Neighbours (8 page)

Mr Dent didn't notice his wife had gone until the following night.

Something wasn't right. He could sense it, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was only a subtle change and Mr Dent didn't do subtle. Then it dawned on him. It was the smell.

As always, every single square centimetre of the house smelled of burgers, chips and beans. Over the years, layer upon layer of scented grease had built up until everything, even freshly washed clothes and Adolf the budgie's feathers, smelled the same. The smell oozed out of every pore of the Dents' skin. Even if they had used a deodorant – which was about as likely as finding intelligent life on Mars or
Big
Brother
– their armpits would still have smelled of burgers, chips and beans. The only good thing about everything smelling of burgers, chips and beans was that it covered up the terrible smell of Mr Dent's disgusting socks and bad breath. This endless diet of grease with bits of gristle and other rubbish added had covered Mr Dent's back with so many angry pimples it looked like a map of Patagonia, except the mountains weren't all green. Some were purple. If gross and disgusting had been in the Olympics, Mr Dent would have won triple gold.

But that night, something was missing. The smell was slightly different. Instead of a new cloud of hot greasy mist hovering in the air, there was just the old cold smell like first thing in the morning. Except now it was the evening.

‘Oi,' he shouted.

‘Oi' was what Mr and Mrs Dent called each other when they weren't fighting.

‘Oi, where's me dinner? Get us a beer.'

Silence.

‘I said, where's me dinner?' he shouted.

More silence, interrupted by the sound of Rambo scratching at the back door. Mr Dent fell asleep again but ten minutes later the dog's barking woke him up and he did something he hadn't done for years, except when he was too drunk to know where he was. He went into the kitchen.

‘Blimey, what's all this stuff?' he said, looking at the kettle and the stove and the toaster. ‘Women's toys, I suppose.'

Mrs Dent wasn't there. Nor was she in the bedroom, the bathroom or the back yard. Mr Dent didn't look in the garage or his shed because women were not allowed in there. The more he didn't find Mrs Dent the more angry he became. His neck got redder and redder, and even three beers didn't help. Six more beers didn't help either. Soon his neck got as red as a traffic light and Rambo, mistaking him for a gigantic frankfurter, bit his ankle.

Mr Dent staggered back to his chair and fell asleep again while
Pro–Celebrity Wife Swap USA
started. This made him even more bad-tempered because it was his favourite programme. He would
often daydream about swapping Mrs Dent for a big red sports car and then fall asleep and have a nightmare where he'd swapped her for her mother.

It was dark when he woke up and his stomach was calling out for burger, chips and beans.

‘Oi, where's me dinner? Get us a beer,' he shouted.

Silence.

But he was not alone. There was a tall figure silhouetted in the glow from the television. She clicked her fingers and the TV fell silent.

‘Hello, Mr Dent,' said Mordonna. ‘Mrs Dent isn't here. Why don't you come and have dinner at our house?'

Mr Dent tried to get up but he was too drunk and there was a terrible pain in his right foot. Rambo, who hadn't had any dinner either, had bitten off his big toe and was lying under the coffee table chewing it.

Mr Dent started to sweat but Mordonna took off her dark glasses and he was totally hypnotised. Her eyes glowed like fire and Mr Dent was as feeble
as a puppy – a drunk, ugly, stupid puppy, but a puppy nevertheless.

‘We've got beer, lovely and cold, in our great big new fridge,' Mordonna murmured.

‘Beer?' said Mr Dent.

‘Yes, and you can watch soccer on our massive new flat-screen TV,' said Betty, who was standing next to her mother.

Mr Dent opened his mouth, but no words came out.

‘Do you know what the time is?' Mordonna asked him.

Mr Dent could only shake his head.

‘It's time for a change. It's time for you to do something useful.'

‘Uhhh?' Mr Dent managed to say.

‘Have you ever done any housework?' said Mordonna. Then she clicked her fingers and gave Mr Dent back the power of speech.

‘Do I look like a woman?' he snorted. ‘Of course I haven't.'

‘Well, it's time to start,' said Betty. ‘This place is a pigsty, without the intelligent pigs. And you are disgusting.'

Mr Dent had fallen off the chair. He was now crawling blindly around on the floor on his hands and knees while Rambo tried to bite off his other big toe.

‘Mr Piggy is a filthy little piggy, isn't he, Betty?' said Mordonna.

‘Yes, Mother. He should be a cleaner –'

Betty had intended to say, ‘He should be
a cleaner piggy', but as soon as she said the word ‘cleaner', there was a flash of light that cut off her words.

The pain in Mr Dent's right foot vanished. It happened so suddenly he sat up and looked at his feet. Then he fainted.

Mr Dent's feet weren't feet any more. They were wheels – small, round, shiny wheels. He woke up, became very suddenly sober and screamed.

‘Shhh, you'll wake the neighbours,' said Mordonna. ‘Oh, we
are
the neighbours, and we're awake already.'

Then Mr Dent felt himself shrinking and changing shape. His skin was changing too. Now it wasn't what you'd call skin, it was what you'd call stainless steel.

‘Oops,' said Betty. ‘Sorry, Mother. Think I got it wrong again.'

‘Don't apologise, darling,' said Mordonna. ‘The stainless steel matches the fridge and the TV surround. I can see a family resemblance.'

Betty and Mordonna both collapsed on the floor laughing while Mr Dent sat there terrified. His legs seemed to have vanished up into his body and he couldn't move.

‘Help,' he bleated.

‘What's the matter?' said Mordonna. ‘We stopped your foot hurting, didn't we?'

Betty walked over to Mr Dent and patted him on the head.

‘There, there,' she said. ‘Just look on the bright side – and all your sides are bright now – we've cured your spots.'

With that, mother and daughter fell about laughing again.

A few seconds later the transformation was complete. What had once been a fat, lazy pig of a man was now the best vacuum cleaner in the world. Mr Dent was the ultimate vacuum cleaner. He was a cordless automatic robot vacuum cleaner that could back his bottom up to an electric socket and plug himself in whenever his batteries started going flat. While everyone was resting or out, Mr Dent went quietly and efficiently around the whole house, stairs included, sucking up dust. He even had an extra-long nozzle that got cobwebs off the ceiling and a special attachment for getting Satanella's and Merlinmary's hair off the furniture. And when his bag was full, Mr
Dent went out into the garden and emptied himself into the bin, before starting the whole thing all over again.

Now, in a normal house, getting all the dusting and cleaning done automatically would be great. But it wasn't like that in the Floods' house. The Floods had cobwebs that were old friends. Generations of spiders had lived in complete safety on the ceilings and windows, knowing that no one was ever going to come and sweep them away. They had dust collected in happy piles around the house that just moved to one side when anyone needed to go past.

If Betty hadn't made another mistake, Mr Dent would now be a big comfy sofa – though Mordonna had to admit, the thought of sitting in Mr Dent's ex-lap was a bit creepy. With magic that was meant to happen, it was always possible to change your mind, but because Betty's magic was so uncontrolled, no one knew the formula, which made changing it pretty dangerous. If they made a mistake, Mr Dent could turn into something covered in mould that smelled like a bad drain and kept exploding. On the other
hand, he could change into something awful.

So once again Winchflat, the family genius, sorted things out. He took the Dent-O-Vac down to his special workshop in the cellars and made a few modifications. Basically, he made Mr Dent run backwards (which anyone who had known him as a human would have said he'd done all his life). Every morning Mr Dent trundled out into the garden and collected dust and flies. Then he spent the rest of the day spreading the dust around the house and feeding the flies to the spiders. At midnight, when
his work was done, he would trundle into the kitchen and sit next to Dickie the fridge and the two of them would hum softly together in a very loving father and son bonding way, which they had never done when they were human.

Once the final Dent had been taken care of, Rambo's evil spell was broken and he became a cuddly, fluffy, happy little poodle. He went to live with the nice neighbours at number 15 – an old couple who spoilt him rotten with poached chicken, crispy liver treats and a red velvet cushion to sleep on.

Mordonna turned the Dents' other pet, Adolf the budgie, into a small solar-powered lawnmower, to trim the grass on Queen Scratchrot's grave. That way he would always be close to Tracylene.