“What does your mum do?”
“She works at Tesco. On the checkout. That’s where she met my dad. He would shop on Saturday mornings. He used to joke that he ‘only came in for a pint of milk but left with a wife!’”
“It sounds like he was funny,” said Joe.
“He was,” said Bob, smiling. “Mum’s got another job too. She’s a cleaner at an old people’s home in the evenings. Just to make ends meet.”
“Wow,” said Joe. “Doesn’t she get tired?”
“Yeah,” said Bob. “So I do a lot of the cleaning and stuff.”
Joe felt really sorry for Bob. Since he was eight, Joe had never had to do anything at home – there was always the butler or the maid or the gardener or the chauffeur or whoever to do everything. He took the note out of his pocket. If there was one person who needed the money more than him it was Bob. “Please, Bob, keep the £50.”
“No. I don’t want to. I’d feel bad.”
“Well, let me at least buy you some chocolate.”
“You’ve got a deal,” said Bob. “Let’s go to Raj’s.”
Chapter 5
Out of Date Easter Eggs
DING!
No, reader, that’s not your doorbell. No need to get up. It’s the sound of the bell tinkling in Raj’s shop as Bob and Joe opened the door.
“Ah, Bob! My favourite customer!” said Raj. “Welcome, welcome!”
Raj ran the local newsagent’s shop. All the local kids adored him. He was like the funny uncle you always wished you had. And even better than that, he sold sweets.
“Hi, Raj!” said Bob. “This is Joe.”
“Hello Joe,” exclaimed Raj. “Two fat boys in my shop at one time! The Lord must be smiling on me today! Why have you both got so little on?”
“We came straight from cross-country running, Raj,” explained Bob.
“Fantastic! How did you do?”
“First and second…” replied Bob.
“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Raj.
“…to last,” finished Bob.
“That’s not so good. But I imagine you boys must be hungry after all that exercise. How can I help you today?”
“We’d like to buy some chocolate,” said Joe.
“Well, you have come to the right place. I have the finest selection of chocolate bars in this parade!” Raj announced triumphantly. Considering the only other shops in the parade were a launderette and a long since closed florist that wasn’t saying much, but the boys let it pass.
Now, one thing Joe knew for certain was that chocolate didn’t have to be expensive to taste nice. In fact, after a few years of gorging themselves on the finest chocolates from Belgium or Switzerland, he and his dad had realised that they weren’t half as delicious as a Yorkie. Or a bag of Minstrels.
Or, for the true connoisseur, a Double Decker.
“Well, let me know if I can help you gentlemen,” said the newsagent. The stock in Raj’s shop was haphazardly laid out. Why was Nuts magazine next to the Tipp-ex? If you couldn’t find the Jelly Tots, it was entirely possible that they might be hiding under a copy of the Sun from 1982. And did the post-it notes really have to be in the freezer?
However, local people kept coming to the shop because they loved Raj, and he loved his customers too, particularly Bob. Bob was one of his absolute best customers.
“We are happy just to browse thanks,” replied Bob. He was studying the rows and rows of confectionery, looking for something special. And today money wasn’t a problem. Joe had a fifty-pound note in his pocket. They could even afford one of Raj’s out of date Easter eggs.
“The Wispas are very good today, young Sirs. Fresh in this morning,” ventured Raj.
“We are just looking thank you,” replied Bob politely.
“The Cadbury’s Creme Eggs are in season,” suggested the newsagent.
“Thank you,” said Joe politely, smiling.
“Just to say, gentlemen, I am here to help,” said Raj. “If you have any questions please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“We will,” said Joe.
There was a brief moment of silence.
“Just to let you know the Flake is off today, Sirs,” continued Raj. “I should have said. A problem with the supplier, but I should have them back on sale tomorrow.”
“Thanks for letting us know,” said Bob. He and Joe shared a look. They were beginning to wish the newsagent would let them shop in peace.
“I can recommend a Ripple. I had one earlier and they are exquisite at the moment.”
Joe nodded politely.
“I’ll leave you alone to make up your own mind. As I say, I am here to help.”
“Can I have one of these?” said Bob, lifting up a giant bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk to show Joe.
Joe laughed. “Of course you can!”
“An excellent choice, gentlemen. I have those on special offer today. Buy ten get one free,” said Raj.
“I think we just need the one right now, Raj,” said Bob.
“Buy five get half a one free?”
“No thanks,” said Joe. “How much is it?”
“£3.20 please.”
Joe took out the fifty-pound note.
Raj looked at it in wonder. “Oh my! I have never seen one of those before. You must be a very rich young man!”
“Not at all,” said Joe.
“His dad gave it to him for his birthday,” chimed in Bob.
“Lucky boy,” said Raj. He peered at Joe. “You know, you look familiar, young man.”
“Do I?” replied Joe nervously.
“Yes I am sure I have seen you somewhere before.” Raj tapped his chin as he thought. Bob stared at him, baffled. “Yes,” said Raj eventually. “Only the other day I saw a picture of you in a magazine.”
“I doubt it, Raj,” scoffed Bob. “His dad makes loo rolls!”
“That’s it!” exclaimed Raj. He riffled through a pile of old newspapers and pulled out the Sunday Times Rich List.
Joe started to panic. “I’ve got to go…”
The newsagent flicked through the pages. “There you are!” Raj indicated a photograph of Joe sitting awkwardly on the front of his Formula One racing car, and then read aloud from the magazine. “Britain’s Richest Children. Number one: Joe Spud, age twelve. Bumfresh heir. Estimated worth, ten billion.”
A large lump of chocolate dropped from Bob’s mouth onto the floor. “Ten billion?”
“No way have I got ten billion,” protested Joe. “The press always exaggerate. I’ve got eight billion at the most. And I won’t even get most of it till I’m older.”
“That’s still a lot of money!” exclaimed Bob.
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were mates.”
“I’m sorry,” stammered Joe. “I just wanted to be normal. And it’s so embarrassing being the son of a bog-roll billionaire.”
“No no no you should be proud of your dad!” exclaimed Raj. “His story is an inspiration to all of us. A humble man who became a billionaire with one simple idea!”
Joe had never really thought of his dad like that.
“Leonard Spud revolutionised the way we wipe our bottoms forever!” Raj chuckled.
“Thanks, Raj.”
“Now, please tell your father I have just started using Bumfresh and I love it! My bottom has never been so sparkling! See you next time!”
The two boys walked along the street in silence. All you could hear was Bob sucking the chocolate from between his teeth.
“You lied to me,” said Bob.
“Well I did tell you he worked in bog rolls,” said Joe, uncomfortably.
“Yeah but…”
“I know. I’m sorry.” It was Joe’s first day at school, and his secret was already out. “Here, have the change,” said Joe, reaching in his pocket for the two twenty-pound notes.
Bob looked crushed. “I don’t want your money.”
“But I’m a billionai
re,” said Joe. “And my dad’s got squillions. I don’t even know what that means, but I know it’s loads. Just take it. Here, have this lot too.” He pulled out a roll of £50 notes.
“I don’t want it,” said Bob.
Joe’s face crinkled with incredulity. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t care about your money. I just liked hanging out with you today.”
Joe smiled. “And I liked hanging out with you.” He coughed. “Look, I really am sorry. It’s just… the kids at my old school used to bully me because I was the Bumfresh boy. I wanted to just be a normal kid.”
“I can understand that,” said Bob. “I mean, it would be nice to start again.”
“Yeah,” said Joe.
Bob stopped, and held out his hand. “I’m Bob,” he said.
Joe shook his hand. “Joe Spud.”
“No other secrets?”
“No,” said Joe, smiling. “That’s it.”
“Good,” said Bob, smiling too.
“You won’t tell anyone at school, will you?” said Joe. “About me being a billionaire. It’s so embarrassing. Especially when they find out how my dad became rich. Please?”
“Not if you don’t want me to.”
“I don’t. I really don’t.”
“Well, I won’t then.”
“Thanks.”
The two continued down the street. After a few paces Joe couldn’t wait any longer. He turned to Bob, who had already polished off half the massive bar of Dairy Milk. “Can I have some chocolate then?” he asked.
“Yes of course. This is for us to share,” said Bob, as he broke off his friend a tiny square of chocolate.
Chapter 6
The Grubbs
“OI! BLOB!” came a shout from behind them.
“Just keep walking,” said Bob.
Joe turned to look around and glimpsed a pair of twins. They looked terrifying – like gorillas in human suits. These must be the dreaded Grubbs Bob had talked about.
“Don’t look round,” said Bob. “I’m serious. Just keep walking.”
Joe was beginning to wish he was luxuriating in the safety of the back seat of his chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce, rather than walking to the bus stop.
“FATSO!”
As Joe and Bob walked faster, they could hear footsteps behind them. Although it was still early, the winter sky was blackening. The street lamps flickered on and blotches of yellow light spilled onto the wet ground.
“Quick, let’s run down here,” said Bob. The boys dashed down an alley, and hid behind a giant green wheely bin that was parked at the back of a Bella Pasta.
“I think we’ve lost them,” whispered Bob.
“Are those the Grubbs?” asked Joe.
“Shh. Keep your voice down!”
“Sorry,” whispered Joe.
“Yeah, it’s the Grubbs.”
“The ones who bully you?”
“That’s them. They’re identical twins. Dave and Sue Grubb.”
“Sue? One of them’s a girl?” Joe could swear that when he’d turned around and seen the twins following them, both of them had thick facial hair.
“Sue’s a girl, yes,” said Bob, as if Joe was some kind of idiot.
“Then they can’t be identical,” whispered Joe. “I mean, if one’s a boy and one’s a girl.”
“Well, yes, but no one can tell them apart.”
Suddenly Joe and Bob heard footsteps coming closer and closer.
“I can smell fat boys!” came a voice from the other side of the bin. The Grubbs wheeled the bin away to reveal the two boys crouching behind it. Joe took his first good look at the pair. Bob was right. The Grubbs were identical. They both had matching crew-cuts, hairy knuckles and moustaches. All of which seemed unfortunate for both of them.
Let’s play spot the difference with the Grubbs.
Can you spot the ten differences between these two?
No you can’t. They are exactly the same.
A gust of cold wind hummed through the alley. An empty can trundled past on the ground. Something twitched in the bushes.
“How was the cross-country run without your kit today Blob?” chuckled one Grubb.
“I knew that was you two!” Bob replied angrily. “So what did you do with it?”
“It’s in the canal!” chuckled the other.
“Now give us your chocolate.” Even hearing their voices didn’t give any clues as to who was Dave and who was Sue. Both their voices wavered high and low in one sentence.
“I’m taking some home for my mum,” protested Bob.
“I don’t care,” said the other Grubb.
“Give us it you little ****,” said the other one. I have to confess, reader, that the **** bit was a swear word. Other swear words include ****, ******** and of course the incredibly rude ************************. If you don’t know any swear words it’s best to ask a parent or teacher or other responsible adult to make a list for you.
For example, here are some of the rude words I know:
Puttock
Krunter
Noog
Smagger
Mingmong
Klazbo
Furp
Fedger
Nadgers
Blimblam
Coobdrizz
Trunt
Joofer
Klootzak
Bullmunter
Gunder
Whizzplop
Huppeltrut
Bwatter
Lopcrock
Moozer
Frink
Dangle Spangles
Boola Boola
Burmnop
Oodplops
Lingpoop
Twutter
Ploomfizz
Lumweed
Moomers
Blamfan
Pognots
Voogan Bits
Zucky zuck
Sming
Kumbo Drops
Poot Puddle
Kungo
Bimbim
Paffer
Goollyging
Nonkey
Humbum
Ponk
Hool
Blunkers
Pumpum
Minki
Gruntbunt
Poob
Drazz
Nockynooters
Luzzer
Plimplam
Vart
All of those words are so rude I wouldn’t dream of putting them in this book.
“Don’t pick on him!” said Joe. Then he instantly regretted drawing attention to himself again as the Grubbs took a step towards him.
“Or what?” said either Dave or Sue, their breath toxic from a bag of Skips they had recently snatched from a little girl in year five.
“Or…” Joe searched his mind for something to say that would crush these bullies forever. “Or I’ll be very disappointed with you both.”
That wasn’t it.
The Grubbs laughed. They snatched what was left of the Cadbury’s Dairy Milk bar from Bob’s hand and then grabbed his arms. They lifted him up and, as Bob yelled for help, they deposited him into the wheely bin. Before Joe could say anything else the Grubbs were stomping off down the road laughing, with their mouths full of stolen chocolate.
Joe dragged a wooden crate over, then stood on it to give himself more height. He leaned down into the bin and caught hold of Bob under the armpits. With a great heave, he started to pull his heavy friend out of the bin.
“Are you OK?” he asked, as he strained to take Bob’s weight.
“Oh, yeah. They do this to me most days,” said Bob. He pulled some spaghetti and parmesan cheese out of his curly hair – some of it might have been there since the last time the Grubb twins deposited him in a bin.
“Well, why don’t you tell your mum?”
“I don’t want to make her worry about me. She’s got enough to worry about already,” replied Bob.
“Maybe you should tell a teacher then.”
“The Gru
bbs said if I ever told anyone that they would really beat me up. They know where I live and even if they got expelled they could still find me,” said Bob. He looked like he was about to cry. Joe didn’t like to see his new friend upset. “One day, I’ll get them back. I will. My dad always used to say the best way to beat bullies is to stand up to them. One day I will.”
Joe looked at his new friend. Standing there in his underwear, covered in scraps of Italian food. He thought of Bob standing up to the Grubbs. The fat boy would get massacred.
But maybe there’s another way, he thought. Maybe I can get the Grubbs off his back forever.
He smiled. He still felt bad about paying Bob to come last in the race. Now he could make up for it. If his plan worked, he and Bob were going to be more than just friends. They’d be best friends.
Chapter 7
Gerbils on Toast
“I bought you something,” said Joe. He and Bob were sitting on the bench in the playground, watching the more agile kids play football.
“Just because you are a billionaire, doesn’t mean you have to buy me anything,” said Bob.
“I know, but…” Joe brought a large bar of Dairy Milk out of his bag. Bob’s eyes couldn’t help but light up a little.
“We can share it,” said Joe, before snapping off a tiny square of chocolate. Then breaking that tiny square in half.
Bob’s face fell.
“I’m only joking!” said Joe. “Here.” He handed Bob the bar to help himself.
“Oh, no,” said Bob.
“What?” said Joe.
Bob pointed. The Grubbs were walking slowly across the playground towards them, right through the games of football. Not that anyone dared to complain.
“Quick, let’s make a run for it,” said Bob.
“Where?”
“The dining room. They wouldn’t dare go in there. No one does.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
When they burst into the dining room it was completely empty, aside from a lone dinner lady.
Billionaire Boy Page 3