Nigel Smith - Nathalia Buttface and the Most Epically Embarrassing Trip Ever

And besides that, there would be NOTHING TO DO at Nan’s except do what Nan did – get up at lunchtime, watch endless episodes of Judge Judy , and never eat a vegetable again. On balance – it sounded brilliant.

Only one problem.

“How about Darius and the Dog?” Nat asked.

“I’m not looking after them,” said Nan firmly. “They’d both have to go in kennels.”

Nat sighed and reluctantly pushed herself off the bed. France it was. But she was NOT putting the Dog in kennels. She just needed a plan.

t last the van was cleared of all its rubbish and repacked with slightly more useful rubbish, and it was time for everyone to say their goodbyes. Mum gave Nat an extra squeezy hug.

“Can I stay here and get a job in your office instead?” whispered Nat, only half joking.

Mum grinned. “Yes, I wish we could swap places. But look, you’re going to a foreign country with your idiot father and demon child Darius Bagley in a horrible van to rebuild a haunted house. Think how lucky you are!”

Sometimes , thought Nat, Mum’s sense of humour is as bad as Dad’s .

“Right, let’s go. Where’s the Dog?” said Dad, looking sweaty and harassed.

Somewhere in the Dog’s tiny doggie brain he must have sensed something was up, because they found him trembling under a pile of dirty washing. Dad had to carry him out to the van, still tangled up in the sheets and looking utterly pathetic. He turned his sad brown dog eyes to Mum as he was carried to the van, as if to say, “Are you doing this to me too?”

“In, in, let’s go,” said Dad to Nat and Darius as he slammed the door and started the engine. Or rather, tried to start the engine. It coughed and banged and wheezed and went silent.

Mum waved her arms, exasperated. “You said you’d get this horrible old thing ready for the road!” she said. “How do you expect it to carry you across half of France if you can’t get it off the drive?”

“We can’t go! We have to stay here, what a shame, never mind,” shouted Nat as she scrambled out of the van, her heart leaping with joy.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” said Dad, hopping out. He lifted the bonnet and leaned right over to get at the engine. There was a scream from Mrs Possett opposite at number 26 who wished she hadn’t chosen that moment to stand at the window and take her net curtains down.

“You could stop Dad going,” Nat said urgently to Mum, out of earshot, “he does what you tell him.”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Mum, pleased at the thought all the same, “but anyway, it’ll be good for him to fix this silly house and prove to everyone round here he’s not totally daft and useless.”

But he is , thought Nat.

There was muffled clanging and swearing from under the bonnet for about five minutes, until Darius jumped out of the van, holding some kind of multitool he’d taken from his rucksack. “Let’s have a look,” he said to Dad. “I’ve fixed Oswald’s bike loads of times.”

Dad slapped him on the back and walked over to Mum. “See,” he said, “no problem. Darius is going to mend it.”

“He’s just a little boy, you moron!” yelled Mum. “You ARE daft and useless.”

Told you , thought Nat.

By now there was quite a crowd gathering on the pavement to watch what was going on. The neighbours knew there was always something fun to watch at Nat’s house. A lot of them preferred it to the telly. Nat and the Dog got back in the van and hid.

“But he’s brilliant with his hands,” said Dad cheerfully. “Who do you think fixed our washing machine last month?”

In the van, Nat cringed. Even she knew Dad had just made a massive mistake. Mum grabbed the nearest object from the pile of junk that had been chucked out of the van. It happened to be a rude garden gnome that Dad once thought was funny. Now he just thought it looked heavy and sharp. She advanced on Dad dangerously. He smartly backed off, towards the small crowd, who were really getting their money’s worth today.

“You said you got an engineer out,” she said quietly. Nat got worried. Most people get louder as they get angrier, but not Mum. She started off loud, then got quieter. She was deadly quiet now.

“Be fair, love, he did a great job, and he was much cheaper than a real engineer. You can pay him in Mars bars and Pringles.”

Dad had also discovered that if you gave Darius enough fizzy orange pop he worked twice as quickly, but interestingly, Mum got even madder when he told her that.

Nat watched through her fingers as the rude gnome went whistling past Dad’s left ear and took out Mister Sponge who was peeping over the privet. He went down like a sack of bricks, but whatever he shouted was lost as the van roared to life, sounding louder and healthier than ever. Darius, face covered in oil, gave them a thumbs up and a huge smile from the driver’s seat.

“Darius, right, get out of that seat, shut the bonnet, get in the back, quick,” shouted Dad, slamming the door. “Bye, love, sorry, have to dash, love you, gotta catch the ferry, bye!” And they were off, scattering the neighbours as they went.

By the time they got to the kennels, the Dog had licked all the oil off Darius and Dad noticed he had a lot of texts from Mum on his mobile. He wouldn’t let Nat see them, but she did manage to glimpse a few of the words. One or two were completely new to her. She made a mental note to ask Darius about them when Dad wasn’t listening.

They were now in the leafy bit of town where the kennels were. It was the bit of town that pretended to be countryside, even though there was now a massive busy road going right through it, and a kebab shop and off-licence on almost every corner.

Soon they turned down a driveway with a big sign saying ‘Pawlty Towers’. Mournful howling resounded from behind large dark hedges. The woman who came to meet them at the front gate was middle-aged and built like a huge Saint Bernard dog. Nat sniggered when she said her name was Bernadette. The lady shot her a stern glance.