For Gillie, with love and thanks.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Armadillo and Hare
The Fridge Light
The Visitor
The Storm
Nobody’s Birthday Party
Giants
A Flood and an Interesting Cardigan
The Importance of Conversation
Armadillo and Hare’s Short Discussion
Armadillo’s Best Cheese Sandwich
Copyright
Armadillo and Hare
It was a glorious spring morning. It had rained in the night. Every leaf and blade of grass was illuminated with liquid diamonds. Armadillo grunted heavily and heaved himself out of bed. He pulled on his old cardigan. As usual he didn’t notice that he’d put the buttons in the wrong buttonholes. He sat for a moment and considered his feet, briefly wiggling his toes.
‘I’m still alive then,’ he said out loud to himself, and he let off a single chuckling snort before pushing his feet into his battered red slippers.
Armadillo padded off to the kitchen and opened the fridge door.
‘Fridge light isn’t working again,’ he muttered. ‘And there’s no cheese.’ He went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to Hare. ‘There’s no cheese in the fridge. Did you eat it?’
‘I’m asleep,’ came the reply.
‘How can you shout back at me if you’re asleep?’ Armadillo asked.
‘Because my mouth is open,’ Hare answered. ‘And sound is coming out, but my eyes are shut and no light is getting in, so I’m asleep.’
‘Open your eyes then,’ Armadillo suggested.
‘Even if I do there’ll still be no cheese in the fridge. You’ll have to go to the shop.’ Hare yawned. ‘Anyhow, you should lose weight. Cheese makes you fat and your stomach is getting bigger. You should take exercise, Armadillo, like me, and stop eating cheese.’
Armadillo didn’t reply. Instead, he went into the living room and heaved himself into the big armchair. He knew he was putting on weight, but he didn’t like to be told about it.
He certainly didn’t want to do any exercise and there was no way that he was going to stop eating cheese. He wished that Hare was wrong, but he wasn’t. That made things even more depressing. Hare was nearly always right.
Armadillo sighed.
Hare came downstairs. He was in his dark-blue pyjamas. They had little stars on them.
Armadillo liked Hare’s pyjamas, but they didn’t make them in anything near an armadillo shape or size.
Hare paused for a moment in front of the mirror. He carefully straightened his phenomenal ears, adjusted his spectacles and draped a long colourful scarf casually round his neck.
‘I thought I might buy a new scarf soon,’ said Hare. He turned towards the kitchen. ‘You left the fridge door open,’ he observed.
He’s right again, thought Armadillo. ‘Yes, I did,’ he declared. ‘I thought some cheese might jump in. If I left it open.’
‘It hasn’t,’ Hare told him.
Armadillo shrugged. ‘I didn’t think it would. It was just a chance. A tiny, tiny possibility that some cheese might come wandering along and think: Oh, that looks like a nice fridge. I could sit inside and keep cool. This warm sun is making me melt. How kind of someone to leave the door open for me. I’ll just hop inside.’ Armadillo beamed at his friend.
Hare twitched one ear. ‘The fridge light’s gone.’
‘I know,’ Armadillo answered.
‘I’ll make some breakfast then,’ Hare said.
‘Without cheese?’ Armadillo questioned.
Hare stood in the kitchen doorway and looked back at Armadillo slumped in the armchair.
‘You spend too much time sitting down,’ he told his friend. ‘What you need is a hobby, something to do every day, something to keep you occupied. Maybe do some exercises.’
Armadillo gave a loud snort.
‘I shall make us a healthy breakfast,’ Hare went on. ‘Then you and I will do some exercises. I know some very good ones.’
‘That will be nice,’ Armadillo muttered.
‘You’ve done your buttons up wrong again,’ Hare told him.
Hare went to the kitchen and clattered about amongst the plates and bowls and cutlery. He soon reappeared with a tray full of fruit and juice – but no cheese.
While they ate, Hare explained why it was important to exercise. Armadillo thought he might buy some earplugs when he went out to get some cheese.
Hare pushed away his clean plate, got to his feet and took off his scarf. ‘Right, breakfast finished, so now we will do our exercises. You stand there, Armadillo, and do what I do.’
So Armadillo stood there and did what Hare did. He bent to the right and he bent to the left. He did some knee bends and rolled his head round and round. He did ten press-ups and five star jumps. He got a bit out of breath.
‘That’s good,’ observed Hare. ‘Being out of breath shows how much you need to exercise.’
‘But I’m only out of breath because I’m exercising,’ panted Armadillo.
Hare ignored him. ‘Put your arms above your head,’ he said. ‘Like this.’
Armadillo stopped and stared at his friend. ‘Hare, stop it,’ he said. ‘Don’t be silly. I have four short legs and I certainly can’t put any of them above my head. I have done quite enough exercising for today, thank you. I am going to the shops and I’m going to buy some cheese. Then I’m coming back home and I shall put the cheese in the fridge, with or without a light.’
‘Good idea,’ said Hare. ‘And you could jog all the way to the shops and back. Jogging is very good for you.’
But Armadillo didn’t jog there or back. He put his front paws in his lopsided cardigan pockets and he walked. Slowly.
Armadillos do not jog, but Armadillo did like walking. It helped him to think, and what he was thinking was something that rather took his fancy, and the more Armadillo thought about it the more he fancied it. He decided that when he got back home he was going to do some painting. He knew exactly what he was going to paint too.
It would be a picture of a cheese sandwich.
If Hare wanted Armadillo to have a hobby, then painting cheese sandwiches would fit the bill very nicely. What’s more, it might even put an end to all that ‘now put your arms above your head’ nonsense.
Armadillo was so taken with his wonderful idea that he almost ran home.
Almost. But not quite.
The Fridge Light
It was the ‘ping-ping’ of a bell that Armadillo and Hare noticed first. Then it was the ‘parp-parp’ of a horn.
Hare went to the window and looked out. He removed his glasses and looked again. It made no difference.
Armadillo put down his paintbrush. He had been working flat out all morning and had already completed three cheese-sandwich masterpieces. One was a view from the left, and one was a view from the right, and the last was a view from above. All in all, the subject was well covered.
‘What is all that pinging and parping?’ he demanded.
Hare shook his head. ‘You had better come and see this for yourself.’
Armadillo went to the window and peered over Hare’s shoulder.
‘What on earth—?’ began Armadillo, but he didn’t finish. He simply stared.
A strange, round, furry creature was riding a bicycle up and down the clearing outside the cabin. Whatever it was sometimes pinged a silver bell on the handlebars. Other times she parped a red horn. Not only that, but there was a little basket strapped to the handlebars too.
‘What on earth …?’ Armadillo repeated. Even as he spoke, the furry creature did something unexpected. She stood on the saddle, balancing carefully. All
of a sudden she flipped over and did a handstand. Finally she did a one-pawed handstand on the saddle. With her other free paw she did some more ping-pinging and parp-parping. Meanwhile she waggled her back paws in the air as if they were saying ‘hello!’
Hare was pretty good at exercises himself. He could balance on one leg. But not upside down. And definitely not on a bicycle. Or pinging and parping at the same time and waving ‘hello’ with his feet. That was pretty clever stuff, thought Hare, especially for such a round animal.
The two friends went and stood outside the front door. They both watched in considerable amazement.
The strange animal sat back on the saddle. She pedalled a bit faster, pulled a wheelie and finally skidded to a halt right by the front door. She beamed at them both.
‘Hello!’ she said cheerfully, showing a lot of pretty white teeth.
‘Hello,’ echoed Hare.
‘Hmm,’ said Armadillo. He looked this new creature up and down and wrinkled his nose. ‘Do tell us who you are and what you are doing,’ he said.
‘Wombat,’ said Wombat, still smiling.
‘Really? I have no idea what a wombat is,’ Armadillo said, a trifle grumpily.
‘A wombat is me. That’s what a wombat is. Simple.’
Hare thought Wombat looked rather fun. She had shiny comfy brown fur and twinkly black eyes. She was energetic – a bit like himself, he thought – except she was a lot rounder and her ears were considerably smaller, which Hare liked, his being considerably larger. Hare was rather proud of his ears.
‘You’re riding a bicycle,’ Armadillo said stiffly. ‘Is that something wombats do?’
‘Not at all. It’s what this wombat does. I ride bikes and I mend fridge lights.’
Armadillo relaxed a fraction. ‘Ah! The fridge light. That’s good.’ A frown crept across Armadillo’s hairy forehead. ‘But why all that business on the saddle? And the pinging and the parping?’
‘Why not?’ asked Wombat. She seemed surprised to have been asked such a pointless question. ‘It’s what I do. We all have to do something.’
Hare’s long ears waggled in agreement.
‘I play the tuba,’ he told Wombat. He dashed into the house.
‘Oh!’ Wombat sighed. ‘I’d love to do that.’
Armadillo shuffled forward. ‘I make him do it outside because every time he blows into it things pop out of the top.’
‘What sort of things?’ asked Wombat, highly intrigued.
‘Oh, flames, butterflies, cabbages, even some puppies last week – we never know what to expect. Then they just fade away and disappear. Look, here he is. Watch out, and expect the unexpected.’
Hare sat on the steps and began to play a jaunty, happy tune on his tuba. Out popped several coloured balls. They bounced about a few times before slowly vanishing. Meanwhile, other things came tumbling out of the instrument – three balloons, some glittery stars, a pair of socks and … a toilet roll.
Hare stopped and looked at the toilet roll with surprise. ‘I’m so sorry. I have no idea where that came from.’
But Wombat was enchanted and she looked at Hare with wonder. ‘You’re a genius!’ she told Hare.
‘Actually it can be quite annoying,’ Armadillo interrupted. ‘Last week I tripped over the puppies and banged my elbow. It was sore for three days. Anyhow, I thought you’d come to mend the light. The fridge is in the kitchen. This way.’
Wombat looked at Hare, who put down his tuba and made a sign with his thumb, so Wombat fell in behind Armadillo.
Armadillo held the door open for Wombat and they went through to the kitchen. Armadillo half covered his mouth with one paw and whispered loudly to Hare, ‘We’d better keep an eye on Wombat. Fridge-light menders don’t arrive on bicycles performing tricks. She might be a cat burglar.’
‘But she’s not a cat,’ laughed Hare. ‘She’s a wombat.’
Armadillo gave Hare a stern frown. ‘You know what I mean. It’s all very suspicious.’
But Wombat did mend the fridge light. She took out the old bulb. She got a new one from the basket on her bicycle. She screwed it into place in the fridge and it lit up at once.
‘There!’ she said.
Armadillo looked at it. After all, it might suddenly go out. A light bulb from a pinging and parping wombat was not to be trusted. But the bulb didn’t go out. It worked just as a proper light bulb should and it lit up everything inside the fridge, especially the splendid new lump of cheese from the shop.
Armadillo opened and closed the fridge door several times. Whenever he opened the door the light came on. Armadillo had to admit Wombat had done a good job.
‘Thank you,’ he said, as Wombat left.
‘That’s OK,’ beamed Wombat, jumping back on her bike. She parped and she pinged. She did a headstand on the saddle. Wombat waved back at Armadillo and Hare with all four paws in the air.
The two friends watched her until she went round a corner and vanished from sight.
‘Extraordinary,’ said Hare. ‘What a creature!’
‘Yes,’ said Armadillo. ‘But I do think it odd. I mean, why do all that stuff? Why not just arrive, do the job and go?’ He shook his head. ‘Still,’ he added, ‘one must always say “thank you” for a good job done.’
‘Maybe Wombat likes doing tricks on her bike,’ said Hare.
‘Yes, yes, I can understand that, Hare. But why mend fridge lights as well? It’s so odd. I mean, it’s unheard of!’
From the distance came the sound of a far-off ‘ping-ping’, followed by a ‘parp-parp’.
Hare gave a faint smile. ‘Not any more,’ he said. He picked up his tuba and began to play once again. Out popped a kitten or three, a rather pretty tea towel, a bouquet of flowers and—
‘Oh, another toilet roll,’ murmured Hare. He rested the big instrument on the floor and his ears and head disappeared inside for a moment.
‘I don’t know. Most mysterious. I think my tuba must be feeling out of sorts today. Perhaps it will be better tomorrow.’
But Hare found he was talking to himself. Armadillo had gone back to his painting.
Hare went and stood beside his friend, cleaned his glasses and studied the new work.
‘I do like this one,’ said Hare admiringly.
‘Thank you, Hare.’ Armadillo stood back and studied the canvas. ‘Of course, it’s not finished yet.’
‘I can tell,’ said Hare. ‘Because there’s a bit missing on the sandwich, just there.’
‘No, it’s not missing,’ Armadillo corrected. ‘I ate that bit.’
‘Oh,’ said Hare. ‘Well, I hope it tasted nice.’
The Visitor
A jaguar came to the forest clearing. Jaguar was sleek and beautiful. She was also hungry. She knocked on the door of Armadillo and Hare’s log cabin.
‘Do you have anything to eat?’ asked Jaguar hopefully.
Armadillo noted Jaguar’s sharp teeth. He wedged the door with one foot, just in case.
‘What would you like?’ he asked.
‘Anything. I’m hungry.’ Jaguar flopped down. She lay right across Armadillo’s front door.
‘Do you eat mice?’
Jaguar pulled a face. ‘Never. They are far too small.’
‘Elephants?’ suggested Armadillo.
‘Too big,’ said Jaguar, shaking her beautiful head.
Armadillo cleared his throat. ‘Er-hmm. Armadillos?’
Jaguar considered this. ‘I have never seen one. My grandfather told me that he tried to eat an armadillo once, unsuccessfully. That was a long time ago.’
Armadillo wedged his other foot against the door. He tried to ask what happened. His voice came out as an awkward squeak and he had to repeat himself. ‘W-what happened?’
Jaguar sighed deeply. ‘Apparently the armadillo curled up into a ball.’
‘Yes! Yes! That’s what I would do!’ Armadillo said excitedly. He quickly stopped and lowered his voice. ‘I … I mean, that is to say, that’s what armadillos d
o!’ Jaguar looked at Armadillo in an interested kind of way.
‘They do curl up into a tight ball,’ Armadillo quickly agreed.
Jaguar still looked interested.
‘So I’m told.’
‘Hmm.’ Jaguar considered this for a moment. ‘Have you ever seen one?’ she asked.
Armadillo didn’t like to lie. ‘Yes, I’ve seen one,’ he said, and left it at that.
The two animals gazed at each other. Armadillo managed a nervous smile. Jaguar picked at her teeth with a wisp of grass.
‘Hares are quite tasty,’ she observed.
Armadillo gulped. He was glad Hare was safely upstairs, reading. ‘I, I, I … could make you a cheese sandwich.’
‘What’s a cheese sandwich?’ asked Jaguar, frowning. ‘It’s not vegetarian, is it?’
Armadillo thought it was best to avoid answering the second of Jaguar’s questions. ‘It’s two thick slices of bread with cheese between. I could put some pickle in it too. Pickle’s nice.’
Armadillo wished he didn’t sound so nervous. He couldn’t help it. He was nervous.
‘All right. Make me a cheese sandwich,’ said Jaguar heavily. ‘No pickle.’
‘Good. Wait there a moment. I’ll be back in a jiffy.’
‘What’s a jiffy?’ asked Jaguar.
‘It’s a minuscule piece of time,’ Armadillo explained, but Jaguar still looked confused. Armadillo turned to go to the kitchen.
As he did so, Hare called from upstairs. ‘Did I hear a visitor at the door? I’ll come down.’
Jaguar’s ears pricked up at once. She lifted her graceful head and sniffed the air. ‘Have you got someone upstairs?’
‘There’s no need to come down, Elephant,’ Armadillo said loudly, so Hare would hear. ‘It’s only Jaguar.’
Armadillo and Hare Page 1