding my own adventure, the next, WHAM! I’m in a band!’
George and Andrew raised their eyebrows at each other, not for the first or last time. Old Hag scuttled over to Ricky with her various veins and patted him on the back.
In the audience, Amy looked on in utmost amazement. She was also very bewildered! Not only had Sampson called Old Hag Mummy, but he had turned evil after all their efforts, and their failure to stop his evilness was because Ricky could play the castanets and had taken his place in Bash!! The future of the world was again threatened! She wondered whether Betty, Daniel and Whatshisname would be able to save the world from where they were, or if they had been killed in a rather gruesome fashion by a surprise visit from a naked knife-wielding madman in a Victorian courthouse while the judge and several onlookers looked on helplessly! Although her wonderings were only a shot in the dark, only time and a turn of a page or two would tell if it were true!
PART FIVE
Chapter Thirty
In which Bertie needs consoling and suffers from Puberty; Daniel and Betty make an amazing discovery; well, maybe not that amazing; oh no?; no; oh, do you want to make anything of it?; now boys; there is a hint of intertextuality from HG Wells’ books, but it may pass you by in your rush to get to the last page and put an end to this torture.
In the scullery of The Big House Whatshisname had waited patiently for many sticks while Betty and Daniel were in court. Under the table he was biding his time, ready to spring into action when the moment came to launch his daring rescue plan. He had bided the time by making sure that he licked himself sparkly clean. To be honest, time biding wasn’t something that was of tremendously high importance to him. He suspected that canine history was littered with famous dogs that had bided their time and then ended up regretting it. He tried to think of famous dogs, apart from Pavlov’s dog and Lassie, and couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried to think. The knowledge gap made him feel inadequate. If only he had completed that MA in Modern Canine History at the red brick kennels. He sighed and carried on licking his bottom.
He reckoned that he had waited about five hundred and ninety sticks when he heard a commotion heading his way down the stairs. And he could hear voices! He paused mid-lick.
‘Well, children,’ a lady’s voice said. ‘It is so nice to have you back again. I was just in the kitchen deep frying some unfortunate dead pig’s giblets, eyes and toenails. Come on, make yourselves comfortable in the scullery again. Your dog with her fluffy pink collar is still cowering under the table, if I am not sorely mistaken, as the aroma of creosote and pineapple still lingers.’
Her pink collar ! Cowering! Whatshisname thought very quietly to himself: I’ll have you know I’m coiled like a spring, ready to launch my daring rescue attempt when t
he time is right!
‘Yes,’ said the lady’s voice as the lady’s voice’s face peeked under the table. ‘She’s still cowering.’
Then another peeking face appeared. It was Betty! Whatshisname sprang out, desperately disappointed that his rescue attempt would have to be put on ice for now, but so excited to see Betty that he licked and licked her face with the very same tongue that he had licked and licked his whiffy backside just a few seconds earlier. Lucky old Betty!
Then Whatshisname noticed that Daniel was also standing there! And, a little to the left of there, was Uncle Quagmire, dressed in a hastily-borrowed black suit and standing cautiously by the big scullery sink in the corner. Happily, his tail wagging and wagging, Whatshisname trotted over to Uncle Quagmire and joyfully sank his teeth into his ankle quite sharply. Uncle Quagmire kicked him.
Bertie, who had been lurking nearby all the time, scribbling notes in his Victorian note book, spoke to his mother. ‘Mama,’ he said, ‘tell them about the surprise banquet! Please do!’
Mrs Wells smiled quite a big smile for such a small Victorian woman. ‘If it will not slow down the narrative pace any more than it is already, it is a very good idea to tell them, young Bertie,’ she agreed. She turned quite slowly to face the children but spoke quickly. ‘We have prepared a handsome banquet to celebrate your successful release from custodial custody and your acquittal on all charges except Admitting Owning a Kangaroo without Due Regard for the Neighbours, for which you received the fittingly lenient sentence of a Suspended Apology. Now, I have planned that we will eat in the Squire’s Dining Room and I have taken the liberty to invite a few special guests in your honour.’
‘Gosh!’ said Betty, suddenly overflowing with verbal extravagance.
‘I’ve never had a banquet held in my honour before,’ said Daniel. ‘Will there be voluptuous serving wenches with . . .’
‘No,’ interrupted Mrs Wells quite firmly. ‘And you, young man, should partake of a cold bath before you eat.’
‘Can I sit by Betty?’ Bertie enquired eagerly.
‘Only if you all sit in alphabetical order,’ his mother replied. ‘And that’s not very likely, is it now, unless I am made to change my mind and happen to suggest it later on.’
Then Uncle Quagmire stepped forward, very keen to take part in the narrative. ‘Well well, Mrs Wells,’ he said, ‘I’ve heard all about your kindaciousness . . .’
‘Kindaciousness?’ asked Bertie.
‘Yes,’ confirmed Uncle Quagmire, frowning. ‘Kindaciousness.’
‘I like it!’ said Bertie, strangely. He scribbled something in his note book.
Then Uncle Quagmire continued exactly where he left off – ‘. . . to these pathetic children and their horrid fat dog. You might have been mightily surprised at seeing me here, so I had better summarapsulate what has happened. Just for your benefit, of course.’
Bertie licked his pencil and scribbled some more.
‘Of course,’ Mrs Wells said, sidling up to Uncle Quagmire. ‘Uncle Quagmire, tell us all what happened, please do. The story needs you at this time.’
‘Well, erm,’ Uncle Quagmire said, ‘to be honest, I’ve never been very good at expositions and backstories.’
‘Shall I do it then?’ asked Betty eagerly, raising her hand. ‘Let me! Oooh, I just love doing backstories!’
Uncle Quagmire looked quite relieved, but not as relieved as he was recently when he managed to travel urgently, with the Nixie digital clock, on his rescue mission from 1964 Salzburg to 1880 after hearing from Ricky and Amy all about what had happened with the wrong year then appearing rather dramatically and surprisingly naked in the doorway of the courtroom and causing an uproar by loudly and quite sternly demanding some immediate emergency clothes and the even more immediate release of Daniel and Betty and after a lot of arguing eventually persuading the grumpy old Magistrate that they were just two harmless insipid children from the twenty-first century who were merely trying to save the world from an evil mega-monster’s grip (and yes he would gladly try to explain how SERPS operated but bodcasts and plogs were somewhat beyond him) before being hurrahed out of the courtroom and leading the two children through the throngs of cheering people which included the postman from chapter one who was particularly vocal in his mock-Victorian celebration but who still felt some degree of niggling discomfort from the bicycle saddle removal incident.
‘Hang on!’ squeaked Betty. ‘I mean . . . what is the point of me explaining it all now?’ She stamped her right foot in a severe fit of disgust, then turned to Daniel. ‘I know now why Ricky walked off in chapter nine. Honestly!’
‘Shall we walk off?’ Daniel asked. ‘I’m jolly well up for it if you are.’
‘Ooooh, may I walk off with you?’ enquired Mrs Wells.
‘Woof woof woof?’ said Whatshisname enthusiastically.
‘Hold on everyone!’ said Uncle Quagmire, very sternly. ‘No walking off! Let me give you a grown-up perspectangle on this. You told me about the Squire and the fire, and it all sounds a bit dire, I fear. If you two walk out now, who’s going to stop the disaster of the Squire’s fire and save the world from the evil that is Sampson de Lylow? Only The Secret Five are trained to do that sort of thing, so I stand no chance of saving any world, do I? Especially with my dodgy knees.’
Daniel glanced at Betty, and Betty glanced at Daniel, until it was difficult to know who was glancing at whom. Whatshisname turned his head to look around for someone to glance at, couldn’t find anyone, so he tried very hard to glance at himself.
‘And,’ continued Uncle Quagmire, ignoring all the mass glancing, ‘if my perfect judgment is correct yet again, Ricky and Amy won’t have had much luck in 1980 with stopping Sampson from becoming evil. They will probably have experienced some major obstacle which will have a dramatic effect on how things have turned out. So we can’t rely on them. As usual.’
Daniel leaned a little towards Uncle Quagmire. ‘They are your own children, dear Uncle Quagmire,’ he reminded him.
Uncle Quagmire looked slightly confused, but continued relentlessly. ‘And there’s no chance of that dog being able to do anything of importance to save mankind, is there? Not with a pink fluffy collar like that. And can someone tell me why he has quite suddenly gone cross-eyed?’
‘Woof woof woof!!!’ said Whatshisname.
‘So you two children are going to have to stay here until the Squire’s fire is quenchinguished,’ said Uncle Quagmire. ‘I will stay for a while, just to experience the Victorian way of life for a moment or two, and to be on hand for any sudden reversal in fortunes or the unexpected appearance of comely maids or Eccles Cakes.’
‘Yes,’ said Bertie. ‘I’d really prefer it if you could all stay, as I have become quite attached to you.’ He wandered over and stood by Betty. ‘Especially you, Betty.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘I was wondering if you would consider assisting me in my quest for a joyful adolescence.’
Betty looked shocked at his little lowered voice, and really quite embarrassed! She didn’t know what to say!
‘Really!’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to say. Except . . . you men are all the same! Leave me alone and if you dare mention my ample bosom I promise I will tear your testicles off with my bare teeth!’
Bertie stepped back, quite alarmed! He glared at his feet a bit, then stamped off up the stairs. Daniel looked aghast, and began to blink a lot with his eyelids. Betty seemed to be even more embarrassed by her own sudden outburst, which went against all the formal Secret Five etiquette training. There was a long silence in the scullery as everyone looked at each other’s feet, waiting for someone to say something of importance.
Whatshisname had reacted badly at the mention of tearing testicles off with bare teeth. He had tried to wipe the tears from his eyes with his paw without much success, but he decided that he would be the one to break the embarrassed silence. Good old reliable Whatshisname! ‘Woof woof woof?’ he said.
Everyone looked quite relieved. Mr
s Wells seemed a little concerned about her son. ‘Why don’t you two children go and console young Bertie. He will, I surmise, be up in the Butler’s bedroom. The Butler is away on an intensive Victorian Butlering Self-Improvement, Butler’s Body Language and Presentation Skills course, so Bertie uses that room in which to mope, sulk, meditate, and play with himself. Now, Uncle Quagmire, if you please, you stay and help me unknot these pig’s giblets.’
Betty and Daniel, with Whatshisname trotting behind them, made their way up the stairs. ‘This is so exciting,’ said Daniel as they found their way along a short, yet surprisingly long, moderately gloomy corridor. ‘I’ve never been in a butler’s bedroom before.’
‘I’m glad to hear that, Daniel,’ said Betty. As they walked down the corridor, it was becoming gloomier and gloomier.
‘This all feels quite familiar,’ said Daniel. ‘Very strange indeed.’
Betty suddenly stopped and glared at Daniel. Whatshisname sat down at her feet and looked up at her. ‘I told you, Daniel, didn’t I?’ Betty said. ‘It’s all about re-using locations, so stop pointing these things out! You’re ruining the story.’ She turned on her very own heels and hurried away down the moderately gloomy corridor. Whatshisname got up and pattered after her, followed by a rather glum Daniel.
‘Look!’ she called, having stopped by a door. ‘It says Butler’s Bedroom.’
Daniel sauntered up and stood by her side. ‘But isn’t this the room where . . .’
‘Stop spoiling it!’ scolded Betty. ‘There’s people out there who . . .’
‘But . . .’ began Daniel.
‘And stop beginning!’ said Betty. ‘Nothing you can begin to say will be of any importance! Let’s go inside and talk to Bertie.’
‘But Betty,’ said Daniel, ‘if we were in this very room in this very house in the twenty-first century, it means it didn’t burn down at all!’
‘I told you . . .’ Betty began to say as she reached for the doorknob.
The Secret Five and the Stunt Nun Legacy Page 23