Casper Candlewacks in the Attack of the Brainiacs! (4 page)

The tractor ground to a halt in Corne-on-the-Kobb's village square and Sandy Landscape bellowed, “'Ere we are, kiddies, 'ome an' dry, safe an' sound, bread an' drippin'. Don't leave yer berlongin's on the bus unless it's sammiches.” The children tumbled out through the carriage door and scampered off home to cuddle their mummies. Lamp shuffled off with an eager wave, leaving
Casper almost alone in the square.

Sitting on the step by the boarded-up cheese shop was that grubby Frenchman Renée, sucking on a tiny grey cigarette.

Casper waved.

“'Allo, boy.” His fat lips curled into a smile. “Are you being ready for… er… ze large evening?”

Casper nodded. The fact that Renée's cheese shop was opening on the same night as his dad's restaurant had been a worry, but not for long. The villagers liked cheese, but only when it came in heavy yellow bricks. French cheese, with all its liquid middles and herby crusts and
essence de cowshed
, would not appeal to the villagers one morsel.

Through the window of The Battered Cod, Casper could see Julius Candlewacks teetering on
a ladder, grasping for a massive wonky lampshade that hung just out of reach.

“Better go and help,” grimaced Casper.

“Ah,
c'est bon
. Say 'allo to your fazzer.”

Casper trotted the rest of the way across the square.

Ting-a-ling.

“Dad?” Casper pushed open the restaurant door, caught the corner of the ladder and sent it toppling over, leaving Julius Candlewacks hanging from the lampshade.

“Help!” Julius flailed his legs about and suddenly realised he was terrified of heights. “I can't hold on! I'm too young to die!”

“Just jump. It's not far.”

“It's miles! I'll break my legs! Get me a parachute or something.”

“We don't have a—”

RRRRIPPPP
went the lampshade and, along with Julius, it tumbled to the carpet.

Julius checked he was alive, breathed a sigh of relief and then noticed how far the bit of lampshade in his hands was from the rest of the lampshade. “Oh.”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“It's fine!” He sprang to his feet with forced jollity. “It's modern. Half a lampshade is the new lampshade. Soon everyone'll be doing it. Now, plenty to do.” And he tottered off to look at the list of unfinished jobs scribbled all over the Today's Specials blackboard.

It had just gone four o'clock, which left three hours until opening time.

“How can I help?” asked Casper.

“Right,” Julius read down the list. “You need to connect that oven, peel the spuds, get a new fridge, sweep up the old fridge, label the meat pile and fix the lock on the loo. Got that?”

Casper groaned.

Ting-a-ling.

“Caspy!” Casper's mother, Amanda Candlewacks, burst through the restaurant door. She had long blonde hair, scratches all over her face and a wriggling baby in a bag slung over one shoulder. “Look at me, Caspy, I'm a real mother!”

“How was your first day with Cuddles?”

“Wonderful! We went to the park, she caught some squirrels, I lost her down the back of the tumble dryer—”

The baby screeched and thrashed about, gnashing its razor-sharp teeth. This was Cuddles,
Casper's sister, the least cuddly baby since Clemmie Answorth adopted a cactus. (The cactus didn't last long, by the way. It was eaten by Cuddles, along with Clemmie Answorth's shoes and purse and Don't Eat my Cactus sign.)

“But I think she might be broken. Can you take a look at her, darling?” Amanda smiled sweetly at Casper.

It didn't take long to see, or to smell, what was going on. “Mum, her nappy's full. Like every day. You just need to change her.”

“Change her?” Amanda's brow furrowed in confusion. “But I like this one.”

“Not all of her, Mum. Just the nappy.”

“How do I do that?”

“I showed you yesterday.”

“But I need to do it today,” she giggled.

Casper sighed and laid Cuddles out on Table 4. His mum wasn't a quick learner. She wasn't even a slow learner. As it turned out, Amanda Candlewacks wasn't a learner at all. What's more, she was about eleven years late to this ‘mothering' malarkey, and she couldn't seem to get the hang of it. But today, with Casper going to school, Amanda was faced with her first full day of unaided mothering.

“All done,” said Casper, fastening the pin extra tightly. “And stop putting her in bags.”

“How else will I carry her? Some sort of trolley?” She burst into trills of fruity laughter.

“Yes, Mum. They call it a buggy.”

“Well, I call it a waste of money. If a bag's good enough for my shopping, it's good enough for my daughter. Anyway, I'm shattered. Your
turn to look after her now!”

“No, Mum, I'm—”

“Thanks, Caspy, you're a star.” Amanda collapsed where she stood and was snoring before she hit the floor.

“Great.”

Cuddles gnawed on her own foot.

Casper left Cuddles to peel the potatoes (her fangs were perfect for the job) and clomped
through to the kitchen. Last week Julius had bought every single item from the
Kitchens 'n' More
catalogue, and now the whole lot was squeezed into his minuscule new kitchen. Four-slot toasters were stacked on top of chrome-finished deep-fat fryers, all still wrapped in plastic and far from being plugged in. In fact, nothing was plugged in because the only thing Julius
had
forgotten was something to plug them all into. Until further notice the kitchen would be lit by dozens of torches hanging from the ceiling or propped up in mugs.

“Right,” said Julius from behind a stack of flat-pack shelving units. “Block your ears!”

Casper did as he was told, and just in time too, because the next moment a deafening buzz rocked the room. Casper dived behind the oven just before hundreds of knives jiggled from their rack and
thunked to the linoleum floor where he'd been standing, sticking fast.

“DAD!” he bellowed. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

The noise stopped. Julius blew a cloud of sawdust from the tip of his power-drill like a spy with a smoking gun. “Drilling holes.”

“What for?”

“Electricity. This wall goes through to the restaurant so I'm sticking a wire through.”

“Just watch where you're drilling. There're water pipes and all sorts in there.”

“Trust me, Casp. I've done this before.” He winked and flipped down his goggles, then the drill roared into action again. The room shook, the wall wobbled, torches dropped from the ceiling and mugs rolled off tables, plunging the kitchen
into darkness, but still Julius drilled on.

“DAD, STOP!” yelled Casper, but for all Julius could hear he might as well have been making farmyard noises.

And then, with a
BRRRROOOOOO
, he'd drilled through. A shaft of clean light shone from the restaurant.

“Fantastic!” cheered Julius, standing back to admire his work.

“You sure the wall's OK?” Casper didn't claim to be an expert, but he was sure he'd read somewhere that walls weren't meant to wobble.

“Solid as a rock, Casp.” Julius banged on the wall twice and the plaster gave way round his hand. Then a large chunk crumbled off and the whole right side toppled inwards. Casper dived for cover again as an avalanche of wall imploded
around him. Dust and rubble filled his lungs, his eyes stung and he finally got to find out what plaster tasted like. (Not bad, a bit bland, 6/10.)

The dust settled. Casper dared to peek out from his hiding place. A grey Julius-shaped statue stood in place of the wall. The kitchen and the restaurant were no longer two rooms, they were one room. A room filled with rubble. Amanda's snoring and Cuddles's gnawing were the only noises Casper could hear. Then the Julius-shaped statue coughed a cloud of dust.

Casper fumbled for some consoling words. “Dad, I—”

“Open plan!” Julius's grey face broke into a grin. “We'll be open plan.” He tottered between kitchen and restaurant, holding imaginary plates of food. “Ketchup, madam? Why, of course!”
He pranced back into the kitchen, picked up an imaginary bottle and pranced back to the table again. “See, Casper? It's that easy now.”

Casper smiled timidly.

A gravelly cough came from the other side of the restaurant and then, in a rough French drawl, “I will… er… be coming back later?”

Julius screamed. It was the Frenchman.

“Renée! Didn't notice you come in! Must fix the
ting-a-ling
-er. Anyway, come on in, take a seat. I think there's one under this wall.”

Renée didn't sit down. Instead he sucked on his stick-thin cigarette and chewed the smoke. “'Allo, Julius,
mon ami
. But what is all zis?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” Julius kicked some rubble under a table, but it just crumbled under his foot. “Just making some final… adjustments. All ready for tonight?”

Renée shrugged nonchalantly. “Meh, I not worry about zat.”

“Well, we're right behind you. Isn't that right,
Casp?” Julius grinned at Renée with a few too many teeth. “We think it's just great that you're over here in Britain. You know to ask if you need anything.”

“Zat is most kind.” Renée bowed. “I am still, how you say, getting under ze grippings with zis country. Ze cheese, he is my passion.”

“Oh, me too. We all love cheese here, especially when it's blue or smelly and not just a heavy yellow brick.” Julius nudged Casper, so he nodded vigorously.

“Ah, I must not be staying for long. I am only here for to invite you. You will come to ze opening night of my… er… shop of ze cheese?”

Julius's laugh had a touch of pity. “Renée, my friend, how many times? I can't join you tonight – my restaurant's opening too.”