Mr Gum and the Secret Hideout (6 page)

And then the moment was gone – if it had ever really happened. But as Polly sat shivering and blinking in the gloom, she replayed the strange dream over and over in her mind.

‘“Perhaps you already gots all the biscuit what you need,’” she murmured. ‘What did that ’mazin’ spirit mean?’ For she felt sure she had just been visited by the Spirit of the Rainbow, who was a force for good and could do mysterious things like get into your dreams and give you clues. But I hasn’t got no biscuits,’ she said. ‘Unless …’

Polly patted the jacket of her suit – and there was a small lump in the top pocket!

‘Could it be?’ she wondered … She reached into the pocket and her hand closed on something rough and crunchy. It was Alan Taylor, her tiny gingerbread friend!

‘So you’re the “ship’s biscuit”!’ marvelled Polly. Alan Taylor was fast asleep and there was a sign around his neck which said ‘HIBERNATING – DO NOT DISTURB UNTIL SPRING’. He looked ever so peaceful and his electric muscles whirred gently in time with his delightful sugary snores.

‘Sorry, A.T., but we needs you now,’ whispered Polly, tickling him softly under the chin with a weevil.

‘Zzzz,’ snored Alan Taylor. ‘Zzz – hee hee! Ooh, that tickles! Zzzz – hee hee!’

And then he was awake and standing in the palm of her hand, his electric muscles glowing feebly in the gloom.

‘Polly!’ he blinked. ‘Is it spring yet?’

‘No,’ whispered Polly, ‘but I’m ever so glads to see you, cos me an’ Frides is in the biggest trouble of our lives.’

And then Friday awoke and the three friends hugged each other in the darkness and Friday asked Alan Taylor what he was doing in Polly’s pocket in the first place.

‘Simple,’ replied Alan Taylor. ‘Every year, we gingerbread men like to find a nice warm pocket in which to curl up and hibernate. It is the way of my people. Always has been and always will be.’

‘Well, I’m jus’ glad you picked my pocket to sleep in, you glorious little nibbly,’ said Polly. ‘By the way, do you thinks you can get out that little crack under the door?’

‘For enormous overweight giants like you two it would be impossible,’ said Alan Taylor proudly. ‘But my tiny size means I can pass through even the smallest cracks! It is the way of my people.’ And he slid under the door like a thing sliding under another thing and he was gone.

A few minutes later they heard a scrabbling noise outside the door and then the sound of a key turning in the lock.

‘Can you open the door?’ Alan Taylor whispered. ‘It’s too heavy for me.’

‘Oh, so now you want the help of us “enormous overweight giants”, do you?’ said Friday. But Polly pushed the door open and the exhausted biscuit tumbled back in, clutching a big brass key almost as large as himself.

‘The key was hanging around the First Mate’s neck,’ he explained. ‘I managed to hop up on to his fat stomach and remove it without waking him. It is the way of my people.’

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ said Friday. ‘THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE! Let’s get out of here!’

‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ said Alan Taylor. ‘We could make it up to the deck but there’s nowhere to run. And we can’t jump overboard, because I noticed the sea was full of massive sharks and krakens and that guy out of
Pirates of the Caribbean
who’s got tentacles all over his face.’

‘Hmm,’ said Polly, who was examining some ropes and old sacks in one corner of the brig.

‘Elizabeth, oh, my sweet Elizabeth!’ moaned Captain Brazil from his cabin.

‘Hmm,’ said Polly again. ‘Listen up, gang, not with jus’ one or two of your ears but with ev’ry single last one of ’em. Cos I think I gots a ’genious plan.’

’T
was the wee hours of the morn and the
Sirloin
chugged slowly through the mist and the fog. ’Twas the wee hours of the morn when things get strange and ghostly, and Captain Brazil could not sleep. ’Twas the wee hours of the morn and he was stumbling around his cramped wooden cabin, a-frighted by the spectres of the past.

‘Remember meeeeeee?’
he seemed to hear a papery voice whisper.
‘I am the ghost of that cabin boy who you dressed up as a cake and threw to the sharks.’

‘Leave me alone!’ sobbed Captain Brazil, tearing a chart from the wall and shredding it to bits.

‘Remember meeeee?’
said another voice.
‘I am the ghost of Captain Barnaby Weed! You sank my ship just because I didn’t invite you to my party! But now I’ll sink YOU!

‘Get out of my head, you horrors!’ begged Captain Brazil. He picked up a decanter of rum and hurled it at the wall. ‘Leave me aloooooone!’

But of all the faces from the past, one was even more painful than the rest. ‘Oh, Elizabeth, Elizabeth!’ cried Captain Brazil in anguish and also in English. ‘Why did you leave me, Elizabeth? Oh, what I would give to hear you knock-knock-knocking at my cabin door this moment! Oh, how I would –’

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

‘What?!’ cried the captain, turning on his heel, his tailcoat flying out behind him. His drunken eyes rolled madly in his head. ‘Who goes there? Who dare troubles me at such an hour? Yargh!’

Squinting through the smoked glass he could just make out a tall figure, a figure with long flowing hair …

‘Is it possible?’ whispered Captain Brazil. Trembling like an oyster-butler, he staggered to the door and threw it wide open to the cold grey of the early sea dawn and the figure standing before him.

‘Hello,’ said the figure in a high-pitched voice. ‘You know that beautiful woman you’re always going on about? What’s her name again, I’ve forgotten?’

‘’Tis E-Elizabeth,’ stammered Captain Brazil.

‘Oh, yeah,’ replied the strange visitor. ‘Well, that’s me. I’m Elizabeth.’

And with that, Elizabeth stepped into the light. Her hair was long and ropey, her dress looked a bit like an old sack with flowers drawn on in biro, and her lipstick looked like it might have been done with an orange crayon. But Captain Brazil would have recognised her anywhere, especially as he was unbelievably drunk on rum.

‘By the shilly-shally fish of the Sea of Procrastination!’ he cried. ‘’Tis you, ’tis really you! Oh, Elizabeth! I ought to shower you in kisses and spicy fruits! But tell me – why did you leave me, all those years ago? Why did you turn your back on me and walk out of my life like an unfeeling potato?’

‘Um … I had to sew a button on to my dress,’ replied Elizabeth.

‘What, you’ve been sewing on a button for the last forty years?’ said Captain Brazil in astonishment.

‘It was a very big button,’ replied Elizabeth solemnly. ‘But now I have returned to be by your side.’

‘Oh, Elizabeth,’ said Captain Brazil, dropping to his knee and accidentally squishing a weevil. ‘Won’t you say those sweet words you used to say to me? Those sweet words of love that always took the trouble from my brow and made me feel like a happy little baby in a bucket of seahorses?’

‘Um … OK,’ said Elizabeth. ‘What were they again?’

‘Fie! Fie! Fie!’ cried Captain Brazil. He leapt to his feet and drew his cutlass. ‘Can thou not remember those sweet words? Perhaps thou art not Elizabeth after all!’

‘THE TRUTH IS A LEMON MERINGUE!’ cried Elizabeth in fright. ‘No, I’m definitely Elizabeth, I’m sure of it!’

‘Stop stalling for time and say those words!’ bellowed Captain Brazil, pressing the tip of the cutlass against Elizabeth’s neck.

‘OK,’ gasped Elizabeth. And screwing her eyes shut in concentration, she bent down and whispered into the captain’s ear.

‘Captain Brazil,’ she whispered,

‘From the sun-coasts of Jamaica
to the icy shores of Sweden
From the tip of Argentina
to the springs of Manderley
I will always love you, Captain,
for you guide me through the oceans
La la la la
La la la la
La la la la
Something else.’

‘These are not the words you used to say!’ cried Captain Brazil. ‘You used to say, “Hey, Captain Brazil, buy me a pair of new shoes or I’ll knock your block off.” But I like these new words even better,’ he said, wiping a tear from his cheek. ‘They are beautiful. Now, you have proved you are probably Elizabeth after all and I will do anything for you.’

‘Hmm,’ said Elizabeth, flinging herself into Captain Brazil’s lap and tenderly stroking his earlobe. ‘Actually, there is something I would like you to do, my love.’

‘Anything for you, my darling,’ breathed Captain Brazil, gently caressing Elizabeth’s shoe. ‘Anything at all.’

‘Well, then,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I would like you to turn this steamship around and head back to Lamonic Bibber right now. And then I’d like you to release the prisoners and bid them farewell. Oh, and you know Friday O’Leary?’ she added. ‘You should definitely give him some yogurts. He likes yogurts.’

‘It is done, m’lady, it is done!’ cried Captain Brazil. ‘CREW!’ he thundered, and at once his men came running. ‘TURN AROUND! EIGHT MILLION DEGREES STARBOARD! CHECK THE RUDDER! FLY THE FLAG! MAN THE THINGS! DO THE STUFF!’

‘Thank you, my darling,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Now, I must away and prepare for our wedding in the morning.’

‘Oh, Elizabeth,’ cried Captain Brazil as the
Sirloin
started to turn. ‘You have made me the happiest man alive. Come on, crew! Shake a leg! We’re heading back to Lamonic Bibber! And I’m getting married in the mo-oor-ning!’

T
he sun was rising when they reached Lamonic Bibber, but it was not a nice sun. It was fierce and red and bloody and it gazed down like a terrifying football that had gone insane with its own power to score goals. The yellow clouds swarmed sulkily overhead. Strangely-coloured worms and mosquitoes roamed freely in the sweltering heat. A seagull tried desperately to open a bottle of suntan oil with its beak. It was a tropical paradise. OF DOOM.

‘By the second-hand tutu of old Captain Ballerina!’ exclaimed Captain Brazil as the
Sirloin
swayed drunkenly towards shore. ‘The river has burst its banks and ’tis flooding the land! Yaar, yaar, yaar! It be terrible! Heave ho, mateys! We are here – though were it not for Elizabeth, I would never have returned to this accursed place! Nimpy! Release the prisoners!’

‘Aye aye, cap’n,’ said the First Mate, Nimpy Windowmash. He unlocked the brig and Polly and Friday stumbled out, coughing and gasping in the thick, crowded air.

‘Prisoners,’ announced Captain Brazil grandly. ‘You are free to go. Now, be off with you and trouble me no more. Oh, I just remembered,’ he added, turning towards Friday. ‘Elizabeth asked me to give you these.’ And he pressed a few pots of yogurt into Friday’s hand.

‘Excellent!’ exclaimed Friday, putting them into his secret Yogurt-Storing Compartment, otherwise known as his mouth. ‘I love yogurts.’

‘An’ so ’tis farewell,’ said Captain Brazil, standing to attention and saluting until Polly and Friday were out of sight. ‘And now to marry Elizabeth!’

But sadly for Captain Brazil, Elizabeth never did show up that morning or even the next. And eventually he gave up waiting and headed back to sea.

‘For the sea she never does let ye down,’ he told his crew. ‘An’ there’s adventures out there for the takin’, me boys! With a heave an’ a ho an’ a bucket of wine, there’s adventures out there for the takin’!’