Eating Things on Sticks (16 page)

Morning Glory was devastated. ‘What on earth's
happened?
Where on earth has it gone?'

‘I think it's been swept away,' said Uncle Tristram.

‘But it's a
house
.'

‘Not any more, it isn't,' said Officer Watkins. He started prowling up and down the banks of the stream, looking for clues. The pangs of guilt that I'd been feeling on and off all day suddenly crystallized into decision.

‘Excuse me,' I said. ‘I will be back in a minute.'

I think they all suspected that, with the lavatory swept off downstream, I'd rushed to the undergrowth around the hill for quite a different purpose. I wasn't stopping to explain. I simply vanished between the bushes and hoped that, in the shock of things, they would forget me. Certainly, each time I looked down from wherever I'd reached on the climb up, they seemed still to be wandering about like shell-shocked soldiers.

On and on I climbed, higher and higher. At times the brand-new stream had taken over the old path so, slapped at by wet leaves and splattered by raindrops, I ploughed through the sodden wet undergrowth.

In the end, panting quite desperately, I reached the top.

The job did not take long. All I had to do was kick a few stones around. As if with relief – ah! that's a whole lot better! – the first few tricklings of the stream washed away all the mud I'd packed around the stones, and fell straight back into its old route down the other side. It was so quick and easy I felt even more guilty. Why hadn't I sneaked up and done it way back on Thursday, when I first realized? I could have saved the house!

I took a little more time coming down again. For one thing I used the old path, and since the last of the stream I had diverted that way by accident was only just dribbling away, it was quite slimy underfoot. And for another, I was in no hurry to get to the bottom and have to explain how this extraordinarily forceful stream had vanished.

They were all standing with their backs to me, staring at the tail end of the stream as it disappeared round the corner.

I shuffled up beside Uncle Tristram. He glared at me suspiciously, then took my arm and led me out of earshot. ‘It's just this minute stopped,' he hissed at me. ‘We've just been watching the last of it run past.' His eyes narrowed. ‘Destroying houses is
your
speciality, isn't it? So what did you do up there to cause that stream in the first place?'

‘Just kicked a few stones about,' I said vaguely.

‘Just kicked a few stones about?' His eyes went wide. ‘Just kicked a few stones about? You mean you made a
dam
? I don't believe it! While we were up there that day, you actually were daft enough to build a
dam
?'

‘It wasn't a
real
dam. It was only
tiny
.'

‘It didn't need to be anything
other
than tiny, right up there at the top!'

Hastily he stopped haranguing me as Morning Glory came rushing over towards us.

‘You just missed something
amazing
,' she informed me. ‘While you were up the hill, the stream just stopped. It just came to an end. It was a real, live miracle!'

I don't know what came over me, I really don't. ‘Yes,' I said. ‘I went up the hill and called the angels for help. I asked for Dido in particular. And Dido stopped it.'

Morning Glory clasped her hands together. ‘Really?'

‘Really,' I said.

‘She came at once? And miracled away the stream?'

‘I told Dido what had happened. And she just fixed it.'

Now Morning Glory was agog. ‘
How
did she fix it?'

‘Probably just kicked a few stones about,' Uncle Tristram muttered.

I gave him one of those Watch-your-step-Buster looks that Mum gives me, and turned back to Morning Glory. ‘She just did,' I said firmly. ‘Using her special and angelic magic powers.'

Morning Glory looked quite ecstatic. Her eyes shone.

‘Well that is wonderful! Perfectly
wonderful
! And now that the stream has been stopped, we will be able to . . .'

She faltered. Swinging around, she took in the bleak sight of a few damp lumps of giant furniture stuck in the mud with no walls at all around them.

‘We will be able to . . .'

Her voice trailed to a halt.

‘You can't
rebuild
,' said Uncle Tristram, valiantly trying to suppress his shudder of horror at the mere idea. He waved a hand at the few pitiful strands of coloured wool and bits of shattered debris lying around us. ‘No, you must see it as a beautiful and vanished dream. A glorious old house, filled with old-fashioned charm and pretty little knick-knacks, and with the loveliest apple tree on the island.'

‘It was the
only
—'

I jumped to avoid the hand that had shot out to swipe me.

‘No!' Uncle Tristram persisted. ‘You must do the sensible thing. Never look back! Set your face forward! Imagine your cosy future with Officer Watkins here in that divine little cottage beside the fairground. Think of the roses you will grow around your door. Think of the babies the two of you will soon be dandling on your knees. Take the insurance money.'

Morning Glory looked a bit startled. ‘Will they pay out?'

‘Of course they'll pay out,' said Uncle Tristram. ‘Their only problem is going to be deciding under which of the many headings in the insurance policy you ought to claim.'

‘I should think subsidence,' Officer Watkins said firmly. ‘I think they're definitely going to decide to go for serious subsidence.'

‘Flood, I'd say,' Uncle Tristram argued.

I thought I might as well put in my pennyworth. ‘But by the time anyone comes in on next week's ferry to inspect the place, the ground around here will have dried out a bit, and they might decide that it looks more like a gas explosion. Or a terrorist outrage.'

‘But there's no sign of blast or fire,' said Uncle Tristram. From his wide range of threatening looks, he shot me one of the darkest. ‘Though I think we could safely say there have been signs of
vandalism
.'

I blushed, and shut up after that.

Morning Glory brushed all of their opinions aside. ‘But I'll
explain
. I'll tell them exactly what happened. I'll tell them that all of a sudden, as if by magic, there was a stream that appeared completely out of nowhere, rushed down the mountainside and washed my house away.'

‘I think they might find that a
little
hard to believe,' warned Uncle Tristram.

‘No,' Morning Glory said. ‘Because I'll go on to explain how the stream vanished. How this young boy–' She slid an affectionate arm around my shoulder. ‘No, this young hero who was staying here all week climbed up the hill and asked my favourite angel to magic the stream away.'

She beamed around at all of us.

‘And the angel did!'

There was a tiny little silence. Then Uncle Tristram rallied. ‘Don't be
astonished
,' he said as gently as he could, ‘if anyone who hears that thinks that you are just in shock because you no longer have a home.'

We heard a booming voice behind. ‘Of course my precious daughter has a home!'

We all spun round. There, standing hand in hand, were Morning Glory's mother and father. He still appeared to be beaming. ‘If Morning Glory needs a roof over her head until she's bought her new cottage, she can live with
us
.'

We watched him squeeze his wife's hand as he so happily said the word ‘us', and Morning Glory's mother raised herself on tiptoe to kiss him through his storm of a beard.

After a moment he broke away as if an awful thought had suddenly occurred to him. Hastily glancing at his watch, he said to Uncle Tristram anxiously, ‘Hadn't the two of you better get your skates on? If you're not careful you will miss that ferry!'

Home Again

PLERP LARP TENELLIN

I think I must be a martyr to seasickness.

‘That,' Uncle Tristram said virtuously as he watched me heave quite a few things off sticks over the rails into the churning water, ‘is probably because you didn't take Morning Glory's very good advice and make the effort to thank your stomach for doing all that extra work for you.'

A sudden swell beneath the ferry caused it to pitch and roll. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Uncle Tristram clutch his own stomach and turn the same green as the tea towel I'd set on fire on the grill.

‘You don't look all that much in harmony with the universe yourself,' I snapped.

When we had both completely finished throwing up, we leaned together side by side at the bow.

‘All in all,' Uncle Tristram said, his spirits visibly rising, ‘that was a really good week. Lots of fresh air, and mucking about with mud, and dressing up and stuff.' He looked at me sternly. ‘I certainly hope you enjoyed yourself even if you didn't manage to fit in your favourite pastime.'

‘My favourite pastime?'

‘Burning down kitchens. But you did at least get to totally destroy one house.'

I gave him a sour look. ‘A pity Morning Glory didn't have a cat,' I said. ‘You could have had a go at your own little speciality, and flattened it in some flower bed.'

He grinned, and we went back to keeping our eyes peeled for the mainland. At last the grey mist of horizon gathered itself into a darker line.

‘There! See! Over there!'

‘Thank heavens for that!'

We stood in silence, gazing at the approaching land. I know I was relieved to be on the way home. Still, I was anxious about the way they'd greet me. (Probably not with open arms and cries of ‘Lambkin! You're back!') After all, Mum and Dad had just spent nearly a whole week of ghastly days and sleepless nights worrying themselves silly about me, and making tea for police negotiators waiting for my calls and technicians hoping to trace them. Five days in which a host of helicopter pilots had been scrambled to scour the island for any sign of Uncle Tristram's car. A week, frankly, after which, rather than stepping into the usual blizzard of welcoming hugs and kisses, you would expect me to walk through the door and get a rocket and my ears torn off.

Gradually the fuzzy grey line of coast began to look darker and sharper.

‘Look!' Uncle Tristram dug his elbow in my ribs excitedly. ‘I think I see a tree!'

The ferry forged in closer through the waves with Uncle Tristram leaning so keenly over the rails I had to keep hold of his jacket. After a while, he turned and said, ‘Now, Harry, you'll admit that Morning Glory was a lovely-looking girl. And as for that Delia, she was an absolute
marvel
.' He pointed as the dock hove into view. ‘But
that
– that is without a shadow of a doubt the most attractive sight that I have seen all week.'