Sorrel Anderson - The Clumsies Make a Mess of the Seaside

‘Delightful,’ said Howard, ‘but listen, I’m afraid you can’t c—’

‘Howard,’ said Purvis, ‘hadn’t you better go and get Allen? We don’t want to miss the train.’

‘Well yes but how can I?’ said Howard. ‘You heard what Mr Bullerton said.’

The mice gazed up at Howard, and Howard gazed down at the mice.

‘We can’t go on holiday without Allen,’ said Purvis.

‘We can’t leave Allen behind,’ said Mickey Thompson.

‘No,’ sighed Howard. ‘You’re right. Of course we can’t.’

So the Clumsies began to pack and Howard set off to collect Allen. He walked up the long corridor to the lift and was just about to press the button when there was a booming voice behind him.

‘Hoy,’ said Mr Bullerton, advancing.

‘Quick,’ said Howard, pressing.

‘YOU!’ said Mr Bullerton, approaching.

‘QUICK!’ said Howard, j-a-b-b-i-n-g.

‘STOP!’ said Mr Bullerton, arriving.

‘PING!’ went the lift doors, opening and Howard rushed inside.

‘PING! PING! PING!’ went the lift doors closing and opening and closing again as Mr Bullerton grabbed hold of Howard and pulled him out.

‘And where do you think you’re going?’ said Mr Bullerton.

‘Well,’ said Howard, ‘I forgot to bring my overnight things, so I thought I’d better just pop home and—’

‘Oh no you don’t,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘You’ll pop nowhere.’

‘But—’ began Howard.

‘No popping,’ said Mr Bullerton. ‘AND NO DOGS.

Get back to your office.’

Howard got back to his office.

‘That was quick,’ said Purvis.

‘I haven’t been anywhere yet,’ said Howard. ‘Mr Bullerton’s lurking. He won’t let me leave. And what’s all this… everything… everywhere?’

‘The packing,’ said Purvis.

‘There’s too much,’ said Howard.

‘We haven’t finished yet,’ said Mickey Thompson.

‘Yes,’ said Howard, ‘that’s what I’m worried about.’

‘It’ll be better soon,’ said Purvis.

‘Why don’t you climb out of the window, Howard?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Howard.

‘To avoid Mr Bullerton,’ explained Purvis.

‘We’re on the fifth floor,’ said Howard.

‘Well let’s see,’ said Purvis, peering. ‘There might be a ladder or something.’

‘We’re on the fifth floor,’ said Howard.

‘There,’ said Purvis, pointing.

‘You can climb down that scaffolding.’

‘Oh thank you,’ said Howard. ‘So very much.’

‘Eek,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘It makes me feel just looking at it.’

‘You and me both,’ said Howard. ‘I think I’ll try the normal way once more, if you don’t mind.’ He opened the door a crack, peeped out and shut it again, quickly.

‘Still lurking?’ asked Purvis.

‘Still lurking,’ said Howard.

‘Why don’t we ring your house and ask Allen to come here?’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

‘Because he’s a dog,’ said Howard. ‘He doesn’t know how to use a phone.’

‘I’ll bet he does,’ said Mickey Thompson. ‘You didn’t know he could talk until we told you.’

‘Maybe so,’ said Howard, ‘but I only have your word for that and—’

The mice started squeaking, indignantly.

‘And anyway,’ continued Howard, ‘there are a lot of busy roads between there and here and I don’t want him crossing them alone. Somehow, I’m going to have to go and fetch him. Somebody put the kettle on so we can think.’

‘Maybe you could speak to Mr Bullerton and persuade him,’ said Purvis. ‘Make him think a dog would be a good idea.’

‘No,’ said Howard. ‘He won’t and it isn’t. He needs distracting, not persuading.’

‘Maybe we could hypnotise him,’ suggested Mickey Thompson.

‘Ridiculous,’ said Howard.

‘…Or…or…lull him to sleep with a song.’

‘Mickey Thompson,’ said Howard, ‘if I go up to Mr Bullerton and start singing lullabies at him, he’ll think I’ve gone completely mad.’

‘He already thinks that,’ said Mickey Thompson, cheerfully.

‘Harrumph,’ said Howard. ‘Come along. Sensible suggestions, please.’

‘Oo!’ said Purvis, hopping. ‘This is what we do: we lure him to his room. We slamthe door.

We jamit shut and keep him in there: TRAPPED!’

‘I know the feeling,’ muttered Howard. ‘Hmm, not bad but I’m not sure about the luring bit. Had you anything in mind?’

‘I hadn’t got that far,’ said Purvis.

‘We could leave a trail of cake,’ said Mickey Thompson.

‘It wouldn’t work,’ said Howard. ‘Mr Bullerton doesn’t like cake.’

‘Biscuits then,’ said Mickey Thompson.

‘Or bits of bread, even.’

‘No, no,’ said Howard. ‘No.’

‘How about this?’ said Purvis.

‘We ring his phone. He goes to his room to answer it. You keep him talking Howard and w—’

‘What!’ said Howard.

‘What what?’ said Purvis.

‘What am I supposed to talk to him about?’

‘Oh you know,’ said Purvis. ‘Just some sort of general chitchat.’

‘Fabulous,’ said Howard, ‘and how…oh never mind. I expect I’ll think of something. Well go on, go on.’

‘Right,’ said Purvis, ‘so it’s rings, room, answers, talking then we shut him in there: BANG! And then you go and get Allen,’ he added. ‘Howard?’

‘He’s gone to sleep,’ said Mickey Thompson, poking.

‘Stop that,’ said Howard. ‘I am not asleep; I’m attempting to block things out.’

‘So what do you think?’ said Purvis.

‘It won’t work,’ said Howard.

‘But it’s for Allen, Howard,’ said Purvis.

‘Woof,’ said Mickey Thompson, plaintively. ‘Woof.’

‘Yes, yes, all right,’ sighed Howard. ‘I suppose it’s worth a try.’

So Howard dialled Mr Bullerton’s number and Purvis peeped out into the corridor.

‘It’s ringing,’ said Howard.